Knights of the Hawk (29 page)

‘You have my oath,’ I assured him.

He rested his head back upon the pillow, closed his eyes and coughed again, after which he gave a flick of his hand, and I realised he wanted the ale-cup brought to him. Cradling the back of his head with one hand, gently I lifted it to his lips. He sipped at it and his mouth twisted in distaste.

‘Whatever this infusion is that Dudo has prepared, it is supposed to be good for me. Or so he insists,’ he said when he had finished and I had set the cup back down on the stone floor. ‘But the taste of it is foul.’

‘I thought it was ale.’ I raised the rim to my nose and sniffed at it, but could smell nothing offensive about it, nor much at all, save for the faintest trace of honey.

‘Ale?’ he asked. ‘Alas not, though I have often asked for it. That, and some of the Rhenish wine I used to enjoy. But he will not bring me any. Such things are bad for the balance of my humours. So I am told, anyway. Is that likely, do you think?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, lord.’

‘You could bring me some, perhaps.’

‘I could, but Dudo wouldn’t thank me for it.’

‘Come,’ Malet said. ‘He does not have to know. He has done all he can for me. I promised myself that I would live to see this day, and with his help I have done so. The battle is over. The Isle has fallen. And now you come with news that Hereward is dead, too?’

‘It is true, lord.’

Malet settled down beneath the sheets. ‘Then I have nothing more to live for,’ he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper now. No doubt the effort of speaking had tired him. ‘I am ready to face my Lord.’

He closed his eyes. I laid his hand back upon the blankets and watched for I knew not how long as his chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. Eventually, once I thought he was sleeping, I got to my tired feet and made to leave, moving as lightly as possible across the stone flags so that my footfalls and the chink of my mail did not disturb him.

I’d barely taken three paces when I heard him say: ‘Before you go, there is one more thing.’

I turned. ‘What is it, lord?’

‘I have had Dudo draw up a will.’

Sensing what was to come, I said, ‘Your forgiveness is all—’

He raised a finger to forestall me. ‘Please, while I still have breath left in my chest. You would have learnt of this in time, in any case, but I wanted you to hear it from me first. I have made provision for you and Wace and Eudo. As you know, I have little enough land or silver at my disposal, but nonetheless I wish to leave you a token of my gratitude. To that end, each of you is to receive two of the finest destriers from my stables, and three palfreys, too. I know that you will make good use of them.’

I didn’t know what to say to that. ‘You are too generous,’ I said once I’d recovered my voice.

‘There is more, if you will listen. After all, were it not for you, Tancred, I would have perished at the hands of the Danes and would never have lived to see this day. To see the conquest of England complete. For you I have a particular gift.’

‘I want nothing more,’ I said, and surprised myself with how honestly I meant it.

‘I have already made up my mind, so there is no use in disputing with me. Do you see the chest in the corner?’

An ironbound box stood up against one wall. Wondering what sort of gift he had in mind, I went to it.

‘In here, lord?’

He nodded weakly. ‘Open it.’

I flicked open the catches and then, finding that it wasn’t locked, lifted the lid.

Inside, lying atop stacks of dry, crinkled parchment, was a curved drinking horn, one of the largest I had ever seen, as long as my arm and more than a hand’s span in breadth at its rim. Silver binding ran around the rim, on which were engraved a fleet of dragon-prowed ships with sails billowing and decks filled with close-packed warriors. Another band ran around the middle on which was depicted a hunting scene, while the point was ornamented with a bird cast in gold.

‘Made from the horn of an urus,’ Malet said.

I’d never heard of such a beast. ‘An urus?’

‘A creature like a bull, only much larger, which I am told is found in lands far to the east of here. This was a gift from my father on the day I came of age. I have not had much use for it of late; there has been precious little to celebrate in recent months. Now I want you to have it.’

‘Lord,’ I protested as I lifted it up, hefting it in my hands and feeling its weight. It was a heavy thing, far heavier than it looked, and polished smooth so that, even in the soft candlelight, it gleamed. ‘This is too much.’

‘It is less than you deserve.’

‘What about Robert?’ I asked. ‘Won’t he—?’

I was about to say that as a father’s gift to his son, surely it was only right that it should be passed in turn to his heir.

