Gorm wiped the last of the sweat off his palms. Well, he would see about that. Nobody was going to deprive Sweyn of his inheritance – nobody.
Sweyn!
Gorm suddenly remembered, and looked round for him. Sweyn and Edith were crouched before the very tall, lanky Norman – the only one who was not properly armed. Gorm had spent many years of his life on the road; he knew a minstrel when he saw one.
Taillefer stopped making patterns and boxes with string, and pulled a thin pipe from his wallet. He sat down and put it to his lips, watching the two children out of the corner of his eye. He played a note or two.
Edith giggled. Sweyn edged forward in curiosity. Taillefer played a snatch of tune. Edith clapped in pleasure. Sweyn’s pout was for once lost in a smile.
Taillefer stretched out his long thin legs, leaned against a gatepost, and played a song. The men-at-arms, lounging and munching, listened contentedly and grinned at each other as they recalled the vulgar words of the guardroom version.
William Capra looked round and swore quietly to himself. He nudged Ralph Pomeroy.
‘Idiots – think only of their stomachs.’
He flung a stone at Berry, who jumped, and then snarled at him.
Edwin put an arm round the dog’s neck and looked accusingly at Gilbert.
‘They are no friends of mine,’ muttered Gilbert, staring straight ahead and trying to conceal the fact that he was talking. ‘You saw.’
‘I did. And I honour you for it. It was brave. Perhaps you have saved our lives.’
Gilbert saw Capra gazing at him and frowning once again. He stood up and pretended to stretch his legs after the meal.
Sandor had no such scruple. He cut some cheese and passed a piece to Edwin.
‘The big man would have fought. Many would have died. Truly the woman is fortunate to have such devotion.’
Edwin nodded. ‘Their love is very strong.’
Sandor pursued an idea which had occupied his mind for a day or so.
‘You have a love too?’
The question was so unexpected that Edwin lost his voice for a moment.
‘She was – she is – not here.’
‘Far, perhaps?’ said Sandor innocently.
‘Not of this land,’ said Edwin. ‘I have not seen her for – for many months.’ He blinked. ‘Two years – about.’
‘Ah.’
Sandor spat out a piece of rind. ‘Gilbert has a love. He also has a son.’
‘Then he is truly lucky,’ said Edwin with more decision. He looked up suddenly, and his eyes were wet. ‘Tell him from me.’
Sandor thought it wise to change the subject.
‘See how Taillefer leads them in a dance.’
Taillefer, now on his feet again, was doing a disjointed little jig, playing the while. Edith and Sweyn danced too, in a parody of his movements. They followed him in swaying line across the yard, through the gate, and towards the house.
Baldwin moved to stop him. Aud put a hand on his arm.
‘He will do no harm.’
‘My orders,’ said Baldwin. ‘I gave orders – nobody to go near the house. Near the house.’
Aud pointed at the lounging soldiers. Two were even dozing.
‘There is no danger now. This minstrel of yours is cunning. His pipes have charmed your men and put them to rest. Let him go on with his work. Besides, see these apples I have brought you. They are the very best of the season. Godric was sorting them in the barn when you came.’
Was it really less than an hour ago? She was living now in a different age.
Neither could understand what the other was saying, but the meaning of each was clear.
‘Here,’ said Aud. ‘Take them quickly. We can not afford to give to everybody.’
Baldwin took off his glove again. Aud’s body came close to him as she slid the fruit into the satchel at his waist. As he held open the flap, their hands touched, then clasped as tightly as before.
They looked at each other. Baldwin did not know whether he wanted to prolong the silent moment or bring it to an end. From inside the house came the notes of Taillefer’s pipe and the high treble of the children’s voices.
Baldwin cleared his throat. ‘Thank you.’
Aud ducked her head. ‘Thank you for being kind to us.’
She helped him to fasten the satchel.
‘What a touching scene!’
Baldwin whirled round. Leaning over a gate was Fulk Bloodeye.
‘A truly affecting moment.’
Aud gasped in horror when she saw his face. She gasped again when she saw the person with him.
