I crouched down low so that he could see my face and the moonlight glinting upon my sword-edge. His eyes widened and he fell quiet. At a guess I would have said he was around eighteen in years, like Turold, and of a similar stature too.
‘Do you speak French?’ I asked him, at the same time trying to work out whether he was one of the?theling’s men or one of King Sweyn’s. The Northumbrians wore their hair long in much the same fashion as the Danes; indeed there was much blood shared between the two peoples, and it was often difficult to tell them apart.
When he did not respond I tried in English: ‘Whom do you serve?’
‘Eadgar,’ he said, trembling slightly. ‘King Eadgar is my lord.’
At that I recoiled slightly. I knew he had proclaimed himself ruler of this land, but that was the first time I’d actually heard one of his followers refer to him as king.
‘What do they call you?’ I asked.
‘R-Runstan,’ he said. ‘Runstan, son of Penda.’
‘My name is Tancred a Dinant. Does that mean anything to you?’
At that Runstan fell quiet.
‘You’ve heard of me, then,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘They say. .’ he began, and then mumbled something that I could not make out.
‘Speak louder,’ I told him, and brought my blade closer to his throat. ‘What do they say?’
He swallowed. ‘They say King Eadgar is offering a reward to any man who captures you and brings you to him. You were the one who wounded him upon the cheek and gave him his scar.’
So he knew the tales that had been told about me, and that was a good thing, for he knew then that it would not be wise to cross me.
‘Tell me where your lord is now,’ I said. ‘And tell me truthfully, or else I will open your belly, string you up by your guts from the nearest tree and leave you there until you choke to death.’
He faltered, but fortunately he was not the sort of man who was prepared to die for his oath. ‘King Eadgar is at Beferlic,’ he said at last.
Beferlic. I had heard of that town in passing before, and knew it lay to the east of here, on the edges of Heldernesse.
‘And Sweyn?’
‘King Sweyn is with him, together with his two sons, his brother Osbjorn and all his jarls.’
It took a while to get all the answers I needed, but eventually Runstan explained to me how they had fortified the old monastery that stood there and were now waiting for King Guillaume to come to fight them by the swamps. Clearly the Danes hoped that the opportunity to destroy in one encounter all the leading men of their realm would be too tempting for us to ignore.
‘How many men do they have?’
‘In and around Beferlic, close to one thousand English and Danes,’ he said. ‘Those are the best warriors, the jarls and the hearth-troops. Another five thousand are waiting by their ships in the marshes by the Humbre.’
‘Six thousand in all?’ We could not hope to fight that many, not unless it was in open country where the might of our conrois could be brought to bear, and even then it would not be easy.
‘Yes, lord. And there is more.’
‘More?’
‘News that will interest you, though it may not please you to hear it.’
I was not in the mood for riddles. ‘Go on.’
‘Only if you swear to spare my life.’
Another time I might have laughed at his gall, but at that moment I was too intrigued by what he thought he might be able to offer me.
‘I swear it,’ I said. ‘Now tell me.’
He hesitated for a moment as if unsure whether my promise was truly meant, but then he must have seen that if it wasn’t then he was a dead man either way.
‘When Eoferwic fell there were hostages taken,’ he said.
‘I know that. What of them?’
‘There were five: the only ones who were allowed to survive the battle. Two of them are with the main part of the fleet by the Humbre.’
He gave me the names of the castellan Gilbert de Gand, a man with whom I’d had more than my share of quarrels over the years, as well as his mistress Richildis. Then he paused.
‘What about the other three?’
‘They were taken to Beferlic.’
With every moment I was growing more impatient. ‘Their names,’ I said. ‘Tell me their names.’
Something was troubling Runstan, as if he did not want to tell me what was next on his mind, but knew that he had to for his own sake. I saw the lump in his throat as he swallowed, and guessed what he was about to say.
‘The other three’, he said, ‘are your lord Robert Malet, his sister Beatrice and their father Guillaume, the vicomte of the shire of Eoferwic.’
Twenty-seven
They were alive. In the hands of the enemy and the man I’d sworn to kill, but alive nonetheless.
For a few moments I didn’t know what to say, but simply stood rooted to the ground, open-mouthed as thoughts whirled through my head and the faintest glimmer of hope stirred within me, until I heard Wace speaking my name, asking what the Englishman was saying. Somehow I managed to recover my voice enough to tell him.
‘We have to take him back with us,’ he said afterwards, meaning Runstan. ‘We need to deliver him to the king and his advisers.’
‘What for?’ I asked, glancing at the wide-eyed Englishman, who understood none of what we were saying. Perhaps he guessed that we were discussing his fate, or perhaps not, though he seemed a clever enough lad.
‘So he can tell them what he knows,’ Wace replied, looking at me as if I were slow-witted. ‘So we can raise the ransom for the release of Lord Robert.’
‘It won’t make any difference. Don’t you see? The king won’t pay the Danes a single penny to leave these shores. He doesn’t want to bargain; he won’t even send envoys to parley with them.’ My ire was rising and I was aware that I was ranting yet could not stop myself. ‘All he wants is to trample their corpses into the earth and let his fuller run with their blood. If he won’t so much as talk to the enemy, do you think he’ll willingly offer up silver for the lives of Gilbert de Gand and his mistress, or for Lord Robert and his kin?’
Wace did not answer. He knew that I was right. Robert’s fool of a father, Guillaume, had failed the king on two occasions in as many years. For all his shrewd governance of Eoferwic, as vicomte the defence of the city and of the shire rested largely upon him. By allowing them to fall into the enemy’s hands not once but twice he had demonstrated his ineptitude. There would be no ransom for him, and were that the case it seemed unlikely that the freedom of Robert or Beatrice would be purchased either. It was well known that in the king’s eyes the Malet name was tarnished, perhaps irrevocably so. What if he decided it was easier to be rid of them altogether? For if the Danes’ price was not met, there would be no advantage in holding them prisoner, and their lives would then be forfeit.
I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t risk the lives of my lord and his family by doing nothing and simply hoping that the king would see sense. I owed my lordship, my reputation and, some would say, my life to the Malets. I had sworn solemn oaths not just to Robert but to his sister too, many months ago.
Beatrice. Despite all our differences I had loved her once, or thought I had. Having already lost Oswynn and Leofrun I was determined not to lose her too.
‘What do you suggest we do?’ asked Wace, his tone one of resignation.
And I told him.
‘This is madness,’ said Eudo when we arrived back and Wace told him what I planned. ‘Have you lost your
