Heretic. Part 17

Thomas hated Guy then, hated him more than ever, hated him even though his cousin was speaking low and reasonably, his voice filled with emotion. Tell me. Thomas said, what you want now." Your friends.h.i.+p. Guy said.

Friends.h.i.+p!"

The Count of Berat is evil. Guy said. He's a bully, a fool, a man who ignores G.o.d. If you lead your men out of the castle I will turn on him. By nightfall, Thomas, you and I will be lords of this place, and tomorrow we shall go to Berat and reveal the Grail and invite all men of G.o.d to come to us." Guy paused, watching Thomas's hard face for any reaction to the words. March north with me. he went on, Paris will be next. We shall rid ourselves of that foolish Valois King. We shall take the world, Thomas, and open it to the love of G.o.d. Think of it, Thomas! All the grace and beauty of G.o.d poured onto the world. No more sadness, no more sin, just the harmony of G.o.d in a world of peace." Thomas pretended to think about it, then frowned. I'll attack Joscelyn with you," he said, but I would want to talk with Abbot Planchard before I marched north."

With Abbot Planchard?" Guy could not hide his surprise. Why?" Because he's a good man. Thomas said, and I trust his advice." Guy nodded. Then I shall send for him. I can have him here by tomorrow.

Thomas felt such anger then that he could have attacked Guy with his bare fists, but he held the rage in check. You can have him here by tomorrow?" he asked instead.

If he'll come.

Doesn't have much choice, does he?" Thomas said, the fury in his voice now. He's dead, cousin, and you killed him. I was there, in the ossuary, hiding. I heard you!"

Guy looked astonished, then incensed, but he had nothing to say.

You lie like a child. Thomas said scornfully. You lie about one good man's death? Then you lie about everything. He turned and walked away.

Thomas!" Guy called after him.

Thomas turned back. You want the Grail, cousin? Then you fight for it. Maybe just you and me? You and your sword against me and my weapon.

Your weapon?" Guy asked.

The Grail. Thomas said curtly and, ignoring his cousin's pleas, walked back to the castle.

So what did he offer?" Sir Guillaume asked.

All the kingdoms of the earth. Thomas said.

Sir Guillaume sniffed suspiciously. I smell something holy in that answer.

Thomas smiled. The devil took Christ into the wilderness and offered him all the kingdoms of the earth if he would give up his mission."

He should have accepted. Sir Guillaume said, and saved us a pile of trouble. So we can't leave?"

Not unless we fight our way out."

The ransom money?" Sir Guillaume asked hopefully. I forgot to ask about it."

Much b.l.o.o.d.y use you are. Sir Guillaume retorted in English, then he switched back to French and sounded more cheerful. But at least we have the Grail, eh? That's something!" Do we?" Genevieve asked.

The two men turned to her. They were in the upper hall, bare of furniture now because the table and stools had been taken down to reinforce the barricade in the courtyard. All that was left was the big iron-bound chest that had the garrison's money inside and there was plenty of that after a season of raiding. Genevieve sat on the chest; she had the beautiful golden Grail with its green cup, but she also had the box that Thomas had brought from Saint Sever's monastery, and now she took the cup from its golden nest and placed it in the box. The lid would not close because the gla.s.s cup was too big. The box, whatever it might have been made for, had not been made for this Grail. Do we have the Grail?" she asked, and Thomas and Sir Guillaume stared at her as she showed how the cup would not fit in the box.

Of course it's the Grail. Sir Guillaume said dismissively. Thomas went to Genevieve and took the cup. He turned it in his hands. If my father did have the Grail. he asked, how did it end up with Cardinal Bessieres's brother?"

Who?" Sir Guillaume demanded.

Thomas stared at the green gla.s.s. He had heard that the Grail in Genoa Cathedral was made of green gla.s.s, and no one believed that was real. Was this the same grail? Or another green gla.s.s fake? The man I took it from. he said, was the brother of Cardinal Bessieres, and if he already had the Grail, then what was he doing in Castillon d'Arbizon? He would have taken it to Paris, or to Avignon.

