The Last Conquest by Charles Robert

Author:Charles, Robert [Charles, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-12-27T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Four

Time wore on, and each minute drew us closer to our blood-drenched destiny. My meeting with the king had left me unsure and dejected. He seemed confused and impressionable and I now feared he would go wherever the strongest wind blew him. This was not to be totally unexpected, because he was young and had only been voted king a few weeks ago, but I was not sure that he felt the desire to be king strongly in his heart, the way a sovereign must feel it if he is to rule with authority. He had been brought to England a young man from the hinterlands of Christendom and now found himself at the centre of one of the biggest invasions in history.

A light drizzle was falling just before dusk and my mood was black, and when I was crossing the cloister on the way back to my rooms things only got worse, for it was then, as winter’s night shrouded the city and the royal servants lit the palace torches, that I heard Oswine call my name. He had been watching me from the shadows of the colonnade as I left my meeting with the king, and stepped out into the half-light to bid me over to him. It was dark and I was tired and my mind was occupied with my recent meeting with the king. I was also suspicious of Oswine and his motives after what Waltheof had told me about him earlier in almost the exact same place I was now standing in. Why was Oswine creeping about in the gloom like this? Had be been following me? In my youthful arrogance and naivety I was frightened of no man so I strode over to him with my hand resting casually on the handle of my sword.

“It is not a very pleasant evening for a walk,” he said, looking over my shoulder at the abbey, and then back to me again. “Or have you been to the abbey?”

“What do you want Oswine? The hour is late and I am hungry for meat and then my bed.” I saw he was armed with his sword and an air of malevolence hung about him like stink around a pig.

“I thought we should talk, Eldric. Perhaps you would join me for a game of tæfl?”

I did not play cyningtæfl well, but agreed to join him and we walked to his rooms on the north wall of the cloister. His rooms were well-appointed with pleasant wall-hangings and a small tapestry, and he poured us both wine and stoked up the fire before we sat at the tæfl board. It was a large piece of oak with an intricately carved border, and set upon it were squares of polished beech and walnut. The pieces were carved from walnut ivory and deer antler and Oswine had set the whole thing up on a linen-covered table by the window. I saw he usually kept his tæfl pieces in a small silk-lined box of

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