Knights of the Hawk (16 page)

Serlo looked at me. ‘What do we do, lord?’

I glanced at Robert, whose face bore a grim expression. ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘Wait until I say.’

‘I have no time for this,’ the man called. ‘I’ve come to talk, not to fight.’

That sounded like the kind of thing Morcar was likely to say, although I hadn’t been expecting him to come in person. I’d thought he would prefer to stay where there was no danger, in his hall in the monastery at Elyg, rather than speak with us himself.

‘You’ve come to talk, have you?’ Robert shouted out. ‘You have a strange way of showing it.’

He rose and strode forward, towards the flickering torch-glow, at the same time signalling to the rest of us to get to our feet, which we did, albeit a little stiffly after so long spent crouched in the cold and the damp. Hamo and his men nocked arrows to their bowstrings in warning, and I laid my sword-hand upon my hilt as I followed Robert, my boots sinking into the soft earth. A thin drizzle still fell; droplets rolled off the leaves, pattering on to the sodden earth.

‘I didn’t come with a whole army to protect me,’ the man pointed out. He stepped closer to the light and I saw him properly for the first time. What I was expecting, I wasn’t sure. There was little resemblance between nephew and uncle, for while the boy had been short of stature, fair in complexion and round in the cheek, the elder one was tall and dark-featured, with a face composed of hard lines that drew together to form a stern expression. How many he was in years, I could not say exactly, although I might have guessed around thirty-five.

‘Are you Morcar?’ Robert asked, coming to a halt about ten paces from the Englishmen.

‘Were you expecting someone else?’

Robert shrugged. ‘At least you had the nerve to come yourself this night, rather than send a boy to do a man’s work.’

‘If you’re hoping to win my allegiance, you’re not doing very well,’ Morcar said. ‘I might decide I don’t want to parley after all, and go back to the Isle. Then you would have to face your king’s displeasure for having let your one chance at winning this war slip away.’

‘Or else I could kill you now and be done with it.’

‘You could, but you would as likely die trying,’ Morcar said with a sneer. ‘And several of your men with you, besides. Your little raiding-band might have managed to surprise my nephew the other night, but we both know that an open fight is another matter entirely.’

Had the numbers lain more in our favour, I might have thought like Robert, but as it was I found myself agreeing with Morcar. Giving battle was always a risky business, and never a course of action to be undertaken lightly, unless victory could be all but assured, which in this case it could not.

‘Where is your nephew?’ Robert asked. ‘Is he here, or have you left him back at Elyg where he can do no harm?’

‘He is here,’ Morcar said, and gave a snap of his fingers. ‘Godric!’ One of the men I’d taken for Morcar’s hearth-troops stepped forward, untied his chin-strap and removed his helmet, revealing a plump-faced youth whom I recognised at once. He looked even more nervous, if that were possible, than he had three days ago while kneeling before the king. I could not recall ever seeing anyone so finely dressed for war and yet looking so uncomfortable, and so terrified.

‘Don’t forget that if I hadn’t let Godric lead the scouting-party that night, we might not be standing here now,’ Morcar said mildly. ‘Your king ought to be thanking me for making this meeting possible.’

‘I will make sure to tell him when we return to camp,’ Robert said, and there was no mistaking his sardonic tone. ‘Should I suppose that you have an answer for him?’

‘I do. I have listened to his offer and received his writ, and considered it carefully.’

‘And what do you say?’

‘That I accept his terms, and that I promise to lend my spears in your support when you make your next attack across the bridge in a few days’ time.’

‘How are you so sure that we’re planning another attack?’ I asked.

Morcar snorted as he turned to me. ‘Do you think we are blind? We have all seen your men labouring to repair the causeway and the siege platforms, and to clear the ground all about of reeds and sedge. It is hardly any secret that King Guillaume is preparing for another attempt to capture the Isle, and soon, if the number of tents and banners that gather daily around the guardhouse at Alrehetha are any clue.’ He turned to Robert. ‘I’ll tell you what will happen. As soon as I hear that the first of your conrois has crossed the bridge, I’ll turn my spears against my countrymen, and send word to those of my loyal followers to do the same. The Isle will belong to us within hours. I will surrender Elyg to your king and at the same time make my formal submission to him.’