Sweet Jesus Christ. Sir Guillaume said. You mean that isn't real?" One way to find out. Thomas said, and he held the cup high. He saw the tiny specks of gold on the gla.s.s and he thought it was a beautiful thing, an exquisite thing, an old thing, but was it the real thing? And so he raised his hand higher, held the cup for another heartbeat and then let it drop to the floorboards. Where the green gla.s.s shattered into a thousand fragments. Sweet Jesus Christ. Sir Guillaume said," sweet Jesus G.o.dd.a.m.ned b.l.o.o.d.y Christ."

It was on the morning after the fire had burned out so much of Castillon d'Arbizon that the first people died. Some died in the night, some at dawn, and the priests were busy carrying the consecrated wafers to houses where they would offer the last rites. The shrieks of bereaved families were loud enough to wake Joscelyn who snarled at his squire to go and silence the wretched noise, but the squire, who slept on straw in a corner of Joscelyn's room, was s.h.i.+vering and sweating and his face had grown evil-looking dark lumps that made Joscelyn wince. Get out!" he shouted at the squire and then, when the young man did not move, he kicked him towards the door. Out! Out! Oh, Jesus! You shat yourself!

Get out!"

Joscelyn dressed himself, pulling breeches and a leather coat over his linen s.h.i.+rt. You're not ill, are you?" he said to the girl who had shared his bed.

No, lord."

Then get me bacon and bread, and mulled wine." Mulled wine?"

You're a serving girl, aren't you? So d.a.m.n well serve me, then clean up that d.a.m.ned mess." He pointed at the squire's bed, then pulled on his boots and wondered why he had not been woken by the cannon which usually fired at c.o.c.k-crow. The loam in the gun's barrel set overnight and signor Gioberti was of the opinion that the dawn shot did the most damage, yet this morning it had still not been fired. Joscelyn strode into the parlour of the house, shouting for the gunner.

He's sick." It was Guy Vexille who answered. He was sitting in a corner of the room, sharpening a knife and evidently waiting for Joscelyn. There is a contagion."

Joscelyn strapped on his sword belt. Gioberti's sick?" Guy Vexille sheathed the knife. He's vomiting, my lord, and sweating. He has swellings in his armpits and groin." His men can fire the d.a.m.ned gun, can't they?" Most of them are sick as well."

Joscelyn stared at Vexille, trying to understand what he was hearing. The gunners are sick?"

Half the town seems to be sick," Vexille said, standing. He had washed, put on clean black clothes and oiled his long black hair so that it lay sleek along his narrow skull. I heard there was a pestilence. he said, but I didn't believe it. I was wrong, G.o.d forgive me." A pestilence?" Joscelyn was scared now.

G.o.d punishes us," Vexille said calmly, by letting the devil loose, and we could not hope for a clearer sign from heaven. We have to a.s.sault the castle today, lord, seize the Grail and thus end the plague."

Plague?" Joscelyn asked, then heard a timid knock on the door and hoped it was the serving girl bringing him food. Come in, d.a.m.n you," he shouted, but instead of the girl it was Father Medous who looked frightened and nervous.

The priest went on his knees to Joscelyn. People are dying, lord," he said.

What in G.o.d's name do you expect me to do?" Joscelyn asked. Capture the castle," Vexille said.

Joscelyn ignored him, staring at the priest. Dying?" he asked helplessly.

Father Medous nodded. There were tears on his face. It is a pestilence, lord," he said. They sweat, vomit, void their bowels, show black boils and they're dying."

Dying?" Joscelyn asked again.

Galat Lorret is dead; his wife is ill. My own housekeeper has the sickness." More tears rolled down Medous's face. It is in the air, lord, a pestilence." He stared up at Joscelyn's blank, round face, hoping that his lord could help. It is in the air," he said again, and we need doctors, my lord, and only you can command them to come from Berat."

