The Splintered Kingdom (53 page)

‘Shield-ring!’ I shouted in desperation, feeling a shiver run the length of my body as I did so.

It was a command that every knight feared, for it was an admission of defeat, the final recourse when all else had failed, when there was no retreat and the end was near. We formed a close circle, each of us overlapping the rim of his buckler with that of the man to his left until we made a continuous wall of limewood and steel, presenting the painted leather faces and the bosses and the points of our blades to our foes, inviting them to come and die. At our backs, inside the ring, stood Malet and Beatrice. I gave a fleeting look over my shoulder and met her eyes: her wide, terrified eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, cursing myself for having brought this upon her and her family. But if she said anything in reply I did not hear her above the cries of the enemy, perhaps fifty or sixty of them in all by then, roaring instructions to one another in English and Danish, spreading out so as to entirely encircle us. Five or six spear-lengths separated our wall and theirs, separated us from death. Serlo stood on my left with Pons the other side of him. There were few men I would rather have had beside me in such circumstances. On my right, meanwhile, was Robert, carrying the tall kite shield with the raven and the cross that he had taken from one of the huscarls, and wearing a grim expression.

‘I never meant for it to come to this, lord,’ I said.

‘I know.’ He did not look at me but stared directly ahead at the forest of spears and axes upon which our blood would shortly be
spilt. ‘You have served me well, Tancred, and for everything you have done I thank you. May we send many of them to their graves tonight. May the eternal kingdom greet us both.’

‘Yes, lord.’

There was nothing else to be said. I made the sign of the cross upon my breast as, breathing deeply, I glanced about at the gathering hordes and prepared myself for battle for what was undoubtedly the last time, tightening my hold around my shield-straps and the hilt of my weapon, suddenly aware of all the small things: the leather grip pressing into my palm; the blood drying on my fingers; the drizzle falling gently upon my cheeks; the way the light from the still-burning ships in the distance glimmered off my blade and those of the enemy. My only consolation was that at least this way it would be quick.

‘Keep to the shield-ring,’ Serlo barked to those on the other side of the circle. ‘Don’t let them draw you out; don’t let them break the wall!’

‘Let’s kill the bastards,’ Eudo said. He began to beat his blade against the iron rim of his shield, and then one by one the rest of us joined him, raising the battle-thunder in spite of our small numbers: a warning to the enemy that we would not die easily.

‘Kill them!’ yelled Pons, and he was joined by Serlo and then by me, our bloods rising until we were all chanting as one: ‘Kill them! kill them!’

And then through the ranks of the English and Danes came Eadric, the Wild One himself, marching with the same arrogant bearing that I remembered. Over his mail he wore an embroidered cloak with a golden clasp. He motioned for quiet among his men.

‘Tancred a Dinant,’ he called, his voice almost lost amidst the roar of our chants. ‘Once more our paths meet, only this time you won’t be getting away.’

I did not offer an answer, but held his stare.

‘Are you the one to blame for all this trouble?’ He gestured towards the east where the fires still burnt. ‘To have come here you must be more foolish than I’d realised. Do you know what indignities I’ve suffered because of you?’

‘No,’ I said, although I sensed he was about to tell me. One by one my knights and companions broke off the battle-thunder.

‘Because of you I had to face Eadgar,’ he said. ‘I had to explain to him how Bleddyn and his men had been careless enough to let you escape before I could bargain with them. This after I’d already sent word promising to deliver you to him. Imagine, then, what happened when I arrived with nothing more than ill tidings to offer. I suffered not just his wrath but also the insults and constant mockery of those who said I’d been a fool to ever trust a Welshman.’

‘You should consider yourself fortunate,’ I retorted. ‘If you’d told the ætheling the truth your fate might have been far worse.’

‘He is King Eadgar now,’ said Eadric. ‘And he will be most pleased when I hand you over to him.’

‘A corpse is all you’ll be bringing him. You won’t take any of us alive.’

I was worth nothing to him dead, and I knew he would much rather atone for his earlier failure and claim his prize than obtain the smaller satisfaction of killing me.

‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I give you two choices. If you choose to stand and fight me, I swear that you will all die. Except for her.’ He nodded in the direction of Beatrice, who had frozen where she stood, her face white. ‘First I will delight in taking my pleasure from her, before offering her to my men and my fellow thegns, and only then will I kill her.’

