‘No,’ said Robert, but the grimace on his face betrayed him. ‘I need a sword. I need to fight.’
I turned to Ansculf. ‘Give me your cloak,’ I said.
‘Why?’
I had neither the patience nor the time to explain. The screams of the dying echoed in my ears; the battle was still being fought, and we were needed there. ‘Just do it,’ I told him.
He unclasped it and handed it to me. It was not all that thick, but it would have to do. I drew my knife from its sheath and began to hack at the cloth, until I had a strip long enough that I could bind it around Robert’s wound. He winced as I did so, and tried to draw his arm away, but I held firm until it was tied. A monk or a priest might have done better, but it would serve for now to stop the bleeding.
A great roar went up, and I turned, fearing the worst. I was expecting to see our knights in flight, the rebels surging forward, their confidence renewed by Robert’s injury. Instead the Danish shield-wall was breaking and now they were in disarray, as our men and the king’s pressed their advantage, driving into their midst.
‘Stay with him,’ I told Ansculf. I signalled for my shield, passed the long strap around my neck and worked my forearm through the leather brases. I cast my gaze quickly over Robert’s conroi, or those at least who were there: more than twelve but fewer than a twenty. ‘With me,’ I shouted to them as I rode to their head.
‘These aren’t your men,’ Ansculf shouted after me. ‘You can’t just—’
‘Let me lead them,’ I said, cutting him off. ‘You make sure Robert’s safe. Get him away from the battle.’
I knew I had no right to ask such a thing, but my mind was racing, the blood running hot in my veins, and I could not stop myself. This was the chance I had been waiting for ever since Dunholm: the chance to prove myself, to atone for my lord’s death and make everything right.
Ansculf’s cheeks flushed scarlet with anger as he stared at me, but he said nothing, no doubt stunned by my nerve. In any case we had no time to argue, and so before he could answer I lifted my sword to the sky, digging my spurs in as I called again, ‘Conroi with me!’
‘Tancred!’ he yelled as I rode away, but I ignored his protests, glancing behind only to check that the rest of Robert’s men were following.
I led them back through the narrow alley, on to the main street, where the Danes had realised the fight was turning against them and so were fleeing. Of course they were paid warriors, not oath-sworn, and like all such men they were cowards: their only concern was for their purses and they had no wish to fight on till the last.
Beneath us the street lay thick with blood, thick with corpses. The stench of shit and vomit and fresh-spilt blood hung in the air. Not fifty paces away amidst the rush of men I glimpsed the raven banner, and beneath it the man whom I took to be the Danes’ leader. He was built like a bear, with fair hair down past his shoulders, and a beard that was stained with blood. On his arms he wore silver rings, and he bore a long-handled axe. He was bellowing to his men, waving down the main street in the direction of the river.
Men scattered from our path, both Danes and Normans; our own spearmen had come out from their wall to give chase to the enemy. I lifted my sword high for all Robert’s men to see, and spurred my horse into a gallop. There were barely a dozen men with me, whereas the Danish leader had more than thirty, but I knew it would be enough.
‘Kill them!’ I shouted. The street sloped down towards the river and I felt a fresh burst of speed. I found myself laughing as I saw the Danes in front of me, turning at last as they saw the danger coming from behind. Their leader roared in desperation as he rallied his men, but then they did something I did not expect, for all as one they came charging at us.
Whether the battle-rage had taken them, or whether they just wished for a noble death, I did not know; nor did it matter. One came at me, screaming, his face streaming with tears, and I raised my shield to fend off his spear, leaving him for Urse to finish as I arced my sword down into the path of another. And then I was turning, searching for the raven banner, for the Danes’ leader.