‘Ut,’ they chanted, like animals; like the hounds of hell. ‘Ut, ut, ut!’
A shiver ran through me; never since H?stinges had I seen so many Englishmen bearing arms together, ready for battle, baying for our blood. There were hundreds of them under a purple-and-yellow-striped banner, and for every beat of my heart, dozens more were joining them in their long shield-wall.
One knight charged forward from our line, his ventail still undone and flapping away. Perhaps he thought we would all be behind him, or perhaps anger had simply taken hold of him, but he rode hard and he rode alone, straight for the enemy’s bristling spears. He lifted his lance high above his head and hurled it into their ranks, and then drew his sword, preparing to meet their wall, when a spear flew out of the sky, catching him in the throat. His sword fell from his hand as he tumbled from his mount, and I saw his neck snap back as he struck the ground.
The enemy whooped with delight, and the battle-thunder grew louder, faster. ‘Ut! Ut! Ut!’
Rollo fidgeted with his feet and I rubbed his neck to keep him calm. Around me men exchanged uncertain glances.
‘Hold back!’ Lord Robert shouted as he rode along in front of our forces, signalling to the rest of the lords who had gathered with their men and their banners. ‘Hold back!’
I realised I was still holding my sword and sheathed it again, looking around the rest of Robert’s men to see if there were any faces I recognised. The earl had nearly one hundred knights in his employ and I was not familiar with them all, but I saw several men who normally rode within my conroi and I called them to me. There were ten of them in all: Rualon, the sole other Breton apart from myself; Hedo, who had the broken nose; and several whose names I could not at that time recall. All of them appeared tired, but so far as I could see, none had been injured.
Ten, when there ought to have been nearly thirty. I spotted Eudo and the other two, who had seen the hawk banner and were riding back towards us. The three of them brought our number to fourteen – myself included – but even so that was only half of my conroi.
‘Where are the rest?’ I demanded.
The men bowed their heads and refused to meet my eyes. I knew what that meant. A lump rose up in my throat, but I knew I couldn’t think of such things now; that would have to come later, after we had secured victory.
For now the English remained where they were, standing, taunting, no more inclined to attack than we were, it seemed. They were waiting for us to come to them, just as we waited for them to come to us, both sides separated by little more than fifty paces.
Lord Robert returned to us, untying his chin-strap and removing his helmet. His face was weathered from the years we had spent in Italy; his hair, while not as long and loose as the Englishmen were accustomed to wearing it, was certainly not cut in the short style fashionable in France. And unlike the Norman lords who usually went clean-shaven, Robert was possessed of a full but well-trimmed beard, which he often stroked when deep in thought. This he did now while he surveyed his men.
Including those who had this moment arrived from the fastness, I guessed that we had fewer than four hundred in that square – too few given that we had come to Dunholm with a thousand and a half. Most of those men were spearmen and horsemen, but there were some archers too, busily loosing volley after volley into the English ranks, though it seemed to me they were only wasting their arrows; most of the enemy had shields and few of the missiles got through.
Lord Robert rode towards me. His hauberk was spattered with English blood, his eyes were bloodshot and he bore a bright cut across his cheek.
‘Tancred,’ he said.
He extended a hand and I clasped it in my own. ‘My lord,’ I replied.
‘They were waiting for us,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘As I said they would be.’
‘They were.’ I would have liked to know how they had managed to break into the town, where so many men had come from, but it seemed to me pointless to be asking then, when they were standing but fifty paces from us. It looked as if the whole of Northumbria had gathered to drive us out from Dunholm. I glanced back at our small host arrayed below the church, their anxiety almost palpable in the air. My spirits fell, for I knew that we could not hope to drive the enemy off.
‘We have to fall back to the fastness while we still can,’ I said to Robert.
He came closer, lowering his voice so that the others around us could not hear. ‘If we do that, we hand them the town,’ he said. ‘We don’t have supplies to withstand a siege. We must fight them now.’
‘We don’t have the numbers, lord,’ I said. ‘If we retreat we can gather our strength, sally out on our own terms.’