The Last Conquest (26 page)

Matthew smiled till his eyes became slits.

‘Besides,’ said Fulk more brusquely, ‘you were taking no precautions – lazing all over the place. Half an army could have walked in. I wonder if his Grace the Duke would
care to hear that?’

‘The Duke will receive my report,’ said Baldwin. ‘And half an army could not walk in because half an army is not here. Not a single soldier is here in this valley, and well you
know it. There is nothing here except a quartermaster doing his duty and a captain of mercenaries neglecting his. Would “his Grace the Duke” care to hear that, do you think?’

Fulk scarcely heard him as he cast his eyes around.

‘I take it this is one of the farms that we must not burn.’

‘Intelligent of you,’ said Baldwin.

‘Hmm. Pity.’

He stooped, picked a stalk of grass, put it between his teeth, and ambled off with his hands behind his back. Matthew followed silently. As he walked past the door of the house, Taillefer came
out and nearly bumped into him. The merry piping ceased at once. Sweyn and Edith, tumbling after him, stopped laughing and stood still. Edith cried out in fear. Matthew turned his yellowing
eyeballs in their direction and smiled. Sweyn backed into the house again.

When Fulk appeared at the edge of the yard, the men-at-arms sat up. Fulk patted a door jamb and looked up at the lintel.

‘Truly a fine barn.’ He peered inside. ‘Plenty of thick, strong oak beams.’ He looked round at the men, who were now brushing the crumbs from their laps. ‘Not like
you, lads, is it, to be taking things so easy?’

Ralph Pomeroy looked uneasily at his brother Capra. They could not run now.

‘What do we do?’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Capra showed no signs of unease. On the contrary, his eyes shone with anticipation.

‘Nothing. Worry about that when it happens. Right now things look as if they are going to get interesting.’

Pomeroy persisted with his furtive whispering, never taking his eyes off Fulk. ‘But the horses. And the jerkins. Suppose he—’

‘Shut your mouth! Control yourself. Watch and be ready.’

‘Yes, indeed, a fine establishment – worthy of Saxon building at its best.’

Baldwin, who had followed closely, could see that Fulk was spreading tension with every step and every word. Each man in the yard was now tight like a stretched bowstring, waiting for a sign.
Only Fulk seemed relaxed.

Baldwin clapped his hands. ‘On your feet. Time to ride. We have much work before sunset.’

Fulk turned in mock surprise. ‘Why such a hurry, Sir Baldwin? Could we not think of something to – er – give their stomachs a glow before we ride on?’

The men hesitated, looking from one to the other. Capra’s lips moistened and parted.

Gilbert swallowed. A whole family’s lives lay upon a knife edge.

‘Just a little something to warm them, Sir Baldwin. Eh, lads? It would not take—’

Fulk caught sight of Rowena for the first time. He stood stock-still for a moment, then walked steadily towards her.

‘It was as if she were pulling him on a string,’ said Gilbert afterwards. ‘As if he could not help himself.’

Fulk stood before Rowena and raked her with his eyes. Nor did he miss the whitening of Godric’s knuckles over the handle of the axe. The silence seemed so long that Gilbert found time to
offer up a prayer.

At last Fulk shrugged and turned away. Gilbert let out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly there was short rasping sound, and Fulk’s dagger was at Rowena’s throat. Everyone had been caught unawares. He had moved very fast for a big man.

The dagger shone in the autumn sun.

‘Drop the axe.’

There was something unusual about the way he held her; Gilbert could not make out what it was.

Godric hesitated.

Fulk pressed the point until a drop of blood showed on Rowena’s neck.

Gilbert whispered to Edwin. ‘For God’s sake, make him drop it. He will do it. Jesus help us, he will do it.’

Edwin made a sign.

Slowly, very slowly, and without taking his eyes off Fulk, Godric bent and laid the axe on the ground.

‘Take him!’

It was Baldwin who now took everyone by surprise. A dozen hands seized Godric. Someone produced a rope from a saddle horn, and tied his hands behind his back.

Fulk tightened his grip on Rowena. The dagger gleamed at her throat. He looked awesome in his strength and menace, but Gilbert could not help thinking that he looked awkward too.

Fulk blinked.

‘What does this mean, Sir Baldwin? Do you want her tied up too?’

‘It means,’ said Baldwin, ‘that we must be on our way. I had him bound so that you will have no excuse for indulging in your usual . . . practices. Torture in
self-defence.’

