Out of the Dawn Light by Alys Clare Page A

Norman lords.’
    ‘ We , by which I mean the people of my village, were quite worried as well,’ she murmured.
    He chose to ignore her.
    ‘We expected that Duke Robert would probably have Normandy and William Rufus would inherit the throne of England,’ he continued, ‘and, on the Conqueror’s death last September, this is what happened. However, many of our number would have preferred Robert to rule in England. We knew what he was like as a ruler, and the majority of the Norman landowners had already sworn fealty to him during his father’s lifetime. Once someone had the temerity to propose ridding ourselves of William Rufus and putting Robert on the throne of England, a great many of the Norman lords chose to follow him. So this past Easter, when Odo of Bayeux whispered the details of his plot, he discovered that he had a great deal of support.’
    ‘But not yours?’ the girl suggested.
    ‘No,’ he agreed. He had not been aware of revealing his own feelings on the matter; he resolved to be more careful. ‘No, indeed. My uncle Baudouin, however, declared for Duke Robert and Bishop Odo. I tried to counsel him against acting rashly, for I feared that if King William were to predominate in the coming struggle it would go badly for my uncle.’
    ‘And for you as his heir,’ the girl put in.
    ‘Yes, naturally,’ he said sharply. Then, forcing a smoother tone, ‘My uncle was going off to fight, however, and I did not wish to see him wounded, or worse.’
    ‘Naturally,’ she echoed faintly.
    ‘The fighting was fierce and in places quite devastating,’ he went on firmly. He was not going to allow a skinny little girl to take over the impetus of this account. ‘My uncle was wounded but fortunately it was not life-threatening, and he returned to Drakelow where he was tended by—’ No. He must not think about that. ‘Where they looked after him. But meanwhile the fighting in the south was going from bad to worse and earlier this month we received news that Odo had surrendered to the king. Then the disaster which I foresaw indeed came to pass.’ He paused for effect and then said, ‘Drakelow was taken from us in punishment for my uncle’s part in the rebellion.’
    There was a moment of utter stillness. Then the girl said, ‘So you have lost your inheritance and your home.’
    He could not detect much sympathy in her voice.
    He turned to look at her. ‘I have,’ he agreed. ‘But I plan to win it back by—’
    ‘By buying yourself back into the king’s favour via this thing you’ve brought us here to find for you,’ she finished for him.
    He was totally taken aback. ‘Well, yes, I suppose that is the case, although—’
    ‘What’s in it for me?’ she demanded. He noticed that she kept darting furious glances at Sibert, as if to say, Come on! This is your battle too!
    Sibert maintained his state of stony silence.
    And Romain, who could think of nothing to say, fell mute as well.
     
    I was shaking, although quite determined not to let him see. I edged away, so that I sat by myself a few paces off. Then I went back over all that I had just seen and heard.
    The manor must look very different now from when Sibert had last seen it, that was for sure. Poor Sibert – he had been absolutely shocked by his first sight of that horrible new building down below us. I couldn’t blame him. Where is my house? he said. His house . . . I was still trying to work that out. I knew a little of Sibert’s history, how his father Edmer fought at the Battle of Hastings and later with Hereward in the rebellion, and I understood now what that had meant: Edmer must have belonged to the rich and the powerful elite who held sway in England before the Conqueror came. He must, if I was right, have owned this manor of Drakelow, and it was him from whom it was taken when the first King William awarded it to Fulk de la Flèche.
    I sat there, thinking so hard that my head ached.
    Sibert was two or three years older than me,