No sooner had the words left my lips than the thegn spotted us coming. His huscarls, the ten or so that remained, closed ranks around him, presenting their scratched shield-faces and their gleaming axe-blades, sharp enough to take a horse’s head from its neck in a single blow. But they were few, while we had the might of an entire army behind us, and he must have sensed that to fight on was useless. He let his sword fall to the ground and raised his hands aloft.
‘Gehyldath eowre w?pnu!’ he bellowed at his retainers, but they did not seem to be paying him any heed. Obviously they preferred to meet death with steel in their hands rather than suffer the shame of giving themselves up to the mercy of their enemies.
I would have granted them their wish, but we were still some thirty paces away when their lord barged his way through their lines and wrested the axe-haft from the grasp of the huscarl to his left, tossing it down.
‘Gehyldath eowre w?pnu,’ he repeated, gesturing towards the others’ axes and spears and seaxes.
One by one, not daring to take their eyes off us even for an instant, his men lowered their weapons and dropped them to the ground with a clatter of steel. Their nasal-guards and cheek-plates made it difficult to see their faces, but even so I could clearly see the scowls they wore, and the hardness in their eyes. Even in defeat, there was much pride there.
I reined Fyrheard in, halting before them, and Wace drew up alongside me. The rest of the conroi did not need any instruction from me, but straightaway formed a circle around the band of Englishmen, just in case they tried to make an escape, though I didn’t think they would.
I fixed my eyes upon the thegn, their leader. He unlaced his chin-strap, letting his helmet fall by his feet. Unkempt hair fell across his brow and he swept it back from his face before staring, unspeaking back at me. His eyes were as blue as the midday sky, his chin raised in defiance.
‘Ic eom Thurcytel,’ he said flatly. I am Thurcytel.
I recognised the name. He was, or had been, among Hereward’s oathmen, if I remembered rightly what Godric had said: one of those who had supported him only to later shift their allegiance to Morcar.
‘My name is Tancred of Earnford,’ I said, just as flatly. ‘Perhaps you’ve heard of me.’
‘Should I have?’
I moved closer. My sword was still in my hand, and I pointed it at his breast. ‘Don’t try my patience. Not unless you want me to bury my steel in your heart.’
‘You won’t kill us,’ said Thurcytel.
Wace gave a snort. ‘Why not?’
‘Your king is, at heart, an honourable man. Were he to learn that you received our submission only then to kill us, I think he would not be best pleased.’
Wace laughed. ‘Do you think that he cares whether you live or die? After he’s spent this long trying to capture the Isle? After all the trouble you and your countrymen have caused?’
Thurcytel didn’t answer, which was probably for the best.
‘I’ll see that your life and those of your men are spared,’ I said, ‘provided that you do two things for me. First, I want your sword and your scabbard.’
He spat, and grudgingly unbuckled his belt, letting it fall next to his sword. His scabbard was decorated with copper bands inlaid with gold, while in the middle lobe of the pommel was a single emerald. I nodded to Serlo, who dismounted and collected them from where they lay at Thurcytel’s feet and passed me first the sheath – though the thegn was wider around the waist than me and I had to pull the belt-strap tight to fasten it – and then the blade. The cord wrapped around the hilt was stained red and blood was congealing in the fuller, but otherwise it seemed in good condition, with few nicks along its edge. It was balanced a little more towards the point than I would have preferred, but otherwise it was a weapon befitting a knight.
I slid it back into the scabbard. ‘A fine blade,’ I said to Thurcytel, who merely sneered. ‘Now, the second thing. Tell us where Hereward is.’
His expression changed, from defiance to something like disgust. ‘Hereward?’
‘Is he here, on this field?’
The reward for capturing someone like Thurcytel would be reasonable enough, but the prize for bringing Hereward before the king would be far greater. From everything I had heard of him, he seemed the kind of man to lead from the front, rather than skulk in the ranks. Except that there had been no sign of him during the battle, and that was beginning to worry me.
Thurcytel made a sound that was neither a laugh nor a snort, but something in between. He spat upon the ground. ‘Hereward will not so much as talk to Morcar, let alone fight in the same shield-wall. Always he must do his own thing—’
‘Just tell us where I can find him.’
The battle-anger still simmered inside me, and I was fast losing patience with this Thurcytel.
‘The last I heard, he was still at Elyg, praying at the shrine of St ?thelthryth for her to grant him her favour and help him to bring us victory.’
‘How many men does he have with him?’ Wace asked.
‘A hundred and fifty, perhaps two hundred. No more than that.’