Enough, I told myself. I knew what needed to be done. I closed my eyes, breathing slowly and deeply, as I imagined our charge upon the enemy battle-lines and how I would drive my lance-head home, how I would bring my sword-edge to bear, how we would drive them back and cut them down and turn the Isle’s earth crimson with their lifeblood.
‘There it is,’ said Robert suddenly, with something like excitement in his voice, and I opened my eyes in time to see a trail of flame shooting high up into the grey skies to the north, a mile or so away. A single fire-arrow: the sign that our spearmen and foot-serjeants were beginning their attack. It made a great arc above the marsh before plunging out of sight into the all-enshrouding mist, and at the same time the bellow of the rebels’ distant war-horns sounded out: two sharp blasts that were the usual signal to rally.
And so it began.
‘Stay with me,’ Robert yelled for his whole conroi to hear. ‘Watch your flanks when we arrive upon the Isle. Remember who’s alongside you; don’t pull ahead and don’t fall behind!’ He kicked back, spurring his destrier onwards. ‘For St Ouen, for King Guillaume and Normandy! God aid us!’
‘God aid us,’ we all answered with one voice, and the chant echoed through the ranks: God aid us! God aid us!
We followed Robert out on to the bridge. Hooves clattered upon timber, and I whispered a prayer that the men who had built it had done their work well. We kept close rank, riding knee to knee, three abreast, for that was as many as the roadway would allow. To my right was Robert, while on his other flank was the captain of his household guard. Behind us were Pons, mounted upon a bay that Lord Robert had gifted him to replace the one killed by Hereward’s arrow, and alongside him Serlo. My sworn swords, the two of them had served me unfailingly these last two years, had followed me in every desperate charge, had given their all for my sake. Behind them were Wace and Eudo and their knights, then the rest of Robert’s hearth-troops and vassals, so that there were more than fifty of us in that leading conroi, all united under the Malet banner.
I had fought in some desperate struggles in my time, but this would be one of the most desperate of all. This was the hour of our reckoning.
We were knights of the black and gold, and we were riding to battle.
Ten
AS EXPECTED, THE first part of the crossing was the easiest. The marsh there was at its shallowest, the causeway its widest and sturdiest, and we made it without trouble.
Before long we glimpsed the island where the watchtower with the mangonel stood, roughly halfway across the marsh-channel. The first glimmer of gold crept above the eastern horizon and I could suddenly see movement on the Isle. Hundreds upon hundreds of Englishmen with weapons glinting and pennons flying rushed in disarray from their ramparts towards the marsh’s edge, into a storm of missiles being loosed upon them by archers and crossbowmen and even a few small catapults that were positioned on punts and barges out on the fen. Other craft were bringing our spearmen and foot-serjeants in towards the shallows where they could scramble ashore, wade through the murky waters and form a shield-wall amidst the tall reeds to guard against the hordes bearing down upon them. But suitable landing places were few, while the channels leading to them were narrow and easily blocked, which meant that those in the boats to the rear were having to clamber forward from one to the next, all the while encumbered by their shields and heavy spears. War-horns blew; panicked shouts carried across the water as our foot-serjeants marshalled their men and tried to assemble them in some sort of order.
Around a dozen Frenchmen were posted on the watchtower. All of them waved their arms as we approached. ‘Wait,’ they called. ‘Wait!’
Robert slowed his pace and drew to a halt, raising a hand to those behind so that they passed the message on down the line. ‘What is it?’
They were pointing out towards the far shore, and I saw at once the reason for their alarm. The final section of the floating boat-bridge hadn’t yet been secured; in fact several of the pontoons seemed to have drifted free altogether, and even now men were working to manoeuvre them back into position and to anchor them.
I swore. This wasn’t what the king had planned. Unless the boat-bridge was in place, we had no way of reaching the Isle. Our attack would be over before it had even started, and the battle would be lost.
Shouts of protest came from behind. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the rest of the column bunching up as our advance was brought to a halt. Men were berating those in front, trying to push their way forward despite the narrowness of the bridge.
‘Wait!’ I bellowed. ‘Hold position!’
‘Wait!’ Eudo repeated, and Wace behind him, and the next man, and the next, and I only hoped that our warnings were heeded. Of course those knights were impatient, as I was, to slake their thirst for enemy blood, but many would die if they didn’t keep to their ranks.
‘What do we do?’ Robert asked me, his brow furrowed, his eyes desperate. ‘Do we go on?’
‘We have to, lord,’ I said. ‘We can’t turn back now.’