Captives Read Online Free PDF Page A

water splattering down onto his shoulder, and thought of home.
    “Fitz?”
    Forced to open his eyes, he saw a small man, dressed in the regalia of a bishop. Odo of Bayeux.
    “My lord Odo,” Fitz rose to greet the man who had been left in charge of England whilst the King was visiting his family back in Normandy. “How goes your day?”
    Odo spat on the ground, his hair plastered to his face. “The same as it always does in this God-forsaken country. Can I come in?”
    Fitz bowed his assent, and moved so that Odo could pass him and enter the shelter of the tent, small as it was.
    “It does not feel that there is much to do, in truth,” Odo continued, lowering himself gingerly onto a stool in Fitz’s tent. “I hope I don’t get this too wet,” he added, looking up at Fitz.
    The owner of the stool shrugged. “Nothing will stay dry forever. Not in this weather.”
    Odo barked a laugh. “You wish to be in Normandy?”
    “I wish to be anywhere,” Fitz emphasised, “but here.”
    He sat back down on the chair that had been his resting place when Odo arrived, turning it first so that he could face his guest.
    “I appreciate that you have stayed.” Odo’s voice was more serious now. “I need good men here while our king is away. Strong men. Men that can be respected as well as liked.”
    Fitz looked at the King’s half-brother, and smiled to himself. Odo was determined to prove himself, everyone knew that. He should never have joined the Church, but it had to be. His father had been determined to have at least one son gain power within a cathedral, and so Odo had had no real choice. But his bishop’s robes had not prevented him from riding out in the battles that had won England for their own.
    Fitz’s eyes darkened as he remembered the day that they had landed. The foreign beaches, and the villages of people who had no idea that they were coming…
    “…don’t you think?”
    Odo’s voice brought Fitz back to where he was. Ashamed of his lack of attention, Fitz shook his head slightly, trying to regain his concentration.
    “Back in Normandy?” Odo smiled again. “We shall have to send you back, at this rate, if you cannot keep your mind attentive to the job at hand.”
    “No, my lord Odo,” Fitz said hastily. “I am perfectly content here. I am honoured to protect England with you for our king.”
    Odo’s glance took in the tired eyes and sore leg that Fitz had been attempting to hide from his men for some time.
    “It is an honour,” Fitz repeated himself, and caught the eye of Odo once more. The two men smiled at each other.
    “It is indeed,” Odo conceded.
    There was a moment of silence between them, broken only by the continuing pattering of rain.
    “I have a favour to ask of you,” Odo spoke abruptly, looking over at his companion. “I have to be honest with you, and tell you that it is not a pleasant one, and it is a task that I would rather not do myself.”
    Fitz smiled, in spite of himself. “You are not making the task seem any more enjoyable, my lord.”
    Odo’s barking laugh sounded again. “You are right of course – but I think it right that I do not give you fair warning. You may decide to delegate it to another man.”
    Fitz shrugged. “I may, I may not. What do you require of me?”
    It was Odo’s hesitation that caused Fitz’s first real concern. Odo was a man who had ridden screaming into battle with only a mace to protect him. He had managed to persuade forty Norman lords to follow William to England in the first place. If there was something to be done that he did not like, it was almost certainly dangerous, foolish, or both.
    “I need a message taken,” Odo said reluctantly. “It is quite a simple one, but could be disastrous if it fell into the hands of our enemies.”
    Odo did not say who the enemies were, but they both knew. The English: every man, woman and child within this country was against them, despite the invasion taking place almost a year ago now.