I nodded, picturing both street and brook in my mind as we carried on down the hill, towards the bridge which carried the road across the Temes to Sudwerca and thence on to the southern coast and the Narrow Sea. Squawks pierced the air as a lone chicken scurried down the road in front of us, flapping its wings; a young girl chased after it, shrieking with excitement while a woman in a grey dress called after her. A dull clanging sounded out from the open front of one of the workshops, where a blacksmith hammered away at a glowing red horseshoe, throwing up sparks, before taking it in a set of tongs and thrusting it back into the forge.
The sun had fallen below roof-level by the time we reached Malet’s townhouse. It was a simple long hall, two storeys high and built of timber and thatch, distinguished by the banner of black and gold which flew from its eastern gable. After seeing his residence in Eoferwic it was in truth something of a disappointment. There were no walls or gatehouse, although there was a small fenced enclosure running around the side of the hall, with a yard and stables behind. Its oak door opened almost directly out on to the road and was guarded by a single servant.
?lfwold rode up to him and spoke some words in English; the other man disappeared inside the hall. I dismounted, motioning for the rest of the knights to do the same, and then offered my hand to Elise to help her. She accepted but did not meet my eyes as she climbed from the saddle. Beside her, Beatrice gratefully accepted Wace’s hand, leaning on his shoulder and stepping down with grace.
The oak door opened again and a tall, red-faced Englishman appeared; he smiled when he saw the chaplain standing there and the two briefly embraced, speaking in their own tongue.
?lfwold broke off. ‘The ladies Elise and Beatrice,’ he said, gesturing towards them.
The Englishman knelt on the ground before them, leaning forward to kiss each of them on the back of the hand. ‘My ladies,’ he said. ‘It’s a relief to see you safe. When we heard the news from Eoferwic, we feared the worst.’ Like the chaplain, he spoke French well.
‘Wigod,’ said ?lfwold, ‘this is Tancred a Dinant, to whom Lord Guillaume has entrusted our safety. Tancred, this is Lord Guillaume’s steward, Wigod son of Wiglaf.’
The steward rose, looking me up and down with indifference. He had dark hair, cut fairly short for an Englishman, with a pink patch of scalp showing where he was beginning to bald. His upper lip bore a thick moustache, though he was otherwise clean-shaven. He extended a hand and I clasped it.
‘Wigod, I must know,’ Elise said, interrupting, ‘what news is there from Eoferwic?’
The Englishman stepped back, his expression solemn. ‘Perhaps it is best if you come inside, into the warmth, rather than discuss such matters in the open.’ He gestured towards the door. ‘My ladies, ?lfwold,’ he said, and then to the rest of us: ‘I’ll have the boy show you the stables.’ He put his head around the doorframe into the hall. ‘Osric!’
A boy of about fourteen or fifteen emerged. Tall and wiry, he wore a brown cap on his head and a sullen expression on his face. His tunic and trews were marked with dirt and there was hay in his hair. Wigod placed a hand on his shoulder and said something quietly in English, before following the chaplain and the ladies inside.
‘Whatever news he has, I’m guessing it’s not good,’ Wace murmured.
‘We’ll see,’ I said, although I’d had the same feeling. ‘If it were so bad, wouldn’t he have told us straightaway?’
Wace shrugged. Osric took the reins of the chaplain’s mount while Philippe and Godefroi took those of the two ladies, and we followed him around the side of the hall, alongside the brook and into a wide courtyard bounded by a picket fence.
‘Here we are, then,’ said Eudo. ‘In Lundene again.’
‘Enjoy it while you can,’ I replied. ‘We might not be staying here long.’ The fact that we had been travelling a whole week would likely count for nothing with ?lfwold; I suspected that the priest would want us on the road again before long. So far he hadn’t said anything more regarding the message he carried, or the person for whom it was intended. I had asked him more than once while we had been on the road; each time, however, he had refused to answer. It made me uncomfortable, for it meant that although we were soon to be on our way, I was no wiser as to exactly why.
‘I might ride over to Sudwerca tonight, if I’m to see Censwith before we go,’ Eudo said.
I grinned. ‘You’re nothing if not loyal.’
‘Sudwerca?’ Radulf put in. ‘You know there are far better whorehouses this side of the river, don’t you?’
Eudo turned to face him. ‘And what would you know of whores, whelp? I’d wager you’ve not so much as seen a naked woman in your life.’
Radulf smiled sarcastically. ‘More times than you could count.’
‘He means women other than your sister,’ Godefroi said.
I laughed with the others; Radulf’s eyes narrowed and he sneered at Godefroi, who stared back, impassive.