Malet must have guessed what I was thinking. ‘He will not mind. He has always said it is too gaudy for his liking, and he cares little for drinking, as you know. You will appreciate it more than he will. Please, take it now, with my blessing.’

It was indeed a beautiful thing, more valuable, I didn’t doubt, than any other possession of mine save my sword and my mail, my helmet and my horses.

‘Thank you,’ I said, although the words seemed insufficient to express my gratitude.

‘I trust you will take care of it, and I wish you luck in all your undertakings. God be with you always, Tancred.’

‘And with you, my lord,’ I replied.

‘As for that,’ he murmured softly, a note of melancholy in his voice, ‘we shall soon see. We shall soon see.’

His eyes closed once more. Before long his breathing had grown heavy and I knew for certain this time that he was asleep. A strange feeling overcame me as I left that chamber, the drinking horn in hand, and closed the door behind me, knowing it was to be the last time I saw Guillaume Malet, the man to whom, though I had not always cared to admit it, I owed so much.

Again that night I could not rest, and again I was not alone. Even as Pons and Serlo joined in the celebrations of those who had returned to camp, and Godric returned to his uncle Morcar on the Isle, I waited with Eudo and Wace and several of Malet’s other vassals, some of whom I knew by name and others I didn’t, in the yard outside the hall, where we warmed ourselves beside a charcoal brazier.

Once in a while Robert would come out from the hall with furrowed brow to tell us how his father was faring. His strength was failing fast, he said; with every hour the life was going out of him. His breath was growing shallower, his pulse was weakening and he grew ever colder. The leech-doctors who had seen him did not think he would last until dawn. Already Dudo had heard his final confession and given him the sacrament. It would not be long.

‘We’ll wait, lord,’ I promised.

And so we did. Even though we were all bone-weary from the battle and from the lack of sleep the previous night, we nevertheless stayed awake, hardly speaking a word, even as from outside the guardhouse the joyous cries and music of the revellers floated upon the breeze. A dog barked somewhere and mice rustled the hall’s thatch. We watched as cloud veiled the stars and we watched as the skies cleared again. We watched sparks from the brazier rise with the twisting smoke and dance around one another, flaring brightly for the briefest of instants before they vanished and became one with the blackness.

Hours more passed, until eventually, in the grey half-light that comes before dawn, Robert emerged from the hall once more. He didn’t speak, nor did he have to, for straightaway we saw in his eyes the news that we had all been expecting.

Guillaume Malet, his father, had passed away.

Fourteen

THE FOLLOWING MORNING
, King Guillaume came to make arrangements with Robert for the payment of the relief that would permit him to inherit his father’s barony, as well as to give his sympathies to him, Elise and Beatrice, though such gestures seemed to me rather false-hearted after the lengths he had gone to previously to strip Malet of his honour and his dignity. But he did at least give Robert leave to accompany his father’s body on its final journey to Heia, which was the family’s chief estate in England and was where he was to be buried.

All this took place in the yard of the guardhouse at Alrehetha. Accompanying the king and his retinue were Earl Morcar, grinning like a fool now that his title had been restored to him, his nephew Godric, and the clerk Atselin, who followed his master like a shadow. Whilst the king and Robert conversed, he watched me with hard eyes, as if puzzled how it was that I was still alive. I hadn’t forgotten that he was the one who suggested we should lead the attack across the bridge. If I’d disliked him before, I despised him even more now, and was surprised that he so much as dared to show his face in my presence.

So intent was I on out-staring Atselin that at first I didn’t hear the king calling myself and Wace forward, and only awoke from my thoughts when Serlo nudged me in the ribs. Fortunately the king didn’t seem to notice. For once he was in a good humour, and I supposed he had every right to be.

‘Robert tells me that you pursued Hereward and met him in battle,’ he said, glancing between the two of us.

‘We did, lord,’ Wace said.

‘And killed him, too, or so I hear.’

‘That wasn’t our doing, my king,’ I said.

He frowned. ‘Then whose was it?’

I nodded in Godric’s direction. ‘That’s the man who slew Hereward.’

The boy reddened as all eyes fell upon him, and he cast his gaze down, as if embarrassed. But he had no reason to be. He had done what I and countless of my fellow knights could not manage.

‘Godric?’ Morcar asked, perplexed. His grin had vanished. ‘My nephew killed Hereward?’

