Sworn Sword

Epilogue

The sun shone brightly upon Eoferwic. It was still early but the morning was warm, as Malet and I rode through a city blossoming with colour.

Hardly three weeks had passed since the battle, yet already traders were returning, farmers driving their livestock to market once more. Butchers’ and fishmongers’ stalls lined the streets, which were thronged with English and French alike. Everywhere the trees were in leaf, while in the fields the first green shoots were bursting above the soil. The scent of moist earth drifted on the breeze. After the long winter we had endured, it seemed that spring had at last arrived.

‘It was on a morning like this, some fifteen years ago, that I first saw this city,’ said Malet. ‘I find it remarkable how little it has changed, despite all the troubles of recent times.’

We were alone. I had left Eudo and Wace at the alehouse where we were staying; neither were up when the summons had arrived for me from the vicomte. Exactly why he had called for me he had not yet said.

‘My mother had died not long before,’ he went on. ‘I’d come to England to take up the estates she’d held here. It was only a few months later that I took a young priest into my household as my chaplain.’

‘Aelfwold,’ I said.

Malet’s face was grim. ‘I still find it hard to believe that he was capable of such deceit.’

With that I could only agree. We had told Malet everything when we returned to his hall the night before: everything from our arrival at Waltham and our meeting with Dean Wulfwin, to the fight upon the shore, the ship waiting out on the Temes, my struggle with Aelfwold by the cliff’s edge, and his eventual death. Through all of it Malet had hardly spoken as he sat, pensive and still.

We’d brought Harold’s coffin with us, which had proven no easy task. First we’d had to find a cart to carry it, and of course there’d been the matter of how to raise it from the barge, but with the help of some local folk and generous offerings of silver we had managed. It had taken us many days after that to return to Eoferwic; far longer than it should. But we hadn’t wanted to bring too much attention upon ourselves and so had tried to keep to country tracks, staying away from the old road as much as we could.

‘Where will you bury Harold now?’ I asked. ‘Will you return his body to Waltham?’

Before us a man was driving a flock of geese through the mud. We plodded behind them until he came to a pen at the side of the street and, aided by some of the other townsmen, herded them through its gate, out of our way.

‘Not Waltham, no,’ said Malet. ‘After this, I know I cannot rely on Wulfwin to keep such a secret safe.’

‘Where, then?’

He glared at me, as if in warning, but I held his gaze and he soon turned away. ‘I will find somewhere fitting,’ he answered quietly. ‘By the sea, perhaps, so that in death he may still watch over the shores he tried in life to protect.’

I wondered what he meant by that, whether he was speaking in jest. But he was not smiling and there was no humour in his eyes. He had told me as much as he was prepared to, and it was clear I would get nothing more from him.

For a while we rode on in silence. Pedlars approached us, trying to sell rolls of cloth, wooden pots and all manner of trinkets, but when they saw that we were ignoring them they quickly moved on.

‘What about Eadgyth?’ I asked, recalling the letter that Wigod had translated for me. ‘Will you send word to her now?’

Malet nodded. ‘I’m leaving for Wiltune tomorrow to meet with her in person. At the very least she deserves an explanation for all that has happened.’

‘You’ll tell her the truth?’ I asked, surprised.

‘Or else I will think of some other story to placate her,’ he said. ‘That the body was lost, or something similar. Perhaps it would be better that way.’

I shot him a glance, but said nothing. A group of children darted about our horses’ legs, chasing each other in some game I did not understand. I held the reins steady, slowing my mount to a halt until they had passed.

‘I suppose I should thank you and your companions for everything you have done in my service,’ Malet went on. ‘I wouldn’t have known of Aelfwold’s deceit had it not been for you.’

He did not look at me while he spoke. I sensed he was testing me, and not for the first time, I thought. By now of course he must have realised that it was only our own treachery that had led us to the answer. For if I hadn’t tried to read his letter in the first place, we could never have known the priest’s plan.

‘We did only what we thought was right, lord,’ I said, picking my words with care.

He remained tight-lipped, concentrating on the road ahead. I wondered what was going through his mind, whether he was angry. But how could he be? He was indebted to us, whether or not he cared to admit it.

Not far off I spied the gaunt figure of Gilbert de Gand, laughing together with a half-dozen of his knights. The king had handed him the permanent role of castellan, I had learnt, with Malet returning to his duties as vicomte. Gilbert saw us, and waved in greeting. Certainly he seemed to be enjoying the new honour he had been granted, for I had rarely seen him in better humour.

Malet was clearly in no mood to speak with him then, however, as he pulled sharply on the reins, turning off the main street, his expression sour.

We passed the blackened remains of timbers strewn across a field of ash, where houses had once stood. In the wake of the battle there had been much looting, I had learnt, and many parts of the city had been burnt, including several of the churches. This was surely one of them, for amidst the ruins I glimpsed a figure dressed in brown robes kneeling upon the ground, eyes shut and palms together in prayer: a Mass-priest. I shivered, shifting uncomfortably in the saddle as I was reminded of Aelfwold, but soon the priest was lost from sight.

