The Firedrake

by Cecelia Holland

  “I can’t; I am supposed to hie you straight up to his lordship the Duke of everywhere.”

  “Rolf, go fetch me a horse.”

  Jehan leaned back and let his reins go. He turned to watch the boy skitter away. “By the Virgin, you made some great name for yourself in Maine. They still talk about you in the halls.”

  “ ‘That devil Irish.’ ”

  “Well, something of that. According to some of them, arrows passed right through you without hurting you and you killed men with the looks of your eyes.”

  “The perils of the profession.”

  “How is your offspring?”

  “Dead.”

  “Ah. I’m always stepping into traps.”

  “It doesn’t matter any more. What does he want of me?”

  “Oh, your mighty arm, your quibbling tongue, your deep thoughts. Here comes your horse.”

  Rolf trotted up with the brown stallion on a leading string. Laeghaire frowned. He said, “Next time you bring me a horse to ride to a council, bring me the black.”

  “He’s tired, my lord.”

  Rolf saddled the brown stallion in the open space by the wall.

  “Nonetheless, bring him. It’s not far and I don’t like to ride that one except in a fight. No, don’t worry about it now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  Jehan wrinkled his forehead. “You’re uncommon careful with your war-horse.”

  “It spoils them to be ridden around like palfreys.”

  He sent Rolf for his cloak.

  “You rode the brown horse when you went to give the Duke your apology, after he hit you.”

  “That was different.”

  “Did you really make him apologize to you?”

  “I swore I would, didn’t I?”

  “My mistake. I overlooked the value of your oaths.”

  Laeghaire put on the cloak and gathered up the reins. He vaulted into the saddle. They rode off.

  “This is no council,” Jehan said. “I think it’s something to do with his spies.”

  “He still has his spies out, then.”

  “Of course.”

  There were many knights in the town, and archers, all sitting in the marketplace, drinking and talking. Jehan waved to some of them. They called to him. One of them called Laeghaire’s name. At once the marketplace was queerly silent. It broke into a little mutter.

  “You are a famous man,” Jehan said.

  “Famous men die,” Laeghaire said.

  “You’re in a sweet mood.”

  “So I am.”

  “I’ll wager he puts you to command one of the flanks. His great men know you and respect you. He could use you instead of one of them. They would not object to it.”

  “They wouldn’t dare.”

  Jehan grinned. They rode into the courtyard. They went up to the little hall and found William there with Lanfranc and Odo, the Bishop of Bayeux, and two men in palmer’s clothes. William nodded to them when they came in.

  “Are you all acquainted, my lords? Odo, that big bear is Jehan of the River’s Edge, and the tall thin one is Laeghaire of the Long Road. Sit down, knights.”

  The two palmers looked disinterestedly around. Laeghaire found a stool and sat on it, but Jehan stood.

  “One moment,” William said to them, and turned to the palmers. He spoke to them. Laeghaire understood it and suddenly realized that it was bad Saxon the Duke spoke. He had not heard Saxon since Tosti’s disappearance. His ears stretched to hear. The palmer who answered talked of a fyrd, and for a moment Laeghaire struggled to remember.

  “Hunh,” he said.

  William raised his hand. “Sir Laeghaire?”

  “Nothing, my lord.”

  He said it in Saxon, and William laughed. The palmer who had been talking turned toward him.

  “Saxon?” he said.

  “Irish.”

  The man grinned. He said, “What a polyglot band he has.”

  “This Irishman,” William said, “has the gift of tongues. I’ll put a white dove on his banner if he lives long enough. Here, let’s get back to this.”

  The door opened and a Norman peasant trotted in. He brushed by Odo and Jehan without a pause or a look and came up by the palmers. He was a small, thin man with a face like a wild dog’s.

  “What?’’ William said.

  “The Norwegians have been sighted off the coast of Ireland.”

  “The Norwegians?” Odo said.

  “When?” William said.

  “A good two weeks ago,” the serf said. “Fishermen from Ponthieu saw them. They sailed in today.”