‘I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes,’ I said. ‘Hasn’t he told you?’

‘Godric barely knows which end of a sword is the killing one, let alone how to use it,’ Morcar said, and gave his nephew a cuff around the ear. ‘Look at him. He is as timid as a pup and as wet as a fish. He could no more have killed Hereward than he could have built the abbey at Elyg with his bare hands. In any case, what was he doing with you?’

‘The Breton lies,’ Atselin put in. He turned to face the king, whose smile had vanished. ‘He seeks to take advantage of your beneficence, and in doing so to mock you, lord.’

‘It is the truth,’ I insisted.

‘So you are always saying,’ he retorted. ‘But I have it otherwise. I heard tell that it was a bowman by the name of Hamo who struck the killing blow.’

‘Hamo?’ I asked.

‘He was there also, was he not?’

‘Yes, but he wasn’t the one—’

‘And what proof do you have that this boy was?’ Atselin asked. He turned to the king. ‘Lord, why do you persist in entertaining such nonsense?’

‘Peace, Atselin.’ The king held up a hand against the monk’s protests. ‘I would know what young Godric himself has to say, if anything.’

The boy hesitated, and I saw the lump in his throat as he swallowed. It was as if nothing had changed, as if we were back in Robert’s hall at Brandune, when he had first submitted to the king’s questions.

‘Well?’

‘Yes,’ Godric said, lifting his eyes to meet his king’s, having at last discovered some courage within himself. ‘It is true.’ He took a pace forward and raised his voice for all in the yard to hear. ‘I killed Hereward. His blood is upon my sword-edge, and if anyone wishes to deny it, I will fight him in order to prove it.’

Silence fell. The king’s retainers glanced uncertainly at each other. Morcar, red-faced with embarrassment, glared at his nephew as if he had taken leave of his senses.

A hard expression had fixed itself upon the king’s face. For long moments he met Godric’s gaze. I feared that he was about to order him to be taken away, when suddenly his expression softened, and then he was laughing and grinning and shaking his head all at once. He strode forward, spread his arms wide, and embraced Godric, much to the Englishman’s confusion.

‘Your nephew might not be much of a swordsman, but at least he has wit, and for that he has my respect,’ he told Morcar, beaming with delight.

His new Earl of Northumbria forced a smile, but his eyes betrayed the fact that inside he was seething.

‘Wherever Hereward is hiding,’ the king announced for all to hear, ‘we will not stop searching until we find him. His acts of violence will not go unpunished.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘What use is there in searching for someone already dead?’ I blurted before I thought better of it. ‘We saw Hereward’s lifeblood seeping away from his corpse into the marsh. We can take you to the place where he was slain.’

The king’s smile faded as he turned towards me. ‘I am a patient man, Tancred of Earnford, but even my patience has its limits,’ he said sternly. ‘You and your friends have had your amusement, but you would be wise not to test me further.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After everything, was this all the acknowledgement we were to receive? There were a hundred things I wanted to say then, and none of them wise. ‘Yes, lord king,’ I answered stiffly.

‘Very well,’ he said, and then marched towards the gatehouse, where his mount and those of his hearth-knights were being held. Atselin, smirking, was close behind him, and Morcar followed, looking relieved not to have incurred the king’s wrath following his nephew’s outburst.

Godric alone remained, blinking as if he were not quite sure what had happened.

‘Godric!’ Morcar called when he was halfway to the gatehouse. ‘Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming with me?’

The boy regarded his uncle without saying anything, his lips set firm. Long moments passed before finally he turned his back.

‘Where are you going?’ Morcar asked. ‘The king wants me to accompany him back to Elyg.’

‘Then go,’ Godric said. ‘But you go without me. I am not your nephew any more.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve suffered your insults long enough,’ Godric said, and spat in his uncle’s direction. ‘You are dead to me. Do you hear me, Morcar?’

‘You ingrate!’ Morcar shot back as he watched his nephew stalk away from him. His cheeks were flushed red. ‘What about all the years I spent raising you? Do they count for nothing? I was the one who took you in when your father died, or don’t you remember that? I clothed you and fed you, gave you a stipend from my own treasure chests! I armed you and gave you lands of your own so that you could call yourself a thegn. If you go, those lands are forfeit, and you’ll never again get a single penny from me. Are you listening?’