Knights of the Hawk

Twenty-three

And so they did, and it was exactly as I’d thought. They wanted me to return to England with them. ‘I thought you said Robert was still angry,’ I said. ‘That he hadn’t yet forgiven me.’

‘He is, and he hasn’t,’ said Wace. ‘You don’t know the storm you’ve stirred up. It’s not just that Robert’s been forced to pay the blood-price to Guibert’s widow; many of his vassals are saying he should have been quicker to act, and more severe in his punishment. They say he should never have allowed you to flee Heia, let alone England.’

‘You think that’s going to encourage me to come back with you?’ I scoffed.

‘All these quarrels can be settled in a single stroke, if you only show a little contrition,’ Eudo said. ‘If you return willingly, do the penance that the Church requires and recompense him for the money he paid out on your behalf, then all those barons can be satisfied that justice has been done in the proper manner. There’s no reason then why Robert shouldn’t accept your submission and restore you to your lands.’

‘Is that what he told you, or just what you believe?’ I asked, and I took the silence that greeted my question to mean that he had made no such assurances. ‘Anyway, if it were as simple as that, don’t you think I would have done it already?’

‘You killed a man,’ Wace said. ‘There is no disputing it. Many witnessed it happen. This matter will not be forgotten easily. Not unless you at least demonstrate some humility, so that people see you feel remorse for what you did.’

I rounded on him. ‘Don’t think for a moment that I don’t regret what happened that night.’ Guibert had been a boor, but he hadn’t deserved to die, not by anyone’s estimation. The knowledge of what I’d done had hung like a shadow over me ever since.

But remorse would not bring him back. Nor did I think that mere gestures would heal these wounds, though they might well restore Earnford to me. For I was tired. Tired of the obligations with which I’d long been burdened. Tired of risking my life time after time under the banner of a lord who could not provide, in the name of a king who was as cold-hearted as he was capricious, for a country that, a few good men and women aside, hated us and whose people would slaughter us in their beds if they had half a chance.

‘Even if I had the silver to pay him,’ I said, ‘I’m not about to prostrate myself before him and beg for the restitution of what by right is already mine.’

‘You have no right to that land,’ Eudo pointed out. ‘Not any more. Robert expelled you from his service, or have you forgotten that?’

‘You should count yourself lucky,’ Wace said. ‘If Guibert had been better liked while he lived, there might have been even more of an outcry. There’d be no hope of you returning in that case, and we wouldn’t have wasted the last two weeks pursuing you all this way across the sea.’

‘Why did you, anyway?’ I asked. ‘I thought Robert was leaving for Flanders, and both of you with him.’

‘He was,’ Eudo said. ‘But when the Flemish count heard rumour that King Guillaume was planning a foray against him, he quickly offered a truce. In return for peace, he agreed not to go raiding.’

‘You mean the expedition never went ahead?’

Fate can at times be cruel, and never had it felt crueller than at that moment, as I thought back to my quarrel with Robert, in his solar at Heia all those weeks ago. A quarrel over nothing, as it now turned out.

If only I could have known. For if we had not argued so bitterly that day, then perhaps I wouldn’t have been in such a foul mood that evening. Perhaps I wouldn’t have let my temper get the better of me, and Guibert’s blood wouldn’t be on my hands, and none of this would have happened.

But then I wouldn’t have learnt about Haakon, or discovered the truth about what had happened at Dunholm. Was that knowledge worth the price I’d paid? Had it been worth Guibert’s life?

‘What brought you here to Yrland, then?’ I asked, trying to shake such thoughts from my mind.

‘Robert sent us across the Narrow Sea,’ Eudo said. ‘He wanted us to bear news of Malet’s death to his vassals in Normandy. But we decided to do otherwise.’

‘You seized his ship?’

‘Not exactly. When we told Aubert what we had in mind, he was only too willing to help. As soon as we were out of sight of land, we changed course.’

‘Aubert?’ I asked. ‘He’s here?’

‘Aye,’ I heard the shipmaster call, no doubt having heard his name. I looked up to see him waving from Wyvern’s deck, a broad grin upon his face. ‘You’ve been making trouble, or so your friends have been telling me.’

I’d last seen him over two years ago, but he hadn’t changed much in that time, save for being a little greyer around the temples than I remembered, not to mention a little fuller in the stomach, too. He also hailed from Brittany, although, like me, it was some time since he’d been back to the place of his birth.

