A spear struck the helmet of one of Robert’s knights, the impact knocking him from the saddle, and he was pitched into the river below. There was a splash, followed by a cry for help as he struggled to keep his head above the water, but it did not last long as he was dragged down by his hauberk and chausses. His horse, now riderless, reared up, lashing out with its hooves at the heads of the Englishmen in front.
And then horns were blasting out, cutting across the sound of the killing, and the enemy hesitated. For at the top of the hill to the east flew two new banners, with hundreds of mounted men gathered beneath them. The first was the white wolf on crimson that belonged to Fitz Osbern, while beside it, glistening in the dawn, was the black and gold that had become so familiar to me.
Malet.
Which meant that the castle garrison had sallied, and now the rebels were being attacked from two sides. His knights and Fitz Osbern’s poured down from the east, and in that moment everything turned, as the English host, seeing the threat from behind, suddenly crumbled.
‘For Lord Guillaume!’ Philippe yelled, as he finished an Englishman on his lance. Eadgar had been dragged from the mêlée by a group of his huscarls and now they were retreating across the bridge, back towards the rest of their host. Some still remained, holding us off whilst their lord retreated, but they were few and we were many, streaming towards them on horse and on foot with sharpened steel in our hands. The bridge belonged to us, the enemy were in disarray, and I knew that victory was close at hand.
I ran to the horse that had lost its rider, vaulting up into the saddle, working my feet into the stirrups, pressing my spurs into his flank as I joined the pursuit, riding the enemy down. But though I saw my sword flash, saw it strike, for some reason I could not feel it, as if it were somehow without weight, with a mind that was all its own, and it were the one controlling me. Around me men were dying on its edge and its point, breathing their last, and I was riding through them as the rest of the king’s host followed: a tide of men rolling across the bridge.
Horns blew again – long forlorn blasts, like the dying wails of some monstrous beast – and suddenly everywhere in their dozens and their scores the English were turning, abandoning their shield-walls, abandoning the fight. Some were fleeing into the side streets while others were turning to the wharves, making for their ships, and among the latter I saw the ?theling with around fifty of his household warriors, his face and mail smeared crimson. In their attempt to reach the boats they were cutting down men on all sides, and they seemed not to care whether it was French or English that they killed, for all were falling to their blades.
‘With me,’ I said, raising my sword for all to see: not just my conroi but all the others were now joining us. I could feel my mount beginning to flag: every time I lifted the spurs he was slowing, but he had to keep going, and so I forced the steel points into his flesh as we chased the enemy on to the wharves. ‘With me!’
The air whistled overhead as a flight of arrows soared across the river, spearing down into the ranks of the fleeing rebels. Some of the ships were already casting off from their moorings, though they were still only half full, and some even less than that. But in their haste to escape the enemy had cast down their shields in favour of oars, and now they were dying under a shower of steel.
‘Eadgar,’ I shouted over the din of battle as we closed on him and his men. ‘Eadgar!’
My throat was raw, my voice hoarse, but they must have heard me, for some were rallying, turning to face us. We were on the wharves now, where the way was narrow and, just as on the bridge, it would only take a few men to hold us. I wondered where Fitz Osbern and Malet were, why they were not riding to close the rebels off from the other side, to prevent them from escaping. The ?theling wasn’t far from his ships, and I knew that once he was out upon the river, we would be unable to catch him.
More arrows rained down, thicker than before, this time landing just a short way in front of us. Our archers were arrayed all along the length of the bridge. Together they raised their bows, drawing back their strings and letting fly, before notching fresh shafts as fast as they could draw them from their arrow-bags.
We were amongst the enemy now, and what had been a battle became a slaughter. I hefted my sword, summoning all the strength I had left, hacking it down upon them, using the full weight of the steel, and this time it was Oswynn’s name that I was calling. Every man I slew was for her, and yet there was one I wanted to kill more than all the rest together.
Already he was climbing on to his longship, some of his men hacking through the ropes which bound them to the quayside, even as others leapt to take up the oars. But there were so many men before me that I could not break through, only watch as the ?theling’s ship pushed off, surging forward with oars thrashing, its high prow cutting like a knife-blade through the water.