That broke his pretence. Howling and shouting curses in his own tongue, he rolled over, clutching his nether regions with both hands.
‘Get up,’ I said, and with the help of both Eudo and Pons stripped the Dane of his helmet and dragged him to his feet, so that I could look him in the eyes and spit upon his wart-ridden face. ‘Where are the hostages?’ I asked him in both French and English.
At first he pretended not to understand what I was saying, and began jabbering something in Danish, but the moment my hand went to my knife-hilt he discovered he could understand me after all, and suddenly he was pointing to the smallest of the three halls, on the opposite side of the yard from the church, where the kitchens usually were. I thanked him for his kind help before burying my knife in his gut and slitting his throat.
At the same time the Gascon called to me, brandishing a set of four iron keys attached to a ring that he’d found on the belt of the huscarls’ captain. Leaving Wace and Serlo to take charge and keep watch while they tended to their wounds, I took the keys and, signalling for Pons and Eudo to follow, went around the hall to the side facing the yard, where I found the doors lying open. Inside, the only light came from a lantern set upon a large round table beside several flagons of ale. Casks and crates were stacked everywhere; skinned carcasses of deer dangled from hooks fixed into the ceiling-beams; bunches of herbs hung, tied by their stems, upon one wall; logs and kindling had been piled in a corner. At one end of the hall was a wide hearth with a flue above it, though no fire had been lit. At the other, a staircase led downwards towards an ironbound door with a sturdy lock.
‘Bring me that lantern,’ I said to Pons as I descended the steps and tried each one of the keys in turn. The first and the second didn’t fit, and I was beginning to think we would have to break the door down when thankfully the third turned cleanly and the door swung open into darkness.
Pons handed the lantern to Eudo, who passed it down to me, and I shone it into the cellar, lighting the way ahead.
‘Lord,’ I said. ‘Are you there?’
Even as the words left my tongue, I saw him, blinking in the lantern-light, dazed as if half-asleep. He looked considerably thinner than when I’d last seen him. His eyes were heavy, his face was unshaven and his black tunic and trews were torn and frayed.
A flicker of recognition crossed his face, and he found his voice. ‘Tancred,’ he said. ‘I thought—’
‘That I was dead,’ I finished for him. ‘And I almost was.’
His hands were tied behind his back and I went to free them, picking at the knot. The rope was tight around his wrists and ankles, and I could see the marks where it had rubbed his skin raw.
‘How did you get here?’ he asked. ‘Has the king arrived with his army? Or have you come with the ransom?’
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we had come alone, and in any case explanations could wait until later. The sooner we escaped this place, the better.
Instead I said: ‘Are your father and sister here?’
‘My father’s over there,’ Robert replied, pointing to the far corner of the cellar and a stack of barrels from behind which I could just see a pair of feet. ‘Father!’
In reply there came a low, drawn-out groan. While Eudo saw to the elder Malet’s bonds I helped Robert to his feet. He could stand well enough, although it took him a moment to find his balance.
‘He’s been gripped by fever and sickness for days,’ he said. ‘They’ve kept us down here, in the damp and the dark, for I have no idea how long.’
‘What about Beatrice?’ I asked. ‘Where is she?’
Robert shook his head. ‘They took her somewhere else. I don’t know where.’
I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. I should have kept that wart-faced whoreson of a Dane alive so that he could lead me to her.
I rushed to the door, yanking the ring of keys from the lock. ‘Pons, show Robert and his father the way to the others. Find them food and drink and keep the vicomte warm, but be ready to leave as soon as I return.’
‘Where are you going?’ he shouted after me as I charged up the wooden steps.
‘To find Beatrice,’ I answered without so much as turning around.
And I prayed to God that she was safe.
Twenty-nine