Joscelyn pushed past the kneeling priest, ducked out into the street and saw two of his men-at-arms sitting in the tavern door with swollen faces running with sweat. They looked at him dully and he turned away, hearing the wailing and screeching of mothers watching their children sweat and die. Smoke from the previous day's fire drifted thin through the damp morning and everything seemed covered in soot. Joscelyn s.h.i.+vered, then saw Sir Henri Courtois, still healthy, coming from Saint Gallic's church and he almost ran and embraced the old man in his relief. You know what's happening?" Joscelyn asked.

There is a pestilence, my lord."

It's in the air, yes?" Joscelyn asked, s.n.a.t.c.hing at what Father Medous had told him.

I wouldn't know," Sir Henri said tiredly, but I do know that more than a score of our men are sick with it, and three are already dead. Robbie Douglas is sick. He was asking for you, my lord. He begs you to find him a physician."

Joscelyn ignored that request and sniffed the air instead. He could smell the remnants of the fires, the stench of vomit and dung and urine. They were the smells of any town, the everyday smells, yet somehow they seemed more sinister now. What do we do?" he asked helplessly.

The sick need help," Sir Henri said. They need physicians." And grave diggers, he thought, but did not say it aloud. It's in the air. Joscelyn said yet again. The stink was rank now, besieging him, threatening him, and he felt a tremor of panic. He could fight a man, fight an army even, but not this silent insidious reek. We go. he decided. Any man untouched by the disease will leave now. Now!"

Go?" Sir Henri was confused by the decision.

We go!" Joscelyn said firmly. Leave the sick behind. Order the men to get ready and saddle their horses."

But Robbie Douglas wants to see you. Sir Henri said. Joscelyn was Robbie's lord and so owed him the duty of care, but Joscelyn was in no mood to visit the sick. The sick could d.a.m.n well look after themselves and he would save as many men from the horror as he could.

They left within the hour. A stream of hors.e.m.e.n galloped out of the town, fleeing the contagion and riding for the safety of Berat's great castle. Almost all of Joscelyn's crossbowmen, aban doned by their knights and men-at-arms, followed and many of the townsfolk were also leaving to find a refuge from the pestilence. A good number of Vexille's men vanished too, as did those few gunners who were not touched by the plague. They abandoned h.e.l.l Spitter, stole sick men's horses and rode away. Of Joscelyn's healthy men only Sir Henri Courtois stayed. He was middle-aged, he had lost his fear of death, and men who had served him for many years were lying in agony. He did not know what he could do for them, but what he could, he would. Guy Vexille went to Saint Gallic's church and ordered the women who were praying to the image of the saint and to the statue of the Virgin Mary to get out. He wanted to be alone with G.o.d and, though he believed the church was a place where a corrupted faith was practised, it was still a house of prayer and so he knelt by the altar and stared at the broken body of Christ that hung above the altar. The painted blood flowed thick from the awful wounds and Guy gazed at that blood, ignoring a spider that span a web between the lance cut in the Saviour's side and the outstretched left hand. You are punis.h.i.+ng us," he said aloud," scourging us, but if we do your will then you will spare us." But what was G.o.d's will? That was the dilemma, and he rocked back and forth on his knees, yearning for the answer. Tell me," he told the man hanging on the cross, tell me what I must do."

Yet he knew already what he must do. he must seize the Grail and release its power; but he hoped that in the church's dim interior, beneath the painting of G.o.d enthroned in the clouds, a message would come. And it did, though not as he had wanted. He had hoped for a voice in the darkness, a divine command that would give him surety of success, but instead he heard feet in the nave and when he looked round he saw that his men, those that remained and were not sick, had come to pray with him. They came one by one as they heard he was at the altar, and they knelt behind him and Guy knew that such good men could not be beaten. The time had come to take the Grail.

He sent a half-dozen men through the town with orders to find every soldier, every crossbowman, every knight and man-at-arms who could still walk. They must arm themselves. he said, and we meet by the gun in one hour."