‘Robert told us you had it in your head to go to Dyflin, though he didn’t know why,’ Wace said. ‘We reckoned that was where we would most likely find you.’

‘And we nearly did,’ Eudo added. ‘But then you left that night.’

‘How did you know we’d be travelling north?’

‘The winds told us,’ Aubert said by way of explanation. ‘We followed where they took us.’

‘That’s our tale, anyway,’ Wace said. ‘Now maybe you’ll tell us yours.’

I was in no mood to recount everything, not again, but I could hardly not tell them, and so I repeated exactly what Eithne had told me about Oswynn and Haakon, and how she’d helped set me on their trail.

‘We both wondered where she’d appeared from,’ Wace said, meaning the girl. ‘You never said anything, though, so I reckoned it was better not to ask.’

Eudo shrugged. ‘I assumed she was helping to warm your bed, although I admit she seemed to me a bit fierce-looking for your tastes.’

I glanced at Eithne, who had emerged from the compartment beneath the bow platform. Her mouth was once more twisted into her usual scowl. She must have guessed from the looks they were giving her that we were talking about her, even if she couldn’t know exactly what we were saying.

Eudo laughed. ‘Even Oswynn never glowered like that one does, and she wasn’t exactly an easy one to tame, from what I remember. And now you’re saying you know where to find her?’

‘I don’t, but he does,’ I said, gesturing at Magnus, and introduced him to them, saying merely that he was a ship’s captain from Dyflin, whom Haakon had wronged in the past, which the Englishman seemed to be content with. I also gave them the names of Ælfhelm and the rest of his huscarls, all of whom continued to regard the newcomers with suspicion. Not that I blamed them.

‘You understand, then, why I can’t go back,’ I said. ‘Not now. Not having come this far already.’

‘How do you expect to be able to mount an assault on this Haakon’s stronghold with a single ship’s crew?’ Wace asked.

‘Do you remember when we stole our way into the enemy camp at Beferlic last autumn? There were only nine of us then, and only six when we took the gates at Eoferwic the year before that.’

‘And both times we nearly got ourselves killed,’ Eudo reminded me.

‘No man ever won himself fame without taking any risks,’ I said, repeating the old proverb that was often spoken amongst warriors. ‘What do I stand to lose?’

‘Everything,’ Wace said, no longer caring to disguise his frustration. ‘And this has nothing to do with winning fame.’

He had every right to be angry, I supposed. They both did. They had ventured all this way, hundreds of leagues from the manors they called home, in hope of talking some sense into me, and all for naught.

‘I’ve made my decision,’ I said, tight-lipped. ‘If Robert expects I’ll happily don a penitent’s robe and bend my knee before him, he’s wrong. Besides, you should be coming with me, not the other way around.’

Eudo frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

And that was when I told them what Magnus had related to me only a few evenings ago. That it was Haakon who burnt the mead-hall that night at Dunholm. That he was to blame, not Eadgar Ætheling, for the death of our former lord, Robert de Commines, the man who had in so many ways been like a father to me, to us, who had provided for us and inspired us and trained us in the ways of war.

I didn’t expect them to believe me to begin with, just I had refused to believe the Englishman when he first told me, and so it proved. But I called Magnus over and had him confirm everything I’d said.

‘So Earl Robert was your lord?’ he asked when he’d finished, glancing at us all.

‘He was,’ I answered. ‘A good lord, and a good man, too. He didn’t deserve to die.’ I turned to Wace and Eudo. ‘Unless you’re going to throw me in chains and forcibly drag me back to England, that’s where I’m going. Are you with me?’

The two of them exchanged uncertain glances. They knew as well as I did that this was far from the first time I’d tried to persuade them to follow me on one of my reckless adventures, and knew, too, how that same recklessness had almost been their deaths. And the truth was that, in all the years we had known each other and trained and sparred and ridden and feasted and laughed together, this was one of the most desperate endeavours I’d ever asked them to join me in.

