can?’ Geoff chuckled mirthlessly. ‘It’s easier to be said than to be done. A woman can at least be bought easily enough,’ he added. ‘There are
enough camp followers who would make you a good wife for as long as you want.’
Berenger looked at him, hearing a sharp edge to his voice. Geoff had always spoken with pride of his wife and two sons. Suggesting Berenger might find a ‘good wife’ from among the
camp followers was unsettling. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. I’m just tired.’
‘It’s been a long day,’ Berenger agreed.
‘Don’t worry about the boy. I’ll look after him,’ Geoff said gruffly.
Berenger nodded. With Geoff taking responsibility, he felt reassured.
‘Perhaps Ed is here for some reason we cannot guess at,’ Geoff yawned. ‘God has His plans, and we rarely comprehend them.’
Berenger gave a twisted grin. The smell of thousands of men, along with the latrines, let alone the French corpses piled a short distance away, all made him wonder what plans God might hold for
them. Later, when he was preparing for sleep, his head on his bag, he glanced across at Geoff. The fellow was staring up at the black sky still.
‘Bugger it,’ Berenger heard him mutter, just before he fell into a deep sleep.
They were a rag-bag of soldiers. Even in her shocked state, Béatrice thought how battered they looked, when they passed by her cottage later that night.
Their leader was a tall, well-mannered nobleman with a face marked by pain and fatigue. Grey bruises under his eyes and deep lines at either side of his mouth and at his brow told of the savage
beating they had received at the hands of the English invaders.
‘Maid, you must leave here,’ he said, halting his horse at her gate while his men shuffled past. His head dropped from exhaustion as he surveyed her sadly. ‘It is dangerous.
The English are come. No man, woman or child is safe. You know what monsters they are.’
She looked up at him dull. The priest’s attempted rape of her, and his death, had affected her deeply. She felt washed out, weary almost to death. This nobleman could have no idea of
monsters: her father had been slain by the King! But she nodded nonetheless. She would not show her true feelings.
‘They landed very near,’ the man went on. ‘We did all we could, but they slaughtered my men and we few escaped with these injuries. They’re only a matter of hours away. I
tell you again: you have to leave this place before they get here.’
‘I cannot. My mistress has died and I must see to her.’
‘Let the priest deal with her, if he will come,’ the knight said.
She nodded, feeling as if the priest’s body was screaming to him from the bushes at the back of the house.
Not that he or his men could hear anything other than the clamour of arms. It was in their faces: they were mired in horror. They marched slowly, mere tattered remnants. A few rode horses or
ponies, but most were on foot, limping and staggering, some helping comrades with arms about their necks as they hobbled along, others using polearms as makeshift staffs.
‘Sir, what happened?’
‘We arrived too late,’ he said. ‘I should have been there sooner, but one man cannot guard a coast so vast as Normandy’s. When we arrived, there were already enough
ashore to thwart us. Our bowmen from Genoa had already deserted us, claiming they were owed money, so we had no protection – nothing. We did all we could, but this is all that is left of the
force I had to defend us all. I must make haste to reach St-Lô or Caen and warn them. The English rats will infest every part of our county until they can be burned out.’
‘I must remain to bury my mistress,’ Béatrice said, glancing back at the cottage.
‘We can carry her to the church, if it will help you,’ the knight said.
‘I must collect my things. Some money . . .’
‘Then be quick!’ he snapped, keen to be off. ‘We can help you to the church, but after that you must
Learning to Kill: Stories