The Splintered Kingdom (49 page)

As it happened I had no need to ask the question, for he understood at once what I meant.

‘You think I will follow you, after all the injury you inflicted upon me, after all your insults?’

He spat on the ground at my feet and backed away. My hopes, it seemed, were ill founded.

‘You tried to kill me once,’ I reminded him, not content to let him heap all the blame upon my shoulders. ‘I won’t forget that, but I’ll gladly forgive it and end this feud between us so long as you’re willing to do the same.’

I held out my arm towards him in a gesture of goodwill, much though it pained me to do so. He eyed my hand with suspicion.

‘You mock me,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how, but you do. Whatever trickery you have in mind, I will not fall for it.’

He stalked off, still rubbing the back of his shoulder. He had given no less than I had expected from him. Still, a part of me
had thought we might at least be able to resolve our differences, even if he couldn’t bring himself to offer his sword in our aid.

‘An old friend of yours?’ asked Erchembald, who had been watching with interest.

‘Hardly.’

I was not in the mood for explanations, but thankfully the priest did not enquire further. ‘Ten men against a thousand,’ he said. ‘You realise you do not have to do this, Tancred. There would be no shame if you were to change your mind now.’

We had become good friends over the past year, the priest and I, and it was clear he did not want me to go.

‘I made an oath to Robert upon holy relics, under the gaze of our Lord,’ I said. ‘If I break that oath then I am damned. You know this.’

He sighed. ‘God understands it is an arduous task you take upon yourself. He will not punish you for refusing it. He is merciful; He will forgive you.’

‘But I may never forgive myself if I let Robert and Beatrice and their father go to their deaths.’

Sadness filled his eyes, though he did his best not to show it by bowing his head. ‘Then do what you must.’

‘God will protect us,’ I said, and hoped that it was true. ‘We will meet again.’

Erchembald nodded and clasped my hand. Together we prayed for our safekeeping and that of the Malets, before at last he heard my confession and absolved me of my sins.

‘I wish you good luck,’ he said. ‘God be with you.’

As soon as I left him we mounted up and rode out, leaving the orange dots of the campfires behind us as we traversed that night-shrouded land.

And so we were on our way. To Beferlic, and whatever fate awaited us there.

From Eoferwic Runstan led us south, following the course of the river. Before long we came to a shallow point on the Use where the riverbed was firm and the waters not too fast-flowing. With some coaxing we led our horses across, and from there made for
what I supposed was the east, riding hard through the night until we could see the first grey light of dawn rising above low wooded hills.

There we sheltered through the following day. Under the cover of a brown-gold thicket we took it in turns to rest and to keep watch. As soon as night fell we moved on again, descending from the wolds into flatter country towards the swamps that made up Heldernesse. It was a clear, moonlit night and a much colder one than of late. A thick mist soon settled over the low-lying pastures, which was fortunate, for it meant we could ride without fear of being spotted. Before long the shadows of Beferlic came into sight: a cluster of squat houses, workshops, alehouses and halls sitting on a low and narrow promontory of dry land that jutted out into the marshes, with the belfry of a church at its centre, rising towards the sky, and around it the dormitory and other buildings that comprised the monastery. Somewhere amongst all of that were Robert and his family, and Eadgar too.

On the town’s eastern flank the land fell away to the marshes and the river Hul, upon the banks of which five small ships had been drawn up. Around the three landward sides, meanwhile, a sturdy palisade had been thrown up, and a deep ditch dug in front of it into which sharpened stakes had been driven. Outside those defences, straddling the roads that led towards the gates, an array of tiny pinpricks of firelight showed where the enemy had made their camp. Often armies would disguise their true numbers by building more fires than needed on the edges of their camp, and yet even with that in mind I could not see how the garrison could be as large as Runstan had told us. Either the enemy were on the move, which seemed strange given the efforts they had made to fortify this place, or else he’d lied. And if he had, what else about his story might be false?

‘Surely this is a good thing, though,’ said Eudo. ‘We won’t have to battle our way through so many of them.’

