‘Nothing yet,’ she said. ‘At least, not as far as I’ve heard. But then people rarely think to tell me much about what’s happening.’
‘Fitz Osbern will know,’ said Robert. ‘I’ll find out from him, and when I do, I’ll make sure to tell you.’
The girl returned with a dappled grey mare. Without a word to her, Beatrice took the reins and climbed up into the saddle.
‘It has been good to see you, Tancred,’ she said. ‘I trust it won’t be so long before we meet again.’
‘I trust not, my lady,’ I said.
She smiled once more, warmly but without the affection that I had grown used to. It was as if we had barely met, as if she had forgotten everything that had passed between us, or else buried those memories so deep that they could no longer be raised up. It shouldn’t have mattered to me, and yet for some reason it did.
Beside her, Robert had also mounted up. ‘I’ll be back before long,’ he told me. ‘Keep a pot of stew and a jug of ale waiting for me.’
With that, brother and sister rode away. I watched them as they made their way from the camp towards the castle on the hill, and I was left standing there alone, numb with a strange sense of hurt and disappointment.
Ansculf was marshalling Robert’s men, sending some to take care of the horses while directing others to fill wineskins from the river. Some of Robert’s servants had travelled ahead with Beatrice and Fitz Osbern, and had set up camp in a good location, in the lee of a clump of birches not far from the water’s edge.
I signalled to Serlo and the others, who were pacing about, stretching their legs. Together we followed Robert’s men to their fire, where already a pot of water was boiling. The smell of carrots and fish filled my nose, but I did not feel hungry.
‘Start putting those tents up,’ I said to my knights as I unhitched my saddlebags from our horses, and then to the twins Snocca and Cnebba: ‘Fetch some more wood for the fire.’
We would need it, I reckoned: the wind was rising, changing direction, and the skies were clear. Even though the day had been warm, the night ahead would be a cold one.
Shaking my head to clear it, I got to work.
We retired almost as soon as it was dark. Robert came back from the castle shortly after that, though all I heard was his voice as he bade good night to the few of his men who were still drinking and playing dice in the dying light of the flames. I did not try to get up. By then I was bone-tired and barely able to keep my eyes open. Whatever news he had, it could wait until the morning, I decided, and that was the last thought to cross my mind before at last I fell asleep.
When next I stirred it was still night. Morning was some way off, for the birds had not yet begun to sing. All was silent, and at first I could not work out what had roused me. I strained my ears but could make nothing out, and I was about to roll over and try to get back to sleep, but then I heard movement: the muffled sound of feet upon grass.
Staying as still as I could, hardly breathing, I listened. There was someone just outside the tent, close by the fire, I reckoned, though it was hard to tell. They circled about, moving slowly, softly, as if trying not to be heard. It was unlikely to be any of my men or Robert’s, but who else would be lurking around our camp at this time of night?
Whilst on the march we usually slept two men to a tent, except that as a lord and a leader of men I always made sure I had one to myself. Whereas many barons were accustomed to taking whores and camp-followers to their tents, I had not shared mine with anyone since Oswynn. In those days my only bed-companions were my sword, which lay on the blanket at my side, and my knife, which rested beneath the rolled-up cloak I used for a pillow. Slowly, so as not to alarm whoever was out there, I reached for the latter, sliding the blade silently from its sheath. If it came to a fight at close quarters, a short blade was better than a long one.
Trying not to make a sound, I made for the entrance to the tent. The flaps were closed over but not laced up, and I opened them just enough to be able to see through. The stars were out but the moon was behind a cloud; the campfire had died long ago, leaving only gently smoking ash. Of whoever had been here there was no sign. Brandishing my knife in front of me, I ducked my head and ventured out.
The night was indeed cold. I was wearing just my tunic and my trews; I could move more quietly in bare feet and so I left my boots behind. Keeping low, I looked around. Eight tents stood around the fire, of which mine was one, but a few were pitched a short way back from it, and as I rounded the side of my own, I saw a short figure dressed in a black cloak, crouching in the shadows outside Serlo and Pons’s tent not half a dozen paces away.
The figure reached for the flaps, and as he did so I rushed forwards. He heard me coming and started to turn, but I was on him before he could do so, dragging him to his feet, reaching one hand around his torso and clamping it across his mouth, while with the other I brought my blade up towards his throat. The steel gleamed softly in the starlight.
He struggled and tried to cry out, but I was by far the stronger and I held firm, wrenching his head back so that the flat of my blade rested against his skin.
‘Make a sound and I will slit your throat,’ I said.
He couldn’t have been much more than a child, and a scrawny one at that, slight of build and half starved too, I didn’t wonder. A thief, most probably, or else one of the beggars we had passed by the bridge. Either way he had some nerve if he thought to try to steal from men like us.
‘Who are you?’ I demanded. ‘What are you doing here?’
His breath came in stutters as he shuddered, too afraid to answer, and then those shudders turned to tears as he began to sob.
‘Stop crying, boy.’ If he thought he was going to get any sympathy from me, then he was sorely mistaken. ‘Speak.’
‘Don’t k-kill me, lord, p-please.’
I froze in surprise. That was a girl’s voice. I lowered my knife and spun the child around, and as I did so her hood fell from her head and I saw her face. She was the young maidservant who had been with Beatrice earlier, her brown hair shining in the faint light.
‘P-please, lord,’ she said, her face streaming with tears, not daring to meet my eyes.
‘Why are you here?’
But she was sobbing so much that she did not answer. Still in shock, I didn’t doubt. We could not stay here, or someone would soon hear us. With my free hand I grabbed her wrist as I made for the river glittering under the stars. She did not resist, but let me pull her along, until I thought we’d put enough distance between ourselves and the camp that we could talk freely, without having to lower our voices.
‘I’m sorry, lord,’ she said as soon as we had stopped. ‘I didn’t know which one was yours. I didn’t mean to-’
The words came tumbling out and I raised my hand to quiet her. ‘It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?’
She bowed her head. ‘Papia.’
‘You’re one of Lady Beatrice’s maidservants.’
She nodded, still trembling, although at least her tears had ceased flowing now.
‘Do you know who I am?’ I asked.
‘Tancred a Dinant,’ she said, and I saw a lump form in her throat as she swallowed. ‘Seigneur of Earnford and once knight of the Earl of Northumbria, Robert de Commines, may God rest his soul.’
Clearly she knew my face; she must have recognised me from earlier. But my fame was not so widespread that every serving-girl would naturally have heard that I had once served Robert de Commines.
‘Did Lady Beatrice send you?’
Again the girl nodded. ‘She would meet with you tonight, if you wish to see her.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Even as I speak she is waiting for you at the church of St Ealhmund.’
That she would send for me so soon seemed more than a little strange. Even as my heart stirred, suspicions were already forming in my mind. How could I know that this wasn’t some kind of trick?
‘Is she alone?’ I asked Papia.
‘She is alone, lord.’
Of course it was a pointless question, and that was no answer at all, for it was exactly what she would tell me if this were indeed a ruse designed to trap me.
