‘Come and die, you bastards,’ Eudo called out, partly to taunt the enemy but also partly, I thought, to inspire our own host. ‘You goat-turds, you sons of whores, you worthless Devil-spawn! Fight us!’
Whether any of the enemy heard him above the din, I could not say, and I doubted they would have understood in any case, for few among their kind knew anything of the French tongue. But they came nonetheless, led by their thegns, who in times of peace were their lords and in war their leaders. I recognised them not just by the flags nailed to their spears, but also because they had the means to possess mail and helmets, to decorate their scabbards with bands of copper inlaid with gold and silver and precious stones. I searched about for Wild Eadric, hoping to identify him by some such embellishment or else by the size of his retinue, since I’d never seen his face and did not know his device. Perhaps he was among them, but I failed to spot him.
The English came a second time and a third, and with each assault the crude barricade was gradually weakened further, the carts either dragged to one side or else hacked to pieces by men armed with axes, while the wall, which was not mortared, crumbled and in some places fell down altogether. It had done its purpose and broken the first few onslaughts, allowing us to kill more than we might have managed otherwise. As they fell back again I saw that all that remained were loose stones, broken timbers and splintered fragments, like the detritus that the tide washes up on to the shore, strewn across the field together with the bodies of their countrymen and no doubt more than a few of our own. It was hard to tell amidst the blood and the long grass, although as I glanced down our front line, I saw several faces that had not been there before.
On our right wing, where Wace, Maredudd and Ithel were commanding, we seemed to have lost fewer men, but then the ground was trickier there and the enemy seemed to have found it difficult crossing the bogs. Several score had fallen to Maredudd’s archers before they had even reached the shield-wall. Their corpses lay in the mud; from their chests and their sides protruded long goose-feathered shafts, which the bowmen were now rushing to recover before the enemy returned.
I felt down the front of my shirt for the little silver cross that hung there, which for years had protected me, and also for the pendant that contained St Ignatius’ toe-bone, grasping both tightly in my fist as I closed my eyes and silently said a prayer to God.
‘Christ be my shield,’ I murmured when I had finished, and put the cross to my lips just for a heartbeat before tucking it back underneath my mail.
Again the English rushed forwards, marching now in ordered lines, with their thegns once more leading the assault, and it seemed that they were throwing the greater part of their force against our wing: against myself and my knights and Eudo. They knew that if they could breach our line in one place then it would not be long before the rest of our ranks broke. Not that that meant there would be any respite for Wace and the princes fighting to our right, since I saw one of the two lion banners making its way down from the ridge. Beneath it marched a horde of Welshmen, and at their head rode one of their kings: either Bleddyn or Rhiwallon, though I had no way of knowing which.
Obviously they’d decided that they had played with us for long enough. They were throwing their full force against us and now the real fight would begin. Sweat rolled off my brow, stinging my eyes, and I did my best to blink it away, breathing deeply, knowing that if we could not hold the line we would all be dead men very soon.
‘Stay close,’ I called out. ‘Keep your shields together! For Normandy—’
It was all that I had time to say before our lines clashed once more.