I waved him quiet and leant closer. ‘There’s one more thing which might be important,’ I said, and stopped suddenly, unsure whether to go on. But they were watching me expectantly; they would know that I was hiding something if I didn’t say it, and I needed their trust above all else.
‘What is it?’ said Wace.
I tried to recall everything ?lfwold had told me on the ship. ‘In the years before the invasion it seems that Malet was a great friend of Harold Godwineson,’ I said. ‘He was granted land on these shores by the old king, Eadward, and used to spend much of his time in this country. That is, until the king died and Harold stole the crown, when he returned to Normandy to join Duke Guillaume.’
‘He knew the usurper?’ asked Wace.
‘And of course he’s half-English as well,’ Eudo murmured.
‘So now he sends word to Harold’s widow,’ Wace said. ‘What does it mean?’
‘It may mean nothing,’ I said. ‘For one thing, it seems that their friendship was broken when Harold assumed the kingship. Whatever sympathies Malet once had with the English, they were buried when he fought at H?stinges.’
‘Though even now he fills his household with Englishmen,’ Eudo pointed out. ‘?lfwold and Wigod, and no doubt there are others too.’
This was true, and it was yet another part of the riddle. But an even bigger question hung in my mind: why would ?lfwold have revealed all this to me if he knew that his lord was a traitor? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.
‘If we knew what the message was, then we would know for sure,’ I said. ‘But the priest won’t say.’
‘He must have a letter on his person, or in his room,’ Eudo said.
‘Unless he carries the message in his head alone,’ Wace put in. ‘If so, we have no way of finding out.’
Then all of a sudden I remembered the scroll he had dropped that day we had left Lundene, how abruptly his manner had changed when I picked it up. ‘No,’ I said. ‘There is a letter.’
‘You’re sure?’ Wace asked.
The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced. What else could it be? ‘I saw him drop it on our way here.’
‘If we could only look at it before he delivers it to this Eadgyth,’ Eudo said.
‘He wouldn’t leave it unguarded, I’m sure,’ Wace said.
‘But would you recognise it if you saw it?’ asked Eudo.
‘Probably,’ I said, picturing it in my mind, with its rough edges and the leather cord tied around it. Otherwise there had been nothing especially distinctive about it. ‘Why?’
‘He’s likely to be asleep by now,’ Eudo said, keeping his voice low. ‘We need only slip into his room and find it—’
‘You’d have us steal it?’ I asked. Angry as I was with ?lfwold, the thought filled me with distaste. Malet had placed his confidence in me, after all. I had sworn an oath to him, an oath to which God had been witness, and as such was not to be treated lightly.
Eudo shrugged.
‘What if we’re wrong about the priest, about Malet and everything?’ For if we did as he suggested, and our suspicions turned out to be false, then I’d be breaking that confidence – breaking that oath. ‘No, there must be another way.’
‘Do the others know about Eadgyth, do you think?’ Wace asked. ‘Godefroi, Radulf and Philippe, I mean. Did you see if they reacted to her name?’
‘I wasn’t watching them,’ I admitted.
‘Neither was I,’ said Eudo.
‘I wonder,’ Wace said. ‘If they’ve served Malet for some time, it’s possible they already know who she is, and of his connection to her. And if they know that, they might also have some idea what this message is about.’
‘It’s possible,’ I agreed. ‘But remember in Lundene they wanted only to get back on the road to Eoferwic. If they’d known that coming to Wiltune was in any way important, they wouldn’t have said that.’
‘That’s true,’ Eudo said. ‘It was the chaplain who reminded them that we had this task to fulfil first.’
‘And I,’ I said.
‘And you,’ he added, with a smile. ‘You and your sense of duty.’
Another time I might have laughed, but I didn’t feel in good humour that night. A log shifted in the hearth and Burginda gave a snort as she moved on her stool; I saw her eyelids flutter as, with a great intake of breath, she began to stir.
‘I just hope things become clear soon,’ I said.
Twenty-six
WILTUNE BY DARK lay silent and still. I stood leaning on one of the fenceposts outside the guest-hall. A thin sliver of moon protruded from behind wisps of cloud; the stars in their hundreds were scattered like seeds in a pale band across the sky.