I wonder if it is time to speak with Walter Giffard. He may just be wondering what might happen if we lose, too? So many copies of so many deeds," Odo muttered to himself.

Chapter fiveteen

OFF AT LAST

The morning light entering from the small leaded windows was a pale blue reflection of the sun's rays off the sea, and scarcely adequate except to dress. William's dressing room was spacious, large enough to hold twenty people comfortably. Around the walls, oak chests and wardrobes full of clothes gave the room a lived-in appearance. The smell of leather and oils filled the rooms. On the walls hung William's armor, which included a set of three hauberks, each hosting riveted links handcrafted by the finest Norman mail makers. Four conical helmets, each with a nasal bar attached with brass rivets at the front, rested atop their makeshift poles. Straps held the heavy wrought iron protector in place, along with the woven woolen headpiece that kept the head comfortable when wearing the device. William's personal armor makers kept his entire fighting wardrobe, ready for action.

Deep in slumber, the sound of William's snoring echoed throughout the lodge, enhanced by the sparseness of the bedchamber. A spider crawled across his chest, but William noticed nothing. Dreaming of the riches to come, he awoke with a start as the door shook with the noise of Philippe loudly banging on it to attract his attention. By Philippe's side was a messenger, Gilbert-of-Exmes. Gilbert was a tall, dark haired, sinewy skeleton-like man. He was considered well versed in the ways of his master, making him perfect for the job of messenger.

"Sire, sire, awake!" called Philippe loudly, as he banged hard on William's door.

"Jesus, Philippe, do you have to make so much noise? You'll get us both fucking hung," Gilbert exclaimed, gripping Philippe's muscular arm.

"He'll be dead to the world," Philippe said, "when he snores like that, lightning up his arse wouldn't wake him. I learned that when I first was put to this duty. My brother, Alan, spent an age the other day trying to wake the master from his slumber," Philippe added with a chuckle.

William rose from his bed, his bright red hair in disarray, his beard, likewise, turned up and bedraggled. He blew his nose, and wiped his eyes of the night's sleep. He was now fully awake. Warily, he reached for a long, sharp dagger. He moved, stealthily, to the door and stood behind it. He slid back the bolt and stood close to the wall.

"Enter! " William bellowed.

Philippe opened the door slowly. Gilbert entered the room looking about for any sign of the duke. Philippe followed, wondering if he had made an error of judgment in waking his master so early.

"Sire?" Philippe asked, looking around the apparently empty room. Philippe looked confused as to William's disappearance and scratched the back of his head.

From behind the door, William stood in the silence, acutely aware that an assassination attempt could come at any time. Vslould Harold return the favor I bestowed upon him? William mused. William reached out, grabbing Gilbert by the sleeve, and pulled him to his side. William slammed the door shut, and on seeing it was Gilbert, the Castellan-of-Exmes, he relaxed. Replacing the dagger in its sheath, he motioned the man to sit.

Philippe looked for the sign that he should leave. William nodded toward him that all was well. Philippe turned about, and quietly made his exit to resume his position outside William's bedchamber.

William stood staring at the door. As the door closed, he threw his gaze at Gilbert. "I want to know what the hell is going on. What is the hour?" William asked, glandng out of the glazed leaded window towards the ship builders on the harbor slips.

"It's a little after the hour of six, sire," Gilbert said, gazing at the floor, his hands clenched before him as if in prayer. He lifted his head slowly, biting his lip nervously.

"Well?" William asked, standing impatiently, and awaiting the reason for Gilbert's intrusion.

Gilbert recalled the last time he'd felt in complete dread. He well remembered his last beating after giving him the news of the loss of his youngest child. His master's rage had left him with a broken nose and bruises that were visible for weeks.

"Come on, man," William demanded; "I won't bite you. What is it at such an hour?" He motioned to a spot beside him for Gilbert to come closer. "Come; stand beside me."

Gilbert composed himself as much as he could and stuttered out the words he knew would blow the duke into a rage.

