‘You cannot expect everyone in this world to be your friend, Tancred. Nor will this injury be healed any time soon. Whatever Berengar holds against you, you will not be able to sway him to your side. Not now.’
Wace was one of my longest-serving friends; I had always trusted his judgement. He was more level-headed than Eudo, and as long as I had known him he had always made sure to speak his mind, something that many men did not take kindly to, and which had often caused him trouble over the years, but which I respected. Even so, for all his well-meaning advice, on this occasion I could not help but feel that he was wrong. Only by knowing why Berengar held me in such contempt could I begin to understand what I might be able to do about it.
‘Will you do this for me?’ I asked.
He fixed his eyes, both the good and the crippled one, sternly upon me, and pursed his lips: a sign that his patience was being tried. ‘I think you’d do better to forget what has happened, and hope that he does the same.’ He spoke slowly, as if addressing a stubborn child.
‘That’s no answer.’
Wace sighed. ‘If you wish it, I’ll see what I can manage. But for what it’s worth, I think you should leave well alone.’
He walked away, clearly unhappy, and I sensed that there was something more to his discontent that he was not telling me, though I could not work out what.
When I look back on those times now, after so many years, I realise that I was fortunate to have such friends as him, though perhaps I did not always appreciate it at the time. Indeed Wace and Eudo were to me as brothers; the closest thing to kin that I had, and the years that we’d spent training at arms, feasting and drinking in the hall of the castle at Commines, fighting together under the same banner, were among the best I had known. Yet ever since our lord’s death it seemed that much had changed. After all, we were no longer merely sworn swords but barons in our own right; we had retainers of our own, and we had duties to them now as well as to each other. While those old bonds of companionship would continue to hold, none of us could deny that they were weaker than once they had been, and for that reason I confess to feeling a strange sort of sadness as I watched Wace striding to greet his own men.
Nor was that the only thing weighing upon my mind. Though I would not admit it to anyone, Berengar’s threats made me wary. Why that was, I wasn’t sure. Many men had sworn to kill me over the years, but usually that had been in the heat of battle, and I had been able to see them coming at me. This was different, and the more that I dwelt upon it, the more anxious I grew.
The rain began to fall more heavily. I drew my cloak closer about me and pulled my hood up over my head. And, despite myself, I shivered.
Thirteen
BEFORE WE LEFT that place I ordered all the enemy dead dragged from where they had been cut down amongst the heather to be heaped in the middle of the road, on the very crest of the ridge where they could be seen for miles around. There was little wind and a putrid stench hung in the air of entrails and shit all intermingled. In the ground beside all those broken corpses and severed limbs I planted a spear with the crimson-stained hawk pennon nailed just beneath its head, in the hope that any of their countrymen who passed this way would see it and know who had done this. The fame of the hawk of Earnford was not yet so widespread that every Welshman would recognise it. Still, I was determined that if they hadn’t heard the name of Tancred a Dinant before now, they would learn it soon.
The few of the enemy who had chosen to lay down their weapons rather than fight on or flee were brought before me. There were only ten, but then there had not been that many of them to begin with. Among them were men of all ages, shapes and heights. Each had his hands tied behind his back and wore the same wide-eyed expression, as if amidst the expectation of death there remained the faintest flicker of hope that he might be spared. A single stroke of a sword across each of their necks was all it would take to finish their lives and allow them to join their fallen comrades. I had only to give the word and it would be done.
But I had no intention of killing them. Not yet, in any case. First they would tell us what they knew of the movements of the enemy host, or at the very least the whereabouts of their main camp, for that had to be where this band were marching: that much seemed clear to me.
‘Mathrafal,’ Ithel told me after he had spoken to them. He was translating while his brother marshalled the rest of our men and made ready to ride once more. His face was even ruddier than usual, if that were possible, flushed as he was after the exertion and the thrill of the fight. He was a good deal sturdier than most warriors I’d known, and even though I hadn’t seen how he’d acquitted himself, I trusted him to have played his part.