It was no use. Unable to support me any longer, my legs gave way. They had carried me from Mathrafal across hills and moors and fields and streams, across miles and miles of open, wind-blasted country, but no further.
He was within a spear’s throw now, his cloak flapping in the wind as he laid a hand upon the sword-hilt at his waist. My heart thundered in my chest; my mind was spinning, my eyes throbbing with pain as white stars were added to the dark spots. It would not be long.
Make it swift, I prayed. Make it swift.
I bowed my head, not wishing to look upon the face of my killer, concentrating solely on keeping the tears from my eyes. A noble end was all I wanted now.
His footsteps grew louder, until he halted about five paces away. I waited for the scrape of steel being drawn; the last time I would ever hear that sound. For this was the moment.
It did not come.
‘Do it,’ I said, unable to bear this much longer. ‘Do it quickly.’ I swallowed, readying myself for the blow to come. Would it hurt? Or would it be so sudden that I wouldn’t even feel it?
‘Lord?’
That voice. I knew that voice. Weakly I managed to lift my head, enough to meet the man’s eye and see the blotched white skin on the side of his face where many years ago he had been burnt.
Like a weir bursting under the weight of the winter flow, the tears came again, streaming down my cheeks, but instead of tears of sorrow, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity they were tears of relief and of joy.
It was?dda.
He was alive and as well as I had ever known him, though the same could hardly be said for myself. Seeing how weak I was, the Englishman gave me a handful of nuts and berries that he produced from a pouch at his belt, as well as the small draught of ale that was left in his flask. And with that we left Earnford. He allowed me his horse while he walked alongside, leading the animal by the reins and making sure I didn’t fall from the saddle.
‘I came back to see if any others were left alive,’ he explained. ‘The Welshmen laid everything waste after they left. I didn’t think I’d find anyone, least of all you. How is it that you’re here, lord?’
The tale was too long and too complicated, and I was too weary to answer. Thankfully he did not press me. He took me to the others who had survived, the few of them that there were. They had taken shelter deep in the woods across the valley and over the hill, so far from any path or cart-track that at first I thought the stableman must have made a mistake and we had become lost. I should have had more faith in him, for not half an hour later we came upon them. Father Erchembald was the first I saw, his stout frame hunched over a fire upon which he and the rest were cooking a hare on a makeshift spit.
‘God be praised,’ said Father Erchembald when he saw me. ‘Is it really you?’
Next to the priest stood the miller Nothmund with his plump wife Gode, Beorn the brewer with his daughter and two young sons, as well as a handful of the field-labourers — R?dwulf,?lred, Ceawlin, D?gric and Odgar — some of them with their families and some without. Looks of surprise turned to delight as they got to their feet and rushed to greet me. For the briefest moment hope stirred within my breast as I thought Leofrun might be there too, but as they crowded me and?dda helped me down from the saddle, that hope was quickly crushed. For her face was not among them.
‘Where is she?’ I asked, glancing wildly about, craning my neck to see over their heads in case she was somewhere behind them. ‘Is Leofrun here?’
At first no one wanted to speak, nor even meet my gaze. Deep inside I knew what their answer would be, knew the reason for their silence, though I did not want to believe it. Not until someone spoke it plainly.
‘Someone tell me,’ I demanded in English so that they all could understand me. ‘Where is she? Nothmund? Odgar?’
Neither of them replied. Nor did Ceawlin or Beorn or any of the others, their eyes downcast. Eventually Father Erchembald broke the silence, his eyes heavy with sadness and sympathy.
‘I’m sorry, Tancred.’ His voice was consolatory but to my ears his words sounded hollow. ‘We all are.’
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head, not wanting to listen. ‘You’re lying. It’s not true. It can’t be-’
I broke off, not knowing what to say. My mind was reeling. This could not be happening. Had I not been here before, not so long ago? First Oswynn, and now, barely a year later, Leofrun: both taken from me, their lives cut short because of me.
‘She is with God now,’ said the priest, laying his hand upon my arm in comfort. ‘Her soul is at peace.’
Leofrun had been my one precious thing in all the world, more precious than any number of sparkling rubies or silver pennies, gleaming swords or battle-trained horses. More precious than land or rank or reputation. Gladly would I have given everything I owned if it meant she might live, if I might hold her even once more, one final time. The thought that I would never again see her face, never caress those cheeks or gaze into her grey-blue eyes or run my hands through her auburn tresses was too much to bear.
‘It was Bleddyn’s men who did this, wasn’t it?’ I asked, my fists clenching. ‘They killed her.’
Erchembald glanced at?dda, who said quite simply, ‘The Welsh razed Earnford, lord, but they did not kill Leofrun.’
I stared at him, uncomprehending. ‘How, then?’
‘It was but a couple of weeks after you and Lord Robert left,’ Erchembald said with a sigh. ‘The child came early, in the middle of the night. I rushed up to the hall where I did everything that I could for her, but she lost too much blood in her ordeal. She died not long afterwards, with your son in her arms.’
My son. I almost didn’t want to say what I was thinking, in case that single glimmer of joy was stolen from me too. But I had to know.
‘What about him?’ I asked quietly. ‘Did he survive?’
The priest shook his head. ‘He was too small, too weak. He lived just long enough for me to baptise him before his soul left this world. We buried him with his mother in the churchyard.’
‘What was he called?’
‘Leofrun chose the name. She called him Baderon.’
‘Baderon,’ I repeated, barely able to raise a whisper. ‘After my father.’
She could have chosen an English name, one that meant something to her, that would have given her contentment in her dying moments. Instead she had been thinking of me and what I would have wished for, even at the very end.
A kinder, more gentle woman I had never known. But now she joined Turold and Byrhtwald, Snocca and Cnebba, Garwulf and Hild and everyone else.
Leofrun was gone, and without her I was lost.
After that it was as if a dense fog had descended upon my mind. Blacker even than the longest, darkest night, no light or warmth could penetrate it, so that I was powerless to do anything but stumble onwards, hoping but not truly believing that eventually I might find a way out. A feeling of loneliness overcame me, more intense even than that which I’d known whilst lying amidst my own piss and shit on the cold floors in my prison at Mathrafal, and no one, not even the priest or?dda, could tear me from its grip.
I’d hoped that by leaving Leofrun behind in Earnford, rather than taking her with me on campaign, I would have prevented her from meeting the same end as Oswynn. And I had, except that a different fate had befallen her, one from which, even had I been there, I couldn’t have protected her. This time there was no one to blame, no one to swear vengeance upon, whom I could pursue to the ends of this earth until they paid for the blood they had spilt. This was God’s will, Erchembald reminded me, or, as the villagers called it in their tongue, wyrd. Destiny. He had taken her from me for a reason, even if none of us here on earth could understand what that reason might be. It was scant consolation, and I told the priest as much and worse besides. He was patient with me, however, as he always was, telling me that in the fullness of time the hurt would pass, and that when the end of days came and we passed as the Lord’s elect into the glory of the eternal kingdom, I would be reunited with her.