Outside, Phillippe stood silently at attention, bemusement upon his face and feeling awkward; he could hear every word spoken and clenched his teeth.

"Sigurdsson has landed in the north of England, near York, sire. He sends an embassy with a message, and awaits your reply."

William's temper began to boil. The skin on his face reddened and began to match the color of his hair. Then, as if the world had been taken over by angels, he calmed, sat down, and spoke in a soft voice.

Gilbert stood, motionless, fully expecting behavior other than this.

"It's not unexpected, Gilbert. Give me a fair wind from the south; and we've won. I want you to give a message to my Walter Giffard. Tell him that I'm calling a meeting at once and that I want all my generals assembled here immediately. You're to tell each one that I'll rip out the gizzards of anyone arriving late. Got it? This isn't the time to mess about; we've work to do." "Yes, at once, my lord." Gilbert replied feeling more relaxed.

"Get someone in here to fix the bloody window glaze, while you're at it," William muttered. "Oh, and you did well to tell me. It would have not bowed well for you to misinform, Gilbert. As it happens, the situation favors our landing; be-gone." William waved Gilbert away, and patted his dog, as a wry smile came upon his face.

"Yes, sire. I'll have it seen to immediately," Gilbert replied. Gilbert's pallor now returned to a normal shade of pink and he relaxed a little.

William turned dismissively to gaze out of the window towards the sea.

Gilbert hastened from the room and glanced over at Philippe, who shrugged his shoulders. Both wondered why their master had not exploded in his normal manner to such bad news.

William dressed himself, thinking and plotting his next move. "I wonder; am I to fight Sigurdsson and not Godwinson, or perhaps, both?" he mumbled to himself. He called out to Philippe to have the servant-boys bring him food.

As William ate, the generals and other magnates made their way one-by-one to the lodge house, where a table and food were made ready. William greeted each man in turn, and motioned him to sit and partake of breakfast.

Horace, the monk, sat motionless, his eyes constantly on his master, waiting for the signal for the proceedings to start.

William motioned with a nod toward Horace, giving him permission to call the assembly to order.

Horace rose to his feet and took a roll of parchment from his belt.

"On hearing your name, call 'Aye'," Horace demanded smugly.

As Horace began calling the names upon the list, William looked carefully at each man.

"Guy-of-Ponthieu, Walter Giffard, Giffard-of-Montford, Eustace-of-Boulogne, Bishop Odo, Robert-of-Jumieges, Allen of Brittany..."

"You're all present. Good, then we can begin," William said as he rubbed his hands together gleefully.

Philippe looked worried, and wondered what was to happen next.

Alan shrugged his shoulders and couldn't quite decipher Philippe's expression, as he gazed into his brother's face.

Philippe nodded in the direction of the door, indicating they should leave the group alone.

"What's going on, Philippe?" Alan asked innocently.

Philippe realized Alan's naivety, being conspicuous by his question, needed an explanation. "As you know, an envoy from the Norwegian king has arrived. One of the Breton guards told me that the Norwegians have conquered England, and Hakon, the Norwegian king's messenger has come to tell the duke that he might as well stay here," Philippe remarked matter-of-factly. Philippe's worried look never left him as he continued, "Yet I think they are going to go ahead with the invasion," he whispered, leaning forward. "This is serious stuff, Alan. You and I are right in the middle of something neither of us have a hope of comprehending."

Alan held a bemused look. "You're telling me that when we go back to England, that not only are we going to fight King Harold, but we're also going to fight the Norwegians! We'll be killed, too -- shit!" Alan spat upon the floor with look of disappointment and sadness.

Philippe shook his head. "I said nothing of the kind. I just meant there was to be trouble, nothing more. Look, we're here to do whatever is asked. If that means fighting the Norwegian king's forces, then that's what we've to do. I've taught you everything I know. Now is the time that you must put that training to good use. We made this decision to come and seek work with the Normans, and to look after each other. If we're lucky, we won't have to fight. If not, then we'll just have to make out the best we can."

