The Conqueror Read online

  Upstairs Raoul ran on Edgar in the narrow passage. Both stopped short, and for a moment neither spoke. Edgar folded his arms on his chest; his eyes smouldered still; he said in a fierce low voice: ‘Thus your Duke! Thus this Norman Wolf! False knavish trickster!’

  Raoul pressed his lips together; his brows were drawn close; he said no word.

  ‘A ruse to cheat Earl Harold! And you knew! Yea, you knew, all of you, and stood by in silence while that devil’s work was done!’

  ‘Enough of that! As I do not condemn your master, who swore an oath with perjury in his heart, so keep your tongue from mine!’

  Edgar said swiftly: ‘What do you mean? Who says that Harold had perjury in mind?’

  ‘Why leaped he back from the relics in dismay?’ Raoul flung at him. ‘Oh, rest you, my lips are sealed! But who lies deepest in shame: my master who conceived this plot, or yours who swore a solemn oath, scheming as he swore how best to break it? Let us be done with this, I beg of you! Our words lead nowhither, save to bitter quarrelling.’

  He would have passed on, but Edgar stayed him. ‘Do you uphold Duke William? You?’

  ‘Till death!’ Raoul said violently. ‘Now let me go!’

  Some of Edgar’s wrath seemed to die in him. ‘You do not. Nay, I can read you, my friend. Eh Raoul, what an end to all our hope, what an end to friendship, when we are torn apart by such dealing!’ He put out his hand to lay it on Raoul’s arm, but let it fall again. ‘A drawn sword lies between us. I am glad we fought together in Brittany.’ He stared at the ground, but raising his head again in a little while, said: ‘Bound, both of us, yet when I think of all that is held by the past – friendship and what small happiness I have known – I can hear some voice in my heart that cries, heedless of fealty: “Would to God I had no lord!”’

  ‘Ah Christ, and in my heart also!’ Raoul said. His smile went awry. He held out his hand. ‘Across the sword …’ he said.

  Edgar clasped it, and did not at once let go. He seemed to find it hard to speak. He said at last: ‘You would have come with us to England. Do not, Raoul. I thought to light you to your marriage-bed, but what has passed this day ends that dream with all else that we two held dear.’

  ‘I know it,’ Raoul said. ‘But let me still cherish hope! Edgar –’ He broke off, and pressed Edgar’s hand. ‘I cannot say it. I shall see her again. When do you set sail? As soon as may be?’ He gave an uncertain laugh. ‘God’s pity, it will be strange in Rouen with you gone!’

  They left Bayeux the next morning. The Earl rode beside William as he had done each day for many weeks. Neither spoke of the oath, but when they came to Rouen and lay again in the palace the question of the Earl’s betrothal was broached. He was solemnly affianced to the Lady Adela. She did not stand as high as his elbow, and was torn between pride in her future lord and exceeding great awe of him. He had an easy way with children, and lifted her in his arms and set a kiss upon her cheek. The memory of his smile was to remain with her all her short life.

  There was no more to do but to take leave of the Norman Court. The day after his betrothal Earl Harold rode away to the coast, and amongst his escort was Raoul de Harcourt, ranging close beside Elfrida’s litter.

  Their farewells had been said. She had lain sobbing in his arms like a tired child, while he stroked her hair and whispered to her of courage and hope. ‘I shall come to claim you,’ he said. ‘As God lives and reigns, I shall come to you.’ He held her closer still. ‘Wait for me: trust me! It will not be long. And whatever guise I come – remember that I love you, yea, and would give my life to spare you pain! Remember that always, O my little love!’

  She promised, wonderingly, searching his face for his meaning.

  He said: ‘I can tell you no more. Only remember! and though the future hold grief and bitter anguish, think this: as Edgar is bound, so too am I, by ties I cannot break.’

  ‘I am afraid! I am afraid!’ she said. ‘What grief but this parting? What anguish? Raoul, Raoul!’

  ‘Please God, none!’ he said. ‘But know this, my heart: if it should chance that I may reach to you only by the sword’s path, then, by Death, I will take that path!’

  Part V

  (1066)

  THE CROWN

  ‘There is no road for retreat.’

  Speech of William the Conqueror

  One

  It was not long after Harold’s return that another visitor came to Normandy from England. This one was Tostig, Earl of Northumbria, who arrived with his wife and children in a mood of sullen anger, and presented himself at Duke William’s Court with an involved tale of treachery, hatred, and unbrotherly dealing on his lips. It was impossible to unravel his story, but one fact emerged clearly: Earl Tostig had culminated his reign in Northumbria by behaviour of such violence that his subjects rose against him as one man, and declared for Morkere, the son of Alfgar. They were supported by Earl Harold. It was at this point that the tale grew incoherent.

  Duke William, looking his guest over with a sardonic eye, wasted no more time upon it. Judith, closeted with her sister, was somewhat more explicit.

  Judith had grown stout, and white streaked the brown of her hair. She had acquired a comfortable habit of placidity, and spent the greater part of her day in eating sugar-plums. Her lord’s vagaries left her as unmoved as everything else in her world. She observed Matilda lazily, and remarked: ‘Eh my dear, I see you are slender still! Well-a-day, and is it seven or eight children you have borne your lord?’

  ‘Eight, and three of them sons,’ said Matilda proudly.

  ‘They are all very like him,’ Judith said. ‘How many years is it since the Fighting Duke stalked into our bower at Lille, and flogged you?’

  Matilda was unperturbed by this old memory. ‘As many years since I put you into Earl Tostig’s bed.’

  Judith ate another sugar-plum, and carefully licked her fingers. ‘Well, that is like to have been an ill night’s work. He was then a fool, and is now a wolf’s head.’ She yawned. ‘This is no way to combat Harold, to get himself outlawed. That sleek cat Eadgytha was to blame.’

  ‘The Queen?’ Matilda paused in her stitchery to look up.

  ‘She and Tostig hatched the plot to slay Gospatrick last year. The King had nothing to say to it then, but your lord let Harold go and I warrant you he had the matter at his finger-end soon enough. It was farewell to Tostig within a month of Harold’s return.’ She seemed to meditate within herself. ‘Tostig plans largely. They have great desires, all the sons of Godwine. But I doubt my spouse is not the man to carry these to a successful issue. More I do not say.’

  The Duchess thought of her own very different lord, and smiled secretly. Judith lay back at her ease, watching her out of her sleepy eyes. ‘Yea, coney,’ she said. ‘You think that you chose more wisely at last than I. I do not gainsay it. A proper man is Duke William. I remember he would have nothing to say to me when he came a-wooing you.’

  Earl Tostig remained at the Court some weeks, airing his grievances, but departed to spend Christmas in Flanders. The sisters embraced lovingly enough, but the old intimacy was lacking. Each nursed secrets; neither was sorry to see the last of the other.

  Christmas passed quietly. Raoul rode south to see his father, and remembered how Edgar had gone with him on so many other visits to Harcourt. He urged his horse to a brisker pace, trying to cast off the memory, but beside him rode some phantom of Edgar, and he thought that he could hear an echo of the old song of Brunanburgh which Edgar used to sing. At Harcourt Hubert inquired for him, and seemed surprised to hear that he had gone home to England. Hubert’s memory was failing, but he did not like to be reminded of this. He said: ‘Had he not a sister?’ He was pleased to think he could remember that, and with an effort sought in his mind for her name. ‘Elfrida!’ he pronounced at last, triumphantly.

  Her