‘What makes you think you have the right to direct the course of the battle?’ I asked.

A frown descended upon Morcar’s face, as if in his eyes I were a mere gnat, for whose buzzing he cared little. ‘Are you leader here, or is he?’ he asked, gesturing at Lord Robert. ‘Which one of you should I be speaking to?’

‘To me,’ Robert said before I could open my mouth. ‘I speak for the king.’

‘Then tell him what I have just told you.’

‘What if he has a different strategy in mind?’

‘Then of course he is free to pursue it if he wishes, but he will not succeed,’ Morcar said, swelling out his chest and drawing himself up to his full height. ‘Without my help he faces an impossible task. I have more than a thousand spears at my command. Without those spears he cannot succeed.’ He glanced at me. ‘That’, he said, speaking slowly, ‘is what gives me the right.’

‘You ask a lot of our trust,’ said Robert. ‘You say you will do nothing until we reach the other side of the bridge. By then our army will be committed. If you decide not to make good on your promise—’

‘That is a chance you must take. From what I hear, the king is determined to press ahead with this latest assault regardless of whether he has my support or not.’

I frowned. ‘How do you know this?’

He grinned. In the torchlight his teeth gleamed as white as a Welshman’s, and I wondered whether he obsessed about cleaning them in the same way. Certainly he seemed to think highly of himself; there was a look of self-satisfaction about him, as if he had us all acting according to his desires.

‘It doesn’t matter how I know it, only that it is true, and you have as good as confirmed it for me.’

Robert glared at me, but I knew that Morcar was only trying to taunt us. He wouldn’t risk appearing foolish in front of us by saying such a thing unless he could be reasonably confident he was right. Possibly he had gleaned that knowledge from Godric after his return to Elyg, or it was merely an assured guess. Whichever, I was fast taking a dislike to his arrogant manner.

‘Come, though,’ said Morcar. ‘Let us not sow any seeds of suspicion between us. You have my word that I will fulfil my part as we have discussed, and as surety of my good faith, I give you my nephew as hostage. Should I break my word, you may kill him. Is there any greater guarantee I can give you than that?’

That was why Godric looked so frightened, then. He already knew what his role would be. Although, I thought, should Morcar fail to keep his side of the agreement, his nephew’s death would be scant vengeance for the loss of hundreds of Norman knights.

‘Uncle—’ Godric started to protest.

‘Go with them, nephew,’ Morcar said, interrupting him before he could continue. ‘You will be safe. Upon my own life I swear it.’

The flatness of his tone gave the lie to his reassuring words. Somewhat hesitantly the boy stepped forward, and not for the first time I felt something close to sympathy for him. He was but a playing-piece in a game he was too young yet to understand, although he knew well enough the penalty if he happened to find himself on the losing side.

‘I also present to your king a gift that I hope he might take pleasure in,’ Morcar said, smiling, and he gestured to his hearth-troops, who brought forward two women.

I say they were women, but really they were no more than girls, both in the early flush of womanhood and probably around as many in years as Godric. So alike were they that they had to be twins. They were slim, delicately featured and obviously unmarried too, for their hair, wavy and chestnut-brown, was not braided and covered but instead hung long and loose to their waists. Were it not for the tears in their eyes, they might have been great beauties. Both were shaking, and not just, I suspected, because it was cold and their dresses were thin.

‘Their names are Acha and Tuce,’ Morcar said. ‘I forget which is which, but I’m sure they will tell you, if you care to ask.’

Robert gestured for Hamo’s men to down their bows and seize both Godric and the twins, which was probably wise, before one or more of them decided to make a bid for freedom and lose us in the mist.

‘Bind them,’ he said, and then to Morcar: ‘Why should King Guillaume take any interest in these girls?’

‘Why do you think? For the same reason as any other man would.’

‘In all the years of his marriage he has never taken another woman to his bed. I thought you might have known that.’

‘So he says. You know as well as I that, kings or not, we all have needs, and these are the prettiest of all my slave-girls. But if he doesn’t want them, perhaps he will let you have them, Robert Malet.’

