Knights of the Hawk

Twenty-one

Fortunately Magnus seemed to be convinced by my reasoning, which was just as well, since I doubted my coin would extend to hiring for myself an army sufficient for this task, as well as a guide who knew the islands and the sea-routes of the Suthreyjar, and not to mention a ship as well. God’s favour was clearly shining upon me, and I accepted with no little thanks these gifts He’d sent my way, welcome as they were after everything I’d endured in recent weeks.

Thus while Nihtegesa was being repaired and caulked ready for our voyage in the days that followed, Magnus rode out in person to solicit the support of those of his followers who dwelt outside the city.

‘Most of them left when it was clear I no longer had the means to pay them,’ he told me. ‘It would have been fruitless to try to prevent them going, so I released them from their oaths. Some have taken service with other lords; a few have found themselves Irish wives and a corner of land on which to settle. Still, if I seek them out and tell them what I have in mind, I hope that a few at least will be willing to rejoin me.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ I said.

He shrugged. ‘I can but try.’

His faith was well placed. Almost a week after we had first made port in Dyflin, the first of Magnus’s old retainers came to the city and presented himself at his hall. A thickset Englishman in his middle years, he was dressed in mail and armed with spear and sword, as well as a long-handled axe that he carried slung across his back. His top lip was adorned with a thick moustache, and his tangled beard was flecked with breadcrumbs. His name was Ælfhelm and he was, I soon learnt, one of the longest-serving and most trusted retainers of the usurper’s family. He had been left to defend Lundene when Harold had marched to meet King Guillaume, and so had been spared a bloody end at Hæstinges.

On first seeing myself and my knights, and recognising us for the Normans we were, he reached straightaway for his sword-hilt. I believe he would have tried to face all three of us at once had Magnus not blocked his path, explained who we were and why we were here.

Ælfhelm spat on the floor. ‘Why should I ally myself with these whoresons?’

‘Because I wish it,’ Magnus answered.

‘It was men like these who slew your father and his brothers. Have you forgotten that?’

‘They’re friends,’ Magnus insisted, and though that seemed to me a little overstating matters, given that we had met only a few days previously, I didn’t argue. In any case, it seemed to put an end to the debate. The bearded one’s mouth twisted into a scowl and he kept glancing suspiciously at us as Magnus led him into the hall and the two of them exchanged what tidings they had. We would have to keep a close watch over him, I reckoned.

Nor was he the only one we would have to be wary of. In all, twenty-six of Magnus’s huscarls responded to his summons, each one accompanied by a manservant or stable-boy, and a couple with their lovers and mistresses. They were men of all sizes and appearances, some of an age roughly with myself, while others were older even than Ælfhelm, although he seemed to be chief among them. All, however, regardless of age, possessed the same hard eyes, stiff bearing and sour temper that spoke to me of battles fought and lost, of feuds unsettled, of thoughts of vengeance rarely uttered but ever-present, of untold bitterness against the circumstances that had brought each one of them to these shores. These were the men alongside whom I would have to fight if I wanted to reclaim Oswynn.

In my time I had been forced to make cause with some unlikely allies in pursuit of common ends, but these were without a doubt the unlikeliest of all. In another place and another time, they would have had no more hesitation in cutting us down than we would them. As it was, only Magnus stood between us and a grim fate. I supposed since he was their lord and, in their eyes, their king, they were oath-bound to accept his wishes, but even bearing that in mind did not make me feel any safer. I was not alone, either.

‘I don’t like this,’ Serlo confessed to me when the five of us were alone later that day, having ventured down to the market to provision ourselves for the voyage north.

‘Neither do I, lord,’ said Pons. ‘How soon will it be before they turn on us?’

‘They won’t,’ I said firmly, more to convince myself than because I truly believed it. ‘I have Magnus’s word. He’s someone who understands honour, and the value of keeping one’s oaths.’

