‘On,’ I shouted to ?lfwold and all the others behind me. I rode through their midst, knee to knee alongside Philippe, sword still in hand to fend off any who came too near, until suddenly we came upon Gilbert and his knights, who were pressing from the other side, and found ourselves in space once more.
‘You again,’ Gilbert said, drawing to a halt as he caught sight of me. ‘I seem to find you everywhere.’ He removed his helmet and wiped his brow with his sleeve. In the half-light of dawn he looked more gaunt than ever. A faint stubble covered his chin, and his mouth as always was drawn in distaste. ‘The enemy are marching,’ he said between breaths. ‘They’ll be at the walls before long.’
‘I know, lord,’ I answered as I sheathed my sword. ‘I’m escorting the ladies Elise and Beatrice to the wharves, on the orders of the vicomte.’
He glanced up and saw them. Beatrice still looked white – even more so now as the skies grew brighter – though she had recovered enough to draw her hood back over her hair. Elise rode close by her side, one arm around her shoulders. The two were flanked by Radulf and Godefroi.
‘Malet clearly trusts you, though God alone knows why,’ Gilbert said, half muttering, as if he were speaking only to himself. He surveyed our party, and then turned back to me. ‘See them safely there. You will find that the road down to the river is clear.’
‘Thank you, lord,’ I said.
He nodded in acknowledgement, then called out to the rest of his men: ‘With me! Conroi with me!’
He raised his lance with its pennon aloft and set off at a gallop in pursuit of those who had fled, his knights following close behind him. Their shields of yellow and red flashed past and their mounts’ hooves drummed upon the earth, kicking up clods of earth as they went. For a moment I almost contemplated riding with them, even if that meant fighting under Gilbert’s banner. If the enemy were about to attack then I wanted to be there, avenging Robert and Oswynn and all the rest of my comrades. But I knew that was not my task, and it was with heavy heart that I watched them ride away.
‘Follow me,’ I said to the others. Carrying on the breeze came the townsmen’s chanting again; it might not be long before they returned. And there was the battle-thunder, unmistakable now as it rang out from the north: an almost unearthly din. The rebels were marching, the enemy were coming, and we could ill afford to delay.
Workshops and storehouses and wattle-work fences passed by, close on either side: in some places we could barely ride two abreast. Before us now I saw the river, grey and slow-moving beneath the mist, which lay so thick that I could see nothing of the houses on the far shore. Rain continued to spit upon us, and it seemed to me that the clouds were becoming heavier, in spite of the lightening sky to the east. The bodies of Englishmen lay in the mud, on their backs or crumpled on their sides, eyes open as they had been at the moment of their death, and I tried to ride around them.
And then all of a sudden the houses came to an end, and we had the river beside us as we came out on to the quayside. There were ships of all sizes, from simple fishing craft to wide-beamed traders, but then at the far end I spotted the longship I had seen a few days before. She was even more magnificent close at hand: a huge vessel, at least forty paces in length, I reckoned, with a black-and-yellow sail furled upon her yard. This, then, had to be Wyvern. It seemed a fitting name, for like the serpent she was long and sleek, and no doubt fast as well when out on the open water.
On the quayside next to her stood the vicomte himself. He was dressed again in his mail, with half a dozen knights, the rest of whom were all still mounted. He said nothing as I approached; his face was solemn, his lips tight, his eyes on his wife and daughter. I swung down from the saddle and went to help the ladies as they too dismounted, signalling for Philippe to go to Elise even as I held out my hand to Beatrice. She took it after a moment’s hesitation, her fingers delicate yet firm in my own, and I saw her confidence returning along with the colour to her cheeks as she brought her leg across and gracefully slid down to the ground.
Elise rushed to her husband and threw her arms around him. ‘Guillaume,’ she said, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
‘Elise,’ the vicomte said as he held her to his chest, and then he opened his arms to receive Beatrice as well. Lord, wife and daughter embraced together.
A shout came from the ship, where a dark-haired man with a full beard was standing. The shipmaster, I guessed. He was directing men as they lifted sacks from the quayside, passing them across the gunwale to others who stowed them beneath the deck-planks.
‘Aubert,’ Malet called, and the man turned. ‘How soon can you sail?’
‘Shortly, my lord,’ he said, stepping up on the side and jumping down on to the wharf. ‘We’re almost finished loading supplies. Is everyone here?’
‘Not yet,’ the vicomte said. ‘We’re waiting for two more to arrive.’