was. He was some years older than myself, and he resented me, as he resented Eudo and Wace, for having been rewarded so generously after Eoferwic while he still remained landless, without the honour that a manor of his own would give him. This I knew because he had told me as much on more than one occasion.
‘I want to speak with Robert,’ I said. ‘Let me pass.’
‘You’re not welcome here. It’s because of you that Urse, Adso, Tescelin and the others lie dead.’
I bridled at his tone. Of those three names only the first was familiar, and I tried to remember which one Urse was; after a moment his round, piggish face rose to mind.
‘Because of me? What do you mean?’
‘Leave him, Ansculf,’ called Lord Robert. He strode towards me, his expression tired and hollow. ‘I will speak with him myself.’
But Ansculf was not going to back down readily. ‘Lord, this man-’
‘Enough,’ Robert said sharply. ‘Tancred, come with me.’
I followed him until we were out of easy earshot of his knights, although they kept casting sneering glances in my direction and I could still catch parts of their conversation. They spoke loudly of how my mother was a whore and the daughter of a whore besides, and how they had heard that I preferred the company of men to women: all of it doubtless meant for my ears, to provoke me.
‘They are angry,’ Robert said dismissively. ‘Their sword-brothers are dead and they need someone they can blame.’
‘Then they should blame the men who struck the blows that sent them to their graves,’ I said. ‘What do their deaths have to do with me?’
The words came out more petulantly than I had meant them, and I saw that they had stung Robert. For a moment he looked as though he were about to turn on me, but after a moment’s hesitation he simply shook his head.
We kept walking until we had come to the wolf banner, which had been planted in the ground at the edge of one of the pasture fields. An audience had gathered around Hugues d’Avranches by the time we arrived, and among them I recognised many of the barons who had been there in the hall at Scrobbesburh, their faces red with anger as the young earl tried to shout them down, demanding order.
They fell silent as I approached, and one by one turned to fix their gazes upon me.
‘At last he decides to show his face,’ one of them called. ‘The Breton for whom so much Norman blood has been spilt.’
I felt as though I were on trial, accused of some misdemeanour of which I remained ignorant.
‘What?’ I asked, but no one seemed willing to answer. The Wolf gazed back at me, stony-faced and stern despite his youth, as if somehow I ought to understand already. As if I were stupid for not being able to see it.
‘He is no less a Norman than any of you,’ Robert said. ‘So unless you have anything useful to say, you would be wise to keep those tongues inside your heads.’
One of the barons shoved me in the shoulder as we made our way through the crowd. Even so many hours after the battle my blood was running hot. The pain of defeat was still fresh, and that small slight was enough to bring my anger to the surface once more. Without pausing to think I shoved him back. In an instant he had drawn his knife and I mine as we faced each other.
‘Put away your weapons,’ the Wolf barked. ‘This is not the time for squabbling.’
‘I’ll sheathe mine as soon as he apologises,’ I said, staring into the cold blue eyes of the one who had laid his hands upon me.
‘Apologise?’ he snorted. ‘To the man on whose account some of my best knights lost their lives? It was your own foolhardiness that led you into the enemy trap. It would have been far better if we had left you and your Welsh friends to your fates.’
‘If you had left us?’ I asked, frowning. ‘What do you mean by that?’
I glanced at Robert, but he would not meet my eyes.
‘I didn’t have to come and rescue your wretched hide,’ Earl Hugues said. His voice was hoarse, but there was no mistaking his frustration. ‘You weren’t supposed to meet the enemy host at all. If you hadn’t blundered into their ambush, we could have forced them to meet us on ground that suited us.’
‘Why did you come, then?’ I demanded. ‘Tell me that. If there was no advantage to be had, why did you commit your men at all?’
‘Because of your lord.’ He gestured at Robert. ‘He convinced me to meet the enemy in battle, to take the fight to the brothers Rhiwallon and Bleddyn. You would not be standing here now were it not for him, so have some respect and be thankful that you and your companions still live while so many do not.’
His fiery gaze burnt into me, but I held it. Eventually he turned away, shaking his head. A hush fell; no one dared to speak.
Lord Robert was the one to break the silence as he said: ‘What do we do now?’
‘We return to Scrobbesburh and make ready to face the enemy there,’ the Wolf replied.
‘You’d have us retreat?’ I asked.
‘We haven’t the strength to fight another battle,’ the Wolf replied. ‘On the other hand the enemy’s confidence will have grown in the wake of their victory. As the news spreads, even more men will flock to their banners. Soon they will march again.’
‘One of their kings lies dead, struck down on the field,’ I said. ‘If ever there was a time to strike, it is now, before they have the chance to rally and bolster their numbers.’
‘Look around you, Tancred,’ said Hugues, an exasperated glint in his eyes. ‘Look at the faces of the men. How many of them do you think have the heart for another clash with the enemy? Many have lost friends and brothers and most are half-starved besides. How well do you think that they’ll fight on empty stomachs?’
To escape the battle we’d had to abandon most of the heavily laden sumpter ponies that carried our packs, in which had lain the bulk of our provisions. Only by cutting loose the straps to relieve them of their burden had we managed to save even a few of the animals. My own horses were among them, I was relieved to see, rescued by the ever-dependable Cnebba and Snocca, both of whom had been fortunate to escape with little more than scratches and bruises, torn tunics and dirt-streaked faces.
‘We raid, just as we did before,’ I said, growing more desperate. ‘Send bands out to forage. As soon as the men are rested and their bellies are full we can ride once more. We still have most of our spearmen left, all of them fit to fight.’
I glanced about, hoping to rouse the enthusiasm of the other barons, trying to meet the eyes of those who had supported me back in the castle hall not so long ago. It was in vain. In silence they stared at me, arms folded in front of their chests. A few began to walk away, though whether in disgust or out of embarrassment for me, it was hard to tell. I sensed that my cause was a losing one, yet for some reason I could not stop myself.
‘Yes,’ I said, raising my voice, ‘we can ride once more, surprise the enemy within their own camp-’
I broke off when I saw Robert shaking his head as if in warning. Defeated, my spirits sank. For the first time since the battle I felt empty, my limbs devoid of all vigour.
‘Return to your men,’ the Wolf called as the barons dispersed. ‘Eat what food you have, rest while you can. We march within the hour.’
I was making my way back when the Welsh princes’ chaplain, a man by the name of Ionafal, saw me and called me over to where his countrymen were gathered. The priest had just finished hearing Maredudd’s confession and had given him the sacrament from a flask he carried inside his robes. His lord was not long for this life, he told me; if I wanted to speak with him then now was the time.
Amidst the confusion of our flight from the battle and everything that had followed, I had all but forgotten him. When I arrived, his pallor was worse than any I had ever seen, as if all the blood had drained from his face. He could not stop shivering, though the day was far from cold. His men had offered up their own cloaks, wrapping the furs around him. He was of an age with myself, but at that moment he looked much older.
‘Tancred,’ he said when he saw me. His voice came out at no more than a whisper, and he could barely keep his eyes open, but at least he recognised me.
Now that I was here, words deserted me. ‘You fought well,’ I said. ‘You and your brother both.’
‘Not well enough,’ he said, and managed a smile, though it quickly faded as tears came into his eyes. ‘If we had, then Ithel would still live, the usurpers would both lie dead and we would stand victorious.’
I gripped his hand in reassurance. His palm was moist with sweat, his skin burning with ague.