‘Like his father kept to his oaths, you mean?’ Pons asked, and there was an obvious barb to his tone. He was referring, of course, to the pledge of fealty Harold had made to Duke Guillaume, and his promise to support the latter’s claim to the English crown: a promise Harold later broke when he seized the crown for himself.

I didn’t offer an answer to that, for I knew there was none that would satisfy him.

Pons sighed in exasperation, and shook his head in disbelief. ‘You can’t rely on the word of an Englishman.’

‘That’s not true,’ Godric protested.

‘Except for the whelp here, of course,’ he added. ‘But he’s not like them.’

‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘And what about men like Ædda, and all the folk at Earnford?’

‘You know what Pons means, lord,’ said Serlo. ‘The moment we’re out on the sea, they’ll cast us over the side, if they don’t come for us sooner. In the night, perhaps, while we’re sleeping. They’ll kill us and then they’ll have their way with the girl.’

‘Then make sure your sword is always at hand,’ I said. ‘And stay together. They’re less likely to try anything if we keep close.’

We continued in silence. I found a merchant selling the tufted cloaks that Snorri had praised so highly, and handed over a clutch of silver in exchange for five of his finest. Winter was fast approaching; almost everywhere the branches were bare, having finally cast off the robes they had clung to since summer, the robes that once had been full of brightness but which the turning of the seasons had made drab. Each dawn when we awoke was colder than the last. Across the city the thatch upon the houses and the workshops was covered with frost, and that morning we had stepped outside to find all the puddles in the street hard with ice. It was a good thing that Nihtegesa was, by then, seaworthy again, the rot having been discovered to be less severe than at first we’d feared.

‘I’m told she’s still letting in some water, but all ships leak to a greater or lesser extent,’ Magnus had told me. ‘So long as we make sure to bail her now and then, she’ll do fine. Were we travelling to Ysland or anywhere across the open sea, I’d want her in better condition, but she’ll suffice for where we want to go.’

Even so, he had insisted upon waiting another day or two in case any more of his retainers showed themselves. Had the decision been mine, I would have set out straightaway rather than delay for the sake of a couple more swords and risk the wind changing in the meantime. Since they were his men and it was his ship, however, I’d had little choice but to defer to him.

‘This whole expedition is folly, lord,’ Pons muttered after we had been walking a while longer. ‘Coming here to Dyflin is one thing, but now you want us to venture in winter across the northern seas, and all in pursuit of a woman.’ He nodded towards a slim, freckled Irish girl of perhaps sixteen summers who was helping her mother, herself far from unattractive, carry rolls of cloth. ‘There are women here, lord!’

‘Oswynn isn’t just any woman,’ I said. ‘She’s my woman.’

‘Truthfully, lord, what chance do you think you have of claiming her back, assuming that she still lives, or that this Haakon hasn’t sold her to one of his pirate friends?’

‘She was alive and in his company when Eithne met them a few months ago.’

‘And happy, lord?’

I stared at him. ‘What?’

Serlo frowned and placed a hand on his sword-brother’s shoulder. ‘Pons,’ he said warningly.

But Pons wasn’t about to listen. ‘Did Eithne ever tell you whether she seemed happy in his company?’

I glanced at the girl, who hadn’t understood what we were saying, although she couldn’t have failed to hear her name, spoken in harsh tones. Her cheeks had turned pale. She sensed something was amiss, even if she couldn’t be sure what.

‘Ask her,’ said Pons. ‘Ask her now.’

‘No,’ I said, doing my best to restrain my anger. ‘I’m not going to ask her. I don’t need to.’

Why? Because I was afraid of what the answer might be? Afraid to learn that all this effort to which I’d gone was, in fact, for naught? Afraid to find myself bereft of any cause to fight for?

‘What is it, lord?’ Eithne asked me in English.

‘Nothing,’ I muttered. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘You’ve said yourself that it’s been nearly three years since you were last with her, lord,’ Pons said. ‘Even if we do find her, and even if you manage to bury your sword-point in Haakon’s throat, that doesn’t mean she’ll necessarily thank you for it.’

