The Splintered Kingdom (Conquest #2)

‘Because it’s the honourable thing. If we do nothing and let Robert and his father die, we will be known for ever as the men who forsook their lord and their sworn oaths so that they could protect their own hides.’


‘And if we return with the Malets alive,’ I added, ‘we’ll be remembered for having defied the might of the ?theling and the Danes, for risking our necks to fulfil our duty. For doing what other men thought impossible.’

‘If we return,’ Wace muttered, but from that simple phrase I knew that I had won him over, and from one word in particular. We.

Some men fight for silver or gold and other kinds of riches; others for women or land or duty to their oaths and their king. But they are lying if they say that is what they crave most of all. For, as I had found, none of those things have the same enduring worth as reputation. All influence and power in this world stem ultimately not from wealth but from fame, and a man lacking in honour can find himself reduced to nothing but the object of ridicule and contempt among his peers. Only for the sake of reputation will a man risk everything, and so it was then.

‘I have with me two men,’ Eudo said, ‘both of them eager for another chance to spill Danish blood after what happened at Noruic.’

‘And I bring my two knights,’ put in Wace with a sigh. Despite his words, the lingering doubt was clear in his eyes. ‘They’ll join us, if I so order.’

‘Only if they are willing,’ I said. ‘No one has to come who doesn’t wish to.’

As it was, they all agreed, none being willing to abandon their lords to whom they had pledged their loyal service. Added to them were Serlo, Pons and ?dda, and so our number was brought to ten. Galfrid alone would not come, and I did not try to press him, knowing that he was less experienced at arms than the rest of us, but instead left him to take charge of the three lads from Earnford and watch out for them in the shield-wall, if it came to that.

The hour was late but I knew we could not waste a single moment, and so we made ready to leave without delay. I was on my way to seek out Father Erchembald so that he could absolve me of my sins one final time, knowing that there was every chance I might not return from this particular expedition, when there came from nearby a sudden yelp of pain.

The pot-bellied man I’d spotted earlier rose, more suddenly than I might have expected. He rubbed his shoulder-blade as he glanced about, until his gaze fixed upon Ceawlin, D?gric and Odgar. Still laughing, they all fled in different directions as he marched towards our campfire, his eyes filled with rage. And I recognised that plump face, for it belonged to Berengar fitz Warin.

When he saw me he stopped, staring at me as if I could not be real. ‘Tancred?’ he said, confused and taken aback at the same time. ‘They said you’d been taken by the Welshmen. They said you were dead.’

‘They were wrong,’ I said, not wishing to explain the details at that moment. ‘What are you doing here, Berengar?’

‘One of those runts struck me—’

I cut him off. ‘Not that. Why are you here in Northumbria?’

‘Fitz Osbern sent me at the head of four hundred knights,’ he said proudly as he struggled to recover his composure, aware of the crowd that was beginning to form. ‘As soon as the Welsh had fled back to their country, he went south to deal with the risings in Defnascir and Sumors?te. Others he sent to Ceastre, where the rebels are holding out against Earl Hugues and Bishop Odo. And I came north. I didn’t think I’d find you and your friends here.’

Nor would he have, if he’d been any later. ‘Well, you can give thanks to God that you won’t have to look upon our faces any longer,’ I said.

He frowned and cast his gaze about, at Eudo and Wace and the rest of our men, all dressed and ready to ride out. ‘Where are you going? Are you and your lord deserting again? Too afraid to fight, are you?’

I would not rise to Berengar’s jibes, not this time. ‘Our lord and his family are prisoners of the ?theling and King Sweyn in Beferlic,’ I told him. ‘I mean to bring them back alive.’

At first he must have thought I was jesting, for he began to laugh, until he saw the solemnity of my expression and those of the men around me.

‘You aren’t serious, surely?’

I had nothing to lose by asking him; at worst I could expect to receive another barrage of his scorn, and I was well used to that by now.

‘To do this I need the best men I can find,’ I said. ‘I saw how you fought at Mechain; I saw how you captured the banner of King Rhiwallon.’

That was not entirely true, for I had lost sight of him entirely during much of the fray, and had missed the moment when he had killed the enemy’s standard-bearer. Nonetheless I hoped that he would accept the flattery.

As it happened I had no need to ask the question, for he understood at once what I meant.

‘You think I will follow you, after all the injury you inflicted upon me, after all your insults?’