He went to his own quarters, deaf to the cries of the sick and their families. His servant had been struck by the sickness, but one of the sons of the house where Guy had his room was still fit and Guy ordered him to help with his preparations.

First he put on leather breeches and a leather jerkin. Both garments had been made tight-fitting so that Vexille had to stand still while the clumsy boy tied the laces at the back of the jerkin. Then the lad took handfuls of lard and smeared the leather so it was well greased and would let the armour move easily. Vexille wore a short mail haubergeon over the jerkin that provided extra protection for his chest, belly and groin, and that too needed greasing. Then, piece by piece, the black plate armour was buckled into place. First came the four cuisses, the rounded plates that protected the thighs, and beneath them the boy buckled the greaves that ran from knee to ankle. Vexille's knees were protected by roundels and his feet by plates of steel attached to boots that were buckled to the greaves. A short leather skirt on which were rivetted heavy square plates of steel was fastened about his waist, and when that was adjusted Vexille lifted the plate gorget into place about his neck and waited as the youth did up the two buckles behind. Then the lad grunted as he lifted the breast-and backplates over Vexille's head. The two heavy pieces were joined by short leather straps that rested on his shoulders and the plates were secured by more straps at his sides. Then came the rerebraces that protected his upper arms, and the vambraces that sheathed his forearms, the espaliers to cover his shoulders and two more roundels that armoured his elbow joints. He flexed his arms as the boy worked, making sure that the straps were not so tight that he could not wield a sword. The gauntlets were of leather that had been studded with overlapping steel plates that looked like scales; then came the sword belt with its heavy black scabbard holding the precious blade made in Cologne.

The sword was a whole ell in length, longer than a man's arm, and the blade was deceptively narrow, suggesting the sword might be fragile, but it had a strong central rib that stiffened the long steel and made it into a lethal lunging weapon. Most men carried cutting swords that blunted themselves on armour, but Vexille was a master with the thrusting blade. The art was to look for a joint in the armour and ram the steel through. The handle was sheathed with maple wood and the pommel and handguard were of steel. It bore no decoration, no gold leaf, no inscriptions on the blade, no silver inlay. It was simply a workman's tool, a killing weapon, a fit thing for this day's sacred duty.

Sir?" the boy said nervously, offering Vexille the big tournament helm with its narrow eye slits.

Not that one," Vexille said. I'll take the bascinet and the coif." He pointed to what he wanted. The big tournament helm gave very restricted vision and Vexille had learned to distrust it in battle for it prevented him seeing enemies at his flanks. It was a risk to face archers without any visor, but at least he could see them, and now he pulled the mail coif over his head so that it protected the nape of his neck and his ears, then took the bascinet from the boy. It was a simple helmet, with no rim and with no faceplate to constrict his vision. Go and look after your family," he told the boy, and then he picked up his s.h.i.+eld, its willow boards covered with boiled, hardened leather on which was painted the yale of the Vexilles carrying its Grail. He had no talisman, no charm. Few men went to battle without such a precaution, whether it was a lady's scarf or a piece of jewellery blessed by a priest, but Guy Vexille had only one talisman, and that was the Grail. And now he went to fetch it.

One of the coredors was the first to fall ill in the castle and by the night's end there were more than a score of men and women vomiting, sweating and s.h.i.+vering. Jake was one of them. The cross eyed archer dragged himself to a corner of the courtyard and propped his bow beside him and put a handful of arrows on his lap, and there he suffered. Thomas tried to persuade him to go upstairs, but Jake refused. I'll stay here. he insisted. I'll die in the open air."

You won't die. Thomas said. Heaven won't take you and the devil doesn't need any compet.i.tion." The small joke failed to raise a smile on Jake's face, which was discoloured by small red lumps that were rapidly darkening to the colour of a bruise. He had taken down his breeches because he could not contain his bowels and the most he would let Thomas do for him was to bring him a bed of straw from the ruins of the stables.

