‘How did Haakon take her from you?’ Magnus asked.
I sighed, and told him about the ambush that night at Dunholm, and how my friends and I had barely managed to escape with our lives, and how that had been the last I’d seen of her for a year and a half, until she had appeared at Beferlic. ‘How she came to end up in his company, I don’t know. Possibly one of Eadgar’s men captured her during the ambush, and later sold her on as a slave.’
‘I can think of a simpler explanation than that,’ Magnus said. ‘Haakon was at Dunholm.’
I shot him a glare. ‘What?’
‘He was there. He was pledged to Eadgar at that time, as were many other sword-Danes from Orkaneya and the Suthreyjar. He was one of those leading the attack. Or at least so he’s now claiming.’
‘Whoever told you that obviously wasn’t there. It was Eadgar and the Northumbrians who led the attack that night. I saw his purple-and-yellow banner.’
‘I’m not denying that Eadgar was there, but he wasn’t the one who broke down the gates of the stronghold and torched the mead-hall. That was Haakon’s doing.’
I stared at him, confused. ‘No,’ I said, surprised that Magnus could have heard it so wrong. ‘It was Eadgar who stormed the gates. He burnt the mead-hall.’
With Robert de Commines, my lord, inside. Had I not, weeks later, stood face to face with the ?theling whilst he bragged of how he had murdered him? Had all that been but a dream?
‘So Eadgar would have everyone believe. He wanted to be the one to kill Earl Robert, but Haakon desired the glory for himself. What I’ve been told is that while the aetheling was occupied elsewhere in the town, he took it upon himself to storm the stronghold.’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘If that’s true, then why haven’t I learnt of this before now?’
‘Because Eadgar paid Haakon and all his followers to keep their mouths shut, and paid them very generously at that.’
My mind was reeling. None of this was making sense. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘At the time he was seeking the support of a number of the great Northumbrian lords, many of whom still doubted Eadgar’s stomach for a fight, and didn’t believe in his conviction or his ability to mount a full campaign. The ?theling needed them to believe he was the one, and he alone, who burnt Dunholm, who killed Earl Robert and destroyed his army, if he was to bring their spears under his banner.’
‘But why should the truth only come out now?’
The Englishman shrugged. ‘Now that Eadgar’s rebellion has been crushed and he’s fled to the protection of the King of Alba, most of those supporters have deserted him. I suppose Haakon thought there was no need to hide it any longer. Probably he was tired of keeping it a secret and wanted, finally, to boast of his triumph. I only heard this from someone who learnt it from a passing trader, so how much of it’s true, I can’t say. Still, it would explain how your woman came to be with him.’
It was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes. At a single stroke most of what I thought I knew about what had happened that night was swept away, revealed for the lie it was.
How many times had I played over those events in my mind, trying to think of some way that it could have been different, something I could have done to turn the battle and save my lord? How many times had I dreamt of exacting my revenge upon Eadgar for what he’d done, for all of my sword-brothers he had slain, for all the Norman blood he had spilt?
All this while I had been swearing vengeance upon the wrong man. It wasn’t Eadgar I needed to kill, after all. It was Haakon Thorolfsson.
Until now, though I would never have admitted it to Magnus, I’d been wondering whether it would even be necessary to mount an attack on the Dane’s fortress if I could negotiate with him a price for Oswynn’s release. Now, however, I realised that nothing less than his blood would satisfy me.
And I, not Harold’s son, would take his life. My hand would deal the telling blow. I would do it slowly, and make him suffer as he had made my lord suffer. I’d do to him all the things that, long ago, I’d sworn to do to Eadgar. I would put out his eyes and sever his balls, cut out his tongue so that he could not scream, and only then would I kill him, slicing open his belly and burying my sword-point deep in his chest, in his heart, and when I was done I would leave his broken corpse for the carrion birds to feast upon.
Even then it wouldn’t be justice. Not after what he had done. Nothing could be.
But it would be enough.
The following day we saw the ship again, only this time she was a little closer than before. Close enough, at least, that we could make out the black and yellow stripes of her sail.