Alan shrugged his shoulders and took a swig of ale from a flagon that had been left for him by one of the servant boys.

Back inside the lodge, William's chosen men stood about awaiting their master's orders.

"My dear friends and companions," William said, gesturing with his outstretched arms. "You know by now, that Sigurdsson has landed in England. What has occurred, I've not yet been made privy. We've a visitor from their king, and I think that it's about time we heard the deputation from our esteemed brother, Sigurdsson." William looked behind him and called out in a loud, raucous tone to Philippe, standing guard outside.

Philippe entered the room. "Your bidding sire?" he asked, standing to attention.

"Philippe, I want you to call the envoy forth," William requested in an unusually pleasant tone that all in the room were unused to. "Let him eat his fill here, and then he might tell us the news he has of his master, Sigurdsson," William said, glancing about the room with the smirk of derision upon his face. "Let's see what they're made of, eh?"

"Yes, sire," Philippe replied, and left the room. Stepping outside, he beckoned Alan, motioning his brother to accompany him in the direction of the waiting Norwegian messenger, Hakon.

Philippe and Alan returned some short while later, with the Norwegian giant, Hakon. Walking between the tall Domfront brothers, Hakon dwarfed them with his immense stature. The brothers brought Hakon forward to meet the man whom Hakon had sought.

Philippe knocked on the door and waited for permission to enter the room. The door opened, and the trio entered the room.

Philippe and Alan stood on either side of the Norwegian, but Hakon's demeanor posed no threat to those with who the Norwegian was about to communicate.

Philippe wondered about the giant. This man is powerful, and yet has an intelligent persona and presence about him, he thought. He felt a strong empathy with the man, but couldn't understand why he should feel this way. He sensed that Hakon was fearless and energetic, despite the Norwegian's enormous size

"Now, gentlemen, we shall hear what's afoot," William said, placing his feet upon the table and folding his arms. Williams ginger eyebrows raised and his head tilted a little.

Odo looked a little bemused, until he noticed William had a wry smile upon his face. It was an expression he had not seen often from his half-brother.

Hakon, Harald Sigurdsson's personal ambassador, approached the table. He was fair- haired, as tall as Duke William, very muscular, and every bit a warrior. His Norse accent was as broad as the man wielding it, and Hakon's Norman French was indeed good. He was well versed in the art of diplomacy. At the table he bowed deeply, and passed all his weapons to Philippe, and waited to be summoned closer.

William gazed at Hakon, watching his every move, noticing each twitch and mannerism.

Hakon stood quite still, waiting to give his message. His eyes darted about the room, taking in all he could for future reference, should it be required.

"Welcome," exclaimed William. "Come and join us in our fare. Eat with us; then do please give us the words from your most revered and honored king."

Hakon seated himself at the table opposite William. They looked searchingly at each other, sizing up a potential opponent.

William knew by Hakon's demeanor that Hakon was a berserker, a soldier without fear. Hakon was a leader from the front, and willing to die for his king without a second thought.

Hakon, on the other hand, knew much more about William than the duke did of his master. He'd been well taught about William's character, traits, and mannerisms.

"Your king's message?" William enquired again, waiting patiently. The duke reached for a chicken leg, and slowly began picking off small pieces carefully chewing, noticing Hakon looking on impassively.

The sky darkened a little as a cloud passed in front of the sun, and for a moment, William feared the worst. William's almost pagan superstition momentarily unnerved him, but he shook the feeling off. William pondered for a moment. Had Hardrada taken all of England in a fight to the death, and won such a glorious victory? He would have known before this, surely, or had the Norwegian king actually lost the battle and has come looking for assistance?

Hakon was silent for a few moments, deep in thought. This man is not trustworthy. I'll give him only my news and what I have been told by my king, nothing more. I see no companionship, chivalry, or respect within these men here, he thought

William broke the thoughtful silence. "Hakon, tell me. What news have you brought of your king, Sigurdsson? I'm eager to know." The room fell silent again with definite undertones of unease.