  “What were they doing fishing in the Irish Sea?”

  The serf shrugged. “It’s a poor season for fish. Why not?”

  “How many of them?”

  “Some fifty ships, they counted.”

  “Fifty. How many men to a Viking ship?”

  “Eighty to a hundred and twenty,” the serf said. “Or so I’ve heard.” He looked around him. Nobody said anything.

  “Harold will have his hands full. Irish, can he beat the Norwegians?”

  “If he’s not outnumbered and he can pick his ground,” Laeghaire said. “Godwin’s house has always been good warriors and he has the housekarls. The Norwegians aren’t knights, either.”

  “So?”

  “It’s knights will beat the Saxons. Knights and horses.”

  “How do they fight?”

  The serf looked at Laeghaire. Laeghaire shrugged. The serf said, “If you’ve been there, you can tell him better than I.”

  “On even ground, he’ll put his housekarls in the center and the fyrd on the flanks and charge. The line will hold, and when they close ranks they’ll make a wall with their shields. Against men on foot he has the advantage. No one can break that wall.”

  The serf nodded. He drew designs on the floor with his toe.

  “And if he is attacked?”

  “He’ll choose his ground and stand behind that wall.”

  The palmer said, “That’s so; I’ve seen it so.”

  “Good. Odo, I will see you this evening.” He dismissed the palmers in Saxon. He waited until the prelate had left and the palmers, and turned to Jehan.

  “Sir Jehan. You will be in charge of the camp by the coast. No violence and no drunkenness.”

  “My lord, they must have drink.”

  “They can drink without being drunk. Make some arrangements about women.”

  Jehan grinned at Laeghaire. “All women?”

  “Leave his alone. You may leave.”

  The serf had sat down and was staring at the floor. William looked down at him. “Guy,” he said.

  The serf looked up.

  “This knight is Laeghaire of the Long Road. I will put him in charge of the spies.”

  The serf looked at Laeghaire. “He’s all right.”

  “Your judgment flatters me,” Laeghaire said. He thrust out his legs in front of him. “I would not want to impose myself on you.”

  The serf’s face darkened. Laeghaire glanced at William. William was watching the serf. His face was almost gentle.

  “Your serfling has no sense of humor,” Laeghaire said to William.

  “He has no need of one.”

  “Then he’s a lucky man.”

  “Your French is better than it used to be.”

  “You are a bright flame to learn by, my lord.”

  “Nor brighter than a star.”

  “Why, my lord, if stars will burn for you, you have no need of any other light.”

  “He has a quick tongue,” Guy said.

  “As merry with my tongue as any apostle,” Laeghaire said.

  “And easy with your sword as any devil,” William said. “I’ll start a church for you, Irish; God’s Splendor, you need a Mass now and then.”

  The gentleness was gone out of his face, and his eye glittered like the wolf’s in the dream. Laeghaire grinned at him.

  “
Tomorrow,” William said, “you’ll go down by the Dives. I will have all the spies from England sent to you. Report what you think I might need to know.”

  He left by the rear door, and the serf Guy by the side. Laeghaire went after Guy. In the corridor he called after him. The serf turned and waited. Laeghaire went up to him. He stood a full head and shoulders taller than the serf.

  “Will you be down by the Dives?” the serf said.

  “Yes.”

  They went down to the courtyard. Laeghaire said, “If you hear more of Norway, tell me as well as the Duke.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can understand what happens. Don’t be an arrogant serf; I have no quarrel with you.”

  “I’ll tell you. I hear from the fishermen. You ought not to talk to him like that.”

  “If you talk to me like that, I’ll have a quarrel with you soon enough, and it’s only a guilder for serfs. I mean nothing against him by it. It’s my game, and I’ll play it. He knows it.”

  He mounted his horse. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Yes,” Guy said. “I’m going off to my lowly hut and sleep.”

  “My tent’s by the wall, down from the east gate. See me tonight, or I’ll come looking for you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Laeghaire laughed at him and rode out.