At that I saw Robert flinch, his jaw clench and his fingers tighten around his sword-hilt, but thankfully he managed to hold his temper and did not let himself be drawn into a confrontation that he would surely lose.

‘What’s my other choice?’ I asked before Robert could utter a word.

Wild Eadric smiled. ‘Give yourself up and I will see to it that your friends, your lord and his kin are allowed to pass freely from this place and return whence they came.’

I considered. If I did as he asked and surrendered myself there was at least the chance that they might all live, whereas if we gave battle in this place we would undoubtedly perish. Yet how could
he possibly make such promises, especially if he’d fallen out of favour with the ætheling?

The only answer was that he was lying. He’d already deceived Bleddyn by promising silver in return for handing me over – silver that was never paid – and then sworn falsely that it was the Welshmen’s fault I had escaped from Mathrafal. If he was prepared to perjure himself openly before his own liege-lord, how could I trust him?

‘You can’t do this, Tancred,’ said Robert warningly. ‘As your lord I forbid it.’

I ignored him but asked Eadric: ‘What about Beatrice? Will you allow her to go free as well?’

‘I will,’ he answered. ‘Neither she nor any of the others will be harmed. You have my word.’

‘How do I know you’ll honour that word?’

Eadric affected a serious tone and tried to conceal his smile, most likely scenting victory close at hand. ‘I swear it.’

That in itself meant nothing. I knew as well as any man how easily such a pledge could be broken. And yet it gave me an idea. Casting down my shield but keeping my sword in hand, I stepped forward slowly out of the ring, into the space between the two battle-lines, albeit slightly closer to ours than theirs.

‘What are you doing?’ shouted Wace. ‘He’s nothing but a hollow excuse for a man. His oath means nothing; he only says this because he knows if he tries to fight us he’ll end up with half of his hearth-troops dead.’

He was probably right, but I had no intention of presenting myself to Eadric without a fight, only of making him think that I did.

Fixing my gaze upon the Englishman, I said: ‘In Brittany where I hail from, it is the custom when we swear oaths to do so over the symbol of the cross.’

That was untrue, at least in the manner that I had in mind, but I was relying on him being ignorant enough of Bretons and our ways to believe it. One final attempt to work some cunning; beyond this we had no option but to stand and fight. And die.

With my blade I carved one straight line about six feet in length in the turf, then another to form a cross-piece roughly two-thirds of the distance along the first.

Eadric snorted. ‘Must we do this?’

‘If you wish me to surrender myself to you, then yes.’ I slid my blade back into its scabbard and hoped he did not notice the lump in my throat betraying my apprehension as I swallowed. ‘We stand here at opposite ends of the cross, you make your promise to me, and then to solemnise it we embrace as equals. This is how it is done.’

‘Tancred!’ Beatrice said, and I heard the note of despair in her plea as she began to sob.

A couple of the Englishmen began to object. Eadric raised a hand to silence them. After handing his own shield to a retainer, he paced slowly forward to meet me, frowning in suspicion, as well he might. But I stood alone, with weapons sheathed and arms held away from my body to show I meant no harm as sweat trickled down my back and my chest.

He stopped at the base of the cross as instructed, while I took my position at the other end. If he’d wanted to strike me down at that moment, he could have done, since there was no way I could have drawn my sword in time to parry his blow. But he did not.

‘What do I say?’ he asked. Probably he was expecting some kind of ritual liturgy.

‘You make your oath in whatever form you wish. The exact words don’t matter.’

He gave a tired sigh, then said: ‘Upon the cross I swear to make certain that, if you submit to me, your companions are set free. Is that sufficient?’

‘It is sufficient,’ I replied. ‘Now we embrace.’

Again Wild Eadric smiled, and this time it was a broad grin that showed his cracked teeth, for in his mind he had won. I spread my arms to receive him and he did likewise as he stepped towards me. He clasped his arms around my back, and I made to do the same, except that with my right hand I seized the hilt of his dagger and in one swift movement tugged it free of its sheath, lifting it to his
throat before he was even aware what had happened, while with my other arm I held him firm.