If my lord was surprised that Morcar knew his name, he did well not to show it. ‘Have you any other gifts for us, or is our business here finished?’

‘I have nothing more to say.’

‘Very well. With any luck our paths will cross again soon.’

‘I look forward to it, and to meeting King Guillaume in person.’ Morcar grinned again, and I caught another gleaming flash of his teeth. He had a look in his eyes, at the same time both rapacious and sly, that put me in mind of a wolf. If I didn’t trust him before, I trusted him less then. ‘I fervently pray, too, that your father recovers soon from whatever ailment it is that troubles him.’

Robert opened his mouth but no sound came out. Before he could find the words with which to reply, Morcar had turned on his heels and marched away, beyond the marker stone into the darkness. As he did so his hearth-troops closed ranks about him, protecting his rear and flanks and keeping a close watch upon us, until the mist closed around them and I lost sight of their torches in the gloom.

‘He seems to know a lot,’ Eudo remarked after they’d gone. ‘Do you think he has spies in our camp?’

‘I doubt it,’ Robert said. ‘Even if there are, it’s unlikely that they would be able to get near enough to the king to find out anything of much worth. He keeps close counsel, as you know.’

‘What about Brother Atselin?’ I asked. ‘He’s a weasel, if I ever saw one.’

‘The clerk, you mean?’

‘He’s part of the royal household, and has the king’s ear,’ I pointed out. ‘I don’t like him, and I don’t trust him, lord.’

Robert looked sternly at me. ‘There are many men you don’t trust. That doesn’t make them all traitors. No, I don’t believe there’s any spy in our midst. All Morcar’s looking to do is sow doubt in our minds and that of the king. To turn us against one another, to make us hunt for enemies where there are none, to foment further dissent in our ranks and so strengthen his own position.’

There was sense in that, I supposed. I only hoped he was right.

‘Come on,’ Robert said as he turned in the direction of the inlet where the willows grew, where Baudri and the others were waiting with the boats to take us back to Brandune. ‘Let’s leave this place.’

Eight

FORTUNATELY THE KING
seemed to be satisfied by Morcar’s terms and the gift of the two slave-girls, for the next morning, under cloudless skies and a fierce sun, we made ready to quit Brandune, and I prayed it was the last we would see of that fetid cesspit.

Awaiting us was Alrehetha, where the bridge was being rebuilt. Most of our host had already assembled there, and we were among the last few hundred men to make the journey, along with the king and his retinue. A token force would be left to guard the boats moored there, together with enough provisions to keep them fed. Everything else we took with us: bundles of firewood, timber planks, sacks of grain to feed our horses, barrels of salted fish and pickled eels, spare spearheads and mail hauberks, all of which were loaded on to carts or sumpter ponies. With us, too, travelled all the leech-doctors and fletchers, wheelwrights and armourers and priests who attended upon an army, as well as the ever-present rolls-keepers who recorded every last bundle of wool and roll of cloth taken from the royal storehouses, every chicken and goose placed in a cage for the journey, and made a tally of every cart and haywain as it was harnessed to a team of oxen and sent on its way to join the main column.

And among those rolls-keepers, as always, was Atselin. He sat at his usual desk in the yard outside the king’s hall, except that a canopy had now been erected above his head to shield his bald head and his precious parchments from the sun and the rain. He was overseeing the other clerks, who scurried about from building to building with bundles of scrolls under their arms on which presumably were written lists of goods, which they brought to him for his approval and his seal. A crowd was forming about his writing-desk and I hoped to escape his attention as I made my way past, towards the paddock where my destrier, Fyrheard, was grazing.

I wasn’t so lucky. My gaze must have lingered a little too long. Even as I looked away, he called my name. For an instant I hesitated, deciding whether to heed him or pretend I hadn’t heard, but then he called a second time, louder this time, and I realised I couldn’t ignore him. Sighing, I turned and made my way over as, with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the queue of grumbling underclerks.

‘What do you want, Atselin?’ I asked, without so much as a word of greeting. He would not have offered me that courtesy, and I saw no reason why I should do any differently.

He did not look up but continued to scrawl, squinting intently at the page. The grey of the goose-feather quill in his hand matched the crown of hair around his tonsure.