  He talked that night with Guy and learned who came from England and why and when, and Guy also told him all that was important that had come before with the spies. They sat on the ground inside the tent and Hilde gave them wine and sat looking at them. Laeghaire saw her watching Guy. He told her afterward what they had said.

  The next day they went down to the Dives and camped there, up on the rise behind the beach, very near the river. The fishermen had gone. Many knights, already come, were setting up their tents and pasturing out their horses. Jehan told four of them to hunt for better pasturage. Jehan sat in his saddle like a thick-shouldered Joab, giving orders, pleased with himself.

  The knights began to come into the camp, alone, in pairs, in bands, from Normandy itself and from outside the duchy, from the Norman counties in Italy and up from the Spanish frontiers, from the Empire and from Rome. They pitched their tents and put their horses to pasture by the sea and sat by their fires talking. They fought often, sometimes in mock jousts, and sometimes meaning it. Jehan was hard put to keep them from killing each other. They did get drunk, and they had their women. The only thing they dared not do was raid the villages near the river’s mouth. The camp was a shambles, full of horses running loose and men shouting. The shouting never ceased. All night long they drank and fought and boasted, and all day long they boasted and fought and drank. The only difference was that at night they could not see where they were going and tripped over people and things and the fights were more dangerous.

  One day Laeghaire rode back to Caen and spent much time with William, telling him what the spies had told him, and on the way back fell in with a band of knights from Italy. It was twilight by the time they reached the camp, and in the twilight the shouting and laughing were louder. Laeghaire separated from the Italian knights and went off toward his tent. Rolf came out to hold the horse. On his face was a great bruise.

  “What happened?” Laeghaire said.

  “A knight came by and tried to ride off with your lady.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is the knight all right?”

  “Yes. I shouted and he hit me and we wrestled, and then he ran off.”

  “Do you know who he was?”

  “That big dark man at the fire by the rock that looks like a horse’s back.”

  Laeghaire reined around and rode off. He passed by Jehan’s fire and waved. Jehan waved back. Laeghaire came up to the rock that looked like a horse’s back and rode around it. The fire was built against it. Three knights were there. One of them, a big dark man, had a smear of dust on the back of his surcoat.

  One of the knights heard Laeghaire coming and started to turn. The black horse veered a little, shying from the fire, and Laeghaire wrenched him back. The rising knights jumped to either side. Laeghaire knocked one of them down with a swipe of his free arm. The black horse jumped the fire. His hind hoofs struck coals and scattered them in high arcs. Laeghaire saw the dark man running off and charged after him. He caught him in three of the black horse’s long strides. He bent down, clinging to the reins and mane, and grabbed the knight’s shoulder. He heaved him up, clawing and screaming, and the surcoat tore, and Laeghaire snatched at him with both hands. He flung the man across his saddlebows and spurred the horse straight for the sea. The horse, wild from the fire, bolted down into the water. They smashed through the breaking waves and were soaked through. Laeghaire was blinded by the salt. He spurred through water and the sea lapped up to his thighs and the horse began to swim and Laeghaire threw off the fighting screaming knight. Immediately he turned the horse back to land, and when he felt the horse’s hoofs touch the ground he stopped and wheeled to look.

  The knight could not swim. He thrashed and gurgled in the toppling waves, went under, and came up again, his mouth wide and running salt water. His flailing arms took him under again. Laeghaire turned to look over his shoulder. The shore was massed with men, all shouting and pointing. The knight came to the surface, a little closer; he was pushing himself up on the sea bottom. He staggered in that way until he was standing, in water to his armpits.

  He screamed curses and waved his fist at Laeghaire, and Laeghaire began to laugh. The man floundered on. Laeghaire turned the horse casually to block his way. The man tried to get around him but Laeghaire moved the horse each time. Finally the man jumped against him, trying to catch him and pull him down, and Laeghaire lifted his foot, put it on the man’s chest, and pushed. The man fell and went under. When he came up, panting, Laeghaire said, “Don’t bother my woman again.”

