Knights of the Hawk (Conquest #3)

Needless to say, the plan had failed. Before the causeway was even half repaired, a band of rebels, some said led by Hereward himself, had sallied from the Isle one night. Making their way by secret routes, they had set fire to the reeds and the briar patches that surrounded its main platforms and the bases of the towers, so that they and the crone were all consumed by writhing flame that some claimed had been seen from as far away as Cantebrigia. What became of Ivo Taillebois after that no one knew. Probably he had fled the moment word reached him, although it was also rumoured that the king had killed him and disposed of his body in the marsh.

Angered by this second setback and losing the faith of his barons, the king had gathered most of his forces at his main camp here at Brandune while he contemplated what to do next. For a while he had tried to cut Elyg off by land and water and so starve the enemy into submitting, but there was no sign yet of that happening. Indeed if the few reports we received were correct, their storehouses were sufficiently full to keep them fed for several months to come. And now it seemed he had no more ideas left.

‘Tell me what’s in your mind,’ Robert said.

‘Lord, if I may say, Eudo and the others are right. The king has taken leave of his senses. We will not take the Isle by sheer force, not by such a crude strategy, at least. The causeway didn’t work before. Why should it work this time?’

Robert had no reply to that and so I continued: ‘This attack will fail, just as the last attempt failed. Even if the new bridge proves strong enough to take the weight of our horsemen, the best it will do is channel our forces into a killing quarter where the enemy can easily pick us off. Even if we survive that, there is still the small matter of capturing Elyg itself, and that will be no easy task.’

‘What do you suggest, then?’

Probably Robert was hoping that would silence me, but our encounter with Hereward had set me thinking. ‘The enemy know the secret ways through the marshes. They know which channels are deep enough at high water for boats to sail down, and where to find the paths at low tide. They’re supposed to be the ones under siege, and yet they continue to move freely. They raid widely, waste manors and lay ambushes for our patrols—’

‘All this is common knowledge,’ Robert said. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘If we could discover some of those same passages, lord, or else capture one of the Englishmen who knows them, then we might be able to attack the Isle that way.’

‘If there were any such passages large enough to sail a fleet through or march an army across, our scouts would have spotted them long ago.’

‘Perhaps,’ I conceded. ‘But it wouldn’t require a whole army. The enemy travel in small bands, rarely more than thirty strong. If even a few of our men could penetrate the fens and get on to the Isle, they might be able to cause enough trouble to confuse or distract the enemy while the rest of our army attacks across the bridge.’

‘The king has forbidden any more raiding-parties venturing close to the Isle. We’ve lost too many good warriors that way already. You know this. And even if we could find some of those passages and succeed in landing a few men close to Elyg, what would be their chances of success? The men chosen for the expedition would be venturing deep into country that the enemy know well, cut off and with little hope of retreat if anything went wrong. Who would put himself forward to lead such a band? You?’

‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘I did at Beferlic.’

Indeed Robert might not be here talking to me if I hadn’t. Looking back, it was probably not the best-considered plan I had ever devised, and it had relied on a certain amount of luck, too, but I had always believed that a good warrior made his own luck. In the end it had worked, and that was all that mattered.

If anyone could lead such an expedition, I could. Of that I had no doubt. Anything to avoid having to cross that causeway.

‘No,’ said Robert. ‘It is the most reckless idea I have ever heard, even from your mouth.’

‘Is it any more reckless than the king’s strategy?’

I meant it as a challenge, but should have known that he wouldn’t rise to it.

‘I won’t allow it,’ he said simply.

I shrugged. ‘You asked for my suggestion, and I have given it, lord. As I see it, we have only one more chance to capture Elyg, but we will squander it if all we do is repeat the same strategy as before.’

‘In what way?’

‘You only need to ask around the camp to see how confidence is waning. Few still believe we can win this fight. Another defeat as great as those we’ve already suffered and many will decide that they wish no more of this. Regardless of whatever oaths they might have sworn, they’ll begin to desert and return to their homes. Without men willing to fight, there can be no victory.’

I didn’t need to remind Robert that many of those same men had also been called out to fight Eadgar ?theling and the Danish host last year too, and had little appetite for another long campaign. Nor did I add that many of the mercenaries the king had hired from across the sea, such as Hamo and his band of archers, would in time probably also leave the king’s service. Although they were paid a generous stipend from the royal purse, plunder was what they sought above all else, and if they saw little chance of receiving it then they would have no qualms about seeking employment elsewhere.

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