Overhanging the street was the great elm under which Radulf had died, its branches now dotted with purple-grey buds where new leaves were soon to emerge. He had been buried while we were gone, in the grounds of the chapel attached to Malet’s palace, as befitted a knight of his household. Others had been less fortunate, their broken bodies left to rot in great ditches dug outside the walls, where they were picked at by the dogs and the crows; we had smelt them on our approach to the city.

‘I release you from your oath, Tancred,’ Malet said as we left the crowds behind us. ‘You may consider yourself no longer bound to me. Henceforth you may take your sword where you will.’

He had not asked whether I might extend my oath to him, nor had I expected him to. Instead he was making it clear that there was no further place for me in his household. As much as I had helped him, he couldn’t afford to have among his retainers men whom he could not trust implicitly. The business with Aelfwold would have taught him that, if nothing else.

To tell the truth I was relieved to be leaving his employ, after all that had taken place these past couple of months. So much talk of intrigues and betrayals had tired me. I was a knight, a man of the sword, and I would be glad simply to return to that life once more.

‘I hear my son offered each of you land in return for your part in the battle,’ Malet said.

‘Yes, lord.’

‘Of course it isn’t for me to say what men Robert chooses to keep around him.’ His cold gaze fell upon me. ‘But he clearly trusts in your ability. I only hope that you will serve him well, should you choose to follow him.’

Better than we had served Malet himself, was what I took him to mean from that remark. The barb was not hard to miss.

‘We will, lord,’ I said. In all honesty I hadn’t given much thought to what lay ahead or to where we might go: whether we would stay here in England, or return instead to France or Italy, where there were many lords to whom we might pledge our swords. Though I suspected that few of them would be able to offer as much as Robert.

For it wasn’t just silver or land that I was thinking of; there was Beatrice too. The kiss we had shared remained fresh in my mind, even though many weeks had passed since then. I could sense her delicate touch still, the feeling of her lips upon mine. Unless I gave my oath to her brother, what chance did I have of ever seeing her again?

We drew to a halt by the bridge. Upon the river, sails of all colours billowed in the breeze. Drums beat in steady rhythm as shipmasters leant upon their tillers, bellowing orders to their oarsmen.

Across the waters a second castle was being built, opposite from the first. Already the ramparts and palisade had been erected, and a mound was under way, although no tower yet stood upon it. Even from this distance I could see men at work: sawing timbers, pushing barrows full of earth. In the centre of it all flew the wolf banner of Guillaume fitz Osbern, whom the king had placed in charge of the construction. For a long while Malet gazed at it, and I wondered what he was thinking. Overlooked for the command of not just one but two castles: a clear sign that he had fallen from the king’s favour. It did not surprise me. After all, he was the man who had allowed Eoferwic to fall to the rebels in the first place, the dishonour of which would, I imagined, remain with him for some time.

As for the king himself, it seemed he had departed some days before we had arrived back. In his absence he had left Fitz Osbern with more than a thousand men to hold the city in case the enemy should try another attack. Not that many thought they would, at least not for some time. The rebels were divided, our scouts said, for while the Aetheling himself had retreated to Dunholm, many of his followers had left him to go back to their halls. His Danish swords-for-hire had sailed back to Orkaneya and wherever else they had come from, and there were rumours of discontent among the old Northumbrian families.

Nevertheless, I knew that the year was long, the campaigning season barely begun. And as long as Eadgar lived, the English had a leader around whom they might rally. The pain of this rout would be felt for some while, but given time he could easily raise another host. I sensed that the battle for the kingdom was far from over.

‘They will return,’ Malet said, as if reading my thoughts. ‘No matter how many castles we build, how many defeats they suffer, they will not stop until they have taken England back from us.’

I shrugged. ‘In that case we must be ready for them when they come.’

A flock of gulls wheeled overhead, screeching in chorus. At the dock a sack had fallen from a cart, bursting along its seam, spilling grain on to the ground. The birds descended upon it in their scores, pecking and flapping, squabbling over every last speck of seed as deck-hands vainly tried to chase them away.

‘Indeed,’ Malet said, sighing. ‘We must be ready.’

My horse snorted impatiently and I patted his neck. We would not stay here long; soon we would be moving on to places new. That was how it was, when one lived by the sword as I did. And I knew, besides, that somewhere out there was Eadgar, the man who had murdered Lord Robert, who had murdered Oswynn, and I was determined that I would find him: that before long I would take my vengeance upon him.

I looked out across the river a moment longer, listening to the bells ringing out from the minster behind me, feeling the warmth of the sun upon my face, until a cloud came over and a shadow fell upon us. Malet did not seem to notice when I tugged on the reins, leaving him there to gaze upon the half-built castle alone.

Nor did I look back as, under darkening skies, I rode to join my friends.