‘William the Conqueror. What do you think, Leon my good friend?’

The other man in the room, sitting at ease in a velvet-clad chair whose wood echoed of the kingdom of his birth, steepled his fingers.

‘A strong epithet, my Lord. But, if I may remind you, you have yet to conquer much of this troublesome isle. It may be presumption on your part to assume that they will lie down and let you tell the world they are conquered.’

‘Tell the world? They can barely organise a rabble defence against an invading force, how are they to tell anyone anything? Leon,’ William turned from the window, striding around the room, ‘I feel you have little faith in our chances.’

‘Chance has little part to play, Lord. You are aware that the ‘rabble defence’ was, up until last week, fighting the Viking invasions of the north coast?’

‘Of course I am. That is why we chose to attack now. The fact remains, we are here building strongholds on their soil.’

‘Indeed sire. But I feel that these Saxons will not lie down and die merely because there are castles on the coast. This island has many faces, and the white cliffs are but one.’

‘Faith, Leon, faith. I shall place the strong grip of Norman rule on this land. And you, my most favoured general, shall be by my side.’

Leon shifted in his seat, looking uneasy as William strode around the room, waving his hands in gestures of sweeping conquest.

‘My Lord,’ he said, walking to the window and looking sadly out over the cold, strange land, ‘I regret that I must beg leave to return to France. I have concerns there which need my attention.’

William looked long at a tapestry on the wall, depicting the death by hounds of a traitor. Clasping his hands behind his back, he spoke.

‘Concerns? And what colour hair does this concern have, Leon?’

‘Raven black, sire,’ said Leon, hanging his head a little. William stood by him at the window, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

‘My poor, glamour’d countryman. Look! Look at his land, lying as the sheep in the slaughtermans sight. Do you not want a realm of your own? Do you not wish to leave a legacy to your children?’

‘Sire, I have no desire other than to beget those same children with she who waits for me. You are the Conqueror and conquest is a lonely pastime when no land can be home without my lady in’t.’

‘Women are fickle, women are as the breeze. Light and pleasant when there has been none, but chilling and cruel after some time. Land, land you can depend upon. What you lay claim to is your own, without chance of it changing hand without a fight. I see the pain in you, and I am sorry for it, but I think that to flee to the cause of it is counteractive.’

‘My Lord, do you have no desire for things past?’

‘No, Leon, I do not. The past is gone and a new world lies before you and I.’

‘Worldly goods are the devils machines, sire.’

‘Do you accuse me of blasphemy?’ William stood in the center of the room, anger rising in his eyes.

‘No, sire, this is not a conquest in the name of Christ. It is a conquest in your name. Your name, sire, and not mine. Allow me leave, I beg you.'

‘She has her hooks deep within you, does she not? I am sorry, but you must not leave until this island is firmly under French rule. There is too much danger for the Kingdoms best general to leave.’

‘The conquest will never be complete sire. I have backed you in your vain attempt to wrest this wretched country to your whim, but I must now speak my mind. The people who live here are proud, much like yourself. I see no goodness in this invasion, only pain, death and misery for all time. They will fight you at every turn, through every house and in every woodland. You shall know no peace here, believe me. And it is peace which I wish to find. I must go home for I am less here than I could be.’

‘Treachery most cunning! You are a coward and nothing more. Flee at the first sign of trouble in my conquest? How dare you do this me?’

‘For you I wish nothing but happiness, sire, and if that is eternal struggle then so be it. Do me the honour of wishing me the same, and allow me to depart.’

The pair were circling each other, the air heating.

‘No, I cannot do this alone, and it must be done!’

‘Why, sire, why must the world bow to you? Are you playing a pygmy Alexander?’

‘Alexander wept. I shall never find the end of my realm.’

‘True enough. You shall never see all sides of this island. Do you not think the Vikings will not take advantage of the lack of resistance, much as you did? Can you afford to protect your fledging kingdom from invasion?’

‘Why do you have so little belief in me, Leon?’

‘I believe in two things, sire. The Lord Almighty, and myself. Other men are their own concern. Both God and I agree that I should not be here. If you do not let me leave, I shall go and you shall have to kill me for a traitor.’

‘Why do you do this? Why do you run from me?’

Leon erupted in rage.

‘You? This has nothing to do with you! I do not run from you, I run to my lady! You, while being a great man and a close friend, are also a consummate megalomaniac with little or no care for what is happening in our homeland. I shall leave, on good terms or bad. I believe that in time, when God has judged both our courses, He shall find us both right and true. But William, I am not you, and I have no desire to fight for a decade to rule a pile of stones on this damp isle. I pray that we shall meet again before the sight of Peter. Farewell, my Lord.’

Leon turned away from William and swept from the room. William watched the door close in his wake, and slowly laid his hands on the windowsill. The mist cleared for a brief moment, and he saw the hamlet below bustling with life, the laughter of children and noise of angry chickens. He could rule this land fairly, and he would be a great man, with or without Leon.