‘Are they all fighting men, lord?’ repeated the bearded man.
If Fitz Osbern took offence at the prompt, he did not show it. ‘No, Berengar,’ he replied flatly, his gaze unflinching. ‘No, they are not.’
All at once the barons were up in arms; those who had been sitting on the benches at the sides were on their feet. The Wolf was shouting, demanding silence, while Robert stood with arms outstretched in a calming gesture. But Fitz Osbern simply sat there upon his throne, with the composure and patience of a king before his subjects, waiting for the uproar to die away once more.
At a guess that meant we had no more than fifteen hundred spearmen at our disposal, around half that many knights, and perhaps two hundred archers. I turned to Eudo and Wace, who were standing beside me. ‘How does he expect us to fight off the enemy with so few?’
‘Maybe he doesn’t,’ Wace suggested. ‘Maybe he’s waiting for reinforcements to arrive from Lundene.’
‘I doubt King Guillaume will be able to send him any,’ Eudo said. ‘With the Danes about to sail in the next months he’ll need every man he can muster defending the coast along the German Sea.’
That was where he and Wace would have preferred to be, too, I didn’t wonder: close to their estates that not only provided the source of their wealth but were also their homes, as Earnford was mine. Instead they could only hope to God that no harm came to them, and trust that if the Danes did come the king could repulse them swiftly, before they could wreak any significant damage.
‘How then, lord,’ said the one called Berengar, ‘do you propose we defend our manors against an enemy that some are saying have mustered a greater host than anyone since the usurper himself?’
‘Our spies have been tracking both Rhiwallon and Bleddyn in the last few weeks while they’ve travelled from place to place, mustering support amongst their people,’ Fitz Osbern said. ‘They believe the enemy have no more than fifteen hundred men ready to march.’
‘Your spies be damned!’ Berengar spat upon the rushes. ‘If you believed that then you would not have brought us here from all quarters of the March. What about those raiding-parties that are already afield, that have been harassing our lands for months? Do your spies know how many they number?’
I waited for the moment when Fitz Osbern’s fury would spill over, when he would order his knights to remove this man from the hall, but it never came.
‘No, they don’t,’ he said calmly. ‘But they know a lot more than you, Berengar, so believe me when I tell you this. And believe me, too, when I tell you that the next time you open your mouth out of turn, I will not be so forbearing. Hold your tongue from now on, unless you wish to see it cut from your mouth.’ He looked around at the rest of us. ‘Dare I ask whether any of you have more to add, or may I now speak?’
As I saw it, though, Berengar’s only mistake had been to let his temper get the better of him. His point was well made, yet Fitz Osbern had failed to answer it. He would not have gathered us here in this hall if he truly thought we faced a host of only fifteen hundred.
‘I wish to say something,’ I called out, almost without realising it. I found myself striding forward, forcing my way through to the front of the crowd. Men grumbled as I pushed them aside.
‘Tancred,’ Robert said warningly, half rising from his chair. I was not about to listen to him, or anyone.
‘Lord,’ I said, addressing Fitz Osbern directly in spite of the disquiet rippling about the hall. Suddenly I was aware of everyone’s gazes resting upon me. Blood pounded in my skull and my heartbeat sounded through my entire body, but I would not back down now. ‘Many of us here hold land along the dyke. Our manors will be the first the enemy lay waste. How are we supposed to defend the whole length of the borderland with so few men?’
A hush fell across the hall, but he did not answer, not at first. Instead he looked at me, frowning as the torchlight reflected off his balding pate. ‘I know you. Or at least, your face is familiar, which means we have no doubt met before.’ He glanced at Robert. ‘He is one of your vassals, I assume.’
‘Yes, lord,’ Robert answered. ‘This is Tancred a Dinant: the man who led the band that opened the gates to us at Eoferwic, who faced Eadgar?theling single-handedly upon the bridge and almost killed him.’
‘Tancred,’ Fitz Osbern repeated, as if mulling it over. ‘The Breton. Of course, I remember now. Your exploits are well known to me. As I recall, you used to be sworn to the Earl of Northumbria before his death last year.’
‘I was,’ I replied, though I did not see how that was important.
He paused as if in thought, leaning on one of the throne’s gleaming armrests and resting his chin on top of his fist. ‘You say that we do not have the men to defend the entire March, and I think that you are right. Nonetheless, here in Scrobbesburh we are less than three days from Hereford, and two at most from Ceastre. Wherever the enemy decide to attack, as soon as they cross the dyke we will hear of it. When that happens, we will march straightaway and come upon them in force before they even know it.’
‘In the few days it would take us to catch up with them they could have ravaged half the March, burnt our halls and butchered our livestock,’ I countered. ‘You would let them do that while we sit here on our arses?’
Fitz Osbern narrowed his eyes. ‘Do I take it that you have something better in mind?’
It was not my place to argue with him, and so far he had indulged my interruption, but I could sense he was tiring now. If I wanted to make myself heard, I would have to be quick about it.
‘Yes, lord,’ I said, meeting his gaze. ‘I say we attack them, and attack them now.’
For a moment no one spoke, either unable to believe what I had just said or else stunned by my lack of respect. Outside the doors, the rain could still be heard pounding down upon the bailey; the thatch of that great hall rustled and the wind whistled as it passed through the cracks in the timber walls, causing a cold draught that the hangings could not keep out, which made the torch-flames gutter.
‘Attack them?’ someone said at last, and as I turned to face him I saw that it was Berengar.
‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘If they’re still waiting for their full force to gather, then at the very least we should be harrying them, not waiting for them to come to us.’
‘Enough, Tancred,’ said Robert. ‘This is not the time-’
Fitz Osbern raised a hand to silence him. ‘I would hear what he has to say. What do you suggest we do?’
This last was directed at me. I had not thought this far. But I could feel the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes upon me, and a hundred sets of ears were waiting to find out what I would say next.
‘Speak!’ a man said, and I didn’t know whether he was encouraging or goading me.
Another chimed in: ‘Perhaps he’s lost his voice!’
At that there was laughter. Usually I did not much care for being mocked, but I resisted the urge to challenge those men, for it gave me the moment I needed to think.
‘I suggest a double-pronged campaign,’ I answered as the laughter began to die away, raising my voice so that everyone could hear me. ‘We separate our host into three: one part to remain here, guarding Scrobbesburh, while the other two cross into Wales, raiding north and south of where the enemy have their camp, distracting them and forcing them to do battle before they’re ready.’
That provoked a murmur. It was often said that only a fool chose to divide his forces, and indeed it was a risky strategy, for each part was then weakened and thus easier to defeat individually. But those who had seen as many battles as I had knew that often that risk could turn to advantage, since few commanders were ever so adventurous as to attempt such a strategy, and as a result the enemy rarely expected it.
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Berengar. ‘We don’t have to put up with this nonsense.’