Knights of the Hawk (30 page)

I thought Godric might hesitate, but he didn’t. Instead he kept on walking, his jaw set firm, his eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring the rebukes hurled after him by his uncle.

‘That was a brave thing to do,’ I told him when he reached us. ‘Not easy, either.’

He shrugged. ‘It was easy enough. You spoke up for me when my uncle would not. For that I thank you, lord, even if it came to nothing.’

‘You saved my life,’ I reminded him. ‘I should be the one thanking you.’

He smiled weakly. ‘I told you no one would believe me, didn’t I?’

‘You were right about that.’ I glanced towards the gatehouse, where Morcar, now mounted, continued to stare in our direction, no doubt shaken as well as a little perplexed by his nephew’s disloyalty, until at last he turned and spurred his horse on.

Godric watched him go. His expression was stony, and I saw in the way that he held his chin high a resolve that had not been apparent until then. He had chosen his course, and he would not be swayed from it.

Thus we made ready to leave Alrehetha. I confess a strange mixture of feelings filled my heart. For the first time since we crossed the Narrow Sea that fateful autumn in the year one thousand and sixty-six, our enemies were all quelled. The risings and disturbances that for so long had plagued the kingdom had been put down and the rebels captured, killed or put to flight. England, at long last, was ours. I could scarcely believe it.

Yet Malet’s passing soured it all. He had lived long enough to know of our triumph over the rebels, but not to savour the fruits of that triumph. He had striven so hard to govern justly, to serve his king and support him in every endeavour since the invasion, and his reward was death. Not a glorious death in battle, either, with sword in hand at the head of the charge. For someone who had prided himself as a war leader, who had once ranked among the kingdom’s leading men, it seemed a wretched way to end one’s life.

We were striking camp when I heard someone calling my name. I looked up to see a man on horseback being pointed in the direction of our still smouldering campfires.

‘Tancred a Dinant?’ he called as he approached. ‘Lord of Earnford?’

‘So they call me,’ I replied, observing the newcomer closely. His face was lined with the scars of battle, and his eyes were hard.

‘One of the prisoners from the battle has been asking to speak with you,’ he said. ‘I’ve spent all morning trying to find you.’

‘Then you can’t have been looking very hard,’ I snapped, and regretted it straightaway. I had nothing against this man, but I was in a strange mood, and the words had left my tongue before I even had time to think.

Thankfully he paid my retort no attention. ‘Come with me,’ he said, and turned. That was when I noticed his scarlet cloak, embroidered at the hem with golden thread, and saw the lion of Normandy on his pennon, and understood that he was one of the royal guardsmen.

I followed him across the camp to one of the large tents close to the king’s pavilion. He pulled the flap aside and gestured for me to go first.

Inside, sitting upon a stool with her hands bound behind her, sat a girl of around fifteen with dirty, straggling hair and eyes as blue as the sky at midday. She glanced up sullenly as we entered, a scowl upon her face.

‘This is the one,’ the guardsman said.

‘Her?’ I asked.

‘You don’t know her? She seemed to know who you were.’

‘I’ve never seen her before.’

‘I was wondering if she might have been a lover of yours, although it would be a brave man who tried to tame her. A vicious one, she is. She sank her teeth into the forearm of the first man who came near her, and didn’t stop struggling until we’d managed to tie her wrists, and even then we had to almost drag her from the field.’

‘I didn’t think the English allowed their women to fight.’

‘She isn’t English, so far as any of us can tell, though she seems to speak their tongue well enough.’

‘Who is she, then?’

Her dress, though smeared with mud, was of fine wool and fastened at the shoulders with a pair of golden brooches inlaid with silver crosses. She was obviously not poor, wherever she came from.

‘The wife of one of the rebel leaders killed in the battle, maybe? Who knows? If she weren’t so richly dressed, and she hadn’t mentioned your name, we might have left her for the men to fight over.’

I stood over her and she dragged her gaze upwards to meet mine. Even if one ignored the bruises and grazes that decorated her cheeks, one would find it difficult to call hers a pretty face, composed as it was all of sharp angles. Still, she was generously endowed and I imagined that, if she smiled rather than scowled, she would not look unattractive.

‘I’m told you wanted to speak with me,’ I said in English.

