‘He is fixated on the idea of this bridge,’ Wace said. One of my oldest companions, he had a wise head upon his shoulders and was ever a source of shrewd advice, even if, as was often the case, he ended up being outspoken. ‘We would do better to attack by water from the north, where their defences are said to be weakest.’
‘The rebels have erected chains across the largest of the creeks surrounding the Isle,’ Robert replied. ‘And the smaller channels are too narrow and too shallow for anything but small punts and ferrycraft. It would take days to convey our entire army across that way, and in that time they would be able to throw up all manner of earthworks to obstruct us. Besides, think how many boats we’ll need for an army of four thousand men.’
‘Is that the king’s reasoning or your own?’ the ruddy-faced man asked, prompting laughter from a few of the other barons. Robert waited for it to subside before answering. More tolerant and mild-tempered than many men of noble birth I had known, it took a lot to stir him to anger.
‘It is the king’s reasoning, Guibert, but in this case I agree with him,’ Robert said.
‘You agree with the king?’ Guibert cried. He raised his cup aloft, sloshing ale over himself and the man sitting beside him. ‘This is indeed a rare occurrence!’
Robert stiffened. ‘I think you’ve had enough to drink for one night,’ he said as calmly and as evenly as possible, but there was no mistaking the warning in his tone.
‘No,’ Guibert said. He got to his feet, not entirely steadily. Even as he recovered his balance he managed to spill yet more contents of his vessel over his comrades, but he seemed deaf to their protests as he jabbed a finger in Robert’s direction. ‘No longer will I blindly obey our bastard king’s every whim. I’ve had enough of these foul marshes, of bedding down night after night on ground that might at any moment slip away into the bogs. I’ve had enough of—’
‘You forget your place,’ Robert said, raising his voice as he spoke over Guibert. ‘Now, be seated and keep your tongue inside your head, unless you want me to cut it out.’
The other barons were all calling for Guibert to sit down, but he wasn’t listening. ‘I will not be silenced,’ he shouted over the din. ‘Everyone here agrees with me, even if they are too afraid to say so. I speak for them as much as for myself.’
A hush fell. The high-pitched calls of waterbirds down by the river pierced the air; from further off the sound of a lyre floated on the breeze, and voices singing a bawdy tune that seemed familiar, although the words were different to the ones that I remembered.
‘Well?’ Robert asked, his face reddening now as he looked about. ‘Is this true? You haven’t yet spoken, Eudo. What do you have to say?’
Eudo shrugged, probably realising it made little difference what he said now. His feelings, like those of us all, had already been made plain. I had known him and Wace for many years, and he had always been the joker among the three of us, but the last few weeks had taken the edge off his humour, and his expression was sombre.
‘What the king has in mind is folly,’ Eudo said, after a moment’s hesitation. ‘We all think it. If another causeway is built and we try to attack across it as before, the outcome will be no different. Many of us will lose our lives, but what choice do we have, except to do as the king orders?’
A murmur of accord rose up. Although outwardly Robert maintained the same calm expression as before, inside I imagined he must be seething at such open defiance. Surely, though, he saw the truth in what we were saying?
‘There is nothing more to be said.’ He shook his head, a grim expression on his face. ‘It doesn’t matter whether you agree or not. The king wishes it, and so it will be. We have our instructions and we will follow them. Do you understand?’
No one answered, or at least not in words. A few of the men spat upon the ground, a clear measure of their discontent, for it was rare that men would disgrace themselves by insulting their lord with so vulgar a gesture. Others simply cast their gaze towards their feet, not daring to meet his eyes.
‘Very well,’ Robert said. ‘Go. We gather here tomorrow at midday. I expect to see you then.’
I alone remained while the other barons filed past me, grumbling amongst themselves. A few, recognising me, spoke a curt word or two of greeting, although most simply ignored me. With the exception of Wace and Eudo, they had all served the Malets far longer than had I, some of them for twenty years and more. They had heard of my exploits and resented my closeness to Robert, and shunned my company. Nonetheless, I shared their sentiments. Of all the campaigns we had fought since arriving on English shores, this had been without a doubt the most gruelling. And still it went on.