Even if we were to succeed, I couldn’t promise that the poets would write songs of these deeds of ours, songs that would be sung across Christendom for years to come, for this was no glorious battle on the outcome of which rested the fate of kingdoms. Nor could I swear that victory would bring us much by way of riches. But we didn’t even have to succeed. The mere willingness to fight was enough to win ourselves something immeasurably more precious than reputation or glory, silver or jewels, horses or ships, halls or castles, and that thing was honour. Even if this road only led to failure or, worse, death, at least we would have tried. More noble, in my eyes, to meet our ends fighting for a cause we believed in than to refuse the challenge because it was too arduous. Nothing worth having ever came easily.

‘Well?’ I asked, growing impatient, for the longer I waited, the less sure I was what their answer would be. Neither of them would so much as meet my gaze.

I don’t doubt that it was a more difficult decision for them than it was for me. Although I was no longer oath-bound to Robert, they still were. Already in coming here they had defied his wishes. What would he say if he discovered not only that they had taken his ship away into the north for their own ends, but then that they had joined forces with me, the murderer he had so recently cast out from his service, to pursue our own feud, our own private war?

Whether by choice or by necessity, we had taken different paths. Our loyalties, our obligations, which for so long had been the same, were now opposed. I might have nothing more to lose, but they did.

Wace gave a shrug of resignation as he glanced at Eudo, who sighed through clenched teeth. Suddenly I felt a stirring of hope.

‘We’ll do this. For Robert,’ Eudo said, by which he meant, of course, not Malet’s son but our former lord: he who had led us on so many campaigns across the length and breadth of Christendom. And now, one final time, we would fight in his name.

‘For Robert,’ Wace agreed, albeit not without some reluctance. Stern-faced, he came to clasp my hand at last. ‘You owe us. You realise that, don’t you?’

That was a phrase I’d grown all too used to hearing. ‘I know.’

I did not for a heartbeat think our task would be easy, but with the two of them by my side, we stood a far better chance than if Magnus and I were to do this by ourselves. Not for the first time it struck me how fortunate I was to have friends as faithful as they.

‘What about you?’ I called to Aubert, who had been watching on. ‘Will you join us?’

The shipmaster looked apprehensive, and I didn’t blame him. This wasn’t his battle. He had done Eudo and Wace a favour out of friendship, but the prospect of risking his lord’s prized longship on a voyage far beyond familiar shores was another thing entirely.

‘I’ll have to ask my men,’ he said. ‘They’re honour-bound to follow my orders, but I also have a responsibility towards them. Bear in mind as well that many of them didn’t even want to come this far.’

‘I understand,’ I said, and waited while he went and spoke with the members of his crew, some of whom I recognised from the last time I’d set foot on Wyvern’s deck, and several more that I didn’t. I saw lots of shaking heads and heard snorts that I took for disapproval, until one, older and more weather-worn than the others, whose name, if I remembered correctly, was Oylard, stepped forward. He began remonstrating with them, calling them cowards, saying they were unfit to call themselves Normans, and that their fathers and their grandfathers would be ashamed to see them shrink from such a challenge.

He pushed his way through the throng towards us. ‘Is it true?’ he called across from Wyvern. ‘Is it true that this Haakon was responsible for what happened at Dunholm?’

‘That’s what I’ve been told,’ I replied, raising my voice for the benefit of the others, who were watching, listening. ‘He was in the vanguard. He was the one who stormed the fastness and set fire to the mead-hall.’

Close to two thousand Normans had met their deaths that night when Eadgar and his allies had attacked. Men, women and children alike been cut down without mercy; the streets had run with their blood. No army of ours had ever suffered such a reverse on English soil. It was a humiliation that most of us would rather have forgotten, and yet how could we forget it? Even now, three entire campaigning seasons later, Northumbria remained unconquered; the king’s efforts to scour that land last winter had not made him its master nor brought the instigators of the rebellion to justice. And so the stain of that defeat lingered, while those who had inflicted it continued to live.

‘My cousin was at Dunholm,’ Oylard said as he turned to address his fellow boatmen. ‘A farrier’s apprentice, he was, no more than a boy. I later found out that he never came back. Dead at only thirteen summers old.’

They couldn’t fail to have heard about what happened that night three years ago. Many had probably heard it firsthand, from those like Eudo and Wace and myself who had been there and who had survived, although such had been the slaughter the enemy had wrought that we were few in number. No doubt Oylard was not the only one to have lost a friend or relative to the enemy’s sword at Dunholm, or at the very least knew someone who had.