I stopped in the middle of the street. ‘She will. I know it. And besides, what else is there for me? For us. Tell me that.’

Pons didn’t answer straightaway. Men and women shouted at us in tongues I didn’t understand, berating us for getting in their way as they tried to roll barrels and drive oxen up the way, but I paid them no heed. If Pons did not support me in this, then I needed to know. My mind was already made up, for I was going with Magnus to whatever fate awaited me in the north. But I had no place on this expedition for men who would not give their all in this cause.

‘Well?’ I demanded.

‘I don’t know, lord,’ Pons said eventually.

‘Serlo?’

He took a deep breath, and his hesitation betrayed his uncertainty. He glanced sidelong at Pons before turning back to me. ‘I’m with you, lord, as always. But that doesn’t mean I’m altogether happy about it.’

Pons nodded in agreement. I supposed that was the best I could hope for. That they had followed me this far, without so much as a murmur of dissent until this moment, was testament to their loyalty, and a reminder of how much I owed them.

‘What about you, Godric?’ I asked. ‘You, at least, could return to England, if you’d rather not come with me.’

‘Where would I go? Back to my uncle?’ He shook his head. ‘There’s nothing for me there, lord. Not any more.’

It hadn’t been two months since we’d first met, but already he seemed a different person. He was his own man now, subject to no one. That he nevertheless chose to stand by me, though he was bound by no oath to do so, earned my respect.

I turned to Eithne, and briefly wondered what she might say if I asked her the question Pons had wanted me to. I tried to drive such thoughts from my mind.

‘Do I have a choice?’ she retorted, when I asked her whether she was still willing to come with me.

‘I can give you money enough for passage back home, if that’s what you want. There’ll be ships that can take you, I’m sure.’

‘You place too much faith in other men,’ she said in that mocking manner I had grown used to. ‘How far do you think I would get, travelling alone, without anyone for protection? At least with you I am safe.’

That made sense, I supposed. If these last few weeks had taught her anything, it was that she could trust us. Why put herself at risk by striking out on her own? No doubt that was why she had stayed with us this long; she’d had plenty of opportunity along the way to flee if she’d wanted to.

We were all agreed, then. Breton, Normans, English and Irish would travel together into the north, albeit some more reluctantly than others.

Unspeaking, we ventured on past the rows of stalls where cloth merchants, fishmongers, wine-traders, candlemakers, wood-sellers and spicers plied their trade, until we came upon an open square close by the thing-mount, where rows upon rows of men, women and children of both sexes and all colours of hair and skin sat upon the muddy ground, bound together with ropes and chains, their heads bowed and faces leaden, huddled inside clothes that seemed either too large or too small and were dirty and frayed at the hems; all being watched over by men armed with clubs and staves.

The great slave-market for which Dyflin was renowned. Beside me, Eithne shrank back. At first I wondered if she’d spotted her former master, Ravn, somewhere among that throng, but there had to be hundreds of slaves, owners, traders and guards, variously crying and shouting and negotiating and cursing, and so I reckoned she was merely nervous.

‘You’re with me, so you’re safe,’ I told her. ‘Isn’t that what you said?’

‘Let’s leave,’ she said. ‘Please.’

I was about to, for her sake, when my gaze fell upon three dark-skinned young women, one short and the other two tall, all of them wide-eyed and trembling, being led away by a fierce-looking man whose arms were covered in silver rings and who was shouting at them in Danish. I’d glimpsed Moorish women before, but not often and not for long. They were a strange sight to me, and I confess that I could not take my eyes off those girls, spellbound as I was with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, for although they looked thin and ill fed, they were nevertheless creatures of wonder.

‘Lord,’ said Serlo in a warning tone, jolting me from my thoughts. He was gesturing down the street whence we had come, where I saw now a group of four men clad in hauberks and chausses, with swords on their belts. To begin with I didn’t know why he was drawing my attention to these in particular, when so many walked the streets of this city armed and mailed, but as they stopped by the stall of one of the cloth-sellers and turned to speak with him, I saw the distinctive close-cropped hair at the backs and sides of their heads.

