Mercenaries by Jack Ludlow

that which he wished to replace, the earthen mound atop which was a wooden tower and palisade. From there you could see more of the land; it was designed not for that but for the observation of approaching danger and defence from troublesome neighbours and others, like the piratical raiders of the offshore islands, ever bent on mischief.
    Not wishing to go indoors, he plodded through themud and climbed the slippery wooden treads to the heavy tower gate and, entering the circular edifice, went still further to stand on the stoop that overlooked the spiked tree trunks of the palisade. He had been standing there a while, he knew not how long, when the deep voice surprised him.
    ‘I brought you your cloak.’
    Engrossed, he had not heard Tancred approach, and realising how cold he had become he gratefully accepted the heavy deer hide garment he had brought.
    ‘The prospect of the journey troubles you?’
    ‘Leaving this place troubles me. I have known little else.’
    ‘You know I pray you will return.’
    For a man not given to emotion, unless drunk, that was as close as Tancred was ever going to get to saying how much he loved his eldest son. And William knew what hopes he had harboured: of a day when a de Hauteville, he most of all, would be the man chosen to ride at the right hand of a Duke of Normandy, the man their liege lord trusted to command his familia knights.
    ‘Duke Robert must be well on his way to Jerusalem,’ William said.
    ‘I fear he has much for which to ask forgiveness,’ Tancred replied.
    That had, in discussion, led to the conclusion that the rumoured murder of his brother must have some truth in it. Robert, a man not known for excessivepiety, going all the way to Jerusalem, hinted at such a grave sin.
    ‘Can God forgive a transgression of that magnitude?’
    ‘Your cousin of Montbray would tell you He can.’
    ‘And you, Father?’
    ‘All I know is this. It would break my heart and my beliefs if it happened with any of my sons.’
    ‘And when Duke Robert returns?’
    ‘Pray God he marries and breeds an heir, for if that boy William succeeds him, even if he is grown to manhood, it will not go without challenge.’
    ‘From us.’
    ‘No. I could no more take up arms against the wishes of my liege lord than do so against my own sons. I respected his father too much and I gave my word when in his service to be loyal to them always. But others will.’
    ‘You will be asked, as I would if I were here. Our connection to the ruling house is too well known.’
    Below, they could see the family servants leading out the already laden packhorses, which gave Tancred a good excuse not to answer. He pulled from inside his jerkin a small folded piece of cloth and pressed it on his son. There was no need to explain what it was – the blue and white colours identified it as the de Hauteville lance pennant.
    ‘I hope and pray one day you will go into battleunder this, our family standard. Now, let us go down. The time has come for you to be on your way.’
    It took a seeming age to get everything ready, to check the horses, even if servants had already done so, to ensure that nothing had been left to chance or worse, left behind, for they must, if they did get to Italy, be equipped with everything they needed. Naturally the whole family was on the stone-flagged pathway that bordered the front of the manor house to say farewell, and each embraced the pair, saying words that were whispered hopes. Tancred was naturally last, but he did not embrace his sons, instead he called forward Geoffrey de Montbray, before commanding them to take out their swords and kneel. They knew, without being told, how to use the hilts of those weapons.
    ‘Swear before this priest, your cousin, on the Holy Cross, that never will you raise a weapon, nor bring harm in any other way, against your own blood.’ Both, heads bowed, murmured the response, before kissing the joint between hilt and pommel. ‘Now stand, and take my hand like