One of the others, bald and thick-necked, spoke up. ‘I don’t know about you, Oylard, or any of the rest of you, but I for one won’t be risking my neck unless there’s the chance of reward at the end of it.’

‘There’ll be spoils enough to go around,’ I said. ‘From what I hear-’

‘From what you hear? What kind of an assurance is that?’

‘You have my word,’ Magnus interjected before I could answer. ‘He stole from me, as he has stolen from many others over the years. His treasure-chests brim with silver and gold, so rich has he grown profiting from the triumphs of others. I can promise that there’ll be no shortage of plunder should we succeed.’

‘And you’re willing to share in that wealth, are you?’ asked Bald-head.

The Englishman hesitated, and I understood why. Naturally he didn’t want to have to share, not if he could help it. If Wyvern were to join us then whatever booty did come our way would have to be divided more than a hundred ways. And yet another ship’s crew worth of allies would undoubtedly prove useful. There was much more to this expedition than pursuit of riches, and so if that was the price we had to pay for their help, then so be it.

That was how it seemed to me, anyway. But the decision was not mine alone to make. Magnus was chewing his lip, his face drawn as if contemplating.

‘Well?’ asked Bald-head.

‘If you’ll join us,’ Magnus said after a moment’s pause, ‘then, yes, we’ll share that wealth with you.’

He glanced at me to make sure that I was in agreement, and I nodded. The bald one went to confer with Aubert, Oylard and his fellow boatmen. Again there was grumbling, and again voices were raised, but at the end of it the shipmaster came forward.

‘Have you decided?’ I asked.

Aubert smiled. ‘We’ve come this far, haven’t we? It seems to me we might as well venture a little further. If Robert has anything to say about it later, well — ’ he shrugged and gestured towards Wace and Eudo ‘- I can always claim that they forced me to come north against my will, can’t I?’

‘If you do, those will be the last words ever to come out of your mouth,’ Eudo warned.

His expression suggested he was only half joking, but Aubert laughed all the same.

‘So,’ the shipmaster said. ‘Where do we find this Haakon?’

After that day’s calm, the wind picked up again on the next. A fierce storm blew in that made it impossible to sail, but we came upon a village close by the shore whose folk proved friendly enough, once they realised that we weren’t interested in robbing them. There we put what coin and goods we had to good use, exchanging them for a barrel of salted pork to replace one we’d lost overboard whilst riding out the squall several days before, as well as two more of ale in place of some that the seawater had spoiled. Our purchases made, we waited for the gale to subside, for the rain to cease lashing down, and for the skies to lighten once more.

I thought of old Snorri, and hoped Hrithdyr was safe in port rather than having to weather out this storm on the open seas that lay between here and Ysland. Assuming that they had made it without harm through the Suthreyjar, that was, although if there was anyone who would know which passages were safe to take and which islands to avoid, it was probably him.

‘He wouldn’t have lived as long as he has, doing what he does, if he didn’t know how to take care of himself,’ Magnus assured me. ‘He’ll be all right. If he’s sensible he’ll have sought out a travelling companion or two for the voyage. At this time of year the sea wolves are beginning to slumber, but nonetheless you’ll often find traders will band together for protection.’

‘As we have,’ I said.

‘True, but no one’s likely to attack us, are they?’

‘Why not?’

‘You’ll find easy spoils aboard a trader, but on a longship all you’ll find are warriors. You never see wolves preying upon their own kind, do you? Why should they waste their time fighting each other when there are more than enough pickings to allow them all to grow fat?’

That made sense, although even so I found myself more than a little nervous when the next morning, after the sea-mist had lifted, our two ships left the shores of Yrland behind us, for I knew we were venturing further north than I or any Norman had ever been before, into waters unknown even to Aubert.

I only prayed this latest undertaking did not prove to be a mistake on my part. The Danes were renowned across Christendom for being hard men to kill, and if the stories about him held any grain of truth, we were pitting ourselves against one of the fiercest and most ruthless of them all.

Winter was almost upon us. Even hours after the sun had lifted above the hills off our steerboard side, my breath misted before my face, while the wind bit through my cloak, working its chill through my flesh and deep into my very bones. This was the time of year when most sensible folk were slaughtering what animals they couldn’t afford to keep fed through the winter, mending holes in their warm clothes and caps, and huddling down close by their hearths.

But we were not most folk.