Philin's son also had the sickness. His face was showing pink spots and he was s.h.i.+vering. The disease seemed to have come from nowhere, but Thomas a.s.sumed it had been brought on the east wind that had fanned the flames in the town before the rain killed the fires. Abbot Planchard had warned him of this, of a pestilence coming from Lombardy, and here it was and Thomas was helpless. We must find a priest. Philin said.

A physician," Thomas said, though he knew of none and did not know how one could be got into the castle even if he could be found.

A priest. Philin insisted. If a child is touched by a consecrated wafer it cures him. It cures everything. Let me fetch a priest." It was then Thomas realized the gun had not fired and that no bored crossbowman had clattered a quarrel against the castle's stones, and so he let Philin go out of the ruined gateway in search of Father Medous or one of the other priests in the town. He did not expect to see the tall man again, yet Philin returned within half an hour to say that the town was as badly stricken as the castle and that Father Medous was anointing the sick and had no time to come to the enemy garrison. There was a dead woman in the street. Philin told Thomas, just lying there with her teeth clenched."

Did Father Medous give you a wafer?"

Philin showed him a thick piece of bread, then carried it up to his son who was in the upper hall with most of the sick. A woman wept that her husband could not receive the last rites and so, to console her and to give hope to the ill, Genevieve carried the golden cup around the pallets and touched it to the hands of the sick and told them it would work a miracle.

We need a G.o.dd.a.m.ned miracle. Sir Guillaume said to Thomas. What the h.e.l.l is it?" The two had gone to the castle's tower from where, unthreatened by any crossbows, they gazed down at the abandoned gun.

There was a plague in Italy," Thomas said, and it must have come here."

Jesus Christ," Sir Guillaurne said. What kind of plague?" G.o.d knows," Thomas said. A bad one." For a moment he was a.s.sailed with the fear that the pestilence was a punishment for breaking the green gla.s.s Grail, then he remembered that Planchard had warned him of the disease long before he had found the cup. He watched a man wrapped in a b.l.o.o.d.y sheet stagger into the main street and fall down. He lay still, looking as though he were already in his winding sheet.

What in G.o.d's name is happening?" Sir Guillaume asked, making the sign of the cross. Have you ever seen anything like it?"

It's G.o.d's wrath," Thomas said, punis.h.i.+ng us." For what?"

For being alive," Thomas said bitterly. He could hear wailing from the town, and he saw the people fleeing the pestilence. They had their goods in wheelbarrows or handcarts and they pushed past the gun, out of the gate, across the bridge and off to the west. Pray for snow," Sir Guillaume said. I've often noticed that snow stops sickness. Don't know why."

It doesn't snow here," Thomas said.

Genevieve joined them, still holding the golden cup. I fed the fire," she said. It seems to help."

Help?"

The sick," she said. They like the warmth. It's a huge fire." She pointed to the smoke coming from the vent in the keep's side. Thomas put an arm around her and searched her face for any signs of the reddish spots, but her pale skin was clear. They stood watching the people cross the bridge and take the westwards road and, while they watched, they saw Joscelyn lead a stream of mounted men-at-arms away to the north. The new Count of Berat did not look back, he just rode as if the devil himself was on his heels.

And perhaps he was, Thomas thought, and he looked for any sign of his cousin among the disappearing hors.e.m.e.n, but did not see him. Perhaps Guy was dying?

Is the siege over?" Sir Guillaume wondered aloud. Not if my cousin lives. Thomas said.

How many archers do you have?"

Twelve who can pull a cord. Thomas said. Men-at-arms?" Fifteen." Sir Guillaume grimaced. The only consolation was that none of the garrison was tempted to flee for they were all stranded far from any friendly troops. Some of the coredors had gone when they learned from Philin that no besiegers were watching the castle, but Thomas did not regret their loss. So what do we do?" Sir Guillaume asked.

Stay here till our sick recover. Thomas said. Or till they die. he added. Then we go. He could not leave men like Jake to suffer alone. The least he could do was stay and keep them company on their pa.s.sage to heaven or h.e.l.l.