Fulk blinked again. The light off the knife blade troubled him.

‘This farm stays untouched,’ said Baldwin. ‘Those are the orders of William himself, who will pay your wages when you have fulfilled your contract, and when I report that you
have fulfilled your contract. I repeat, no one here will be hurt and no damage will be done.’

Fulk raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you propose to leave these two able-bodied men here, give them the chance to warn the . . . the . . .’ He seemed to grope for the word.

‘Saxons,’ said Matthew, who appeared at his elbow. ‘My captain is concerned that the Saxons might learn our plan of the avenues.’

Baldwin glanced at Fulk, then waved a hand airily.

‘They have no idea what we are talking about.’

‘He has,’ said William Capra, pointing at Edwin. ‘I saw Senlac talking to him. The minute we leave here he will be off to warn Harold like a coney out of corn under the
sickle.’

Fulk looked several times to his left, then dropped his knife hand. He loosed Rowena in order to pass his other hand across his face. Rowena, shuddering with loathing, sprang away from him.

Baldwin pointed at Edwin. ‘Bind him too.’

Edwin had his arms pulled back. Gilbert tied the knots firmly enough to hold but not to bite. As he did so, he squeezed Edwin’s wrist reassuringly.

Fulk tried several times to get his knife into the scabbard, thrusting and missing. Matthew took his wrist gently.

‘It is well, my captain. Do not worry. Shall I help you?’

He eased the weapon from Fulk’s hand and secured it.

Fulk mumbled something unintelligible, and allowed Matthew to lead him away to a large log, where the cripple eased him gently down.

Capra moved towards Rowena. ‘Do you want us to bring her as well, Fulk?’

Fulk did not seem to hear him. Nor had he given the slightest sign of recognition. Instead, with his head down, he was absorbed in his clothes, and began pulling tiny pieces of straw and leaf
off them. Matthew leaned down and loosened the laces at his neck.

Capra, puzzled, raised his voice. ‘Fulk! Do you want the girl?’

Fulk raised his head. His eyes looked in Capra’s direction, but even the good one was blank.

‘Close the wagons!’ he said. ‘Close the wagons. Ready to move. Close the wagons.’

Capra looked in alarm at Pomeroy.

Matthew was fumbling in a waist wallet. Godric, though tense with worry for Rowena, found himself curious.

‘I said leave her alone,’ said Baldwin. ‘No hurt to anyone here.’

‘I agree, Sir Baldwin,’ said Pomeroy, trying to behave like his brother. ‘We shall not do anything to her here. Let us take her back with us. That way we shall all be –
er – satisfied.’

The soldiers sniggered.

Baldwin glanced again at Fulk. Matthew had pulled from his wallet a canvas package, which he opened out on a flat stone.

Inside, it all looked to anyone else like bundles of withered weed, but Godric recognised them at once. It was obvious by the way Matthew turned them over that he knew exactly what he was doing.
He carefully selected some dried leaves and held them to Fulk’s nose. All the while he murmured soothingly to him, encouraging him to breathe deeply. A small brown hand rested softly on
Fulk’s shoulder.

Baldwin turned back to Pomeroy. ‘Pomeroy, you take a long time to learn, by the spirits. Then, with a mind like a midden, it would take a long time for things to sink in. Still, try and
comprehend this. When we return I shall report to Duke William that one soldier only was too stupid to grasp or to obey his Grace’s plan. Had it not been for me, he might have ruined it.
Because of you, the Saxon army could have come at us from an awkward direction, and the whole enterprise could have been put at risk – all because of one empty-headed, lust-ridden
cottar’s brat who could not obey orders. What price would you give for your skin when William hears that?’

Pomeroy let his eyes stray towards Fulk. The big captain of mercenaries had lifted his head, but was peering in different directions as if he did not recognise where he was. Matthew’s arm
was round him.

‘Do not expect support from that quarter,’ said Baldwin. ‘He will not even hear you. Ask the hunchback if you do not believe me.’

Matthew flashed a black glance at him, but he said nothing.

Pomeroy grimaced in frustration.

‘You will guard those two prisoners,’ said Baldwin. ‘Watch them well, and deliver them to me, unhurt, at Hastings. One attempted escape, or one mark on either of them, and
watch out for your back.’

Silent and tight-lipped, Pomeroy turned away.

‘Now, mount,’ said Baldwin. ‘We have wasted time enough here.’

As he settled on his horse, he saw Aud standing by the corner of the house.

