Sworn Sword by James Aitcheson Page A

de Grandmesnil, who had been the vicomte in Wincestre, and his brother by marriage, Hunfrid de Tilleul, the castellan at Hæstinges: some of the most prominent men in that part of England.
    ‘I didn’t realise there was so much unrest in the south,’ I said. It was only a matter of weeks since we had left Lundene with Lord Robert, and there had been little trouble then. I wondered if these risings were what Malet meant when he had spoken the previous afternoon of bands of Englishmen, of Normans being killed.
    ‘Even here in Eoferwic there is disquiet,’ Wace said. ‘You can seeit in the way the townsmen stare at you when you ride past. They resent us, and they’re no longer afraid to show it.’
    ‘Only yesterday evening a fight broke out down by the wharves,’ Eudo put in. ‘Some of the castellan’s knights were set upon by a group of Englishmen; I saw it happen from the bridge. It was a complete slaughter. They rode them down, killed half a dozen before the rest ran away.’
    For knights to be attacked so openly meant that things were even worse than I had realised. No doubt the townsmen had learnt that a thousand Frenchmen and more had been killed at Dunholm, and now thought that they had less to fear from us. But that could not account for those risings in the south, for it was still only a week since the battle – too soon for them to have heard, and for us to have heard back. News often travelled quickly, but not that quickly.
    ‘What will you do now?’ I asked them. ‘Now that Lord Robert’s dead, I mean.’
    They glanced at each other, and I sensed that they had not given it much consideration. Of course had Robert had a son through lawful union, I would not have needed ask the question, for then we would simply have returned to Commines and sworn our swords to him. But he had fathered only bastards, and though that in itself did not mean they couldn’t inherit, none of them were of an age to take control of his manors, which would now revert to King Guillaume.
    ‘Probably we’ll try to find a new lord here,’ Wace said. ‘Otherwise we’ll return to Lundene, maybe from there even go back to Normandy.’
    ‘At any rate,’ Eudo said, ‘we won’t do anything until your leg is healed and you’re well once more.’
    I wondered whether I should mention the offer the vicomte had made of taking me into his service, but decided against it. Though he had been generous with his praise, I was not sure that I wanted to remain in Northumbria, given what had happened in recent days. And I did not know if his offer would extend to my comrades as well – certainly he had not mentioned them when he had spokento me. I would be reluctant to part with them, whom I had known for so long.
    ‘You know that I’m in your debt,’ I said. ‘If it hadn’t been for you …’
    I did not finish the thought, for in truth I didn’t like to think what might have happened. Almost certainly I would not be alive to speak to them now.
    ‘We only did what we had to do,’ Eudo said. ‘We could hardly have left you there.’
    ‘Even so,’ I said, ‘I owe you my thanks.’
    Wace put a hand on my shoulder. ‘We’re at the alehouse at the top of the street the townsmen call the Kopparigat. Come and find us once your leg is healed.’
    ‘Once the priest lets you out,’ Eudo added, with a grin.
    They left after that, though I was not alone for long, as soon Ælfwold came to see me, this time with a fresh poultice to place over my calf. He was pleased, for the irons had worked even better than he had hoped: the cut had closed up completely and there was no sign of any pus. I would forever bear the scar, he told me, but that could not be helped. It would only add to those I already had from battles past: upon my arm, down my side, across my shoulder-blade, although admittedly none of those were as severe as this one.
    Later that same day I was visited by a monk. The hair around his tonsure was short and grey, his habit