Then he saw that pa.s.sage to the next world might come quicker than he expected, for men-at-arms were gathering at the foot of the street. They carried swords, axes and s.h.i.+elds, and their appearance meant only one thing. They want the Grail. he said.

Jesus Christ, give it to them." Sir Guillaume said fervently. Give them all the pieces."

You think that will satisfy them?"

No. Sir Guillaume admitted.

Thomas leaned over the battlements. Archers!" he shouted, then ran to pull on his mail coat and strap on his sword and gather his bow and arrow bag.

For the siege was not done.

Thirty-three knights and men-at-arms advanced up the street. The leading twelve, amongst whom was Guy Vexille, carried the pavises that should have sheltered the crossbowmen, but only six of those archers were left and Guy had ordered them to follow him, keeping a good ten paces behind, and so the vast crossbow s.h.i.+elds, each taller than a man, served to protect his men-at-arms. They moved slowly, shuffling to keep close and to stay behind the thick, heavy pavises that were being pushed along the cobbles so that no arrow could fly beneath and pin a man's ankle. Guy Vexille waited for the thudding of the arrows striking the wood, then realized that Thomas had either lost all his archers or, far more likely, was waiting for the moment when the pavises were dropped.

They climbed through a town of the dying and the dead, a town stinking of fire and ordure. There was a man lying dead in a soiled sheet; they kicked his corpse aside and walked on. The men in the second rank held their s.h.i.+elds aloft, protecting the three ranks from arrows shot from the castle's high keep, but still no missiles came. Guy wondered if everyone in the castle was dead and he imagined walking its empty halls like a knight of old, a Grail searcher come to his destiny, and he shuddered with pure ecstasy at the thought of claiming the relic; then the group of men were crossing the open s.p.a.ce in front of the castle and Guy reminded them to stay close and to keep the pavises overlapping as they struggled over the mound of rubble thrown down by h.e.l.l Spitter. Christ is our companion," he told his men, G.o.d is with us. We cannot lose.

The only sounds were the cries of women and children in the town, the sc.r.a.pe of pavises and the clanking of armoured feet. Guy Vexille moved one of the heavy s.h.i.+elds aside and glimpsed a makes.h.i.+ft barricade stretching across the courtyard, but he also saw archers bunched at the top of the steps which led into the keep and one of those men drew back his string and Guy hastily closed up the c.h.i.n.k between the s.h.i.+elds. The arrow struck the pavise and knocked it back and Guy was astonished by the arrow's force, and even more astonished when he looked up and saw a hand's breadth of needle-pointed arrow protruding through the pavise that was twice as thick as an ordinary s.h.i.+eld. More arrows struck, their sound an irregular drumbeat, and the heavy pavises shook from the impact. A man cursed, wounded in the cheek by an arrow that had pierced the timber layers, but Guy steadied his men. Stay together," he said, go slow. When we're through the gate we go to the barricade. We can pull it down. Then the front rank charges the steps. Keep hold of the pavises till we reach the archers." His own pavise jarred on a stone and he lifted the big wooden handle to hoist the s.h.i.+eld over the small obstacle and an arrow immediately slammed into the rubble, missing his foot by an inch. Stay firm. he told his men," stay firm. G.o.d is with us. The pavise rocked back, struck high by two arrows, but Guy forced it upright, took another step, climbing now for he was crossing the rubble in the shattered gateway. They moved the big s.h.i.+elds in small jerks, forcing them against the power of the arrow hits. It seemed there were no archers on the keep's ramparts for no arrows came down from the sky, just from the front where they were stopped by the big s.h.i.+elds. Stay close," Guy told his men, stay close and trust in G.o.d," and then, from where they had been hidden behind the remaining curtain wall to the right of the gate, Sir Guillaume's men-at-arms howled and charged.