‘Move and I will kill you,’ I said, and then to his men: ‘Stay where you are and lay down your weapons, or else this steel ends up in your lord Eadric’s neck.’

At first it seemed they did not hear me, but then I pressed the edge against the underside of his chin, to show that this was no idle threat. A trickle of blood spilt forth where I’d grazed Eadric’s skin, and they glanced nervously at each other before doing as I told them. No man wishes to be responsible for the death of his lord, and that holds true no matter whether he is Norman or English or of any other race.

‘You wouldn’t dare kill me,’ Eadric said. ‘If you do, they will be upon you in less than a heartbeat. They will tear you apart and spit on your corpses.’

‘Shut up,’ I hissed. Step by step we retreated towards the safety of our shield-ring, where Robert set about relieving him of his sword-belt.

‘What do we do now?’ muttered Eudo. ‘Or is this as far as your plan goes?’

I didn’t answer. All I knew was that for the moment as least we held the advantage, and we had to make use of it while we could.

‘Make way,’ I shouted at Eadric’s men. ‘Make way!’

It was a long way from here back to the edge of the marshes, though, and even further from there back to the barn where Ædda was waiting with the horses. Even as the Englishmen and Danes cleared a path and we began to move, keeping our ring formation, I saw that we could not maintain this impasse for long. For they would follow us all the way, and sooner or later some of the more hot-headed among Eadric’s oath-warriors would decide to try their sword-arms against ours and attempt to rescue their lord. I knew because it was what I would do. When that happened I didn’t see how we could manage to fight them all off.

Already a few of them were growing restless, their hands going to the hilts and handles of their weapons as they closed upon us. Behind their shield-rims and their helmets and their long
moustaches all I could see of their faces were their cold eyes staring back at me.

‘Stay back!’ Pons said. ‘Stay back or we kill your lord.’

It was an empty threat, and they knew it too, for they kept on coming, faster than we could retreat.

‘They are cowards,’ Eadric shouted in spite of the sharpened steel at his throat. ‘Watch how they run from you!’

And there was nothing more I could do.

‘Stop,’ I said to the others. We had made barely thirty paces from the spot where Eadric had first trapped us. We hadn’t so much as left the horse paddock. For all our efforts, our time had come. I for one would rather meet my maker with sword in hand than running like some pitiful craven. ‘We fight here.’

Eadric began to laugh, as well he might. A thundering, triumphant laugh that matched his byname, it seemed to resound off the surrounding buildings and rise to the cloudy heavens, filling the night. Victory belonged to him after all.

But as I cast my gaze around at my loyal companions in arms, I realised that was not the only sound I heard. From somewhere beyond the walls came what sounded like screams, and they were the kind of screams I’d heard many times in my life, for they were screams of pain, of slaughter and the dying. The enemy must have heard them too, for they halted, glancing uncertainly at each other even as I exchanged confused looks with my sword-brothers. Who could be attacking?

Lord Robert grinned. ‘When you said these were all the men you could muster, I knew it couldn’t be true.’

‘I wasn’t lying,’ I replied, but that was all I had time to say before the sound of war-horns cut me off: two sharp blasts given in quick succession. A signal to rally.

On the main streets all was confusion. Men were running back and forth, some carrying pails filled with water while others seemingly without any purpose at all. And then I realised why, as there was a rush of air from the direction of the walls and the night sky lit up with several long streaks of flame, too many to count, like shooting stars except much lower in the sky and burning more
fiercely. They sailed over the top of the palisade: first one volley, then another and another still. Some fell harmlessly on to the mud in the middle of the street, but others landed upon the houses, which quickly caught fire. I glanced back in the direction we had come and saw the thatch of some of the workshops close by the monastery consumed by writhing tongues of red and orange and yellow.

Women fled the houses: wives and camp-followers, slaves and whores alike, wrapping what they could salvage of their menfolk’s belongings inside cloaks, or else stuffing them into haversacks. A riderless horse, a mere shadow against the light, galloped towards the market square through streets filled with smoke. Roofs collapsed with a crash of timbers; clouds of still-glowing ash billowed up into the air where the strengthening breeze carried them from one building to the next. And still the rain of fire continued, as if the forces of hell had been unleashed upon this earth.