He was undersized; beside Fulk he looked dwarf-like. His stoop and his misshapen shoulder made him smaller still. His hair was black and long, not like a Norman’s at all. Nor did his skin have the pocks and stubble common to most campaigners. It was smooth and dark, soft almost like a woman’s. The thin moustache down either side of his mouth glistened with good grooming.
His hands, folded like a monk’s before him, were small and delicate, with fingernails trim and clean. From the way he held his head, slightly back, it was clear that, like many cripples, he was vain, and fastidious about his dress.
Everything about him was smaller, lighter, and smoother than normal. The leather of his jerkin showed fewer gashes and burred edges. His helmet had not the sharp outlines of the Norman pattern. Tinkling ringlets of mail hung loose from the headband. The dagger was curved, not straight; the sword was shorter and lighter. The handles of each showed curious patterns. Around his waist and under his belt was a great silken sash in bright red.
The eyes were gleaming pinpoints of light. He said nothing, content to let Fulk do the talking. Aud looked desperately from one to the other, not knowing which one to fear the more.
Fulk swept a prodigious bow. ‘Greetings to my lady. My congratulations, Sir Baldwin. I did not know you were a diplomat as well as a – soldier. A courtier too. Anticipating harmonious relations after the conquest, perhaps?’
With a furtive squeeze of Aud’s hand, Baldwin stepped towards him. Recovering from the shock of Fulk’s arrival, he still had enough residue of confidence from his reprimand of William Capra to be able to go on the offensive.
‘What are you doing here?’
Fulk glanced at Aud. ‘I might ask you the same question.’
Baldwin ignored it. ‘Your Flemings were on camp duty. I arranged it.’
Fulk smiled easily, adding another crease or two to the scar on his face. ‘My Flemings, maybe. But not myself. Captains of mercenaries do not perform menial tasks.’
‘They were William’s express orders – after your insolence to him.’
‘Yes,’ said Fulk. ‘I thought as much.’ He yawned elaborately. ‘However, I became bored watching my men humping logs, and rode out in search of interest.’ He glanced about him. ‘I seem to have found it.’
Baldwin refused to be drawn.
‘How did you get here without being noticed?’
Fulk waved a hand towards the olive-skinned statue behind him. ‘My Matthew knows the ways of the hunter,’ he said with heavy irony.
Matthew smiled till his eyes became slits.
‘Besides,’ said Fulk more brusquely, ‘you were taking no precautions – lazing all over the place. Half an army could have walked in. I wonder if his Grace the Duke would care to hear that?’
‘The Duke will receive my report,’ said Baldwin. ‘And half an army could not walk in because half an army is not here. Not a single soldier is here in this valley, and well you know it. There is nothing here except a quartermaster doing his duty and a captain of mercenaries neglecting his. Would “his Grace the Duke” care to hear that, do you think?’
Fulk scarcely heard him as he cast his eyes around.
‘I take it this is one of the farms that we must not burn.’
‘Intelligent of you,’ said Baldwin.
‘Hmm. Pity.’
He stooped, picked a stalk of grass, put it bet
ween his teeth, and ambled off with his hands behind his back. Matthew followed silently. As he walked past the door of the house, Taillefer came out and nearly bumped into him. The merry piping ceased at once. Sweyn and Edith, tumbling after him, stopped laughing and stood still. Edith cried out in fear. Matthew turned his yellowing eyeballs in their direction and smiled. Sweyn backed into the house again.
When Fulk appeared at the edge of the yard, the men-at-arms sat up. Fulk patted a door jamb and looked up at the lintel.
‘Truly a fine barn.’ He peered inside. ‘Plenty of thick, strong oak beams.’ He looked round at the men, who were now brushing the crumbs from their laps. ‘Not like you, lads, is it, to be taking things so easy?’
Ralph Pomeroy looked uneasily at his brother Capra. They could not run now.
‘What do we do?’ he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Capra showed no signs of unease. On the contrary, his eyes shone with anticipation.
‘Nothing. Worry about that when it happens. Right now things look as if they are going to get interesting.’
Pomeroy persisted with his furtive whispering, never taking his eyes off Fulk. ‘But the horses. And the jerkins. Suppose he—’
‘Shut your mouth! Control yourself. Watch and be ready.’