We were too far away to make out their features, but I knew at a glance they were Normans, and knights, too. But why were they here, in Dyflin of all places?

Only one reason came to mind. They had to be Robert’s men. Who else?

I’d thought that leaving England behind and going into exile would be enough to satisfy them. Obviously I was wrong. So determined were they that I should face trial for my crime that they had taken ship across the sea in order to haul me back to England. Now they were here, barely fifty paces away, if that.

‘This way,’ I said to the others, my heart pounding all of a sudden. ‘Quickly, but not too quickly.’

I’d realised that if we could see them, then they would just as easily be able to see us. I didn’t want to linger, but at the same time knew that we would only draw attention upon ourselves if we ran. Without looking back, I slipped through the market crowds, towards an alley where the smoke of a blacksmith’s forge billowed white and thick.

‘Do you think they saw us?’ Godric asked when we had all gathered, coughing and with eyes stinging, on the other side of that cloud, safely out of sight of the marketplace.

‘I hope not,’ I replied.

We pressed on in the direction of Magnus’s house, which was only a short distance away, close to the city’s southern gates. From time to time I risked a glance behind us, but didn’t want to attract suspicion. Fortunately there were many different ways one could take through the streets, and, having spent now a little more than a week in this city, I was beginning to learn them. From time to time I risked a glance over my shoulder to see if they were behind us, until eventually I had to concede that they weren’t following.

‘They’re determined, aren’t they?’ Pons remarked.

It didn’t make sense. Why pursue us here, all this way? For that matter, how did they even know where we were headed? I’d held that piece of information back from Ædda and Galfrid and Father Erchembald for this very reason. Neither had I told Eudo and Wace, at least not so far as I could recall. Where were they now? Had they gone with Robert on the king’s planned expedition to Flanders?

And then I remembered. I’d let it slip to Robert, on the very day that we had buried his father, in his solar at Heia.

I’d been a fool. An accursed fool. At every turn I’d given my enemies the means to ensnare me and bring about my downfall. First Atselin, and now Robert himself, difficult though it was to think of him as such. But I could hardly count him as a friend any longer.

‘They’re looking for me,’ I said, after we’d arrived at Magnus’s hall and I’d explained to him what had happened and what we’d seen. ‘They’ve already driven me from England, and now they’ll scour this town until they find me.’

‘What did you do?’ Ælfhelm growled. He and a number of his brothers in arms whose names I hadn’t yet learnt sat along the benches, passing between them a leather flask from which they filled clay drinking pots.

‘That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we get away from here, and as soon as possible.’

Many pairs of eyes had noticed us walking Dyflin’s streets in recent days, coming and going from Magnus’s hall, and there would be plenty of rumours passing from tongue to tongue, some of them accurate and others less so, about who we were and what our business was here in the city. Armed with a little silver, it wouldn’t take all that long for Robert’s men to learn where we were. When that happened, I could give up all hope of finding Oswynn soon.

‘You want us to sail now, simply to protect your wretched hides?’ Ælfhelm asked. ‘Why should your fate concern us?’

‘Ælfhelm,’ said Magnus warningly.

But the huscarl was not to be deterred. ‘I smell a trick, lord. First these Frenchmen come here claiming to seek your help, and now suddenly a horde of their countrymen arrive in their wake. This seems to me no accident.’

‘What are you implying?’ I asked.

Another of the Englishmen, a thin-faced, long-haired man by the name of Uhtferth, who was Nihtegesa’s steersman, had been nodding in agreement for some time, and he spoke up now.

‘You, lord,’ he said, addressing Magnus, ‘are the one who the Frenchmen are after. They want to finish what they have been unable to do for five years, which is to make sure that no heir of Harold lives to challenge them. Having first rooted you out, this man’ — he pointed at me — ‘has clearly sent word to his friends, and now they’ve come to kill you.’

I could only laugh at how ridiculous that sounded. ‘If that were true, why would I come to warn you in advance that my countrymen are here?’

