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vociferous were that multitude of men whose fathers had fought with the Conqueror in 1066 and been awarded manors in the newly acquired kingdom as their reward. Since to a man they already possessed estates in Normandy, they now must decide whether to put their wealth and strength at the disposal of Duke Robert, their Norman overlord, or King William, their English one.
    That the two sons of the Conqueror would sooner or later come to blows did not seem to be in any doubt at all.
    Romain’s musings on the perils that the brand-new reign would bring were brought to a halt; it was dawn, he had just rounded a bend in the track and a small settlement rose up out of the mists ahead of him. If he had remembered the directions correctly, it must be Aelf Fen.
    He crept into a stand of willows, made himself a comfortable nest in the dry grass and, wrapping his cloak around him, settled down to sleep.
     
    He was woken much later by the sound of laughter and excited chatter. Of all things, the village appeared to be celebrating a wedding. At first dismayed, he quickly realized that there could be no better cover for a stranger on a secret mission. Everyone would be too busy enjoying themselves to pay him much mind and if relatives from the bride’s or the groom’s family did not know who he was – which of course they wouldn’t – they would simply assume that he was connected with the other side.
    He spruced himself up, buffed up his boots and rubbed the mud from the hem of his cloak. He ran a nervous hand over his hair and then, waiting while a gaggle of laughing girls hurried past his hiding place, slipped out behind them and followed them into the village.
    Then it was just a matter of listening carefully until he heard the name of the person he had come to find. People smiled at him. A skinny girl with copper-coloured hair brought him something to eat. The cheese was tasteless and rather acid, the sweet cake bland and dry. They were poor people here, he thought. The girl insisted on talking to him and, impatient to get away from her and set about running down his quarry, he barely listened, instead beaming at her and nodding, occasionally throwing in an ‘Is that so?’ and a ‘How very interesting!’ But then she began telling him about her fellow villagers and, disguising his sudden interest behind his wide, vacant smile, he gave her his full attention. Quite soon she identified the person he had come to find and, after that, it was easy.
     
    April came and Easter was celebrated. Romain had at long last persuaded his reluctant accomplice to join him in the awesome task ahead, although he was well aware that he would have to work hard to prevent the younger man from changing his mind. But events in the wider world had already begun on their inevitable progress to the disaster he saw ahead. Now his fellow conspirator would surely have to admit that Romain’s grim predictions had been accurate.
    The rebellion broke out just after Easter. It was rumoured that the great lords who celebrated the feast with the king had put the final details to their plotting and planning while they were under his very roof. The king’s half-brother Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, was the instigator; loyal adviser to Duke Robert of Normandy, he had hurried across the Channel on William’s accession hoping to win the same influential position in England that he enjoyed with Duke Robert in Normandy. But William had already appointed his chief adviser. The ambitious and devious Odo, however, was ever power-hungry. He was once more Earl of Kent, the honour having been awarded and later withdrawn by the Conqueror and reinstated by the new king, but it seemed that was not enough. If his status in England were to improve, it was going to have to be at Duke Robert’s side, where his position was already assured. So the way ahead was clear: Odo would help Duke Robert add England to the sum of his possessions and he, as Robert’s most trusted man, would