Hakon cleared his throat and began his speech. "My king has taken the north of England and is moving soon to the south, to London. Already he has taken York, and the English fell like leaves falling from the trees. The earl of York, Earl Edwin and his pitiful force met us outside York have surrendered to us, and Earl Morcar is under siege in the city. It is only a matter of time before my lord holds the whole of England, back once more under rightful Norwegian rule."

William looked on with a feigned, uninterested demeanor about him. Damnl I thought as much, he thought. "So, why are you telling me all this, Hakon?" William asked casually.

"My master knows of your plans, and he is willing to make concessions with regards for your efforts, sire. He is a generous man, and a realist, too. He wishes there to be no conflict or bloodshed between us."

"Concessions, what concessions?" Odo asked, and then averted his eyes after receiving a heated glare from the duke, realizing that he had once more opened his mouth before thinking.

Hakon ignored Odo's question and continued, "For the sake of peace between us, my lord is willing to allow you a territory south of the Thames River. He will assist you in your invasion and the defeat of any opposing Saxon forces, as long as you agree to support us in our move to the south," Hakon said nonchalantly, almost forgetting his diplomatic manners.

What of Harold Godwinson; is he dead?" William asked, placing his elbows upon the table and resting his chin in his clasped hands. William found Hakon's information interesting, and wondered whether the Norwegians were having problems. It changes nothing. Either way, we win. Two depleted armies against a fresh force, William thought.

"Godwinson hasn't been seen," replied Hakon. "No one has heard of any plans or seen troop movements of any kind. It's as if Harold does not exist. We know that the Saxon navy was disbanded and sent home. The fields are being harvested, and life seems to go on as normal; it's most perplexing." Hakon shrugged his shoulders in a sign of bemusement. He couldn't understand the rationale any more than anyone else.

"What of Harold's brother, Tostig?" William enquired, "Am I to take it that the slimy toad is assisting your master?" William gazed around the room, his sarcastic remark inviting the smirks from the faces of those around him.

"Tostig is in York with my king. He's been a valuable asset to our invasion," Hakon replied, with confidence.

William needed to take stock. Even if he wanted to, he knew he couldn't sail. The wind had been from the north from the day they had arrived, with no sign of a let up in its direction. I guess that I'll just have to wait it out, he thought. He knew that he had to keep up the payments for his mercenary troops, or they would wander off and seek employment elsewhere, he pondered; then he returned his attention to Hakon.

"I will give you our answer in the morning, Hakon. First of all, I need to consult with my learned advisors," William spread his hands in gesture toward Hakon, "Feel free to amuse yourself. We will be happy to quarter you in comfortable surroundings."

Hakon nodded that this was agreeable, and bowed low once more, knowing even as he did so that it was only a political obeisance. He's going to fight us. I'll enjoy thrashing this avaricious bastard. He smiled the smile that only a diplomat could give; then turned to make his way to exit through the door.

Philippe and Alan were once more called to act as escort to Hakon. However, before they could leave the building to lodge Hakon, they were stopped by Walter Giffard's order to remain right outside the door, until it was determined where, exactly, Hakon would be housed for the night.

Philippe had taken a liking to Hakon. He felt that they had much in common. Hakon possessed a quality that he didn't often see in men of such stature. Philippe sensed, too, that Hakon was a thinking man. Hakon a kindly face that could be distinguished through his tough exterior, if one looked closely enough. Philippe had been told that on Hakon's arrival in Normandy that Hakon had heroically saved the life of a young boy, by pulling the lad from under the hooves of a runaway horse.

Philippe gazed up and into the face of the giant, Hakon. "I'm not sure if they want to change the lodgings for you, Hakon. Either way, we'll wait awhile, until they make up their minds. Their deliberations always seem to take forever," Philippe said slowly shaking his head. He then motioned that they should be seated on the steps of the lodge and wait.