Sworn Sword (Conquest #1)

‘Philippe,’ I said. ‘Take my hand.’


It took a while for him to find it in the darkness, but at last he reached out and grabbed it. I tried to pull, but with his mail he was too heavy, and the mud and the river kept sucking him back.

‘Help me,’ I hissed to the others. ‘Someone help me.’

Wace was the first there, kneeling down beside the pool in which Philippe had fallen. ‘Your other hand,’ he said. ‘Give me your other hand.’

Together we managed to haul him out of the water and back to firmer ground, where he raised himself to his feet, still coughing up water.

‘I’m sorry,’ Philippe said, too loudly. He was dripping from his nose and his chin, and his cloak was soaked. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Shut up,’ I told him, looking again towards the palisade. ‘Shut up and keep moving.’

We went as quickly as we could after that. Thankfully the closer we came to the remains of the rampart, the easier it became to find our footing. We scrambled across, drawing our cloaks over our heads so as to be less easily seen.

‘Quickly,’ I said. The sooner we could get away from the walls, the better. Ahead a narrow alley passed between two large storehouses, and beyond it lay the city, a maze of shadows.

With every beat of my heart I thought that I would hear cries behind us, but I did not, and it wasn’t long before we had rounded those storehouses and found ourselves beneath the tower of a church. At this hour there ought to have been no one about, but nonetheless I made certain to check up and down the street before we laid down our shields and recovered our breath.

Philippe began to wring out his cloak by the corner of the tower. His mail and helmet were strewn with rotten leaves and mud, and other things he’d brought from the river.

‘Take more care,’ I said. ‘Otherwise you’re likely to get us all killed.’

But I knew that this was not the time to get angry with him. We had made it inside the city unseen, which was the first part of our task, but there was still much work to be done if we were to make Eoferwic ours.





Thirty-three





WE DID NOT stop there long. The gates were some way to the south from where we were, but how far I could not say for sure. Already as I looked towards the eastern horizon, the skies seemed lighter than before, and I knew we did not have much time. Day was approaching and soon Fitz Osbern would be leading his charge.

We set off, staying away from the main ways as much as we could, for if there was anyone about at this hour, that was where we would probably find them. In the distance, a dog barked, and its call was taken up by another. But of people there was no sign anywhere. A strange feeling came over me as we hurried through the silent streets, knowing that it would not be long before the rest of our army was here in force, before the sound of steel on steel was ringing out amidst the houses. My sword-arm itched even as I thought about it.

The moon was edging lower in the sky, almost touching the thatch of the houses by the time we saw the gatehouse ahead of us, its stonework lit by the soft glow of a brazier. In front of the gates were gathered several figures, all in shadow, all of them roaring with laughter, no doubt at some jest.

By the side of the street stood a stack of barrels, and I ducked behind them, raising a hand to the others, who were behind me. The barrels contained some kind of meat, only it seemed to have turned rancid, and some time ago as well. My nose filled with the stench of rotting carcasses, as bad as any battlefield I had known.

Breathing as lightly as I could, I crouched and peered through a gap between the barrels, towards the gatehouse. None of the Northumbrians there seemed to have heard or seen us, and for that I thanked God. There were five of them warming their hands around the brazier, but atop the gatehouse, facing the country to the south, stood two more, making seven in all. They were dressed in what looked like leather jerkins reinforced with metal studs, and each of them carried a spear, while one, who was in mail, carried a sword by his side as well, and I took him for their captain.

‘What do we do?’ Philippe asked as he wiped still more dirt from his face.

‘Nothing yet,’ I said. ‘We wait for the signal.’

Again I looked to the east, and this time I was sure dawn was breaking: the blackness receding, turning to a deep blue. By now I was beginning to grow anxious. Had something gone awry? Had the attack been called off? If so, we had no way of knowing. All we could do was wait, and then if the attack did not come, try to get out the same way that we had entered the city. Except that as soon as it was light we would easily be spotted. At some point, then, we would have to decide: whether to stay or whether to go. It was not a choice I wanted to make, for if the whole plan failed because of us then we would have to bear the king’s wrath.