Sworn Sword c-1

by James Aitcheson

  ‘You have a family, a father or mother?’ I heard the lord say.

  I turned back to face him, shaking my head. My mother had died giving birth to the girl who would have been my sister. Not much later my father had followed her from this world after a feud with another man. He had not been anyone of great standing, just a minor lord with some lands near to Dinant. Neither was my uncle, his older brother, who took me in after his death. He had his own sons to provide for, and I was nothing but another mouth to feed. And so, as soon as they would take me, he gave me up to the monastery, where I had lived until just a few days before.

  The lord raised his thick eyebrows but did not enquire further, regarding me without emotion. ‘You fight well,’ he said, and gestured towards the boy. ‘Eudo has been training with me for a year and more, and still you managed to best him.’

  I glanced at the one he had called Eudo, who was standing hunched over, feeling his nose, cursing and then cursing some more. He drew a grimy sleeve across his face and it came away scarlet. He did not meet my eyes.

  ‘How old are you?’ the lord asked.

  ‘This is my fourteenth summer,’ I replied, trying to work out why he was so interested in whether I had a family, or how well I could fight, or how many I was in years.

  ‘Enough of these questions,’ one of the other men said. He was perhaps the shortest of them, and had a large chin and eyes that seemed set too close together. ‘He was in my tent. He’s a thief and he should be punished.’

  ‘Were you stealing, Tancred?’ the lord asked.

  ‘I was hungry,’ I said, turning my head down towards the ground. ‘I was looking only for food, and something to drink.’ Then I remembered the coins I had taken, and slowly removed them from my pocket, holding them out in an open palm. ‘And these,’ I added.

  One of the others laughed. ‘He has nerve, I’ll grant him that.’

  ‘You son of a whore,’ the short one said. His face had gone a bright red. He advanced out of the ring they had formed around me, grabbing me by the wrist and snatching the silver from my hand.

  ‘Temper, Folcard,’ the lord warned him.

  ‘I should slit your throat right now, you little bastard,’ Folcard said. I stepped back quickly as his free hand went to his sword-belt; his other held fast to my wrist.

  ‘No one will be slitting any throats,’ the lord called out to him. ‘Least of all the boy’s.’

  Folcard snarled at me, baring two uneven rows of yellowed teeth, then drew back, watching me closely. ‘Then what are we going to do with him?’ he demanded.

  The lord stroked his beard as if in consideration, then approached slowly, his mail chinking with each step. ‘Have you ever used a knife before?’ he asked me. ‘For fighting with, I mean, not for eating,’ he added sternly, when he saw what I was about to answer.

  ‘No, lord,’ I said.

  He unbuckled a sheath from his belt. It was about the same length as my forearm, or a little longer. He held it out to me. ‘Take this,’ he said.

  There was a murmur from the rest of his men, of discontent perhaps, or simply surprise. I was not paying them any attention, however, as I took the sheath in both hands, feeling its weight, turning it over. It was wrapped around with thin copper bands, off which the sun glinted.

  I looked questioningly up at the lord. Did he mean to give it to me, or was this part of some test?

  He nodded and gestured towards the hilt. Tentatively I curled my fingers around it and pulled. It slid out smoothly. Even to me, who knew nothing of weapons, it seemed a beautiful thing. Its edge was so thin I could barely make it out, the steel polished so clear I could see my own face in its reflection.

  ‘It is yours, Tancred, if you wish to join me,’ the lord said. He extended his hand. ‘My name is Robert de Commines.’

  Six

  That summer’s evening by the river was the first time I had ever heard that name. And it was there, the next day, in the year one thousand and fifty-seven, that for the first time I left Brittany behind. For as I was later to understand, Lord Robert had recently sworn his allegiance to the young Guillaume, Duke of Normandy, with whom lay our fate.

  Of course I had no idea then that I would still be serving the same lord another dozen years later, or that our path would bring us here to England. At the time I could think only that I had been offered a chance to flee the life I had known: a chance to make myself anew. I knew almost nothing of those men or what they did, but I saw that they were if not rich then certainly comfortable. And apart from all else, I had nowhere else to go.

