‘Stand back,’ Guillaume said, ‘or I will cut you both down as well.’
‘No more violence!’ Robert repeated, then turned and fixed his gaze upon me. His face was red and his hand made a fist.
‘Lord, I didn’t mean—’
‘No,’ he said, cutting me off. ‘You will listen to me. You have brought dishonour upon yourself and at the same time insulted both me and my family.’
‘He attacked me! What was I supposed to do?’ Everyone here had seen it happen, and knew that Guibert’s death was an accident. Surely Robert understood that I’d only been defending myself?
‘You have spilt blood in my hall, Tancred, and at my father’s funeral feast as well!’
‘He would have killed me otherwise!’ I shot back. ‘What would you have had me do? Tell me that, lord.’
Perhaps I would have done better to keep my mouth shut, but my anger was roused, and I couldn’t stop myself.
‘By rights you ought to be on your knees before me, begging my forgiveness,’ Robert said. His eyes were hard and unfeeling. ‘Instead you merely stand there as if you’ve done nothing wrong, as if this is all some game to you. Why is it that every time there’s some quarrel taking place, I always find you in the middle of it?’
His words struck me hard, like a blow to the gut. ‘Lord—’ I protested.
‘Leave,’ he said. ‘Leave, and don’t return. You are my man no longer. Understand? Consider your oath to me absolved.’
‘What? You can’t—’
I stopped, not knowing what to say. I could barely believe my ears. What did this have to do with my oath?
‘You’re letting him go?’ Elise screeched. ‘This is no time to show mercy, Robert. He killed a man! He cannot go unpunished. He must not!’
‘Go,’ Robert told me, ignoring his mother’s protests. I’d rarely seen him roused to anger, and certainly not like this. ‘Now, before I change my mind.’
‘Lord—’
‘Now!’
I held his gaze for an instant. Guibert must have struck me harder than I’d realised, for I was still struggling to comprehend what was happening. Feeling at the same time numb and cold and sick, I turned on my heels and, without looking back, stalked from the hall.
No one tried to stop me. The doors lay open and I strode out into the yard, into the icy, stinging rain, through the mud and the puddles. No sooner had I gone than I heard chaos erupt in my wake. Shouts were raised, and I heard Elise still shrieking, and dogs barking, but I didn’t dare glance back over my shoulder as I broke into a run.
My mind was teeming with a thousand thoughts. Foremost among them was that I needed a horse. I didn’t know how long it would be before anyone came after me, if they came at all, but I wasn’t prepared to wait and find out. Fyrheard was in the stables close by the main gates, in the outer bailey. I had just passed through the inner gatehouse and was heading down the hill towards the long thatched building when I heard a shout from behind.
‘Lord!’
Recognising the sound of Godric’s voice, I turned. ‘What?’
He came running up. ‘I’m coming with you,’ he said.
After what had just taken place, I was surprised he dared so much as show his face in my presence. Were it not for him, I wouldn’t be in this situation.
‘No, you’re not. But you can help me. Get word to the others. To Pons and Serlo and Eithne. Find them and tell them we need to leave straightaway. Tell them I’ll meet them by the crossroads on the old Roman way.’
‘But—’
‘Don’t argue with me.’ My patience was all but spent. ‘Just do it.’
He looked uncertainly at me for a moment, but then ran on, down towards the outer gates, and I hurried inside the stables. The doors were unlocked but there was no one about at this hour, and so no rushlights were lit, and I nearly slipped on the wet hay that plastered the floor as I found my way down the corridor to Fyrheard’s stall.
I’d thrown the saddle on to his back and was just about to lead him out into the yard when I heard voices and feet splashing through the mud, and saw the glow of a torch flickering on the plastered walls. I tensed, thinking that Robert had given in to his mother’s wishes and sent some of his men to apprehend me. They must have seen I’d left the door open.
‘Tancred?’ a voice called. Two figures entered, one of them holding a torch.
Wace. Eudo.
‘You’ve done it this time, haven’t you?’ Wace said when he saw me. He shook his head. His eyes were hard and his mouth was drawn tight. He set the torch in a sconce on the wall.
‘You know I never meant to kill him,’ I said.
‘Does it matter?’ Eudo asked, and there was no mistaking the anger in his tone. He marched towards me and shoved me hard in the chest. ‘What were you thinking?’
‘Hey,’ I protested, shoving him back. Drink had made him clumsy on his feet, and that small push was enough to send him tumbling to the floor.