Silence fell. The king’s retainers glanced uncertainly at each other. Morcar, red-faced with embarrassment, glared at his nephew as if he had taken leave of his senses.
A hard expression had fixed itself upon the king’s face. For long moments he met Godric’s gaze. I feared that he was about to order him to be taken away, when suddenly his expression softened, and then he was laughing and grinning and shaking his head all at once. He strode forward, spread his arms wide, and embraced Godric, much to the Englishman’s confusion.
‘Your nephew might not be much of a swordsman, but at least he has wit, and for that he has my respect,’ he told Morcar, beaming with delight.
His new Earl of Northumbria forced a smile, but his eyes betrayed the fact that inside he was seething.
‘Wherever Hereward is hiding,’ the king announced for all to hear, ‘we will not stop searching until we find him. His acts of violence will not go unpunished.’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘What use is there in searching for someone already dead?’ I blurted before I thought better of it. ‘We saw Hereward’s lifeblood seeping away from his corpse into the marsh. We can take you to the place where he was slain.’
The king’s smile faded as he turned towards me. ‘I am a patient man, Tancred of Earnford, but even my patience has its limits,’ he said sternly. ‘You and your friends have had your amusement, but you would be wise not to test me further.’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. After everything, was this all the acknowledgement we were to receive? There were a hundred things I wanted to say then, and none of them wise. ‘Yes, lord king,’ I answered stiffly.
‘Very well,’ he said, and then marched towards the gatehouse, where his mount and those of his hearth-knights were being held. Atselin, smirking, was close behind him, and Morcar followed, looking relieved not to have incurred the king’s wrath following his nephew’s outburst.
Godric alone remained, blinking as if he were not quite sure what had happened.
‘Godric!’ Morcar called when he was halfway to the gatehouse. ‘Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming with me?’
The boy regarded his uncle without saying anything, his lips set firm. Long moments passed before finally he turned his back.
‘Where are you going?’ Morcar asked. ‘The king wants me to accompany him back to Elyg.’
‘Then go,’ Godric said. ‘But you go without me. I am not your nephew any more.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve suffered your insults long enough,’ Godric said, and spat in his uncle’s direction. ‘You are dead to me. Do you hear me, Morcar?’
‘You ingrate!’ Morcar shot back as he watched his nephew stalk away from him. His cheeks were flushed red. ‘What about all the years I spent raising you? Do they count for nothing? I was the one who took you in when your father died, or don’t you remember that? I clothed you and fed you, gave you a stipend from my own treasure chests! I armed you and gave you lands of your own so that you could call yourself a thegn. If you go, those lands are forfeit, and you’ll never again get a single penny from me. Are you listening?’
I thought Godric might hesitate, but he didn’t. Instead he kept on walking, his jaw set firm, his eyes fixed straight ahead, ignoring the rebukes hurled after him by his uncle.
‘That was a brave thing to do,’ I told him when he reached us. ‘Not easy, either.’
He shrugged. ‘It was easy enough. You spoke up for me when my uncle would not. For that I thank you, lord, even if it came to nothing.’
‘You saved my life,’ I reminded him. ‘I should be the one thanking you.’
He smiled weakly. ‘I told you no one would believe me, didn’t I?’
‘You were right about that.’ I glanced towards the gatehouse, where Morcar, now mounted, continued to stare in our direction, no doubt shaken as well as a little perplexed by his nephew’s disloyalty, until at last he turned and spurred his horse on.
Godric watched him go. His expression was stony, and I saw in the way that he held his chin high a resolve that had not been apparent until then. He had chosen his course, and he would not be swayed from it.
Thus we made ready to leave Alrehetha. I confess a strange mixture of feelings filled my heart. For the first time since we crossed the Narrow Sea that fateful autumn in the year one thousand and sixty-six, our enemies were all quelled. The risings and disturbances that for so long had plagued the kingdom had been put down and the rebels captured, killed or put to flight. England, at long last, was ours. I could scarcely believe it.