That two men who had been such great friends should so quickly have become enemies was strange. ‘What made Malet turn against Harold?’ I asked.
‘I confess there have been many occasions when I have been unable to understand my lord’s mind,’ the chaplain said. ‘This, I am afraid, was one of those. For certain he was opposed to Harold’s seizure of the crown, which he saw as both illegitimate and perfidious. All this happened, you understand, after Harold had sworn his oath to be Duke Guillaume’s vassal. But already before then their friendship was wearing thin. I remember them meeting many times in those years, and each time I recall a deepening frustration, perhaps even resentment, in my lord’s manner. To this day I have never found out what happened to cause such ill will.’
‘Did you go with him when he returned?’
‘To Normandy?’ ?lfwold asked, as if it were an absurd question, and I was taken aback by his tone. ‘No, I stayed on, helping to manage his estates this side of the sea.’
‘They weren’t confiscated by the usurper, then?’
‘No,’ the chaplain said. ‘Even then I think Harold still hoped the two of them could be reconciled, but for my lord it was too late.’ A note of regret seemed to enter his voice. ‘The damage had been wrought, and it could not be repaired.’
I fell silent. Harold had been an oath-breaker, a perjurer, an enemy of God; he’d had no right to the kingdom of England. But even so I couldn’t help but think: how hard must it have been to go back on so many years of friendship, as Malet had done?
‘He is a good lord,’ ?lfwold said, glancing back across the ship’s stern, and I imagined he was looking back towards Eoferwic, though it was of course many miles behind us now.
A loud groan came from the wooden platform at the bow of the ship; Eudo’s head was buried in his hands as the rest burst out laughing.
Wace cupped his hands around the pile of pebbles that lay in the middle of their circle and drew them towards his own. ‘Just be glad we’re not playing for silver,’ he said as he gave Eudo a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
The ladies turned their heads momentarily, before gazing back at the river. I had spoken little to them all day, save to ensure that they were comfortable, and had sufficient cloaks and blankets to keep themselves warm. At times I had brought them food and wine, though they had not seemed hungry.
I turned back to ?lfwold. ‘The rebels won’t take Eoferwic,’ I said. I tried to sound confident, though in truth I was not entirely convinced, for it was not just their army outside the walls that I was thinking of, but also the townsmen within. I didn’t doubt Malet’s ability, but I was not sure whether seven hundred men would be enough to hold the city.
‘The rebels are only the beginning of it,’ ?lfwold replied. ‘Even if they can be held off, come the summer we will have the Danes to fight, and what will happen then, none but God can know.’
‘If the Danes come at all,’ I pointed out.
‘They will come,’ he said. He met my gaze and I realised then how old he looked, and how tired were his eyes, not just with fatigue from the day’s events, it appeared to me, but from something more deeply set.
‘Pray with me, Tancred,’ he said. He knelt down on the deck, placing his hands together and closing his eyes.
I did the same, and as he began to intone the first words of the Paternoster, I joined in, reciting words practised over many years, ingrained, as it were, into my very soul: ‘Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum …’
As the phrases rolled off my tongue, my mind wandered, and I began to think about the journey ahead, about seeing the two women safely to Lundene, and our task beyond that. What was the message that the chaplain was carrying, I wondered, and why Wiltune?
‘Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen,’ I finished, and I opened my eyes.
?lfwold was yawning. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘It has been a long day and I am in need of rest.’
‘Of course,’ I said. The time for such questions would come, I decided. There was no pressing need to air them now, and we had many days’ travel ahead of us.
‘I should speak with the ladies Elise and Beatrice before I sleep,’ the chaplain said. ‘I bid you a good night.’
‘Good night, father.’