The Last Conquest (24 page)

‘Shut your mouth,’ said Baldwin, blushing.

Gilbert looked at him in alarm. Was he losing control? Capra, sensing a cheap triumph, pushed him further.

‘You can have first bite if you like, sir. Privilege of rank.’

‘You are insubordinate,’ said Baldwin, but he did not make it sound convincing.

Capra looked round at the others and smirked.

‘Tell you what, sir – you have her all to yourself and just give us the mill.’

The men-at-arms grinned.

‘Just so long as you let us watch,’ said Pomeroy.

There were throaty cackles.

Baldwin was now flushed and embarrassed. He dug his heels in his horse and rode on ahead.

Gilbert could contain himself no longer.

‘Great Jesus, hold your filthy tongue! Or I shall cut it out and feed it to the crows.’

Capra opened his eyes wide in mock surprise. ‘My, my! Young Master Senlac to the rescue. Whose virtue are you protecting – hers or his?’

Everyone roared.

If Baldwin heard he gave no sign. He was probably too far ahead.

Gilbert half drew his sword and urged his mount forward.

Suddenly a thin, scrawny horse placed itself between Gilbert and Capra.

‘My lusty warriors,’ said Taillefer, ‘let us not quarrel over the goods before we have ascertained their worth. A wise merchant does not put a price on an article before he has
judged its value.’ He smiled devilishly. ‘Should you require a connoisseur to assist you in coming to a wise price, I am at your service.’

He contrived to produce a dignified bow from the saddle.

Everyone laughed again; the edge had gone. They spurred their horses cheerfully after Baldwin. Gilbert glared, but at last slammed his sword back into the scabbard.

Sandor patted him kindly on the shoulder. ‘Save your sword; you may yet need it. Watch and be patient.’

As Gilbert rode down the hill, he saw Rowena shade her eyes in order to see more clearly where the noise was coming from. He urged his mount forward so as to be at the front with Baldwin.

Until now, he had been in some awe in the quartermaster’s presence. Now he had seen a lout like Capra tear great holes in his authority. Baldwin’s awkwardness where women were
concerned was a camp joke. Gilbert himself had laughed at it.

He had worried before about Baldwin stopping Fulk. Now, it began to look as if he could not stop Capra or Pomeroy either if they should take it into their heads to disobey him and destroy the
mill. Could he, Gilbert and Sandor, and that posturing wineskin Taillefer hold them off? And to what purpose? Suppose they did destroy one farm too many. Would it affect the overall plan that much?
Would the Duke bother even to investigate?

‘Watch and be patient,’ Sandor had said. Very well. He would watch, but that swine Capra had better watch too.

‘Father!’

Hearing Rowena’s voice, Gorm laid down a lever and came to the door of the mill.

‘Fetch Godric,’ said Rowena, without taking her eyes off the Normans.

Gorm took one look and bolted towards the barn, where Godric was sorting apples.

‘They are here again,’ he said, panting with exertion and fear. ‘Why have they come back? He said they would not.’

Godric stood up and dusted his hands. ‘Then he was wrong.’

Gorm wiped his palms on his thighs. ‘Where shall we go?’

Godric looked out of the doorway. The Normans had almost reached the stream.

‘It is too late.’

Gorm almost moaned in his fear. Godric pushed him towards the house.

‘Edwin and Aud are inside. Tell them. Perhaps they will have time to hide Edith and Sweyn.’

‘What about Rowena?’

Godric picked up an axe. ‘She is my trust,’ he said.

Gorm gaped. Never before had he seen Godric with a weapon in his hand. He looked as frightening as the Normans. When Gorm hesitated, Godric turned sharply.

‘Go!’

Gorm puffed away. How he hated Godric then for his calmness and decision. Why was it that Godric always knew what to do? How was he always able to take in a whole situation? And never a thought
for him, the man who brought him up – oh, no! He could think of Aud and Sweyn and Edith – even Edwin, an outsider. But not a flicker of interest in him. Only one thing on his mind now
– that arrogant daughter.

He fumbled with a gate latch. Between the two of them they would do for the whole household. Godric would provoke them with the axe and Rowena would push out her chin and flash her eyes, and
where would that get her?

And when he had once before suggested a more – well – friendly attitude, what had she said?

‘Would you rather your daughter was a Norman whore just to save your skin?’

