‘It can afford to wait one more day,’ ?lfwold said. ‘But I want us to leave at dawn tomorrow.’
He stepped away, towards the door at the far end of the hall, gesturing for me to follow him. I frowned, not understanding what he meant, and glanced at the other knights, but they were talking amongst themselves, and so finally I followed him.
‘I sense there’s something troubling you,’ he said, once we were far away from the others.
He was right, of course, there were many things that had been troubling me of late. But I wasn’t ready to speak with him yet; after what had happened last night I still felt uneasy around him.
‘I’m just tired,’ I said.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘If you’re quite sure.’
‘I’m sure,’ I answered.
The Englishman didn’t look convinced, but he placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Remember that the Lord is always listening, if ever you wish to speak to him.’
‘I’ll remember,’ I said. With everything that had happened recently, I had managed to neglect my prayers.
‘That’s good.’ He let go and stepped away. ‘For now I must go and discuss matters with Robert. However, if you wish, we might talk later.’
‘Perhaps.’ I didn’t think there was anything more I had to say to him. I felt another yawn building and did my best to stifle it.
He nodded. ‘Very well.’
He turned and crossed the hall towards the stairs, and I made my way back to the hearth, where the fire was still burning strongly.
‘What was that about?’ Eudo asked.
‘Nothing important,’ I said, and yawned as I sat back down on my stool.
‘Nothing to concern us, you mean.’ He was glaring at me, his face half in shadow from the firelight, his eyes unfriendly.
‘What?’ I looked at him for a moment, confused as to what he meant, but he said no more, merely returning a bitter gaze.
Wace stood up and I turned to him, breaking off the un comfortable stare. ‘We’re going to train at arms in the yard,’ he said. ‘Are you joining us?’
I shook my head. ‘Later.’ My limbs still ached from the night before, and I did not feel awake enough to be of much use, even in a mock fight. ‘I think I’ll try to sleep some more.’
Wace nodded, buckling on his sword-belt, then went to the door at the back of the hall. Radulf, Philippe and Godefroi all followed. Eudo was the last to go, pausing as if he were about to say something to me, but then he seemed to think better of it, and stalked out after them.
I sat alone, wondering what I might have done to cause Eudo offence, but couldn’t think of anything. Eventually I gave up, and for a while after that I tried to rest. The morning was wearing on by now, however, and the streets outside were filled with the sounds of animals and the shouts of men. At the same time I could hear the other knights in the yard behind the house, their laughter interrupted by the crash of oak against limewood.
Soon I abandoned any hope of sleep, sitting instead by the table in the hall, attending to my sword. Its edge had been blunted again during the fight, and where my sword had clashed with that of my opponent there were nicks in the blade. I tried to smooth them out as best I could with my whetstone, but he had struck hard and the steel was marked deep.
How long I sat there, sharpening the blade, entranced by the patterns in the metal, I did not know, before I heard the stairs creak and saw Robert descend.
‘My lord,’ I said.
‘Tancred,’ he replied. ‘I expected to see you with your comrades outside. I could hear them from the chambers upstairs.’ He gestured at the blade in my hands. ‘That’s a fine weapon.’
I placed it down on the table, the whetstone beside it. ‘Your father gave it to me when I entered his service,’ I said.
‘I remember I had one much like it when I was younger. Nowadays, I prefer a quicker blade.’ He drew his own from the gilded scabbard at his side and rehearsed a few cuts at the air. It was thinner than mine, and half a foot shorter too, with a more pronounced taper; in some ways it was more similar to the English seax in appearance. But I knew there would be no weight in such a weapon, weight one needed to batter down an enemy’s shield, to slice through leather and mail. His was a thrusting blade, ideal when it came to close fighting, but of little use when mounted. I hoped it was not the only sword he owned.
He sheathed it again and sat down. ‘?lfwold tells me you’ll be leaving again tomorrow.’
‘For Wiltune,’ I said. ‘Your father has a message he wishes delivered there.’
His face bore a grim look. ‘That is most like him,’ he said, ‘sending his men on worthless errands even as the enemy presses at his gates. Do you know who this message is meant for?’
‘No, lord.’
‘Wiltune,’ he said, absently picking at a splinter on the table. ‘I can only think it must be for Eadgyth.’
‘Eadgyth?’ It was not a name I had heard before.