‘Spare me the pleasantries,’ Malet cut him off. ‘Who is your lord?’
‘Eadgar,’ the envoy replied, loudly so that everyone in the bailey could hear, ‘son of Eadward, son of Eadmund, son of ?thelred, of the line of Cerdic.’
‘You mean Eadgar ?theling?’ Malet asked.
The envoy nodded. ‘He would speak with you this very evening, if you are willing.’
The last surviving heir of the old English line, Eadgar was the only other figure around whom the enemy might have rallied after H?stinges, his title ?theling meaning one who was of royal blood, or so at least Eudo had once told me. Until now, though, Eadgar had shown no hunger for rebellion; instead he chose to submit to King Guillaume soon after the battle and remained a prominent figure at court. It was only when whispers of plots against him were voiced last summer that he fled north into Scotland, but even then none had thought him capable of raising an army.
‘I would advise against this, lord,’ Gilbert said, his voice low. ‘We know how treacherous the Northumbrians are. These are the same savages who murdered Richard but four days ago.’
‘Even so,’ Malet said, ‘I would prefer to look upon the face of my enemy.’ But though he spoke confidently, his face was grim. He looked about, saw one of his servants and called for his sword and mail, and then to the Englishman said: ‘Tell your lord I will meet with him.’
‘This is unwise, Guillaume,’ Gilbert said, more loudly this time. ‘What if they plan another ambush?’
‘Then you will accompany me with fifty of your own knights to make sure that doesn’t happen.’
For a moment Gilbert looked as though he was about to protest, but he must have thought better of it, for he merely scowled and stalked off to his horse.
‘Come, Tancred,’ said the vicomte. ‘That is, if you wish to see the man who was responsible for Earl Robert’s death.’
‘Yes, lord,’ I replied, though the words came out more stiffly than I would have liked. I could feel my sword-arm tensing, but I tried to calm myself, difficult though that was, for Malet was watching me. As if testing me, I thought.
‘Very well, then,’ he said. ‘Let us hear what Eadgar has to say.’
The sun was already upon the horizon by the time we rode out from the city’s north-eastern gate. Almost every one of the Norman lords who resided in Eoferwic was there, each with a contingent of knights under his own banner, and at their head rode Malet.
The country around Eoferwic lay open in every direction: wide marshes rising to gentle slopes where sheep grazed. A few trees gave some cover, but they were sparse enough that an ambush was unlikely. Not that the enemy seemed to have any such intention, for no sooner had we left the city than I spied spearpoints and helmets glinting not half a mile away. Eadgar was already waiting for us.
‘There they are,’ murmured ?lfwold, who was riding beside me. The vicomte had brought him for counsel, although in truth I could not see what use the priest would be. This was surely a matter for men of the sword, not of the cloth.
In the low light it was hard to make out the enemy’s exact numbers, but I reckoned they had brought at least as many men as we had: some on horseback, others on foot, and all of them gathered under a purple-and-yellow banner – the colours, I supposed, of the ?theling himself.
Indeed I saw him now. He was a head taller than most of his men and wore a sturdy helmet, with plates at the side to protect his cheeks and a long nasal-guard rimmed with gleaming gold. Surrounding him were men in mail and helmets, armed with spears and swords and long-handled axes, with his colours upon their shields. What the English would call huscarlas, I thought: his closest and most loyal retainers, his ablest fighters. Men who valued their lord’s life above even their own, who would fight to the last in his defence. How many of them had been there at Dunholm, I wondered; how many of my comrades had died on their blades?
We drew to a halt as Eadgar strode forward from his lines, flanked by four of his huscarls. Malet nodded to ?lfwold and myself, to Gilbert who was riding a short way behind and one of his knights, and we dismounted. The ?theling had taken off his gilded helmet and for the first time I saw his face. His eyes were dark and his lips thin, while his hair, the colour of straw, fell raggedly to his broad shoulders. He was said to be only seventeen in years, which made him hardly more than a boy, but he did not look it, for he was sturdily built, with arms like a smith’s, and there was a confidence in his manner that belied his age.