Uhtferth and Ælfhelm glanced at each other, but neither appeared to have any answer. I turned to Magnus, for the decision in the end belonged to him. My safety rested in the hands of an Englishman, and not merely any Englishman at that, but no less than a son of the usurper, who owed me nothing and had every reason to hate me. If he decided he was better off fighting Haakon without us, or even if he chose to give us up to Robert’s men, I wouldn’t have blamed him, or even been surprised.

It was a long while before Magnus spoke, or perhaps it only seemed that way because I knew how much rested on the next words that came out from his mouth.

‘We sail tonight,’ he said at last, much to my relief.

‘Tonight?’ Ælfhelm echoed, amidst a roar of disapproval from his comrades.

‘That’s right. I will not force you to come if you do not wish. So either make your peace with this alliance I’ve made, or else stay here in Dyflin. I leave that choice to you.’

The huscarl grimaced, but it was clear that the desire for adventure and for glory still burnt bright in his heart, despite his years. He would not abandon his lord, would not refuse this challenge.

‘What about the others?’ Uhtferth said. ‘I thought we were going to wait another few days in case Halfdan and Beorhtred and Ecgric showed themselves.’

‘If they were eager enough, they would have made the effort to come sooner, as you have all done,’ Magnus said. ‘We can’t wait for ever. No, providing that the skies are clear, we leave tonight. At least then we’ll have a full moon to light our way.’ He turned to address the rest of his men. ‘Are you with me?’

A murmur of less than hearty agreement went around the hall.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Find those who aren’t here and pass word on to them. We’ll meet at the eastern gate an hour after full dark. Be ready. If you’re not there, we won’t wait.’

Reluctantly and with not a little grumbling, they raised themselves from the benches, leaving their drinking pots still half full as they buckled on sword-belts, donned cloaks and ventured out into the stiff breeze. Ælfhelm lingered a moment, regarding me with suspicion in his eyes, but then his comrades shouted his name and he followed. The sun was already low; they didn’t have long to gather their friends and everything they needed.

‘For this,’ Magnus said to me after they’d left, ‘you owe me.’

And I knew he was right.

We did not venture outside Magnus’s hall until night had settled completely. Fortunately the skies were clear, as hoped for, with only the faintest wisp of cloud veiling the stars to the west. God was clearly with us, and the light of His favour shone milky-pale upon us.

It couldn’t have been three hours since we’d spied Robert’s men, but it had felt like an age. The streets were quiet now. Gone were the merchants shouting out the prices of their wares, the calls of the goats and pigs and cattle and geese. The stalls had been dismantled, the goods taken away, and the sellers had returned to their cottages to sup by their hearth-fires and count out whatever meagre coins they’d been able to reap that day. Few men and even fewer women were about at this hour, but nevertheless we pulled our hoods up over our heads lest anyone should recognise us.

Thankfully no one challenged us, and we reached the east gate without trouble. The rest of Magnus’s company were already there by the time we arrived, and assured us that everyone was present, but nevertheless he counted them out: twenty huscarls, most accompanied by retainers of their own; and ourselves. The wives and mistresses that some of the Englishmen had brought with them were to stay in Dyflin or return home, Magnus having forbidden any women on this expedition, for their presence on board a warship was said to invite ill fortune. At my insistence he had made an exception for Eithne, but I could tell from the glances he gave her that the thought of bringing her with us unnerved him.

The sentries looked strangely at us when we presented ourselves at the gate, and at first they refused to let us pass, but then Magnus drew back his hood to reveal his face, and I suppose he must have been known to them, since they quickly changed their minds and allowed us through.

Nihtegesa was drawn up on to the muddy beach above the creek that ran into the river mouth, one of many vessels that lay at rest there. The tide was already high, almost on the turn. The waves lapped at her stern, and the mud sucked beneath her. Magnus had left Uhtferth the steersman and another half a dozen of his hearth-troops to guard her, as was usual. Ships, and especially warships, were greatly prized, not just for the goods that were often to be found in their holds but also for the power they represented, and for that reason they were the favoured targets of many a thief.