Of course he had not meant it like that. Trust Rowena to see the worst possible meaning. Now Aud – she had understood. Aud would be willing to – make sacrifices – in the
interests of all. But not Rowena – oh, no!

His breath came shorter. God, how he needed a drink!

Aud looked up in alarm when he burst in. She nearly dropped the platter she was placing on the table. Edwin took one look at Gorm’s face, laid down his knife, and rushed to the doorway.
The Normans were splashing across the stream. Berry growled quietly.

‘Get them to the loft, under the straw. Quickly!’

Gorm had to carry Edith up the ladder. Sweyn whimpered. Aud tried to get a glimpse of the Normans through the door before Edwin pushed her up too.

Then he went to the threshold, forgetting his knife.

‘Where are you going?’ said Gorm in alarm.

Edwin turned on him in surprise. ‘To be with Godric, of course. Where else? Are you not coming?’

He was not being heroic. It was simply that, if they were going to die, he could not think of a better place to do it than beside Godric.

Gorm writhed and sweated and made feeble gestures. ‘I – I must guard my family.’

He clambered up the ladder. Edwin gave him one glance that made him feel worse, then went out to join Godric and Rowena.

He reached them just as the two leading horsemen dismounted. Godric, who had placed himself in front of Rowena, put out an arm to keep him back. Berry came and sat at his heels.

Edwin picked out Gilbert, who made a small but helpless sign.

Baldwin summoned Sandor forward and began to question Godric through him. Godric was surprised; the queries were about mill machinery and sacks of corn and local bread ovens.

There followed others about animals and stocks of winter food.

Godric answered evenly enough, without taking his hands off the axe. The Normans could find out easily anyway; asking him was only saving time. Answering them might get them away faster before
any of them thought of mischief. Judging by the numbers, this was more than a mere spying patrol.

Edwin had noticed the numbers too, and had seen the hard set of the faces. He had seen that look on Norman faces before, when he had been with the King in France. He had attended on Harold and
the Duke on campaign in Brittany, and he had seen looting and wasting in the captured towns of Dol and Rennes and Dinant.

He felt a great sadness, not only because his beloved friends might die, but because he too would die without a weapon in his hands. How stupid to have left his knife on the table. The one time
above all that he needed it. He had so wanted to fight beside his king in the coming battle. It would surely be a glory to die protecting one’s lord; what faithful servant could hope for
more? It seemed such a waste that he should fall here, cut down by a Norman sword from behind, and left to bleed to death, alone, sprawled among dried cow dung.

Gilbert watched in alarm as Capra and Pomeroy dismounted. They took no notice of Baldwin as he put his questions and peered at his map, but walked slowly about the yard. Capra tore staves out of
a fence and stooped to gather handfuls of straw to tie about the ends of them. All the while he whistled tunelessly. Pomeroy wandered off towards the buildings. Gilbert again felt loathing rising
in his throat.

He edged towards Edwin and whispered, ‘I am sorry. It is not my doing. I will try and—’

He broke off when he saw Capra looking straight at them and frowning.

Capra tossed two prepared torches to the men-at-arms. Baldwin replaced his map, walked to his horse, and pretended to fiddle with saddle straps.

Here was a fat valley indeed. The trouble was that he could not be sure from the map whether or not it was on one of the avenues they were planning. He did not wish to betray his confusion, so
it meant coming to a decision on his own initiative. He pressed his face against the horse’s belly and puffed as he tugged at the girth.

There was plenty here. His quartermaster’s instincts told him that it would prove an excellent camp site. When the Duke moved on London after the battle, the valley could possibly take the
whole army. There was an ideal water supply, and the mill would provide flour for fresh bread, a rare luxury on campaign. He had seen orchards and beehives, and the large Saxon had confirmed his
estimates of other supplies and livestock.

On the other hand, those louts Capra and Pomeroy had challenged him once, and would probably challenge him again. Would the Duke back him if he punished them? All for the sake of a Saxon mill?
Was
it on one of the avenues? He could not be sure.

Would it not be easier to go along with them? If he gave way, they might be more amenable, and more tired, when it came to leaving the next farms untouched on a confirmed avenue. After all, they
were all the Duke’s men, and the Saxons were the enemy. Out here in an unknown Sussex vale, who was to record what happened? It would be better for his authority if the decision were to come
from himself. If he did not lead them, he might have to follow them.

