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Authors: James Aitcheson
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up. Although outwardly Robert maintained the same calm expression as before, inside I imagined he must be seething at such open defiance. Surely, though, he saw the truth in what we were saying?
‘There is nothing more to be said.’ He shook his head, a grim expression on his face. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you agree or not. The king wishes it, and so it will be. We have our instructions and we will follow them. Do you understand?’
No one answered, or at least not in words. A few of the men spat upon the ground, a clear measure of their discontent, for it was rare that men would disgrace themselves by insulting their lord with so vulgar a gesture. Others simply cast their gaze towards their feet, not daring to meet his eyes.
‘Very well,’ Robert said. ‘Go. We gather here tomorrow at midday. I expect to see you then.’
I alone remained while the other barons filed past me, grumbling amongst themselves. A few, recognising me, spoke a curt word or two of greeting, although most simply ignored me. With the exception of Wace and Eudo, they had all served the Malets far longer than had I, some of them for twenty years and more. They had heard of my exploits and resented my closeness to Robert, and shunned my company. Nonetheless, I shared their sentiments. Of all the campaigns we had fought since arriving on English shores, this had been without a doubt the most gruelling. And still it went on.
‘You try to speak with him,’ Eudo said, shaking his head as he passed. His expression was hard, his mouth set firm, his eyes dark in the gloom of the hall. ‘See if you can make him see sense, and hopefully he can sway the king’s mind in turn.’
‘Robert will listen to you if he listens to anyone,’ Wace added, scratching at the battle-mark below his right eye, as he often did when he was frustrated or angry. An English spearman had given him that injury at Hæstinges, and ever since he had only been able to half open that eye, so that he forever seemed to be squinting, although it had done nothing to dull his sword-skills.
As the hall emptied I approached the hearth, beside which Robert crouched. A chill had entered the chamber and I wished that, like the man standing guard outside, I had thought to fetch my cloak before coming here. The floor of rammed earth had turned to mud, there were holes in the roof through which water had dripped to form wide puddles, while up in the cobwebbed rafters a mouse scuttled. Its droppings were scattered around the bedrolls where Robert’s hearth-knights would sleep tonight. For once I was glad that I had my wind-battered tent to go back to.
Robert looked up as I approached. ‘Tancred,’ he said, with some surprise. ‘I didn’t see you come in. When did you get here? You were expected back from Cantebrigia some hours ago.’
I shot him a look, not only because Atselin had said much the same thing, but also because he was the one who had foisted this escort duty upon me in the first place. The king had made Robert responsible for assembling the parties of knights who were to accompany the supply wagons, and he in turn had passed that responsibility on to me. Whether that was because he trusted me more than his other vassals, or because he thought I would value the time spent away from camp and thus meant it as a favour, I wasn’t sure.
‘We came back by a different route,’ I said, and went on to explain what had happened earlier that day, telling him how we had seen the smoke, how we had come across the burnt vill and found the priest close to death, how we had chased Hereward and his men to their boats and slain one of their number. I left out the last part of the story, about how the fear had gripped me, for even all these hours later I could not make sense of it. My instinct was to bury the memory deep inside my mind where it would not trouble me, but I could not, and still the Englishmen’s taunts rang in my ears. I wished I might have that moment over again
‘There is nothing more to be said.’ He shook his head, a grim expression on his face. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you agree or not. The king wishes it, and so it will be. We have our instructions and we will follow them. Do you understand?’
No one answered, or at least not in words. A few of the men spat upon the ground, a clear measure of their discontent, for it was rare that men would disgrace themselves by insulting their lord with so vulgar a gesture. Others simply cast their gaze towards their feet, not daring to meet his eyes.
‘Very well,’ Robert said. ‘Go. We gather here tomorrow at midday. I expect to see you then.’
I alone remained while the other barons filed past me, grumbling amongst themselves. A few, recognising me, spoke a curt word or two of greeting, although most simply ignored me. With the exception of Wace and Eudo, they had all served the Malets far longer than had I, some of them for twenty years and more. They had heard of my exploits and resented my closeness to Robert, and shunned my company. Nonetheless, I shared their sentiments. Of all the campaigns we had fought since arriving on English shores, this had been without a doubt the most gruelling. And still it went on.
‘You try to speak with him,’ Eudo said, shaking his head as he passed. His expression was hard, his mouth set firm, his eyes dark in the gloom of the hall. ‘See if you can make him see sense, and hopefully he can sway the king’s mind in turn.’
‘Robert will listen to you if he listens to anyone,’ Wace added, scratching at the battle-mark below his right eye, as he often did when he was frustrated or angry. An English spearman had given him that injury at Hæstinges, and ever since he had only been able to half open that eye, so that he forever seemed to be squinting, although it had done nothing to dull his sword-skills.
As the hall emptied I approached the hearth, beside which Robert crouched. A chill had entered the chamber and I wished that, like the man standing guard outside, I had thought to fetch my cloak before coming here. The floor of rammed earth had turned to mud, there were holes in the roof through which water had dripped to form wide puddles, while up in the cobwebbed rafters a mouse scuttled. Its droppings were scattered around the bedrolls where Robert’s hearth-knights would sleep tonight. For once I was glad that I had my wind-battered tent to go back to.
Robert looked up as I approached. ‘Tancred,’ he said, with some surprise. ‘I didn’t see you come in. When did you get here? You were expected back from Cantebrigia some hours ago.’
I shot him a look, not only because Atselin had said much the same thing, but also because he was the one who had foisted this escort duty upon me in the first place. The king had made Robert responsible for assembling the parties of knights who were to accompany the supply wagons, and he in turn had passed that responsibility on to me. Whether that was because he trusted me more than his other vassals, or because he thought I would value the time spent away from camp and thus meant it as a favour, I wasn’t sure.
‘We came back by a different route,’ I said, and went on to explain what had happened earlier that day, telling him how we had seen the smoke, how we had come across the burnt vill and found the priest close to death, how we had chased Hereward and his men to their boats and slain one of their number. I left out the last part of the story, about how the fear had gripped me, for even all these hours later I could not make sense of it. My instinct was to bury the memory deep inside my mind where it would not trouble me, but I could not, and still the Englishmen’s taunts rang in my ears. I wished I might have that moment over again
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