The further north we sailed, the steeper and darker grew the islands that rose like jagged mountains out of the sea, the more thickly wooded they became, and the fewer signs we saw of anyone living there. No wisps of smoke rose towards the slate-grey skies; no sheep grazed upon the hillsides; no fishermen’s hovels stood above the shoreline. These were sparse, barren lands, where the inhabitants of the one village we did come across were subject to no king that they knew of, whether English or Scots or Irish or Danish. Indeed, if any lord at all held sway in these parts, they had not heard of him. They tended their chickens and their few goats, and sometimes sold their goods to passing merchants and other travellers, though not often, and for the most part those were the only souls they saw outside of their own valley. But when Eithne and Magnus, who both happened to speak their language or something very like it, mentioned to them the name of Haakon Thorolfsson, and asked if he had been heard of recently, they all made the sign of the cross and began babbling at once.

‘He came to these parts only a week ago, they say,’ Eithne told me. ‘They all started running as soon as they saw the crimson sails of his ship appearing from the mist, but it turned out he hadn’t come with any intention of raiding.’

These people had precious little that was worth stealing, so that was no great surprise. ‘What did he want?’

‘He was looking for men who could hold a spear. He offered to give two sheep and five geese to every man who would go with him for the winter, although naturally they were all suspicious of him, and so none accepted.’

‘Why would he be looking to hire spearmen?’ Magnus wondered aloud. ‘He can’t be planning on going foraging at this time of year, surely?’

‘Maybe he’s looking to bolster his defences,’ I said.

‘But why?’ The Englishman hesitated. ‘Unless-’

‘Unless he knows we’re coming,’ I finished for him.

And I could explain, too, how he knew. Only one person who wasn’t a part of our expedition was aware that we were seeking out Jarl Haakon, and why. I wondered how much he’d been paid for his information, and felt embarrassed at having only the other evening been concerned for him out there on the wild and open ocean. Now I hoped that he choked on his next meal.

Old Snorri, who had deceived us with his friendly manner, had betrayed us to our enemy.

Haakon knew, then, that Magnus was coming for him, and that was why he was looking to purchase the services of fighting men, to help guard the walls of his stronghold. But I hadn’t revealed my real name to the trader, so Haakon couldn’t yet know that accompanying Harold’s son was the knight Tancred, nor that he brought with him a second shipload of warriors, allies from England. He remained ignorant of exactly how many we numbered, and that was one advantage we still held over him.

Events in England had been moving apace in the short time that I’d been away. During those days as we crept up the coast of northern Britain, Wace and Eudo related how King Guillaume had accepted the submission of the principal leaders of the Elyg rebels, granting forgiveness and receiving them at court. No sooner had they dismissed their armies and sent all their followers home in time for the ploughing season, however, than he cast them all in chains and confined them to the castle dungeon at Cantebrigia until he decided what to do with them.

‘He did that?’ I asked, having joined my countrymen on Wyvern. I found it difficult to believe that the king, who was not usually one to break a pledge, and indeed prided himself on that reputation, would go back on his word, and in so blatant a fashion.

‘That’s what we’ve been hearing,’ Eudo said. He turned to Godric. ‘It means there’ll be no earldom for your uncle. All Morcar’s estates and those of his vassals have been confiscated.’

Godric grunted. His lips were set firm, his expression unfeeling. ‘It’s no more than he deserves.’

Wace grinned and clapped a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s lucky that you’re with Tancred now, isn’t it, whelp?’

‘Otherwise you’d be rotting away along with Morcar in whatever dank prison the king finds for him,’ Eudo added.

Godric said nothing, and I wondered if he wasn’t perhaps feeling a little guilty at having evaded such a fate, at having turned his back upon his uncle, who had, after all, sheltered him for so many years. Yet he had nothing to feel ashamed of. Morcar had broken promise after promise, first to the king and then to the rebels, committing one betrayal after another, playing both sides to his advantage. In hindsight he’d been foolish to think that the king would act any more honourably towards him. He had brought about his own ruin.

‘They’re still looking for Hereward, you know,’ Wace said.

‘Still?’ I asked. ‘They haven’t given up?’