‘You are Tancred of Earnford?’

‘I am,’ I said. ‘Who are you?’

‘Someone with knowledge that I think you would be interested in.’

‘So I’ve heard. How do you know my name?’

‘Who hasn’t heard of the great Tancred of Earnford?’ she asked with more than a hint of mockery. ‘Across the north men fear you, from the mead-halls of the Northumbrian thegns to the household of Eadgar Ætheling and even the court of the Scots’ king, Mael Coluim. All know of your deeds and quiver at the mere mention of your name.’

‘You flatter me,’ I said, without sincerity. I was fairly sure that King Mael Coluim had more pressing things to worry about than me. And while it was true that nothing had been heard recently of the ætheling, I doubted very much whether fear of me had anything to do with his hiding away in the north. ‘What is this knowledge you have for me, then?’

‘I will tell you, but first I want something in return.’

‘If I don’t know what it is I’m paying for, I’m hardly going to waste my silver, am I?’

‘You didn’t seem to mind when you gave your coin to those so-called spies of yours last winter.’

That took me aback. ‘You know about them?’

‘One of them stayed a night at our hall,’ she said. ‘He told us all about what you’d charged him with finding out, and asked us what we knew, but mainly he was interested in bragging about how rich you’d made him.’

My blood boiled in my veins. I wondered which of my informants that had been, and resolved to break his legs if our paths ever crossed again.

‘Besides,’ she said, ‘your silver isn’t what I’m interested in. All I want is your assurance that if I pass on this knowledge to you, you will let me go free.’

‘That isn’t my decision to make.’

‘You could ask.’

She had the arrogance of youth, this one. Her husband had clearly allowed her too much rein, and that had made her overly haughty. Nevertheless, I turned to the guardsman. ‘She wants to know whether or not she’ll be allowed to go free, if she tells me what I want to know.’

‘She’s worth nothing to us,’ he answered. ‘Since she won’t so much as tell us her name, there’s no possibility of her kin paying ransom for her. She can go into a nunnery, or take ship back to wherever it is she came from, for all I care.’

I nodded, and faced the girl, who could have understood none of our conversation since we had spoken in French. ‘Whether we decide to let you go depends on what you have to tell me.’

She considered for a moment, then said, ‘I know that you seek the banner that bears the dragon and axe. I know you’re looking for your woman, Oswynn.’

My heart was pounding. I had never told those men the reason why I’d wanted them to fetch this information for me. I had never told them who it was I was really searching for.

‘Oswynn,’ I breathed. ‘Do you know if she still lives?’

‘I cannot say, but I know the name of the man who has her, and I know where you can find him.’

‘Tell me,’ I said, and took a step closer, so that I was looking down upon her.

She did not avert her gaze, or flinch at all. For one so young, she seemed very confident of herself. ‘First, give me your promise.’

‘You have it,’ I said. ‘Now tell me.’

‘I want to hear you say it.’

‘Don’t try my patience, girl,’ I said, and rested my hand upon the hilt of the knife at my waist. ‘I’ve said that you have my promise, and I do not make oaths lightly, so speak. What’s this man’s name?’

She did not flinch, but merely regarded me for a moment. Without taking her eyes off me, she said: ‘The man you’re looking for is Jarl Haakon Thorolfsson. The word I have is that he was last seen in Dyflin.’

Haakon Thorolfsson. A Danish name, and a Danish title, too. Finally I had something more to pursue than simply the face that burnt in my memory and in my nightmares.

‘You’re sure?’ I asked.

‘As sure as anyone can be of anything. Although whether he’s still there, I don’t know. He moves around. I don’t know where he has his hall, or even if he has one.’

Dyflin. The favoured haven of outlaws and sellswords everywhere. I’d never been there but I knew it by its ill repute. A port town, it lay across the sea to the west of Britain, a day’s sail with a good wind from Ceastre, in a violent land of squabbling princelings.

‘How long ago did you hear this?’ I asked.

‘Back in the spring. Four months ago, perhaps. I don’t remember exactly. It was before we came here to Elyg, at any rate.’