  But there was another reason too, for that fight with Eudo had stirred within me something unexpected: a thrill that I did not understand but suddenly craved. I saw those men making their living by the sword, and the longer I travelled with them in Lord Robert’s company, the more I realised that I wanted to be one of them. It was foolish thinking for one who had hardly ever seen a blade before that day, let alone wielded one, but like all youths I was easily led. My head had become filled with visions of glory and plunder: that was the life that I saw ahead of me.

  I glanced at my knife, resting upon my shield beside me: the same one that I had received from Lord Robert by the river Cosnonis all those years ago. I had needed a new sheath made for it some months previously, for the blade was thinner now than it had been then, and no longer fit as snugly as it should, so often had I sharpened it in the years since. Yet that same steel had stayed with me through all these years.

  A thin drizzle was falling, more like mist than rain as it swept in from the north. Beside me Eudo stirred, mumbling words I could not make out. For a time after that first meeting the two of us had been bitter rivals, and not surprisingly, for it was one thing to be beaten in a fight, but to be beaten by a boy without any training at all was far worse. But as the months passed, the bitterness receded and we gradually became fast friends.

  As that year’s leaves had turned from green to gold, we returned to our lord’s home of Commines in Flanders. There I met Wace, who was one of the longest-serving boys in Robert’s household. Then, just as now, he was headstrong and short of temper, impatient with those he considered less able than himself and full of confidence, though he was little more than a year older than me. At first he, like Eudo, was wary of me, but as I grew in strength and skill at arms, so his respect for me increased. From that time on the three of us formed a close band, swearing our swords to each other’s protection, our lives to each other’s service. Our days were spent learning the art of horsemanship, practising with sword and spear and shield: how to ride and how to fight. We were knights in training, and there was nothing that could harm us.

  That first autumn in Lord Robert’s company was the one that came to mind most clearly. The heady smell of pine burning in the hearth in the castle hall; the taste of wine upon my tongue; the sight of the orchards rich in gold and brown beneath the dwindling sun: if I closed my eyes I could imagine myself there again. But when I tried to remember all the other boys who had been there, not one of their faces came to mind, though all must have been comrades of mine at one time. Even their names I recalled only vaguely, like fragments of a dream. And it was soberly that I realised that of all of them, the only ones who were now still alive were Eudo and Wace and myself.

  The sun broke through and I sat, eyes half-shut, feeling its touch upon my face. Hardly had it emerged, though, than it disappeared again behind the clouds, now the colour of slate. Soon after the rain began to fall. I closed my eyes, feeling water run down my cheeks as I thought of Lord Robert, and for the first time since Eudo had brought us the news, I wept.

  I roused Eudo after noon and he took the next watch while I settled down to rest. It was evening when I woke again, and the light was fading fast.

  I felt a chill all through my body, and found myself shivering. My head was clouded, and for a moment I did not know where I was, or how I had come to be there, until I remembered. I tried to sit up, feeling dizzy, but only made it ha
lfway before falling back down to the ground. Stones dug sharply into my back. Every one of my limbs was aching, but worse than that by far was the pain, the pain lancing through my leg-

  ‘Tancred,’ Eudo said. He crouched down beside me and put a hand to my brow, concern showing in his eyes. ‘He’s burning hot.’

  ‘We need to get him to a physician,’ I heard Wace say, though I could not see him from where I lay. ‘We need to get to Eoferwic.’

  Eudo held a flask out to me. ‘Drink this,’ he said.

  He waited until I had it in both hands and then helped me to sit up as I raised it to my lips. I sipped at it slowly; my throat was dry as parchment and I could sense each drop trickling down.

  ‘Thank you,’ I managed to croak as I passed the flask back.

  ‘Can you stand?’ Wace asked.

  ‘I think so,’ I said, though I was not at all certain.