  He said it loud enough so that the men on the shore could hear.

  “Let me by,” the knight said,

  “Pledge me your honor you will not bother my woman again.”

  “I pledge it. Let me by. I’m cold.”

  Laeghaire reached down and took him by the hair and shoulder. The man clung to Laeghaire’s arms. The horse jumped back to the shore. Laeghaire dropped the man in the sand and rode off at a fast lope.

  Jehan came to him later, when Laeghaire was in the tent and Hilde was hanging up his wet leggings. Jehan said, “You should not have done that.”

  “I did him no violence. He did me violence.”

  “You are no different. The rules are the rules.”

  “I have my reputation to consider. If I told you, and you had him punished, what would it do to my reputation? And now no man will bother Hilde.”

  “I still think it was wrong.”

  “Then it was wrong.”

  Jehan blew out through his nose. “You’re going to get in trouble someday.”

  “I am always in trouble.”

  The next day, Laeghaire showed Rolf how to clean his mail and left him to do it while he went up to check his horses. At noon Hilde came to where he was combing out the stallion’s tail. She had dinner for him. They sat down and ate.

  “Are you really going to marry me, Laeghaire?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think it’s right.”

  “Why?”

  “Rolf treats me as your lady. But that man tried to—to take me like a common camp-follower. I’m not fit for you.”

  “Sometimes I think it’s the other way.”

  “Why? It’s not true.”

  “Because I am not worth what you will give me.”

  “That’s not so. That’s what that man said, that priest, that Lanfranc. That’s wrong. You’re fine and noble and wonderful.”

  “That’s what you wish I were, maybe. I’m not.”

  She shook her head. “No. Don’t even talk about it.”

  “All right.”

  “It’s pretty
here, by the sea. Will you have land by the sea?”

  “He’ll give me land in the south and the north and the east.”

  “Let’s have a place to live in by the sea.”

  “All right.”

  They talked of this for a while. He got up and untangled the burrs and snarls from the stallion’s tail. She was happy. She got flowers and made a chain for her hair.

  Laeghaire went off to Caen again the next day, to take to William a spy who had some special news of the Saxon coast guard. He came back that same night, very late. He rode up to the pasturage and unsaddled the black horse and started down toward the camp. He saw the three men in the little fringe of underbrush just before they jumped. He flung the saddle into one man’s face. The two others pulled him down. He snatched out his dagger and stabbed and that man flinched away, gasping. In the dark he could not see their faces but he knew who they were. He caught the last of them around the waist and wrestled with him in the dirt and brush. The thorns scratched his hands and face. He felt the man’s arms tighten around him. The others were urging him on in low voices. The man he fought wrenched him suddenly and fell on top of him. Laeghaire thrashed around. He felt the man’s thumb grope for his eyes. He forced his hands down under the high collar and around the man’s throat. The thumb jammed into his eye. Fire colors leaped inside his head. He brought his knee up hard into the man’s groin. A hand tore at his arm. The man on top of him winced and his hands drew away. Laeghaire flung him off. The others closed in on him. One stank of blood. He fought to his knees. One of them kicked him in the chest. He caught that foot and yanked. The four bodies all crashed together. Suddenly one of them stood and ran off, bent over under the few trees. Laeghaire reached out blindly and caught a sleeve and staggered to his feet. He hit that man in the face with his fist. He felt bone break under his knuckles. He hit him again. The other man hit him in the small of the back. Laeghaire wheeled. He grappled with the other man and they went down. He heard running footsteps, going away. Only the one, now, His fingers curled around the man’s windpipe. He rolled him over and lay on top of him and pressed his fingers down. The hands clubbed at him and the knees jabbed vainly. The man caught him by the hair and tried to tear him off. Laeghaire let go with his right hand and brought his elbow smashing into the man’s face, once, twice, again. The hand in his hair loosened and fell, limp.