We passed our packs up over the gunwale to the boat guards, taking care not to make too much noise as we did so. It was not unknown for ships to leave port in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t commonplace either, and we didn’t want to attract more attention than was necessary. Already some of those keeping watch by the other ships were calling to us, asking what we were doing about at this hour, and their shouts were waking other crews, who yelled back in their various tongues for them to be quiet. We ignored them all as we went to work pushing Nihtegesa down the mud and the shingle, her keel scraping against stone, towards the blackness of the creek, until she was fully afloat. We waded out to her and those already on board held out their hands to help haul us up and on to the deck, where we shook free strands of wrack that had become stuck to our sopping trews and boots, and then set about raising the mast and the rigging, pulling on ropes according to Magnus’s and Uhtferth’s instructions, and tying them off where needed.

The rowers took their places on the sea chests that served as their benches, lowering their oars into the water with a soft murmur of splashes. As the incoming tide continued to surge up the inlet, they steadied Nihtegesa, taking care that the swell didn’t take her and run her aground. It wasn’t long before the waters began to ebb, Magnus gave the signal and we slipped down the creek, past the landing stages and hythes, the slipways and coves where river-barges, wide-beamed traders, rowing boats and fishing craft lay at rest, and a handful of longships, too, most around the same size as Nihtegesa, but one larger.

Much larger, in fact, I saw as we grew nearer. Outlined by the moon’s light, she was a fearsome and magnificent sight. Probably thirty benches in length, she dwarfed every other vessel beached or at anchor in that creek; indeed she would have dwarfed most vessels in all of Britain.

To eyes untrained as mine were, there was little to tell one ship from another, especially in the dark and from such a distance. Nevertheless I realised in that moment that I recognised her, for I’d sailed on her once before. This was Wyvern, the ship that once had been the pride of Guillaume Malet and that now belonged to his son. Which only confirmed that the Normans we’d seen in the city earlier had indeed been Robert’s men. And if his ship was here, did that mean that he himself was too?

I glimpsed a flurry of movement on her deck as men were roused and lanterns lit. Voices carried across the water, hailing us, and a shiver ran through me, for those shouts came in French. The men pulled on shoes and, leaping down on to the shingle, came running down to the shore, waving their arms at the same time. No doubt they’d worked out by then what was happening, and that we were getting away, but they were too late. We were already past them, and gathering speed, Nihtegesa’s prow carving through the star-glistening waters towards where the narrow creek emptied into the river mouth, and I was laughing, whooping with the thrill of the chase, of having eluded them.

‘You’ll have to try harder if you want to catch us!’ I yelled at them, into the breeze gusting from astern, and Serlo and Pons were quick to join in, hurling insults at the Frenchmen, who could only watch, powerless to do anything, as we pulled away. They shouted something in reply, but whatever it was they said, I couldn’t make out. I saw some of their comrades labouring to float Wyvern, but she was easily half as large again as Nihtegesa, and they were clearly struggling.

That was the last I saw of them. A moment later the creek opened out into the bay, we rounded a headland and they were lost from sight. Breakers foamed as they met the shore, whilst Nihtegesa rode the swell, the salt spray crashing into her bows and her gunwales, luminous in the moonlight. With one hand Magnus beat a small drum that hung by a leather strap around his neck, keeping the oarsmen in time, while Uhtferth kept a steady head on the steering-oar, his thin face drawn in concentration.

Ahead the open sea beckoned, stretching as far as the eye could make out. Somewhere out there, among the islands known as the Suthreyjar, was Haakon, the man whom I had been seeking for a year and more.

I hoped for his sake that he slumbered soundly while he still had the chance. For all too soon we would be descending upon his halls, wreaking our own night terror, inflicting upon him the same despair as he had inflicted upon me. He had taken something that did not belong to him, something precious to me. Now I would take it back, and make sure that he paid for the suffering he’d inflicted.

He had no way of knowing it, but we were coming for him.