Four months ago. My spirits fell. The Danes were well known for their restless spirits, which had seen them settling all across these isles of Britain and far beyond. They were always travelling, rarely staying in one place for very long but moving wherever the winds and the scent of gold took them. This Haakon could be anywhere by now.

‘Why didn’t you tell the man who came to your hall about him?’ I asked.

‘You already know why, lord. Knowledge costs and, as I said, he wasn’t interested in paying. He was content enough to brag about his success and how he’d managed to cheat you. Next time, lord, you should find spies you can trust.’

That was easier said than done. There was no point in telling her that such a man used to visit my manor from time to time. His name had been Byrhtwald, and as well as a reliable bearer of news had also been a good friend for the time that I knew him. He had met his end because of me, and even after a year the guilt for his death still haunted me.

‘How did you come to hear my woman’s name?’

‘My husband served with King Sweyn last year when he came across from Denmark. He was there at Beferlic, as was I. We crossed paths with Haakon a few times while the two armies were quartered together, although he and my husband were not exactly friends. That’s how I came to meet her.’

‘So you’ve seen her?’

‘Only the once, lord. But I can understand why you’re so eager to have her back, and why Haakon was so keen to show her off, too. She’s a rare beauty. Many men would kill to have a woman like her by their side, or in their bed.’

She smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly smile, and again I sensed mockery in her tone, as if, even at her young age, she knew only too well the desires of men.

‘Where is this husband of yours now?’ I asked, feeling the need to change the subject suddenly. I didn’t like the thought of this girl speaking so of my Oswynn, when she hardly even knew her.

‘Dead, I suppose,’ she replied. ‘The last I saw of him was yesterday morning, when he went to fight against your king in the battle. Since he hasn’t returned yet, I’m guessing he won’t be returning at all.’

Clearly there had been little love in that marriage. What their story was, I could only guess. At that moment, however, I had more pressing concerns.

‘Tell me more about this Haakon,’ I said. ‘Did he also serve Sweyn?’

‘No, he was sworn to the ætheling.’

‘Was?’

‘He isn’t any more.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘They met at the court of King Mael Coluim three winters ago. He supported both Eadgar’s rebellions, but there was some disagreement between him and the ætheling after the failure of last year’s campaign. He took his leave by ship shortly afterwards. We didn’t hear of him after that, until a passing trader happened to mention him, and that’s how we learnt he was in Dyflin.’

I was beginning to form an opinion of this Haakon. Like many Danes, he probably made his living by selling his sword and his loyalty to anyone who would offer him sufficient reward. When Eadgar’s efforts to wrest the crown of England from King Guillaume had ended in humiliation, he must have decided he would do better searching for employment or riches elsewhere.

I only hoped I could catch up with him. Eudo might be right, I thought, and Oswynn could be many hundreds of leagues from here, but at least now I had a trail to follow, and a place to begin my search.

‘How would you like to go to Dyflin?’ I asked the girl.

At once the defiance drained from her face. She paled and cast her gaze down. ‘I’ve been there before,’ she said. ‘I have no wish to go back.’

‘Why not?’ I asked, but she didn’t answer. ‘You’ve met Jarl Haakon before. Your knowledge could be useful to me. You could help me find him. And if you know the city, then all the better.’

‘All I want is to find passage back home, to my kin, if they still live,’ she said. ‘I’ve given you what you asked for. Isn’t that enough?’

‘You can either come with me, or else I can leave you here to the mercy of the king’s men. It is your choice.’

‘You promised, lord! You said I’d be allowed to go free!’

‘And you will,’ I said mildly, ‘after you’ve helped me. Then I’ll take you wherever you wish, but not before.’

A glimmer of hope appeared in her eyes. ‘You’ll take me home?’

That had been a rash thing to say, in hindsight. But if it would convince her, then perhaps it was worth it.

‘Not straightaway,’ I said. ‘First we go where I say. But as soon as my business is finished, I’ll do what I can. You have my oath.’

She did not look at me for a long while, and I thought she might still refuse. What reason, after all, did she have to trust me?

Eventually she gave a sigh. ‘Very well.’

‘Good,’ I said, and smiled, but she did not return it. ‘One last thing. What do I call you?’

‘Eithne.’

It sounded like no name I had ever heard. It was neither French nor Breton, nor, from what I could tell, Danish or English.