‘Just give us the word, Sir Baldwin.’

The back of Baldwin’s neck went redder.

Damn the man’s insolence!

Gilbert whirled on Capra. ‘You animal!’

Capra paused, looked round to make sure his audience was attentive, and smirked.

‘Master Senlac to the rescue again?’

Gilbert drew his sword, almost spitting with rage.

‘Touch this place, and I kill you.’

Sandor came forward; Gilbert swept him away with an arm.

Capra’s eyes narrowed. ‘No Norman does this for Saxons without reason. You know this place. You have been here before.’

‘He is a scout,’ said Sandor. ‘It is of course he knows it.’

Capra was not so easily put off.

‘I saw him speaking to one of them. He knows them. There is more here than we have seen.’

‘He spoke with them,’ said Sandor. ‘Asked many questions. It is thanks to him the Duke knows of this place. It is part of the Duke’s plan,’ he lied valiantly.

Capra hesitated for a fraction, then sneered. Gilbert’s temper, which Sandor wanted to damp down, flared again.

‘Never mind whether I have been here or not. They are people; you are an animal. Touch one of them, and I shall kill you.’

Capra spat. ‘You are getting above yourself, dog-boy. Do you think you could match me? And what about these men here?’

He pointed to the men-at-arms, crowded near on jostling horses and thoroughly engrossed.

Gilbert, still hot with temper, surprised himself with the sharpness of his answer.

‘I am in rage, and I care not what happens. I may die, either by your hand or by theirs. I may not have your skill at killing, but I am stronger than you, and, I promise you, you will die
too.’

He grasped his sword hilt with both hands.

Capra swallowed, and changed his tactics. He looked past Gilbert and spread his hands in dramatic appeal.

‘Well, Sir Baldwin? Who commands here – you or this . . . kennel boy?’

Baldwin licked his lips. He had been in war and in authority long enough to know that the situation could suddenly change, and had. He had found an unexpected ally. That brought fresh
difficulties. If he accepted Gilbert’s support and forbade Capra to go ahead, he knew Capra would taunt him about ‘leaning on Master Senlac’. If he rejected Gilbert and gave the
word, he was playing into Capra’s hands, and losing Gilbert’s loyalty as well. They were several miles from camp. He might need Gilbert, and that scruffy little Magyar of his.

Screams came from the house. Rowena’s hand flew to her throat. Godric turned to look, but stayed with her. Everyone forgot Gilbert and Capra for a moment.

First Edith rushed from the doorway. Then Sweyn. Then came Gorm, prodded from behind by Ralph Pomeroy, who paused on the threshold to pull something after him.

‘Look at this, lads.’

He dragged Aud after him by a bony wrist. He was so pleased with himself that he did not notice Gilbert’s agitation or Capra’s unease.

Gorm fell to his knees. ‘I am a poor man, sir. A poor man.’

Aud continued screaming until Pomeroy dumped her on the ground beside her father at Baldwin’s feet.

‘Well, Sir Baldwin, you have a choice now. Which one do you fancy?’

Aud crossed her arms over her chest as if she were naked. She was still panting, and there was a dark flush on her cheekbones. She was surprised at the sudden stillness. Sweat stood out on the
stretched skin below her throat. She looked at the hard faces round her as if she were not sure which one to scream at.

Baldwin swallowed.

‘I should go for this one,’ said Pomeroy. ‘She is hot and sweaty already. She will make a lot of noise, but I think she half wants it anyway. What do you think,
Will?’

William Capra was glad of the diversion. He sniggered. ‘I agree. Just right for you, Sir Baldwin, especially since you are not used to it.’

The men-at-arms roared with laughter.

‘Good for learning on, sir,’ said a stray voice from the back.

The goad snapped Baldwin’s temper.

He walked across to the group of men-at-arms and stood before them. He pointed to one man.

‘Down.’

After a furtive glance at his companions, the soldier dismounted.

‘Sir?’ he said, with as near an innocent voice as he dared. He was still holding one of Capra’s prepared torches. He put it hastily behind him.

Without warning, Baldwin hit him with his gloved hand so hard that he fell, and turned away before he hit the ground. Gorm stopped his frightened gabbling and watched. Baldwin strode back to
Aud, who still crouched in excited fear. He stooped and held out his hand.