Sir Guillaume had seen how the attackers were hiding behind the pavises and had reckoned those great s.h.i.+elds would blind them, and so he had thrown down one end of the barricade and taken ten men to the corner of the yard behind the curtain wall, a place where the stable dungheap lay, and now, as Guy's men appeared through the arch, Sir Guillaume attacked. It was the same tactic he had used to such effect against Joscelyn's attack, only this time the plan was to charge, kill and wound, and immediately retreat. He had told his men that idea over and over again. Break the pavise wall, he had said, then let the archers do the rest of the slaughter while they got back to the gap in the barricade, and for an instant it all seemed to work. The onslaught did surprise the attackers, who reeled back in disarray. An English man-at-arms, a wild man who loved nothing better than a fight, split a skull with an axe while Sir Guillaume thrust his sword into another man's groin, and the men holding the pavises instinctively turned towards the threat and that meant the s.h.i.+elds turned with them and opened their left sides to the archers on the top of the steps. Now!" Thomas called, and the arrows flew.

Guy had not foreseen this, but he was ready. In his rear rank was a man called Fulk, a Norman, who was loyal as a dog and fierce as an eagle. Hold them, Fulk!" Vexille shouted. Front rank with me!" An arrow had glanced off one of his rerebraces, wounding a man behind, and two of the front rank were staggering with arrows through their mail, but the rest followed Guy Vexille as he closed up the pavise wall and headed towards the gap at the end of the barricade. Sir Guillaume's men should have retreated, but they were locked in battle now, lost in the excitement and terror of close combat; they were fending blows with their s.h.i.+elds, trying to find c.h.i.n.ks in enemy armour. Guy ignored them and went past the barricade, and then, with the heavy pavise still protecting him, he advanced on the steps. Five men went with him; the rest were attacking Sir Guillaume's few men, who were now seriously outnumbered. The archers had turned on the six men coming to the steps and were wasting their arrows on the huge s.h.i.+elds, and then the six crossbowmen, unnoticed in the confusion, appeared in the gateway and shot a volley that tore into the English bowmen. Three went down instantly; another found himself holding a broken bow that had been shattered by a quarrel.

And Guy, shouting that G.o.d was with him, discarded the pavise and charged up the steps.

Back!" Thomas shouted. Back!" There were three men-at-arms waiting to defend the stairway, but first his archers had to get through the door and Guy had trapped one man, tangling his legs with the sword so he fell, then making him scream when the long blade rammed up his groin. Blood cascaded down the steps. Thomas thrust his bowstave at Guy's chest, pus.h.i.+ng him back, then Sam seized Thomas and dragged him back into the doorway. After that it was a scramble up the stairs, always twisting to the right, past the three men-at-arms who waited at the top. Hold them," Thomas said to the three. Sam! Up top! Quick!"

Thomas stayed on the stairs. Sam and the other seven archers who were left would know what to do once they reached the keep's battlements, while for Thomas the most important thing was to stop Guy's men climbing the steps up to the first hall. The attackers had to come with the stairway's central spine on their right and that would restrict their sword arms, while Thomas's men, fighting downwards, would have more s.p.a.ce to wield their weapons, except Guy's first man up was left-handed and he carried a short-handled, broad-bladed axe that he chopped into a man-at-arm's foot and brought him down in a clatter of s.h.i.+eld, sword and mail. The axe fell again, there was a brief scream, then Thomas loosed an arrow at three paces" range and the axeman was falling back, the shaft in his throat. A crossbow bolt followed, screeching along the curve of the wall, and Thomas saw Genevieve had collected four of the coredors" bows and was waiting for another target. Sir Guillaume was now in desperate trouble. He was outnumbered and cornered. He shouted at his men to lock s.h.i.+elds and to brace themselves against the yard's corner where the dungheap obstructed him. Then Guy's men came in a rush and the s.h.i.+elds went up to meet swords and axes. Sir Guillaume's men thrust the s.h.i.+elds forward to rock the enemy back and lunged their swords at bellies or chests, but one of the enemy, a big man showing the symbol of a bull on his jupon, had a mace, a great ball of iron on a stout handle that he used to beat down an Englishman's s.h.i.+eld until it was nothing but splintered pieces of willow held together by the leather cover and the s.h.i.+eld's holder had a crushed forearm. Yet still the Englishman tried to ram the broken s.h.i.+eld into his attacker's face, until another Frenchman rammed a sword into his guts and he fell to his knees. Sir Guillaume seized the mace, hauled it towards him and the enemy came fast, tripping on his victim. Sir Guillaume hit him in the face with the hilt of his sword, the crosspiece sinking into an eye, but the man fought on, blood and jelly on his cheek, and two more enemy were coming behind him, prising the short line of defenders apart. An Englishman was on his knees, being hammered on the helmet by two swords, then he bent forward and vomited and one of the Frenchmen shoved the sword blade behind his back-plate, in the gap between plate and helmet, and the Englishman screamed as his spine was flayed open. The man with the mace, one-eyed now, was trying to stand and Sir Guillaume kicked him in the face, kicked him again, and still he would not stay down so Sir Guillaume rammed his sword into the man's breast, ripping through mail, but then a Frenchman thrust a sword at Sir Guillaume's breast and the blow hurled him back onto the dungheap. They're dead men!" Fulk shouted. They're dead men!" And just then the first volley of arrows came from the keep's battlements.