‘I’d rather know what I’m fighting before it kills me,’ Wace muttered. Now that we saw what we faced, he was probably beginning to have further doubts about this expedition.

Possibly it was a ruse designed to lure King Guillaume and his army to assault the town, when in fact within those walls were gathered scores upon scores of men that we could not see.

Sharing Wace’s concerns, I turned to the Englishman. ‘You said there were a thousand men in Beferlic. Where are the others?’

‘Some among the Danes prefer to sleep by their ships rather than in camp,’ Runstan said. ‘They’ve taken a quarter of their force into the marshes a mile or so upstream to guard against an attack from across the hills to the north.’

Or else to catch an unwary foe in the rearguard, and crush them between their swords and the walls of Beferlic. Which meant that in the town itself and the camp surrounding its walls were probably somewhere between seven and eight hundred men.

‘From now on you’ll tell us everything,’ I said, grabbing him by the collar. ‘Do you understand?’

He nodded, but I sensed my threats were meaningless to him. He was no longer trembling, no longer afraid; he knew as we did that he was of more use to us alive than dead.

We circled around the town so as to approach it from the south. We left our horses inside what must at one time have been a barn or storehouse, albeit one long abandoned for it was in need of some repair. An ideal hiding place, since there was little reason for the enemy to venture there, though in any case it was well out of sight of both the town and the river. Ædda offered to stay with the animals and wait for our return, and to judge from the anxiety in his eyes that was probably the best thing. He had served me loyally and done more for me than anyone in recent weeks. He had come this far, and I could ask no more of him.

‘If first light comes and there is no sign of us, you must get yourself away from here,’ I told him. ‘Forget about us; make sure you get back safely to Eoferwic and the others.’

He nodded solemnly. How I thought we might escape Beferlic when I didn’t even know how to get in, I wasn’t sure. With luck an answer would present itself when we needed one; that was the best we could hope for.

Nine of us there were, then, who set out across the sucking bogs.
Nine, that was, not counting our guide. We moved slowly, making our way through the mist: splashing gently over narrow streams; wading across inlets of the river; picking our way through clumps of reeds and tall grass and around pools where the ground had become waterlogged following the rains; staying as low to the ground as we could; keeping our cloaks over our armour so that we would blend in more easily with the night. There would be watchmen upon the walls, and doubtless also atop the monastery’s bell-tower, which offered the best vantage of anywhere for miles around. Save for the occasional splashing and calls of waterbirds upon the river, the night was still. The slightest noise or sign of movement and the alarm would quickly be raised. Once or twice I wondered at what point Runstan would try to betray us, as he surely must. Not yet, I thought, when we still had a chance of escaping. Instead he would wait for the right opportunity, perhaps once we were a little nearer.

I followed but a few paces behind him, keeping one hand on my sword-hilt at all times. That way if he did cry out, it would be the last sound he made before my blade was buried in his back. Still, for now at least he seemed to be holding to his word, never rushing on ahead nor, so far as any of us could tell, leading us on any false paths. At the same time he didn’t take us too close to the ramparts, the shadows of which I could just make out through the marsh-mist, along with the hulls of the five enemy boats. I could see now that these were cargo vessels, built for the open sea as much as for river-going: broad of beam and with high gunwales. But there were two other ships moored upon the river about a quarter of a mile off that I had not spotted earlier. Larger and sleeker than the others, these ones had to be perhaps twenty-five or even thirty benches in length, sitting high in the water. Ships of war.

I signalled to the others behind me to stop. ‘Wait,’ I said to Runstan in hushed tones, and pointed in the direction of the ships. ‘Whose are they?’

‘The nearest is
Ægirulfr
; it belongs to King Sweyn. The other is
Northgar
, King Eadgar’s own ship.’

Northgar
. The northern spear. No doubt the name had been
chosen to appeal to the Northumbrian families, upon whose support he was greatly reliant.

