Before we left I also found time to speak to Robert, who had been in despondent mood in the weeks since we had returned from Beferlic. His hearth-knights — oath-sworn and loyal retainers, sword-brothers and friends — had all perished in the last few months, most of them in the fight for Eoferwic during which he, his sister and father had fallen into the enemy’s hands. Now he alone was left.
‘They were good men,’ Robert said. ‘Ansculf, Urse, Tescelin, Adso and all the others. Even now I see their faces in my mind and struggle to believe that they’re gone. A better band of fighters I have never known.’
I didn’t know what to add, and so said nothing. I knew all too well what it meant to live when so many had died. Together we gazed upon the remnants of Eoferwic: upon the houses and churches and the blackened earth of the ramparts and the twin mounds, one on either side of the Use, which were all that survived of the castles.
‘How is your father faring?’ I asked, feeling that I should break the silence.
‘Not well,’ Robert replied. ‘His sickness keeps returning, and each time it seems worse than before. I worry he might not see through the winter.’
‘We can but pray that he does, lord.’
The king had stripped the elder Malet of his role as vicomte of the shire of Eoferwic as punishment for having allowed the city to fall to the enemy a second time. To me it seemed an unnecessary humiliation to inflict upon a man who was already suffering both in body and in spirit. From my dealings with him, I knew Malet as someone to whom honour and respect mattered greatly. The defeat at the hands of the enemy would already weigh heavy upon his heart without this latest insult from the king, although from what Robert was saying it sounded as though that was probably the least of his concerns.
‘They say King Guillaume has sent to Wincestre for his crown,’ Robert said, and there was a stiffness to his tone that I hadn’t heard before. ‘He plans to hold a coronation here in the city on Christmas morning.’
‘In Eoferwic?’ I asked, gesturing at the wreckage of the once-proud city. The perversity of the very idea took me aback. ‘Why?’
He looked away, so that I could not see his face, although I could well imagine his expression. ‘I have never pretended to understand the king’s mind. He wishes it, and so it will be.’
There was clearly much resentment there, and so I decided not to press the matter further. The king’s capricious nature was well known. A formidable and awe-inspiring man, he was also bullheaded, determined to have his way by whatever means necessary, and unaccustomed to having his will questioned. I myself had faced him only once in person, but that one brief meeting was enough to know that he was not a man to be crossed.
‘Once again you have my sincerest thanks,’ said Robert, turning back to face me. ‘And I promise that you and all your comrades will be well rewarded. Be safe on your travels. I hope it’s not too long before we meet again.’
‘I trust that it won’t be, lord.’
We embraced, and thus we parted ways. My companions were waiting and I knew it was time to go. The days were growing ever shorter as midwinter approached, and many leagues lay between this place and Licedfeld, where the survivors of Earnford awaited my return, and between there and the Marches. Mounting Fyrheard, I glanced at Serlo and Pons, who were riding alongside me, then over my shoulder at the lads Ceawlin, D?gric and Odgar, at Father Erchembald and?dda, making sure that they were all ready.
Thus at last we left Eoferwic, and started out on the long road south.
‘Do you think the Danes will hold true to their promises?’?dda asked me later that morning when Eoferwic was some miles behind us. ‘Will they leave peacefully in the spring as they agreed?’
We rode through country white with frost. Beneath our mounts’ hooves the ground was hard; the puddles on the track had all turned to ice and mist formed before my face with every breath.
‘God alone has any idea what King Sweyn is planning,’ I said. ‘When he and Eadgar made common cause they probably intended to divide England between them. But now that the?theling’s taken his ships back north and we no longer have the Welsh to worry about, I don’t see how the Danes think they can defeat us.’
‘In which case with any luck they’ll see reason and sail back across the sea,’ Pons muttered.
‘Reason?’ Serlo gave a snort. ‘When did the Danes ever see reason?’
I smiled at that. Desire for silver and spoils was what drove them above all else. It had brought them to these shores, and if there was one thing we could rely on, it was that they would go wherever they reckoned they had the best chance of obtaining those things. From what I understood of their customs, they saw it as better to die in pursuit of glory and riches than to do the prudent thing and return home alive but empty-handed.
That was why, despite the oaths they’d sworn to King Guillaume and regardless of what good sense suggested was the best course of action, the likelihood was that they would do the opposite. And so we would surely find ourselves fighting them again before too long.
Until then, though, we could only do what we always did: keep our blades and our sword-skills sharp, and wait. Spring was several months away, and in the meantime we had work to do: houses, barns, a hall and a church to build in place of those that had been burnt; fields to till and fresh seed to sow; fish-weirs to repair and vegetable-gardens to replant. A manor to raise from the ashes.
The sun shone in a pale, cloudless sky, while an icy wind gusted at our backs. Ahead of us the way stretched to the distant hills, and across that bright and silent land we rode.
To Earnford, and home.
