‘What about Eadgyth?’ I asked, recalling the letter that Wigod had translated for me. ‘Will you send word to her now?’
Malet nodded. ‘I’m leaving for Wiltune tomorrow to meet with her in person. At the very least she deserves an explanation for all that has happened.’
‘You’ll tell her the truth?’ I asked, surprised.
‘Or else I will think of some other story to placate her,’ he said. ‘That the body was lost, or something similar. Perhaps it would be better that way.’
I shot him a glance, but said nothing. A group of children darted about our horses’ legs, chasing each other in some game I did not understand. I held the reins steady, slowing my mount to a halt until they had passed.
‘I suppose I should thank you and your companions for everything you have done in my service,’ Malet went on. ‘I wouldn’t have known of ?lfwold’s deceit had it not been for you.’
He did not look at me while he spoke. I sensed he was testing me, and not for the first time, I thought. By now of course he must have realised that it was only our own treachery that had led us to the answer. For if I hadn’t tried to read his letter in the first place, we could never have known the priest’s plan.
‘We did only what we thought was right, lord,’ I said, picking my words with care.
He remained tight-lipped, concentrating on the road ahead. I wondered what was going through his mind, whether he was angry. But how could he be? He was indebted to us, whether or not he cared to admit it.
Not far off I spied the gaunt figure of Gilbert de Gand, laughing together with a half-dozen of his knights. The king had handed him the permanent role of castellan, I had learnt, with Malet returning to his duties as vicomte. Gilbert saw us, and waved in greeting. Certainly he seemed to be enjoying the new honour he had been granted, for I had rarely seen him in better humour.
Malet was clearly in no mood to speak with him then, however, as he pulled sharply on the reins, turning off the main street, his expression sour.
We passed the blackened remains of timbers strewn across a field of ash, where houses had once stood. In the wake of the battle there had been much looting, I had learnt, and many parts of the city had been burnt, including several of the churches. This was surely one of them, for amidst the ruins I glimpsed a figure dressed in brown robes kneeling upon the ground, eyes shut and palms together in prayer: a Mass-priest. I shivered, shifting uncomfortably in the saddle as I was reminded of ?lfwold, but soon the priest was lost from sight.
Overhanging the street was the great elm under which Radulf had died, its branches now dotted with purple-grey buds where new leaves were soon to emerge. He had been buried while we were gone, in the grounds of the chapel attached to Malet’s palace, as befitted a knight of his household. Others had been less fortunate, their broken bodies left to rot in great ditches dug outside the walls, where they were picked at by the dogs and the crows; we had smelt them on our approach to the city.
‘I release you from your oath, Tancred,’ Malet said as we left the crowds behind us. ‘You may consider yourself no longer bound to me. Henceforth you may take your sword where you will.’
He had not asked whether I might extend my oath to him, nor had I expected him to. Instead he was making it clear that there was no further place for me in his household. As much as I had helped him, he couldn’t afford to have among his retainers men whom he could not trust implicitly. The business with ?lfwold would have taught him that, if nothing else.
To tell the truth I was relieved to be leaving his employ, after all that had taken place these past couple of months. So much talk of intrigues and betrayals had tired me. I was a knight, a man of the sword, and I would be glad simply to return to that life once more.
‘I hear my son offered each of you land in return for your part in the battle,’ Malet said.
‘Yes, lord.’
‘Of course it isn’t for me to say what men Robert chooses to keep around him.’ His cold gaze fell upon me. ‘But he clearly trusts in your ability. I only hope that you will serve him well, should you choose to follow him.’
Better than we had served Malet himself, was what I took him to mean from that remark. The barb was not hard to miss.
‘We will, lord,’ I said. In all honesty I hadn’t given much thought to what lay ahead or to where we might go: whether we would stay here in England, or return instead to France or Italy, where there were many lords to whom we might pledge our swords. Though I suspected that few of them would be able to offer as much as Robert.