Hopefully those ships and the men upon them were too far off to make any difference to the plan that was forming in my mind. Upon dry land near to the five wide-bellied boats was a large fire, around which the same number of men were warming their hands; obviously they were the unlucky ones who had been burdened with guard duty this chilly night. Indeed we were fortunate that there weren’t more of them, but then what reason did the enemy have to expect an attack from across the marshes?

‘Hand me that,’ I said to Serlo, pointing to the leather flask he carried: the only drink we had between us.

He frowned but handed it over. ‘It’s only ale, lord,’ he said, perhaps thinking that I wanted something stronger to prepare myself for what was to come. I rarely drank before battle; although it lent courage, it also dulled a man’s wits, made him slower and unsteadier on his feet and less deft in his swordplay and spearwork.

What I was thinking of was somewhat different, as I explained to them. I chose Serlo and Pons to watch over our prisoner and sent Wace and Eudo together with their knights to find their way across the muddy ground between the beached ships and the river, and there to wait for my signal.

As soon as they had vanished into the darkness, I began counting under my breath up to one hundred and then back down to nought, before I myself set off in the direction of the ship guards. From so far away I couldn’t tell whether they were the ætheling’s men or King Sweyn’s, but either way I hoped I could fool them. With my straggling and untidy hair there was every chance they would mistake me for an Englishman, while the silver rings upon my arms might suggest to the Danes that I was one of them, from a distance at least. Admittedly it was not much of a disguise, especially since the moment I opened my mouth the entire pretence would be shattered. I knew nothing of the Danish speech, and while I had come to learn many English words and phrases, they did not always come readily to my tongue. And if my hesitation did
not betray me then my accent surely would. Still, it was the best I could manage: enough, probably, to confuse the guards for as long as this would take.

Soon I was close enough to hear their voices, though they were too low for me to make out any words. I did not try to hide but ventured openly, trudging heavily through the mud, clutching the ale-flask in one hand and singing a wordless nonsense tune, all the time hoping and praying silently that this ruse would work, or else I was a dead man.

It was not long before one of the guards stepped away from the fire and called out a challenge, his words breaking through the stillness of the night: ‘
Hwæt eart thu
?’

Who are you?
That I could understand, which meant these were Englishmen. With any luck that would make this a little easier.

I did not answer, but, my heart pounding in my chest, I began to sing more loudly, affecting what I hoped looked like a drunken stagger. So intent was I on keeping up the ruse, however, that I didn’t notice where I was treading, nor see the ground ahead falling away into one of the many streams and channels that crossed those marshes. Losing my footing, I slid with limbs flailing and a great splash into the icy water.

Gasping for breath and inwardly cursing, I managed to right myself and drag myself out on to firmer ground, only to find the Englishmen laughing at me. I had their attention now, at least. Soaked to my skin, my tunic and trews dripping and my jerkin caked in mud, I raised a fist to the heavens as if in appreciation of their cheers; as if their entertainment was my sole purpose. Taking the bottle, I unstoppered it and raised it to my lips, letting the ale cascade into my mouth and down my chin, until I found myself choking. I bent over double, making retching noises and pretending to vomit.

At last their concern got the better of their mirth. Exactly as I’d planned, they left their posts to come to my aid, calling as they did so, asking what I was doing out there, so far from the town and the camp. That was the signal to Wace and Eudo and their knights. I hoped I could keep these men distracted for long enough to allow
them to do their work. There were barely one hundred paces between where I stood and the five ships; if they made too much noise and one of the guards happened to notice what was happening, our plan would be finished even before it had begun.

As the Englishmen approached, I fell to my knees, feigning a hacking cough, drawing forth phlegm and spitting it out in gobs on to the ground in front of me. Save for the seaxes at their belts I saw that they were unarmed, with only their tunics and animal-skin cloaks for protection. They were all of them young, about the same age as Runstan, eager for adventure and lacking in wits. Certainly they weren’t seasoned warriors, or else they would have had more sense than to abandon their duty and leave their ships unguarded.

‘Are you all right, lord?’ one of them asked, clearly recognising me by my arm-rings and the weapons on my belt as someone of importance. ‘What are you doing out here?’