‘The king is convinced he’s out there somewhere, hiding, plotting. Several bodies were pulled from the marsh in the week or so after the battle, we’re told, one of which was supposedly about the same size and build as Hereward, but his flesh was too bloated and his skin was peeling away, so no one could tell for sure. Most people seem to think he’s fled England altogether. In the meantime the king’s keeping up the search, and will probably do so all winter.’

King Guillaume was well known for his bullheadedness, as we had seen for ourselves during the campaign in the fenlands. If he had decided that Hereward remained alive and a threat, then he would do everything he could to hunt him down, even if that meant scorching the Fens to draw him out, in the same way that he’d ravaged the north during his campaign last winter.

News wasn’t the only thing they’d brought from England, either. ‘We have something else for you,’ Eudo said.

Beckoning me to follow him, he made his way to the hatch that led to the hold space beneath the steering platform, from which, with my help, he hauled out a small chest about half as long as a man was high, with iron handles mounted on either end.

‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘A gift?’

He didn’t answer, but untied the leather thong that was attached to his belt and held out the key that had been hanging from it. Not quite sure what to expect, I took it from him, eyeing him suspiciously, then knelt down, placed it in the lock, twisted until I felt it click, then lifted open the lid-

To find my packs, just as I had left them at Heia, as well as a sword in its scabbard, wrapped in a bundle of white cloth. And not just any sword. Its hilt was decorated with a single turquoise stone, set into the centre of the disc pommel.

A turquoise stone that I recognised at once.

‘We both reckoned that if you were to go back to face Robert, it would be better if you didn’t arrive looking like a flea-ridden beggar, but had your blade and all your other belongings,’ Eudo said with a grin.

I was too surprised and overjoyed even to think, let alone find the words to thank him. Laughing in delight, I lifted the scabbard, still shrouded in its cloth, out from the chest, laying it on the deck beside me, and drew the blade from the sheath. The steel had been recently polished so that, even in the small light of that dull day, it gleamed like silver.

‘Open out the cloth,’ Wace said, having come to join us.

‘What?’ I asked. ‘Why?’

‘Unfurl it, and you’ll see.’

Carefully I unwound the thick bolt of linen from around the scabbard, wondering if perhaps there was something else wrapped inside, although I couldn’t think what. It only took me a moment to realise what I was holding, as I glimpsed first a wing and then the head with its short, curved beak, the bird emblazoned in black upon a white field, in flight with talons extended as if stooping for the kill. The hawk of Earnford — and of Commines, too, for it had also been the symbol of our former lord. When the time had come for me to choose a banner of my own, I’d adopted the device as a mark of respect, thinking that I would thereby serve his memory in the same way that I had served the man himself.

‘I almost forgot,’ I heard Eudo call, as he disappeared back into the hold space. ‘There’s one more thing.’

He emerged a moment later holding a shield, which like my banner bore the symbol of the hawk, although rather more crudely depicted, since whereas I’d entrusted the task of making the banner to the women of Earnford, I’d insisted on painting all my shields myself, and had spent long hours working under the sun and by the light of the hearth-fire daubing white and black on to the hide that faced the limewood boards until they appeared how I wanted them, or close enough to the image I held in my head as to satisfy me. Some laughed when they saw my efforts, reckoning that my hawks looked more like magpies or moorhens, but I didn’t care.

For a shield is not only a knight’s protection, it is also his pride, and any warrior who values his life knows to pay as much attention to his shield as to his mail and his blades. That said, even the sturdiest of them rarely lasts long in the hands of one who lives his life by the sword, and this one had seen happier days. The boss was scuffed and dented, and there were grimy marks upon the paintwork, which might have been mud or blood or a combination of both. How much longer this one would last until the iron rim cracked and the limewood began to splinter, I couldn’t say with any certainty, but none of that mattered right now. Eudo held it out to me and I took it gratefully, passing the long guige strap over my head and then working my forearm through the brases, adjusting the buckles with my other hand until it felt secure.

And all the while I could not stop smiling. I might have been landless and lordless, lacking so much as a horse to ride and a hall to call my home, with hardly a penny left in my coin-purse and so few friends that I could have probably counted them on my two hands alone, yet in that moment I felt rich beyond imagination. For those friends that I did have were worth more to me than all those other things put together. On my behalf they had taken risks that other men would baulk at. After everything that I’d done, they were still prepared to fight by my side.

And that thought alone was enough to give me confidence that we could do this. That somehow, I did not know how, but somehow, we would prevail.