Magnus sighed impatiently. ‘Yes, but it was yellow once. It is the sign of a true Saxon.’
He glanced behind and increased his pace when he saw one of the sailors had gained ground. Then he ducked down a smaller path, muttering something about a shortcut. Bale blundered after him, too winded to care what he was doing, and Ulfrith followed Bale. Juhel slogged along behind them, short legs pumping furiously. Geoffrey waited for Roger.
‘Magnus seems very eager to avoid meeting Fingar,’ he said. ‘Should we be suspicious?’
Roger shrugged, one hand to his side to ease a stitch. ‘God knows. But I do not want to be out here when the storm comes. He seems to know this area, so I am willing to stay with him for now.’
‘I am not sure it is wise to keep company with a man who claims to be England’s rightful heir. Henry has spies everywhere, and it will not be long before Magnus’s presence is discovered. Anyone who has consorted with him may be considered a traitor.’
‘Even Henry cannot blame us for taking the same road away from a shipwreck,’ said Roger. He shot a furtive glance behind. ‘I do not like those pirates being behind us. They may blame us for their ship sinking, and I am not in the mood for a brawl.’
‘Why would they think that? And why are you not in the mood for a brawl? Are you ill?’
‘I do not want my good looks marred by cuts and bruises,’ retorted Roger curtly. ‘It does not go down well with the ladies.’
‘What ladies? We left Philippa and Edith behind.’
‘Philippa,’ growled Roger in distaste, changing the subject. ‘Is she the reason Ulfrith hit you? Because you accused her of murder?’
‘You know?’ Geoffrey was astonished. Roger was not normally astute.
‘I can tell by his sheepish manner. He has gone for me in the past, too, although I did not come off as badly as you seem to have done.’
‘And I thought I was the one with the dangerous squire!’
Roger grinned. ‘I do not mind him displaying the odd flare of temper. Indeed, I encourage it, because otherwise he is too gentle for his own good. But he should not have tried it on you.’
‘No, and he only got away with it because of my promise to Joan.’
Roger began running to catch up with the others. Before he followed, Geoffrey glanced back to see the seamen streaming along in their wake. Then he saw Fingar point directly at him. Several whoops sounded as the crew put on a spurt of speed.
Magnus’s shortcut led in an almost straight line across the marshes, but it was sodden from recent storms. In places it had sunk below the surrounding land and was virtually indistinguishable from the matted, boggy vegetation that lay in all directions. Progress was agonizingly slow, and the only consolation was that it was slow for their pursuers, too.
‘This is near where the Conqueror’s first troops landed,’ Ulfrith announced brightly. He either did not see or did not understand Magnus’s malevolent glare — he was trying to inveigle his way back into the knights’ good graces and was oblivious to the reactions of everyone except them.
‘Is it?’ asked Roger keenly. ‘I would like to see the place where the battle was fought.’
‘You will,’ said Ulfrith, transparently obsequious. ‘Because the abbey we are heading for is La Batailge — Battle Abbey. The Conqueror built it on the exact spot to atone for all the slaughter.’
‘I hope the buildings have not obscured the site, then,’ said Roger disapprovingly. ‘Or we shall never understand and appreciate the Conqueror’s tactics.’
Ulfrith shrugged. ‘Apparently, he thought founding an abbey would save him doing penance for starting a war — he was not thinking about preserving the field in its original condition.’
‘I do not need to do penance for starting fights or for my sins,’ declared Roger grandly. ‘I am a Jerosolimitanus, which means all that sort of thing is taken care of.’
‘All the abbeys in the world will not atone for what happened that day,’ said Magnus in a cold voice. ‘Saxon blood still screams out for vengeance. And I shall see it done.’
‘How?’ asked Roger curiously. ‘By raising an army? By shooting Henry when he is off guard? By urging Belleme or the Duke of Normandy to invade and help you?’
‘I have not decided yet,’ said Magnus.
Roger laughed, then began a lively debate with Ulfrith about the best way to topple a king. Bale and Juhel were lagging behind, gasping like old nags, although Bale was not so breathless that he could not speak: he was regaling Juhel with a bloody account of the battle that he had heard from Geoffrey’s father. Godric Mappestone had often entertained his villagers with tales of his military prowess, and Bale had been one of the few who had actually listened.
‘I thought King Harold’s sons were named Harold and Ulf,’ Geoffrey said to Magnus, noting that the sailors, unused to travelling long distances on foot, were falling behind.
At his side, the dog growled, so he slipped his belt around its neck. He knew from the wild look in its eyes that it did not like Magnus, and it would only be a matter of time before blood was spilled. As the dog was cowardly and never attacked unless it was sure of success, the spillage was unlikely to be canine.
‘They were the offspring of his union with Queen Ealdgyth,’ explained Magnus. ‘Twins, born after he died. But my mother was his handfast wife, Edith Swannehals.’
‘You are illegitimate?’ asked Geoffrey, realizing as he spoke that it was not a question to pose to such a proud man. He was right. Magnus stopped abruptly to glare at him.
‘You impertinent dog! Still, I expect no better from Norman scum. They are incapable of decency, and having been on the Crusade makes you even more of a villain.’
Geoffrey blinked, unused to men insulting him quite so brazenly. Most took one look at his surcoat and weapons and opted for politeness. He could only suppose that Magnus was more of a lunatic than he had imagined.
‘I met a man in Flanders who went on the Crusade,’ Magnus went on icily. ‘He was a brute before he went, but he returned a monster. He told me the venture took three years because the Normans fought among themselves, rather than uniting against the infidel.’
‘Different factions did bicker,’ acknowledged Geoffrey. ‘But it was not confined to Normans.’
‘But Normans were the worst — they always are. However, I was talking about my mother, Edith Swannehals — “Swan Neck” to you. She bore Harold five children, and I am the eldest surviving son.’
‘I see,’ said Geoffrey, even more convinced the man was insane. ‘But reclaiming your throne from Henry will not be easy. I can tell you from personal experience that he is very attached to it.’
‘You know him?’ asked Magnus in astonishment. He looked the knight up and down. ‘You do not seem the kind of man with whom a king would consort.’
‘I have met him several times,’ said Geoffrey, amazed by the steady flow of insults. He considered challenging him, but there would be small satisfaction in besting a scrawny wretch.
‘You have sworn loyalty to him?’ asked Magnus keenly.
‘I hold my manor at Goodrich from him,’ Geoffrey replied, wondering where the discussion was going. ‘So of course he has my loyalty.’
‘But you do not like him,’ stated Magnus. ‘He does not have your respect. You are unwilling to serve such a serpent, and that is why you were fleeing England in an unseaworthy vessel.’
‘My liege lord is Tancred, Prince of Galilee,’ said Geoffrey, seeing Magnus was more astute than he had appreciated. ‘He-’
‘He is not,’ interrupted Roger, overhearing. ‘Tancred dismissed him, because he spent too long here, helping King Henry. But Geoffrey wants to hear it from Tancred’s own lips. Of course, it is a journey God does not want him to make.’
‘I do not believe Tancred would release me without explanation,’ said Geoffrey doggedly.
‘He did explain,’ said Roger wearily. ‘He said you are insolent and disloyal, and that he will have you executed if he ever sees you again. Still, I do not blame you for hoping there was a mistake. Tancred is ten times finer than Henry.’