He was neither the tallest nor the most imposing of men, but he always had an air of confidence about him: a confidence which some would say came close to arrogance, and he could be every bit as stubborn as myself. He met my stare, but I was not about to back down.
‘Tell me, lord,’ I said. ‘Why have you come here?’
At least two hundred miles lay between Suthfolc and here, and I doubted he would have travelled so far for any small reason. He hadn’t yet told me what news he bore, which worried me, for that probably meant I was not going to like it.
For a moment he did nothing but stare back at me, but eventually he broke off.
‘Still as headstrong as ever,’ he said with a sigh of frustration or amusement: I didn’t know which. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. ‘Very well. You have to hear this anyway, and I suppose there is no better time than now.’
He motioned to the stool I had been sitting on when he entered, while he brought across another from the dais at the far end of the hall. The seriousness of his manner unnerved me a little, but I did as he bade without argument, taking my seat beside the hearth-fire.
‘You ask me why I have come,’ Robert said. ‘And I will admit that I have not been entirely frank with you thus far.’
That did not surprise me. Like many noblemen I had known, Robert rarely gave much away that he did not have to. In that respect, I thought, he was every bit his father’s son. Except that his father’s secrecy and half-truths had given rise to considerably worse consequences, for they had almost cost us the kingdom.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘I have told you about Eadgar and the rebels,’ Robert said. ‘All that I have said is true, at least so far as we can tell. The king has his spies in Northumbria, but they cannot be everywhere at once, and the news when it reaches us is often as much a week old, or more.’
‘You aren’t calling me away to fight in the north, then.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘But there are matters more pressing that you must know about. Stirrings on the other side of the dyke.’
This was what Byrhtwald had spoken of, although I’d dismissed it at the time.
‘Go on,’ I said.
‘For countless years there has been enmity between the two peoples who dwell in this island. The Welsh have always hated the English, who they say overran Britain and stole it from them after the Romans departed centuries ago.’
‘I know this-’
‘Just listen for a moment,’ he said harshly. ‘Since that time they have forever been trying to win back this kingdom, and have often sent great hosts to try to conquer the lands they believe belong to them. It is why the great dyke that lies to the west of here was built in the first place: so that the Mercian kings could keep the Welsh out.’
Some of this I hadn’t heard before, but a great deal of it I had, and in any case I was not sure what he meant by mentioning it.
‘Why is this important?’ I asked.
‘It is important so that you understand the significance of what I’m about to tell you,’ Robert said in an admonishing tone. ‘Since the invasion all this has changed. You know that the English thegns who fought alongside the usurper at H?stinges were all exiled, and their estates forfeited to King Guillaume. Well, it seems that many of those who used to hold land in these parts, rather than fleeing into the north or across the sea, went over the dyke instead. Now we learn that they are binding themselves with oaths to the Welsh kings in an effort to regain their lands. For the first time the two peoples are making common cause.’
‘Among these thegns,’ I asked, ‘is there one who goes by the name of Wild Eadric?’
‘That’s right,’ Robert replied with some surprise. ‘You have heard of him.’
‘Only recently.’
‘In that case you already understand what I have to say,’ he said. ‘We have an army gathering at Scrobbesburh ready to fight the enemy. You must leave Earnford and come with me.’
His words hung like smoke in the air. For all the times in the past year that I had longed to lead my conroi into battle, I had never thought that when the summons came it would feel like this. Earnford was my home; it was everything I had fought for so many years to gain. A hall of my own, with retainers who swore their oaths to me: since my very first battle I had dreamt of this.
‘No.’ I rose and turned towards the fire. ‘I can’t leave. Not now.’
‘This is not a matter of choice, Tancred.’
This was exactly what?dda had feared when we had spoken only a few days ago. Now those fears had come true, though he might not live to know it.
‘A man has been grievously wounded today,’ I said. ‘The enemy are afield, and you expect me to leave my manor to their mercy?’
‘Would that things were different,’ Robert replied. ‘But unfortunately they are not. This summons comes from Guillaume fitz Osbern himself.’
Fitz Osbern. The same man who had put down Wild Eadric’s rebellion three years ago. His writ carried more authority in the realm than that of anyone but the king himself. By any measure the most powerful of Guillaume’s vassals, Fitz Osbern had responsibility for governing the whole of the March. A seasoned warrior and an able commander of men, he had led the right wing of our army at H?stinges. I had met him more than once and knew he was not the sort of man whom one did well to defy. If the summons had come from him then I could not ignore it.
I was silent for a moment while I considered what to say, but no words came to mind.
‘You will come, then,’ Robert said.
He made it sound like a question, even though I knew it wasn’t. ‘To Scrobbesburh?’
‘That’s right. Even as we speak, word is going out to all the barons in the shires along the borderlands. They will muster there while Fitz Osbern decides what to do. Already he is moving north from his castle at Hereford, with an advance guard of more than one hundred knights.’
Things were certainly moving fast. The fact that Fitz Osbern was marching so soon suggested that this latest threat was no small disturbance but a serious threat.
‘When do we leave?’ I asked.
‘As soon as possible. Tomorrow at sunrise.’
Outside, the skies were growing dark; it was too late to set out that night. We would need time to provision ourselves for the road, and for battle. Food had to be packed, weapons sharpened, horses made ready and more besides.
The past year had been more or less peaceful. Now, however, it seemed as though that peace was coming to an end.
Five
Before leaving there was one last thing I needed to do. Waking early, I went while it was still dark and I went alone, leaving the warmth of my bed where Leofrun still slept, slipping out of the gates with hardly a word to the sentry on watch. With night as my shroud I rode west, splashing across the ford and past the scattered houses on the other bank, hooves pounding the narrow track that led from the village into the woods, towards the forbidding shadow that was Read Dun.
Few of the village folk dared to even approach the hill, let alone climb it. Long ago a great battle had been fought there, or so it was said: a brutal encounter between rival princes in which many hundreds of men had fallen, their corpses littering the field like leaves in autumn. So much blood was spilt that day that it ran in crimson streams, staining the earth itself, and that was what gave the hill its name. Since then no crops had ever grown there, or so it was claimed. Indeed the folk of Earnford considered it unlucky to drink from its springs or so much as set foot on its slopes.
The ground was uneven and in places had slipped away entirely, leaving severe precipices with only rocks below. After a while I had to lead my mare on foot, for the way had grown too steep to ride up, the paths uneven and strewn with loose pebbles, but as I emerged on the other side of the woods it seemed to level off again, and after that it was but a short ride along the ridge to the summit and the upright stone which stood there, like a sentinel keeping watch over the land.