  Wace nodded to Eudo and they put their arms under my shoulders, pulling me to my feet. The two of them helped me towards Rollo, and I clambered up on to his back as they guided my feet into the stirrups. I bit back the agony. Somehow being in the saddle made me feel more secure.

  We set off down the hill towards the plains below. Night fell, the stars again hidden by the clouds. All was quiet. My eyelids kept drooping, but every time they did I was quickly jolted awake again by Rollo moving beneath me.

  Hills rose up and fell away. Soon we came to what I presumed was the old Roman road: a wide earthen track stretching from north to south. The way to Eoferwic, I thought, at the same time wondering how far we still had to go. I was shivering all the time now; sweat welled beneath my underarms, trickling down my side, and I felt my shirt clinging to my skin.

  The hours passed. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady fall of Rollo’s hooves upon the earth, trying to imagine myself someplace else, before this had all happened. I saw Oswynn, her long hair black as pitch, tumbling loose as it always was when she was with me. If I tried, I could imagine that I was touching my fingers to her cheek, feeling the softness of her skin, so smooth and pale. I wanted to speak to her, even though I knew my words would make no sense. I wanted to say the things that I never could, and now never would. I wanted to say sorry for everything. For letting her die.

  The skies cleared and the stars came out. We paused at the top of a rise, and I saw the road stretch out before us, unnervingly straight all the way towards the distant horizon. So many miles yet to travel, I thought. With every passing hour the pain was growing worse, burning as never before.

  I breathed deeply, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. In the distance the hills were wavering under the dim light of the moon. I leant over Rollo’s flank, gasping for air. The trees, the ground itself swirled before my eyes.

  I opened my mouth to say something, though what it was I never remembered. For at that moment my mind clouded, and just as it did so, the world keeled over.

  I was lying on the ground when I came to, staring up at the stars with both Wace and Eudo crouching over me. Their faces were in shadow, the moon behind them.

  I blinked, feeling the mist clear slowly from my head.

  ‘How-?’ I asked. My mind was turning, twisting, full of thoughts that did not join together, that did not make sense. Thoughts of Oswynn and Dunholm, of Lord Robert and Eoferwic. Of course, we had been riding to Eoferwic-

  I tried to rise, and straightaway felt dizzy again.

  ‘You fell,’ Wace said, and placed a hand on my shoulder to stop me getting up. ‘Lie back for a moment.’

  I heard a whicker. Eudo turned his head in its direction and then stood and walked away. He returned swiftly, reins in hand, and standing beside him I saw the dark form of Rollo, black coat faintly shimmering in the light of the moon.

  ‘Are you fit to ride?’ Eudo asked.

  ‘He’s too weak,’ Wace said grimly.

  ‘We’re two days from Eoferwic, out in the open country without food or shelter, and with the enemy behind us. We can’t stay here.’

  Wace said nothing. He glanced at me briefly and then turned his head down towards the ground, his eyes closed as if deep in thought.

  ‘What do you suggest we do?’ Eudo asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Wace said, and there was frustration, even anger, in his voice. His hand clenched to form a fist. ‘If I did, don’t you think I would say?’

  ‘We have to get to Eoferwic.’

  ‘I know that.’ Wace stood and began to pace about, his hands clasped upon his brow.

  I heard the two of them speaking to one another, though I could not make out what they were saying. At length I found the energy to sit up, but without help I could not get to my feet. And as the feeling returned to my body, so did the pain.

  Eventually they came back, Wace making for his horse and mounting up without delay. ‘I’ll see what I can find,’ he said to Eudo as he worked his feet through the stirrups and gripped the reins. ‘Rest here, but don’t light a fire. Give him water; keep him warm. I’ll return soon.’

  Then he dug his heels in and galloped away down the hill. The sound of hooves was muffled against the mud, until it faded and once more there was silence.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ Eudo told me when Wace had gone. ‘I’ll keep watch.’

  ‘Where’s he going?’ I managed to say. It was a struggle even to get the words out: they seemed to grind against my throat.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Eudo said. ‘He’ll be back, and we’ll be in Eoferwic before long.’

