beds. Where I could, I had kept to the woods, since there I was protected from the heat of the sun; but as evening drew on I suddenly came upon a winding river: a river I later learnt was the Cosnonis, which marked the boundary between Brittany and Normandy. Between its banks and the edge of the woods a number of tents had been erected around a campfire, beside which half a dozen men were practising with swords and shields, stepping deftly forward and back in time with every stroke, ducking and turning before thrusting again.
Their blades flashed brightly in the late sun; the scrape of steel against steel rang out as they clashed. I crouched behind a bush and for a while I simply watched them, almost forgetting my thirst and my empty stomach. I had never seen such a thing before. It was like a dance: each movement, each swing, each parry all carefully considered and yet it seemed at the same time instinctive.
Eventually, though, my hunger had got the better of me, and I realised that if these men meant to stay the night here, they must have food. I moved back amongst the trees, around the back of their camp. There were more men sitting by the fire, passing bread around and speaking in what sounded like French, a tongue which at that time I only half knew. All had beards and wore their hair long, which took me aback a little, having spent so long in the company of monks, with their tonsured heads and clean-shaven chins. One of them was dressed in a mail coat, polished and gleaming, and had silver rings on his fingers. He must be their lord, I thought. His shield he had across his knees, using it like a table from which to eat; on its white face was painted a black hawk.
Had I been thinking more clearly, I would have understood thatthese were fighting men – men I would do well not to cross. But at that moment my stomach was all that I cared about, as the smell of roasting meat drifted on the breeze. And so, taking care not to stumble or to tread on any twigs, I carried on. One tent on the other side of the camp stood slightly further back from the rest, and I chose this as my target.
Closer to the river, a handful of boys were running at each other with wooden swords and wicker shields. They looked to be the same age as me, or perhaps a little older – it was difficult to tell from so far away. One, taller than the others, seemed to be fending off two by himself. I paid them no mind; they seemed too involved in what they were doing to notice me. Keeping low, watching to make sure that none of the men by the fire had seen me, I made my way out of the cover of the trees, towards the tent. It was made from several hides stitched together and stretched over wooden poles, and was probably large enough to fit two men comfortably. Leather ties hung from the flaps that made the opening, but they were not fastened and so I slipped inside.
The heat was the first thing that struck me; the second was the darkness. I fumbled about while my eyes adjusted, searching for something that I might be able to eat or drink. Linen blankets were laid out over the grass; a rolled-up tunic made for a pillow at one end. Beside the tunic lay a pouch with some silver coins inside. I pocketed a few, thinking that they might be useful later, before in the corner I spied a leather bottle. Without thinking I removed the stopper and began to gulp it down, and straightaway began to splutter, sending scarlet droplets everywhere. Instead of water I had found wine, and far stronger wine than any I had ever tasted.
I replaced the stopper and hurriedly put the bottle back where I had found it, hoping I had not made too much noise. There was nothing else of use here in any case; I would have to try another tent. I turned to go, but at that moment the flaps were pulled aside and the evening light flooded in. A dark figure stood before me. The sun was behind him, dazzling me with its brilliance, and I shielded my eyes. It was the tall boy I had seen by the
Their blades flashed brightly in the late sun; the scrape of steel against steel rang out as they clashed. I crouched behind a bush and for a while I simply watched them, almost forgetting my thirst and my empty stomach. I had never seen such a thing before. It was like a dance: each movement, each swing, each parry all carefully considered and yet it seemed at the same time instinctive.
Eventually, though, my hunger had got the better of me, and I realised that if these men meant to stay the night here, they must have food. I moved back amongst the trees, around the back of their camp. There were more men sitting by the fire, passing bread around and speaking in what sounded like French, a tongue which at that time I only half knew. All had beards and wore their hair long, which took me aback a little, having spent so long in the company of monks, with their tonsured heads and clean-shaven chins. One of them was dressed in a mail coat, polished and gleaming, and had silver rings on his fingers. He must be their lord, I thought. His shield he had across his knees, using it like a table from which to eat; on its white face was painted a black hawk.
Had I been thinking more clearly, I would have understood thatthese were fighting men – men I would do well not to cross. But at that moment my stomach was all that I cared about, as the smell of roasting meat drifted on the breeze. And so, taking care not to stumble or to tread on any twigs, I carried on. One tent on the other side of the camp stood slightly further back from the rest, and I chose this as my target.
Closer to the river, a handful of boys were running at each other with wooden swords and wicker shields. They looked to be the same age as me, or perhaps a little older – it was difficult to tell from so far away. One, taller than the others, seemed to be fending off two by himself. I paid them no mind; they seemed too involved in what they were doing to notice me. Keeping low, watching to make sure that none of the men by the fire had seen me, I made my way out of the cover of the trees, towards the tent. It was made from several hides stitched together and stretched over wooden poles, and was probably large enough to fit two men comfortably. Leather ties hung from the flaps that made the opening, but they were not fastened and so I slipped inside.
The heat was the first thing that struck me; the second was the darkness. I fumbled about while my eyes adjusted, searching for something that I might be able to eat or drink. Linen blankets were laid out over the grass; a rolled-up tunic made for a pillow at one end. Beside the tunic lay a pouch with some silver coins inside. I pocketed a few, thinking that they might be useful later, before in the corner I spied a leather bottle. Without thinking I removed the stopper and began to gulp it down, and straightaway began to splutter, sending scarlet droplets everywhere. Instead of water I had found wine, and far stronger wine than any I had ever tasted.
I replaced the stopper and hurriedly put the bottle back where I had found it, hoping I had not made too much noise. There was nothing else of use here in any case; I would have to try another tent. I turned to go, but at that moment the flaps were pulled aside and the evening light flooded in. A dark figure stood before me. The sun was behind him, dazzling me with its brilliance, and I shielded my eyes. It was the tall boy I had seen by the
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