Sworn Sword by James Aitcheson Page A

tall and long-limbed, with a brown cloak wrapped around drooping shoulders, and a helmet covering his head. Sunlight burst through the clouds and Wace crouched down, further out of sight, but at that moment I saw the rider’s face, and a rush of joy came over me.
    ‘It’s Eudo,’ I said to Wace, and then standing once more, waving out, I called, ‘Eudo!’
    The rider came to a halt. He searched around, and as I stumbled forward through the leaves and the branches, he saw me. There was mud in his hair, there were scratches upon his thin face, and his eyes were red-rimmed from tiredness, but it was clearly him.
    ‘Tancred?’ he asked, as if he did not quite believe it. He slid down from the saddle, laughing, threw his arms about me and embraced me like a brother. ‘You made it out alive.’
    ‘We did,’ I said, and gestured at Wace, who was not far behind me.
    ‘Wace!’ Eudo shouted.
    ‘It’s good to see you,’ Wace said, smiling.
    ‘And you,’ Eudo replied, and I thought I spotted moisture in his eyes as he stood back. ‘I never thought I would see either of you again – after what happened …’
    But he could not finish, as suddenly the tears began to brim over.
    ‘What about the others?’ I asked, glancing back up the path in search of more of our conroi. ‘Are any of the others behind you? Mauger, Ivo, Hedo?’
    He shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he answered. ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘And Lord Robert?’ said Wace. ‘What about Lord Robert?’
    Eudo simply stared at him, and then at me, open-mouthed. Dark shadows lay beneath his eyes. A cloud came across the sun; from the north the wind blew and around us I heard the trees themselves shiver.
    ‘Lord Robert …’ he said. His voice trembled, seeming suddenly distant, as if it were no longer his own. ‘Lord Robert is dead.’

Five
    I STARED AT Eudo, scarce understanding what he was saying. It could not be true. I had been with Robert in the square at Dunholm only hours before. I had spoken to him. I had clasped his hand.
    The pictures whirled through my mind. It seemed to me I was stuck in some terror of a dream, and I needed desperately to wake up, but of course I could not.
    First Oswynn, and now Lord Robert. The man I had served half my lifetime: since I had first taken up arms in my youth. I remembered that look of unspoken despair on his face as he had sent me from the square at Dunholm. And I saw again those eyes, hollow and lost, as if he had somehow known that defeat was at hand, that his own end was near.
    I would have liked to say that the words stuck in my throat, but that would have been false, for in truth no words existed for a moment like this. My mouth was dry, the air gone from my chest. I felt myself sit down upon the ground, though I did not recall having willed my body to do so. I expected tears to follow, but strangely they did not, nor could I summon them. Instead I just felt numb. It was too much to take in.
    I had sworn my life to Lord Robert’s service. By solemn oath I had pledged both my sword and my shield in his defence. Still I remembered that spring morning at Commines many years ago: clear and warm it had been, with the blossom on the apple trees in the orchard and the smell of earth on the breeze. It was on that morning that I’d made my pledge and he had accepted me as one of his household knights: taken me, as he had taken Eudo and Wacenot long before, into his conroi, his closest circle of men. And now that pledge lay in tatters; the oath that I had sworn to him was broken. I had not been there to protect him, and now he lay dead.
    Wace’s head was buried in his hands, his face red, weeping, while Eudo sat upon a rock, staring in silence down at the ground. I could not recall having ever seen either of them like this before.
    ‘What happened?’ I asked.
    ‘What does it matter?’ Wace said, and amidst his tears there was anger in his eyes.
    ‘I want to know,’ I replied.
    Eudo wiped a hand across his