  I wanted to press him further, but I had so little strength. I lay back down, giving in to my tiredness. But I did not sleep, not truly. Instead I found myself slipping in and out of wakefulness: one moment staring up at the stars in the sky; the next back in Dinant, where I had spent so much of my youth, or in Commines that autumn long ago. Except that both places were different to how I remembered them, now nothing but grey wildernesses, empty of all life, the halls and houses ancient and crumbled, and though I tried many times to call out, no one ever answered.

  But then at last I heard voices again. I opened my eyes. It was still dark, the night still cold. I turned my head and saw Wace, or perhaps I only imagined him. He stood beside his horse, with what appeared to be a wooden cart attached to its harness. And then there were arms beneath my shoulders and my legs, and I felt myself raised up, the ground disappearing from beneath me. I was being taken someplace I did not know, and I tried to struggle, but my limbs were weak and their hold strong, and I could do nothing.

  Then there was something hard and flat beneath my back, and I was laid down once more. I tried to ask them what was happening, but could not find the words. I heard the same voices, and horses whinnying. I remembered Rollo, but then my head grew heavy and I gave in to sleep.

  I felt myself jolted from side to side, drifting through broken dreams. Before long black skies changed to grey, and then from grey to white. About me on wooden planks were strewn loose stalks of straw, and I tried to cling to them, though they kept slipping from my fingers. The wind wrapped its icy tendrils about me, shaking me as if it had my entire body in its grip. I felt so cold, and yet at the same time my leg was burning: burning like nothing I had ever known.

  The voices still murmured to one another, though I could not make out what they were saying. Later a shadow came across me and I saw a face leaning over, but his features seemed blurred, and I did not recognise him, though for some reason I felt that I should have. He pressed a hand to my forehead and spoke some more, but whatever it was that he said, I couldn’t understand.

  Then he was gone and the jolting began again. I closed my eyes and tried to rest, to escape the cold, to escape the pain. I no longer knew what time it was; always when I woke it was to unchanged skies. Then from above I noticed white flakes falling, dancing silently down to settle on my cloak. A few landed upon my face, and I felt the warmth drain from my cheeks as they melted.

  ‘Snow,’ someone said. Eudo, I thought, though he seemed somehow far away, and I
struggled to hear him.

  ‘We have to carry on. If we keep moving we might reach Eoferwic by dawn tomorrow. It’s the only way we can help him.’

  Forms danced about me in the darkness, shifting and changing like coils of smoke. Figures came and went, and I thought I knew who some of them were, but I could not be sure. For a long time I didn’t know where I was, but when the shadows cleared, I found myself riding through the streets, sword and shield in hand.

  Dunholm was in flames. A roof collapsed, sending up sparks; of another house only blackened timbers remained. Our men were fleeing, running and riding past me in their scores. I fought against the flow, pressing on alone, up the hill towards the fastness and the mead-hall. That was where Lord Robert was, and I knew I had to get to him before it was too late. Nothing else mattered.

  Rollo’s hooves pounded the dirt below. My ears were filled with the clanging of the church bell, the screams of the dying, the roars of the enemy. One Englishman after another came to challenge me, charging at me with spears and axes, and one after another they fell to my blade as I carved my path through them, riding them down. Blood sprayed across my sword-arm, but I did not feel it.

  Before me stood the palisade that ringed the fastness, its tall timbers rising up to the sky. I spurred Rollo on, and then I was riding through the gates, with spears and arrows raining down to right and left. Ahead I saw the mead-hall, and in front of it, Lord Robert. He was on foot and on his own, and for every one of the enemy he felled, two more came to face him as he was pushed back towards the hall.

  I called out to him, but he did not hear me. My blade swung as I pushed through the enemy’s midst, but each time I looked towards Robert, he seemed ever further away, until eventually I could see him no longer. The mead-hall was ablaze and suddenly I was surrounded, fending off attacks from all sides. Beside me Fulcher was thrown from his saddle, Gerard dragged down and set upon, and I wondered where they had been, why they had not been with me when I had needed them.