There was no more sign of the enemy that night, and for that I thanked God. Several times one of us thought we had heard a sound, but it could only have been an animal, or the wind in the pine branches, for we never saw anything.
We continued west for some while, until we had put enough distance between ourselves and the Englishmen to feel safe. Then we turned to the south once more, or at least what we thought was south. It was becoming harder to tell; the wind was easing, and without the moon or the stars to guide us, we could only strike out and hope for the best.
Before long we came once more to the banks of what must have been the river Wiire. The waters were fast and black as pitch, tumbling and frothing over rocks so jagged they seemed to me like the teeth of some immense beast. There was no chance of us being able to ford it, and so we had no choice but to carry on following it upstream, keeping to the trees as much as possible, in case anyone was watching from the opposite shore.
The first bridge we passed had fallen into ruin, its two stone piers all that remained; another we found in better repair, but the country on the other side lay open, and even in the dark we judged it better to stay in the cover of the woods. It could have been as much as an hour, and perhaps even more, before at last we came upon one we could cross. Beyond it on the other bank the woods continued, and it seemed that they were even thicker than before, if that were possible. The land rose steeply here, the paths slippery with mud and loose stones, and we had to dismount to lead the horses up it, or else risk falling and breaking our own necks as well as theirs.
I staggered up after Wace, my leg paining me more and more with every step. But I knew that if I stopped to rest I would not want to move again, and so I forced myself to carry on, trying to put my weight on my good leg. Behind me, Rollo followed meekly, his head bowed low. I trudged on, concentrating on placing one foot ahead of the other, hardly daring to look towards the summit, but before long I was falling behind again.
‘Don’t stop,’ Wace called back down to me. He was perhaps twenty paces ahead, already close to the top of the rise. ‘We need to keep going.’
‘It’s my leg,’ I said, grimacing as another bolt of pain shot through the wound.
He left his horse and descended the path once again, taking care over the many roots and stones protruding from the ground.
‘I hadn’t realised,’ he said when he reached me. ‘Is it bad?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I was struck during the battle. It wasn’t so bad while we were riding.’
He knelt down to examine it, and I watched the expression on his face, though it revealed nothing. ‘It’s hard to see,’ he said. ‘But we can’t stop here. It’s not much further to the top. Then we can ride again.’
He placed his arm around my back and under my shoulder, helping me as I limped up the slope. While I regained my breath he went back down for Rollo. I waited, gazing up towards the skies, which were beginning to clear. The rain was easing, now little more than a drizzle.
Soon, though, we were back in the saddle. Even as far as we had come, we could not afford to stop, and so we rode on through the darkness, hour after hour. I had almost begun to think that this night would never end, when at last the skies began to lighten, and as the first rays of sunlight began to break over the horizon, we found ourselves atop a ridge on the edge of the woods. Open country lay to the south, wide and flat all the way as far as I could see, until in the very distance the horizon was lost in the haze. A spire of smoke rose from a farmstead, a small black dot on the plain: the only sign of life.
‘We should rest here,’ I said. ‘It’s sheltered, and we’ll be able to see anyone coming.’
‘From the south, maybe,’ Wace replied, his expression stern. ‘It’s those coming from the north I’m worried about.’
But it was not as if we had much choice, for the horses were spent: we had ridden them hard all the way from the battle, and they would surely not be able to go on much longer, even if we ourselves wanted to. And I could see the tiredness in Wace’s eyes – both his good one and the other – as much as I felt it in my own.
Not far off I could hear the trickling of a small stream, and we led our mounts to it. We unsaddled them and let them drink before tying the reins to a nearby birch, where there was enough grass around for them to eat: although if they felt anything like I did, they would not be hungry.
I lay down upon the soft earth, doing my best to ignore the pain. A gust of wind rustled the branches and I shivered, pulling my cloak closer, though it did not offer much protection. Only the night before last I had been sharing my tent with Oswynn, feeling the warmth of her embrace, the tenderness of her touch, and all had been as it should be.