And waited.
Hours passed. The glittering stars became obscured as cloud spread across the sky. The wind rose, rustling the grass so that it seemed there were voices all around us, whispering, and the rain soon followed, hesitantly at first but quickly growing heavier. We huddled down inside our cloaks, our hoods raised, letting the water roll off the wool. The smell of moist earth rose up, reminding me of the green pastures of Earnford, and for a moment I was back there again, as it was during the spring with the new shoots breaking the soil and the first leaf-buds appearing on the trees in the woods.
Thunder pealed out, like the roar of some fearsome beast unleashed from the caverns of hell to wreak its fury upon the world. I made the sign of the cross to ward off any evil spirits that might be lurking, hoping that it wasn’t a sign of ill fortune to come. No sooner had I done so than the rain began to ease. Another roar resounded through the night sky, but it seemed further away. It was followed some moments later by another, and another, each one quieter than the last, until all was still again.
And through that stillness came a sound. A sound like a voice, except that this time I was sure it wasn’t just the wind. It came from the direction of the marker stone, though from so far away I couldn’t make out what they were saying.
‘Did you hear that?’ I asked, taking care to keep my voice low.
Robert nodded and put a finger to his lips, while out of the corner of my eye I saw Pons rest his hand upon his sword-hilt. Through the heads of the grass and the all-enshrouding mist I glimpsed twin points of orange light, the sort that could only come from torches or lanterns.
Godric had not come alone.
Shadowy figures moved around the light; in the darkness and from such a distance it was hard to tell exactly how many, but at a guess I would have said they numbered about ten, most of them warriors, if the glint of their spearpoints and their helmets were anything to judge by.
‘Show yourselves,’ a man shouted out in French, but I didn’t recognise his voice, which was deep and harsh and carried the proud tones of one who was used to being obeyed. ‘I know you’re there.’
Serlo looked at me. ‘What do we do, lord?’
I glanced at Robert, whose face bore a grim expression. ‘Don’t move,’ he said. ‘Wait until I say.’
‘I have no time for this,’ the man called. ‘I’ve come to talk, not to fight.’
That sounded like the kind of thing Morcar was likely to say, although I hadn’t been expecting him to come in person. I’d thought he would prefer to stay where there was no danger, in his hall in the monastery at Elyg, rather than speak with us himself.
‘You’ve come to talk, have you?’ Robert shouted out. ‘You have a strange way of showing it.’
He rose and strode forward, towards the flickering torch-glow, at the same time signalling to the rest of us to get to our feet, which we did, albeit a little stiffly after so long spent crouched in the cold and the damp. Hamo and his men nocked arrows to their bowstrings in warning, and I laid my sword-hand upon my hilt as I followed Robert, my boots sinking into the soft earth. A thin drizzle still fell; droplets rolled off the leaves, pattering on to the sodden earth.
‘I didn’t come with a whole army to protect me,’ the man pointed out. He stepped closer to the light and I saw him properly for the first time. What I was expecting, I wasn’t sure. There was little resemblance between nephew and uncle, for while the boy had been short of stature, fair in complexion and round in the cheek, the elder one was tall and dark-featured, with a face composed of hard lines that drew together to form a stern expression. How many he was in years, I could not say exactly, although I might have guessed around thirty-five.
‘Are you Morcar?’ Robert asked, coming to a halt about ten paces from the Englishmen.
‘Were you expecting someone else?’
Robert shrugged. ‘At least you had the nerve to come yourself this night, rather than send a boy to do a man’s work.’
‘If you’re hoping to win my allegiance, you’re not doing very well,’ Morcar said. ‘I might decide I don’t want to parley after all, and go back to the Isle. Then you would have to face your king’s displeasure for having let your one chance at winning this war slip away.’
‘Or else I could kill you now and be done with it.’
‘You could, but you would as likely die trying,’ Morcar said with a sneer. ‘And several of your men with you, besides. Your little raiding-band might have managed to surprise my nephew the other night, but we both know that an open fight is another matter entirely.’