‘Yes, indeed, a fine establishment – worthy of Saxon building at its best.’
Baldwin, who had followed closely, could see that Fulk was spreading tension with every step and every word. Each man in the yard was now tight like a stretched bowstring, waiting for a sign. Only Fulk seemed relaxed.
Baldwin clapped his hands. ‘On your feet. Time to ride. We have much work before sunset.’
Fulk turned in mock surprise. ‘Why such a hurry, Sir Baldwin? Could we not think of something to – er – give their stomachs a glow before we ride on?’
The men hesitated, looking from one to the other. Capra’s lips moistened and parted.
Gilbert swallowed. A whole family’s lives lay upon a knife edge.
‘Just a little something to warm them, Sir Baldwin. Eh, lads? It would not take—’
Fulk caught sight of Rowena for the first time. He stood stock-still for a moment, then walked steadily towards her.
‘It was as if she were pulling him on a string,’ said Gilbert afterwards. ‘As if he could not help himself.’
Fulk stood before Rowena and raked her with his eyes. Nor did he miss the whitening of Godric’s knuckles over the handle of the axe. The silence seemed so long that Gilbert found time to offer up a prayer.
At last Fulk shrugged and turned away. Gilbert let out a sigh of relief.
Suddenly there was short rasping sound, and Fulk’s dagger was at Rowena’s throat. Everyone had been caught unawares. He had moved very fast for a big man.
The dagger shone in the autumn sun.
‘Drop the axe.’
There was something unusual about the way he held her; Gilbert could not make out what it was.
Godric hesitated.
Fulk pressed the point until a drop of blood showed on Rowena’s neck.
Gilbert whispered to Edwin. ‘For God’s sake, make him drop it. He will do it. Jesus help us, he will do it.’
Edwin made a sign.
Slowly, very slowly, and without taking his eyes off Fulk, Godric bent and laid the axe on the ground.
‘Take him!’
It was Baldwin who now took everyone by surprise. A dozen hands seized Godric. Someone produced a rope from a saddle horn, and tied his hands behind his back.
Fulk tightened his grip on Rowena. The dagger gleamed at her throat. He looked awesome in his strength and menace, but Gilbert could not help thinking that he looked awkward too.
Fulk blinked.
‘What does this mean, Sir Baldwin? Do you want her tied up too?’
‘It means,’ said Baldwin, ‘that we must be on our way. I had him bound so that you will have no excuse for indulging in your usual . . . practices. Torture in self-defence.’
Fulk blinked again. The light off the knife blade troubled him.
‘This farm stays untouched,’ said Baldwin. ‘Those are the orders of William himself, who will pay your wages when you have fulfilled your contract, and when I report that you have fulfilled your contract. I repeat, no one here will be hurt and no damage will be done.’
Fulk raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you propose to leave these two able-bodied men here, give them the chance to warn the . . . the . . .’ He seemed to grope for the word.
‘Saxons,’ said Matthew, who appeared at his elbow. ‘My captain is concerned that the Saxons might learn our plan of the avenues.’
Baldwin glanced at Fulk, then waved a hand airily.
‘They have no idea what we are talking about.’
‘He has,’ said William Capra, pointing at Edwin. ‘I saw Senlac talking to him. The minute we leave here he will be off to warn Harold like a coney out of corn under the sickle.’
Fulk looked several times to his left, then dropped his knife hand. He loosed Rowena in order to pass his other hand across his face. Rowena, shuddering with loathing, sprang away from him.
Baldwin pointed at Edwin. ‘Bind him too.’
Edwin had his arms pulled back. Gilbert tied the knots firmly enough to hold but not to bite. As he did so, he squeezed Edwin’s wrist reassuringly.
Fulk tried several times to get his knife into the scabbard, thrusting and missing. Matthew took his wrist gently.
‘It is well, my captain. Do not worry. Shall I help you?’
He eased the weapon from Fulk’s hand and secured it.
Fulk mumbled something unintelligible, and allowed Matthew to lead him away to a large log, where the cripple eased him gently down.
