‘Very well,’ said the lady Elise. ‘We shall speak further later, I am sure.’
I took the mare’s reins from the stable-hand. She was already saddled and so I mounted up and rode to the head of the party. I met Beatrice’s eyes briefly as I passed – wide and full of fear – before she turned away again.
I pointed to the large-nosed man. ‘You,’ I said. ‘What’s your name?’
He regarded me with a defiant look. ‘Radulf,’ he said, as he settled himself in the saddle.
‘I saw you with the vicomte yesterday, up at the marketplace by the minster church.’
‘That’s right,’ he said, narrowing his eyes. ‘What of it?’
I would be lying if I said that his hostility did not irk me, though at the same time I was not surprised by it. Probably he was used to leading, and so resented my being placed in charge.
‘Take the rearguard,’ I said, ignoring his question, and likewise ignoring the angry look that he returned. My eyes fell upon one of his companions: a thickset man who it seemed had not shaved in some time. ‘And you,’ I said. ‘What do they call you?’
‘Godefroi,’ he said. ‘Godefroi fitz Alain.’
‘Go with him.’
They turned – the one named Radulf somewhat grudgingly – and rode to the back of the column, leaving just one. From his face I judged him to be the youngest of the three, even though he was taller than the rest – taller even than myself, I thought, though I was near six feet in height. He bore a solemn expression, but I sensed an eagerness behind those eyes.
I raised my eyebrows at him, and he understood the question even before it left my tongue. ‘Philippe d’Orbec,’ he replied.
‘You stay with me,’ I said.
A thin rain was beginning to fall, spitting down out of a still-dark sky. I glanced back over my shoulder to make sure that the rest were gathered as they should be. The chaplain was immediately behind me, just in front of the two ladies.
‘We need to go now,’ he said. ‘The ship will be waiting for us.’
Far in the distance I was able to make out the faint beat that was the battle-thunder. I could not yet see them over the palisade, but I hardly needed to, to know that the rebels were on their way.
I kicked my spurs into my mount’s flank, forgetting that it was not Rollo I was riding. The mare reared up, and I tugged hard on the reins to keep her under control as she came down, thrashing her head from side to side. I rubbed her neck in reassurance, then waved for the rest to follow as we rode out through the great oak gates into the city.
We were not the only ones on the streets that morning. It was not yet light, but already there were men everywhere, running with torches and lanterns. Some were Frenchmen like us, but still more of them were English, and they had clearly heard the news of their countrymen’s approach too, for they had come out with all manner of blades: seaxes and meat-cleavers, spears and axes. The air was filled with their cries.
We followed the street as it curved down towards the river, but as the crowds grew thicker, my mount’s steps became shorter and I knew she was growing uneasy. I stroked her side to calm her. She was no warhorse, no destrier; she was not battle-trained, nor used to such crowds. Nor, I was sure, were the horses belonging to the priest and the two ladies.
I waved to the chaplain, who drew up alongside me. ‘Is there another way to the wharves?’ I asked.
‘Up and past the minster, then down the Kopparigat,’ he replied.
That would take us further away from the river. If anything, there was even more chance of being cut off if we went that way. But I guessed from his expression that the priest already knew this.
‘There is no other way around,’ he said.
I cursed under my breath. I could not afford to put the ladies at risk, which they would be if we tried to press on through these crowds, but I also knew that there was no guarantee the streets would be any clearer if we tried to go around.
‘We go on,’ I said to the chaplain. Whether that was a foolish idea or not we would soon see. In any case he did not argue with me, as I half expected he might, but simply nodded.
I took a deep breath and spurred the mare into a trot. She seemed reluctant at first, but I kept a firm hold on the reins with my one free hand, and she obeyed. Rollo would have been far easier to handle, I thought, with not a little regret; I had not even needed reins to control him, though it had taken months of training to master that. I had not been able to spend time with this one, learning her quirks or her strengths, and I didn’t know how she would respond.