Crusade

William presides over another interment, for the sergeant-at-arms. Then, after several hours of struggle over difficult ground with driven snow increasingly obscuring the track, Owain Rheged and his band of warriors leave William and Roger at the top of a steep gorge. He beckons them towards a raging waterfall that spews its innards angrily into the valley below.

‘The Prince’s hall lies beyond the falls to the south, next to the Grue Water. There is a safe place to ford further upstream. You must show respect here; this place is sacred to us.’

William nods his assent.

Before he departs, Owain moves closer to William. He speaks gently, the ferocity of his demeanour suddenly assuaged.

‘Have you told all the stories you want to tell?’

‘Most of them, Owain Rheged.’

‘That is good. When you pray to your god, save a prayer for yourself.’

‘I always do. Are you concerned for me?’

‘You will soon be like the blacksmith without his strong arms…’ He pauses. ‘You will be blind by Midsummer’s Day.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I have seen it before. You have what the Ancients called nazul-i-ah, “the descent of the water”. In Latin it is called cataracta. It means “waterfall”.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I have seen it in the infirmaries of Constantinople. Prince Edgar believes I have never left these fells and that when he came here, he taught me English and the ways of Christendom. He doesn’t know that before my face was decorated my father sent me into the world to learn its ways. I was away for a dozen years and travelled across Europe and into the great empire of Byzantium.’

William hesitates, shocked by the Druid’s pronouncement about his eyes.

‘Is there anything that can be done about my sight?’

‘No… but keep that boy close to you. You will need him.’

‘You are a fascinating man, Owain Rheged. I would like to hear more of your story one day.’

The Druid doesn’t answer.

In an instant, he is gone — he and his warriors melting into the forest as unobtrusively as they had appeared.

3. All Hallows

William and his men travel for some distance to find the crossing point of the Pennine beck, shallow enough for their horses, before doubling back on themselves to reach the settlement where the Druid had said they would find their quarry.

William’s next Northumbrian revelation is the humble nature of the Prince’s settlement.

The main hall is not much bigger than a freeman’s two-room cottage, and the two smaller buildings are about the size of a peasant’s simple one-room dwelling. The cluster of buildings, which appears to be deserted, cannot be home to more than ten or twelve people.

They search for a few minutes, but no one can be found. The fire in the hall is just a cool ember and has not been tended for several hours. Roger seizes his chance to bid for a rapid retreat to Malmesbury.

‘So, Abbot, the bird has flown; there is no point in wasting our time here. I will feed the horses and we can begin our journey home.’

‘Not at this time, I fear. It will be dark soon.’

‘I suppose I must bow to your judgement — if we can’t start tonight, I’ll find us a place to sleep.’

William gazes into the dense wall of trees surrounding the settlement.

‘Let’s bed down in the hall. I don’t think our host is far away.’

William and Roger enter the modest hall and start to pile wood on to the ashes of the smouldering fire.

‘Roger, hand me those bellows.’

As the young monk reaches for the means to bring the fire to life, a gruff voice speaks to them from the shadows.

‘What do you want here?’

William, startled, turns sharply.

‘Show yourself, we have had enough shocks for one day.’

‘We are the ones who should be shocked. You have entered our hall uninvited.’

‘I am William of Malmesbury, and this is my cleric, Roger of Caen. We seek Edgar, Prince of this realm.’

‘There are no princes here, priest. Are you mad? Why would a royal prince be living in this godforsaken place?’

‘I am sorry; we have been told that Prince Edgar lives here. In fact, it was your neighbours, the Gul, who escorted us here.’

With that, another much gentler voice speaks.

‘Welcome to Ashgyll, William of Malmesbury. I’m afraid we will not be able to offer you the many comforts of the dormitories in your great abbey, but our settlement suffices for our simple needs.’

William and Roger turn to their right as the man they seek steps from the shadows with his steward. At the same time, the first man also steps forward; he is a large battle-scarred man, who is clearly Edgar’s sergeant-at-arms.

William bows and says, ‘My Lord, I am honoured to meet the Atheling Prince of England. You knew of our coming?’

‘Of course, my friends the Gul keep me informed. But none of that “Atheling” formality, that was a long time ago. I am now Edgar, Lord of Ashgyll, but my realm is no more than what you see around you. You must call me Edgar.’

The Prince tells his steward to take care of the horses, then gestures to William and Roger to move closer to the fire.