‘Tell her they will not be hurt,’ he shouted to Sandor. ‘Tell her they will return when I have questioned them.’

Sandor translated, and heard Aud’s answer.

‘She believes you,’ he said.

Baldwin winced. ‘Thank God for that.’ He would cross the next fence in that course when he came to it.

‘What about Fulk, sir?’ said Gilbert.

‘Damn Fulk,’ said Baldwin.

He had heard camp rumours of Fulk’s illness, but had never before seen it for himself. He felt none the wiser now, and the symptoms seemed oddly unrelated and unsensational. Nevertheless,
he felt a curious urge to put himself as far away from it as possible. As for leaving him deep in enemy territory, there was the dusky cripple at his elbow. They would survive; the Devil always
looked after his own. If they did not, Baldwin could think of no one who would mourn. He dug his heels into his horse.

‘Come.’

‘Where is Taillefer?’ said someone.

Baldwin swore. ‘Damn that minstrel too. We are a military detachment, not a troupe of travelling tumblers.’

‘Pray to not distress yourself on my account, Sir Baldwin,’ called Taillefer, emerging from the house. ‘Only a call of nature.’

‘Inside the house?’ said Pomeroy. ‘You lying old lecher. With an idiot girl too.’

Taillefer spat. ‘For shame, Pomeroy. I did not think even your mind could stoop below the midden.’

Pomeroy glared. One soldier laughed.

‘Taillefer would not have the energy. More probably he has been sleeping. That is his call of nature.’

Taillefer ignored the jibe. He turned, and bent down to Edith, who had followed him out.

‘Here, child.’ He held out the tiny pipe.

Edith cried out in pleasure, and seized it. Aud came up and put a hand round her shoulder. Gorm poked his head furtively round the door.

‘When you have finished giving alms,’ shouted Baldwin, ‘perhaps we can get on.’

Taillefer managed a bow, coughed with the effort, and took his horse’s reins.

‘Ever at your disposal, Sir Baldwin.’

‘Move the prisoners.’

Rowena had time to place a hand over Godric’s heart.

‘I shall come back,’ said Godric. ‘Watch and wait. Hide if need be. But watch. I shall come back. Give me your hand.’

Rowena raised her fingers to Godric’s lips and pressed them gently. Gorm saw Godric’s eyes glow.

Pomeroy pushed him on, and wrenched Edwin after him.

Berry snarled.

Capra dismounted suddenly and rushed back.

‘We may hurt no person, but by the Blood I shall have that hound!’

He pulled out his sword, swung it viciously, and broke Berry’s back.

Edwin cried out in pain, but was pulled again by Pomeroy. He kept turning his head to keep Berry in sight. As they passed a bend beyond the stream, he could still see the dog’s legs
twitching.

Aud rushed suddenly to the stream and called after him. ‘Be at peace, Edwin. I shall see to him.’

Edwin heard her, and stumbled on, blinded by his tears.

Gilbert pulled in beside Sandor, still furious. ‘The beast! To kill a dog!’

Sandor shrugged. ‘A Saxon dog?’

Gilbert whirled on him. ‘Sandor, how could you? Any dog! Capra is less than human.’

‘No, my friend,’ said Sandor. ‘He is very human. He lost face. How could he regain it? Only by killing, if only a dog. Ask yourself, which is better for you – the dog
alive, or the family alive?’

Gilbert swore. ‘He is still a wild animal.’

‘That is may be,’ said Sandor. ‘But you tamed him. I do not think you could tame the Bloodeye.’

Gilbert shuddered at he knew not what.

‘What was it? And what stopped him?’

‘Sir Baldwin,’ said Sandor. ‘You saw. You heard.’

Gilbert tossed his head. ‘Sandor! You know what I mean. What was wrong with him?’

‘It is a sickness. He has it many times. Excitement can cause it, they say. Danger. Passion. That woman was very . . .’ Sandor gestured expressively. ‘They also say in camp he
is mad. Or that he is possessed by the Devil.’ He shrugged. ‘But then your Devil is always the mover of mysteries.’

Gilbert frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Is what I say. When you have great happenings which you understand – war, death, pestilence, a bad winter – you say it is the Will of God. When you have happenings which are
mysteries, you have fear, and you say it is the work of the Devil. So I say – the Devil is dark, and God is open. And the Devil is very busy,’ he added.

The Devil! Gilbert stiffened as an answer to a problem flew almost within his grasp. When he strained his mind to capture it, it flew away again. He took up his original enquiry.