All that time we remained with the royal army, ready in case the enemy broke out of Heldernesse or marched upon us. In truth neither they nor King Guillaume wished to give battle and risk ruin unless it was on their own terms, on ground that favoured them. Nevertheless, we held the advantage, for the burning of Beferlic had left much of their livestock dead and destroyed many storehouses’ worth of grain and other foodstuffs that they had pillaged from the surrounding country, depriving a large part of their army of the provisions they’d been relying on to help them spend the winter on these shores. Forced to find supplies elsewhere, our foes had little choice but to venture out from their hiding places and seek plunder inland, although by then there was precious little left, as they shortly discovered for themselves. Reinforcements had begun to reach us from the south where the rebellions had been put down, and now King Guillaume sent out ever more bands of knights, both into the north towards Dunholm and also into Lindisse on the southern shore of the Humbre, giving them rein to do whatever they wished. They ravaged the land and seized chattels and everything else they could lay their hands on, defiling the land with fire, rape and the sword and leaving in their wake nothing except blood and ashes.
All of that wasn’t enough to incite the ?theling into defending the people of Northumbria, who had lent him their support in all his endeavours and beneath whose purple and yellow banner he fought. The rumour was that he had grown impatient with Sweyn’s unwillingness to fight us in open battle, and so he together with his huscarls had gone back into the north, abandoning his allies. By then it was too late in the year and the German Sea too treacherous for the Danes to make the voyage back home, and so they were forced to remain on these shores, albeit half starving and succumbing to sickness and flux. Not that we were faring much better. After several months in the field, our own provisions were running short. Some of the barons had been away from their manors for close to half the year; there was little enthusiasm amongst them for a long-drawn campaign through the cold months to come, and gradually dissent began to grow. And so as November drew to a close our king and theirs saw fit to come to terms at last. Sweyn still held hostage the castellan Gilbert de Gand and his mistress Richildis; he promised both to hand them over and to depart without further trouble in the spring, providing that a generous ransom was paid in silver and gold, that his fleet be allowed to overwinter unmolested on the shores of the Humbre, and that they might in the meantime forage for supplies along the Northumbrian coast, all of which conditions King Guillaume readily agreed to.
Thus with a mutual giving of oaths it was settled, and finally two days before Advent Sunday we were able to take our leave. I bade farewell to both Eudo and Wace, who were due to accompany the Malets south to Suthfolc that same day, and the three of us together made an oath not to let it be long before our paths crossed again. Before we left I also found time to speak to Robert, who had been in despondent mood in the weeks since we had returned from Beferlic. His hearth-knights – oath-sworn and loyal retainers, sword-brothers and friends – had all perished in the last few months, most of them in the fight for Eoferwic during which he, his sister and father had fallen into the enemy’s hands. Now he alone was left.
‘They were good men,’ Robert said. ‘Ansculf, Urse, Tescelin, Adso and all the others. Even now I see their faces in my mind and struggle to believe that they’re gone. A better band of fighters I have never known.’
I didn’t know what to add, and so said nothing. I knew all too well what it meant to live when so many had died. Together we gazed upon the remnants of Eoferwic: upon the houses and churches and the blackened earth of the ramparts and the twin mounds, one on either side of the Use, which were all that survived of the castles.
‘How is your father faring?’ I asked, feeling that I should break the silence.
‘Not well,’ Robert replied. ‘His sickness keeps returning, and each time it seems worse than before. I worry he might not see through the winter.’
‘We can but pray that he does, lord.’
The king had stripped the elder Malet of his role as vicomte of the shire of Eoferwic as punishment for having allowed the city to fall to the enemy a second time. To me it seemed an unnecessary humiliation to inflict upon a man who was already suffering both in body and in spirit. From my dealings with him, I knew Malet as someone to whom honour and respect mattered greatly. The defeat at the hands of the enemy would already weigh heavy upon his heart without this latest insult from the king, although from what Robert was saying it sounded as though that was probably the least of his concerns.
‘They say King Guillaume has sent to Wincestre for his crown,’ Robert said, and there was a stiffness to his tone that I hadn’t heard before. ‘He plans to hold a coronation here in the city on Christmas morning.’
‘In Eoferwic?’ I asked, gesturing at the wreckage of the once-proud city. The perversity of the very idea took me aback. ‘Why?’
He looked away, so that I could not see his face, although I could well imagine his expression. ‘I have never pretended to understand the king’s mind. He wishes it, and so it will be.’
There was clearly much resentment there, and so I decided not to press the matter further. The king’s capricious nature was well known. A formidable and awe-inspiring man, he was also bullheaded, determined to have his way by whatever means necessary, and unaccustomed to having his will questioned. I myself had faced him only once in person, but that one brief meeting was enough to know that he was not a man to be crossed.
‘Once again you have my sincerest thanks,’ said Robert, turning back to face me. ‘And I promise that you and all your comrades will be well rewarded. Be safe on your travels. I hope it’s not too long before we meet again.’