Capra moved towards Rowena. ‘Do you want us to bring her as well, Fulk?’
Fulk did not seem to hear him. Nor had he given the slightest sign of recognition. Instead, with his head down, he was absorbed in his clothes, and began pulling tiny pieces of straw and leaf off them. Matthew leaned down and loosened the laces at his neck.
Capra, puzzled, raised his voice. ‘Fulk! Do you want the girl?’
Fulk raised his head. His eyes looked in Capra’s direction, but even the good one was blank.
‘Close the wagons!’ he said. ‘Close the wagons. Ready to move. Close the wagons.’
Capra looked in alarm at Pomeroy.
Matthew was fumbling in a waist wallet. Godric, though tense with worry for Rowena, found himself curious.
‘I said leave her alone,’ said Baldwin. ‘No hurt to anyone here.’
‘I agree, Sir Baldwin,’ said Pomeroy, trying to behave like his brother. ‘We shall not do anything to her here. Let us take her back with us. That way we shall all be – er – satisfied.’
The soldiers sniggered.
Baldwin glanced again at Fulk. Matthew had pulled from his wallet a canvas package, which he opened out on a flat stone.
Inside, it all looked to anyone else like bundles of withered weed, but Godric recognised them at once. It was obvious by the way Matthew turned them over that he knew exactly what he was doing. He carefully selected some dried leaves and held them to Fulk’s nose. All the while he murmured soothingly to him, encouraging him to breathe deeply. A small brown hand rested softly on Fulk’s shoulder.
Baldwin turned back to Pomeroy. ‘Pomeroy, you take a long time to learn, by the spirits. Then, with a mind like a midden, it would take a long time for things to sink in. Still, try and comprehend this. When we return I shall report to Duke William that one soldier only was too stupid to grasp or to obey his Grace’s plan. Had it not been for me, he might have ruined it. Because of you, the Saxon army could have come at us from an awkward direction, and the whole enterprise could have been put at risk – all because of one empty-headed, lust-ridden cottar’s brat who could not obey orders. What price would you give for your skin when William hears that?’
Pomeroy let his eyes stray towards Fulk. The big captain of merc
enaries had lifted his head, but was peering in different directions as if he did not recognise where he was. Matthew’s arm was round him.
‘Do not expect support from that quarter,’ said Baldwin. ‘He will not even hear you. Ask the hunchback if you do not believe me.’
Matthew flashed a black glance at him, but he said nothing.
Pomeroy grimaced in frustration.
‘You will guard those two prisoners,’ said Baldwin. ‘Watch them well, and deliver them to me, unhurt, at Hastings. One attempted escape, or one mark on either of them, and watch out for your back.’
Silent and tight-lipped, Pomeroy turned away.
‘Now, mount,’ said Baldwin. ‘We have wasted time enough here.’
As he settled on his horse, he saw Aud standing by the corner of the house.
‘Tell her they will not be hurt,’ he shouted to Sandor. ‘Tell her they will return when I have questioned them.’
Sandor translated, and heard Aud’s answer.
‘She believes you,’ he said.
Baldwin winced. ‘Thank God for that.’ He would cross the next fence in that course when he came to it.
‘What about Fulk, sir?’ said Gilbert.
‘Damn Fulk,’ said Baldwin.
He had heard camp rumours of Fulk’s illness, but had never before seen it for himself. He felt none the wiser now, and the symptoms seemed oddly unrelated and unsensational. Nevertheless, he felt a curious urge to put himself as far away from it as possible. As for leaving him deep in enemy territory, there was the dusky cripple at his elbow. They would survive; the Devil always looked after his own. If they did not, Baldwin could think of no one who would mourn. He dug his heels into his horse.
‘Come.’
‘Where is Taillefer?’ said someone.
Baldwin swore. ‘Damn that minstrel too. We are a military detachment, not a troupe of travelling tumblers.’
‘Pray to not distress yourself on my account, Sir Baldwin,’ called Taillefer, emerging from the house. ‘Only a call of nature.’
‘Inside the house?’ said Pomeroy. ‘You lying old lecher. With an idiot girl too.’
The Last Conquest Page 20