‘I left him to manage affairs at home in my absence. I thought it unwise that he should risk himself as well. One of us had to stay.’
‘You have heard, then, about Eoferwic and your father?’ ?lfwold said, now that he had returned.
‘Only since arriving here – Tancred told me all that has happened.’ He looked to the two ladies. ‘I hear he has been looking after you on the journey.’
Elise met my eyes. ‘He was,’ she answered, tight-lipped. In truth I had half expected to hear some word of thanks, now that we were in the presence of her son. I should have known better, though, for she said no more.
The priest looked puzzled. ‘Tancred told you?’ he asked Robert.
‘I found him up by one of the churches on the Bisceopesgeat hill,’ Malet’s son replied. ‘He was there with some of Ernald’s men. They were about to take him away, when I heard him mention my father’s name. That was when I intervened. Their leader was not best pleased.’
The chaplain gave Wigod a glance, then he looked sternly at me. ‘You ran into the town-reeve’s men,’ he said, plainly unimpressed.
I shrugged. ‘I’d gone to find my sword.’
‘They had accused him of fighting in the streets,’ Robert put in. ‘Though they had no one able to swear on it.’
The steward sighed and shook his head. ‘You should have waited until we had gone to the reeve ourselves.’
‘So it’s true, then?’ Robert asked.
‘It’s true,’ I said. ‘I was attacked last night, on the same street on which we met today.’ I sensed the stares of the two ladies upon me; of course they hadn’t been here last night when I came back. ‘There were two of them – one on horseback, the other on foot.’ I put a finger to my cheek, feeling for the line of dried blood, showing them where I had been cut. ‘It was one of them who gave me this. I was fortunate to get away with my life.’
I caught Beatrice’s gaze as I looked up, and saw a hint of concern in her eyes, though it was only the briefest of flickers before she bowed her head.
‘It is a serious matter,’ the steward said as he rubbed the bald patch on his head. ‘I was going to see the reeve myself this morning to report it. But now it seems that he already knows.’
‘I’ll deal with him if he comes,’ said Robert, shrugging. ‘I told his men that he could pursue the matter with me.’
‘You should be careful how you treat with him. To those who oppose him, he can be dangerous. He holds considerable influence with the king.’
‘My father is the vicomte of the shire of Eoferwic, one of the most powerful men in the kingdom.’
‘Even so,’ Wigod said, ‘it is better to have him as a friend than as an enemy.’
The hall fell quiet, the steward’s words hanging like smoke in the air.
‘Come,’ Elise said with a smile, and she began to walk towards the stairs. ‘We shall go to our chambers. You must tell us about the crossing, tell us what news you bring from home.’
Robert made to follow her. ‘I fear there is little to say, but very well. You must also tell me of your journey.’ He bent down as he passed me. ‘I would speak with you later,’ he said, his voice low as he spoke in my ear.
He straightened and walked away, and I wondered what he meant. I had already told him what the town-reeve’s knights had wanted with me. What more was he after?
I let out a yawn; I had hardly slept last night again. Indeed I could not remember the last time I’d had a full night’s rest with four walls and a roof around me, rather than under canvas, on the hard earth. It was longer than a week – that much was certain.
Eudo gave me a nudge. ‘Wake up.’ He picked up a loaf from on top of the hearthstones and held it out towards me. ‘Here, eat.’
It occurred to me that I had not yet eaten that morning, but I did not feel hungry. In fact the smell of the bread, fresh baked by the fire, made my stomach turn.
‘I don’t want it,’ I said, pushing it away.
He shrugged and began to eat it himself, pausing once in a while to pick some grit out of his teeth.
‘Are you going to tell us what happened, then?’ Wace asked.
‘For what it’s worth,’ I said. ‘There isn’t much to say.’ And I explained to them the events of that morning.
‘You shouldn’t have gone alone,’ Eudo said, frowning, after I had finished.
I heard footsteps behind me and looked up to see the chaplain standing there.
‘I’m not interrupting, I hope,’ he said.
I got to my feet. ‘What is it, father?’
He looked about at all six of us, the light from the fire playing softly across his face. ‘I wished only to say, given that the snow is unlikely to clear today, it might be best if we wait until tomorrow to leave for Wiltune.’
‘This message of yours isn’t urgent, then,’ Eudo said, his mouth full of bread.