‘Enough,’ I heard the vicomte shout. ‘Tancred, put your sword away.’
But the rest of our men were behind me now: jeering, throwing insults at the ?theling, and I paid Malet no attention. ‘I will come for you,’ I went on, ‘and when I do, I’ll tear out your throat and sever your head, slice open your stomach and leave your corpse for the crows to feed on. I will come for you, Eadgar, and I will kill you!’
‘Tancred,’ Malet said again, more sharply this time. ‘We’re here to talk, not to fight.’
I was breathing hard, I realised, and beneath my mail my arms were running with sweat. I watched the ?theling, but he clearly had no more words for me, since he remained tight-lipped. Slowly his men lowered their spears, and he sheathed his sword, and only then did my anger begin to subside. I spat on the ground before at last I turned and slid my own blade back into its scabbard.
‘That was foolish,’ ?lfwold said, as I made my way back. ‘You could have been killed.’
‘Just be glad that I wasn’t, then,’ I snapped. The battle-anger still lingered and I was in no mood to argue with him.
‘You should keep your dog on a tighter leash, Guillaume,’ the ?theling called. ‘Otherwise sooner or later he will try to bite you too.’
‘I will deal with my men how I choose,’ the vicomte replied. ‘Now, tell me what it is you’ve come to say.’
Eadgar glared at me a while longer, but I was not to be moved. ‘As you wish,’ he said to Malet. ‘I know that neither of us wants a battle, and so I bring you this offer: surrender the city to me this evening and I will allow you and all your host safe passage as far as the Humbre.’
Of course Eadgar knew that assaulting a city was no easy undertaking, and that even if he succeeded, he would probably lose many hundreds of men in doing so. And so he presented Malet with a choice: either to stay and fight and risk his life; or else retreat in dishonour, leaving Eoferwic to the rebels, and thus invite the king’s wrath. I didn’t know which was worse.
‘And if I refuse your terms?’ Malet said.
‘Then we will take the town by force,’ the ?theling replied, ‘and I shall look forward to killing you personally and taking my pleasure from your womenfolk.’
‘My lord—’ Gilbert began, but the vicomte raised a hand to silence him.
‘You think you will take Eoferwic with this rabble?’ he asked the ?theling, gesturing towards the purple-and-yellow banner and the men gathered beneath it.
‘I have near four thousand men encamped to the north of here, each one of them hungry for battle,’ Eadgar said.
Malet frowned. ‘And yet I see barely one hundred here.’
‘Mock me if you wish, but I’ve seen your scouts watching us. You know I speak the truth.’
The vicomte held his gaze. The wind was up, whistling across the marshes and the plains, while around us banner-cloth flapped. Otherwise there was silence.
‘Do I have an answer, then?’ Eadgar asked.
Malet looked up towards the sky, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes – searching for guidance from God, perhaps – until, after a final glance at the ?theling, he turned his back and made for his horse.
‘You are a fool, Guillaume,’ Eadgar called as the rest of us followed and mounted up. ‘I will show you no mercy! Do you hear me? No mercy!’
But the vicomte did not reply as we rode away, back towards the city gates. Instead he was staring out into the distance, towards the west, as the last glimmer of sun descended below the horizon. And I felt a chill come over me. For in his eyes was a look I recognised: the same one that I had seen in Lord Robert’s that night at Dunholm.
A look of despair, as if he already knew his fate.
Twelve
THAT NIGHT I dreamt of Oswynn.
She was with me still, as beautiful as ever, her black hair whipping behind her in the wind, laughing wildly. All about us the land glowed beneath the summer sun as we rode across pastureland, through fields grown thick with wheat. Behind us lay the town of Waerwic, which was where I had first met her, though we would not be returning there. How long we had been riding neither of us knew, when we came upon a forest glade, far from anyone who might disturb us. We left our horses, and there under the shade of the trees we lay down in each other’s embrace, and I was caressing her cheeks, her neck, her pale breasts before—
I woke sharply to the sound of my name, finding myself in my room once more. Malet’s house, I remembered. It was still dark; a faint half-light shone in through the window. A stout figure stood over me, clad in dark robes and a thick cloak. A green pebble hung around his neck and he carried in his hand a small lantern. The flickering flame lit up his face.
‘?lfwold?’ I asked.