The arrows slashed into the backs of Fulk's men-at-arms. Some wore plate and the arrows, coming at a steep angle, glanced off that armour, but the bodkin points drove through mail and leather and suddenly four of the attackers were dead and three were wounded, and then the archers turned their bows on the crossbowmen in the gate. Sir Guillaume, unwounded, managed to stand. His s.h.i.+eld was split and he threw it away, then the man with the bull on his jupon raised himself onto his knees and grappled with him, arms about his waist, trying to pull him down. Sir Guillaume used both hands to hammer the heavy pommel of his sword onto the man's helmet, yet he was still hauled down, falling with a crash, and he let go of his sword as the big man tried to throttle him. Sir Guillaume felt with his left hand to find the bottom of the man's breastplate, drew his dagger with his right and stabbed up into the big man's belly. He felt the knife go through leather, then puncture skin and muscle and he worked the blade, ripping at the man's guts as the coa.r.s.e, sweat-reddened, bloodied, one-eyed face snarled at him. More arrows flew, thumping with a sickening thud into Fulk's remaining men. Here!" Guy Vexille was in the doorway at the top of the steps. Fulk! Here! Leave them! Here!"

Fulk repeated the order in his roaring voice. So far as he could see only three of the defenders were alive in the corner of the courtyard, but if he stayed to finish them off then the archers on the tower would kill all his men. Fulk had an arrow in the thigh, but he felt no pain as he stumbled up the steps and into the big doorway where, at last, he was safe from the arrows. Guy now had fifteen men left. The others were dead or else still in the yard, wounded. One man, already struck by two arrows, tried to crawl to the steps and two more arrows thudded into his back, throwing him down. He twitched, and his mouth opened and closed in spasms until a last arrow broke his spine. An archer whom Guy had not noticed before, a man who had been lying on a bed of straw, struggled a few paces across the yard and used a knife to cut the throat of a wounded man-at-arms, but then a crossbow bolt flashed from the gate to strike the archer and throw him onto his victim's body. The archer vomited, jerked for a few heartbeats and then was still.

Sir Guillaume was helpless. He had two men left, not nearly enough to attack the doorway, and Sir Guillaume himself was bruised, bleeding and feeling strangely and suddenly weak. His stomach gave a heave and he retched emptily, then staggered back onto the wall. John Faircloth was lying on the dungheap, bleeding from the belly, unable to talk as he died. Sir Guillaume wanted to say something comforting to the dying Englishman, but a wave of nausea swept over him. He retched again, and his armour felt curiously heavy. All he wanted to do was lie down and rest. My face. he said to one of the two survivors, a Burgundian, look at my face," and the man obeyed and flinched when he saw the red blotches. Oh, sweet Jesus," Sir Guillaume said," sweet G.o.dd.a.m.n Jesus," and he slumped down by the wall and reached for his sword as if the familiar weapon would give him solace.