Heretic. Part 8

A thousand and a thousand men would/ the Cardinal agreed mildly, but once they possessed the Grail they would take it to their King and that fool would lose it to the English. Vexille, so far as he is any man's, is mine, but I know what he will do when he has the Grail. He will steal it. So you will kill him before he has a chance."

He'll be a hard man to kill/ Charles worried.

Which is why I am sending you, Charles. You and your cut throat soldiers. Don't fail me/ That night Charles made a new receptacle for the fake Grail. It was a leather tube, of the sort crossbowmen used to carry their quarrels, and he packed the precious cup inside, padded the gla.s.s and gold with linen and sawdust, then sealed the tube's lid with wax.

And the next day Gaspard received his freedom. A knife slit his belly, then ripped upwards, so that he died slowly in a pool of blood. Yvette screamed so loudly that she was left voiceless, just gasping for breath, and showed no resistance as Charles cut the dress from her body. Ten minutes later, as a mark of grat.i.tude for what he had just experienced, Charles Bessieres killed her quickly. Then the tower was locked.

And Charles Bessieres, the crossbowman's quiver safe at his side, led his hard men south.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen." Thomas said the words half aloud and crossed himself. Somehow the prayer did not seem sufficient and so he drew his sword, propped it up so the handle looked like a cross and dropped to one knee. He repeated the words in Latin. In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti, amen." G.o.d spare me, he thought, and he tried to remember when he had last made confession.

Sir Guillaume was amused by his piety. I thought you said there were few of them?"

There are," Thomas said, standing and sheathing his sword. But it doesn't hurt to pray before a fight."

Sir Guillaume made a very sketchy sign of the cross, then spat. If there's only a few," he said, we'll murder the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds." If, indeed, the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds were still coming. Thomas wondered if the hors.e.m.e.n had turned back towards Astarac. Who they were he did not know, and whether they were enemies he could not tell. They had certainly not been approaching from Berat for that lay northwards and the riders were coming from the east, but he was certain of one rea.s.suring fact. He outnumbered them. He and Sir Guillaume commanded twenty archers and forty-two men-at arms and Thomas had estimated the approaching hors.e.m.e.n at less than half those numbers. Many of Thomas's new men-at-arms were routiers who had joined Castillon d'Arbizon's garrison for the opportunity of plunder and they were pleased at the thought of a skirmish that could provide captured horses, weapons and armour, and even, perhaps, the prospect of prisoners to ransom. You're sure they weren't coredors?" Sir Guillaume asked him. They weren't coredors," Thomas said confidently. The men on the ridge top had been too well armed, too well armoured and too well mounted to be bandits. They were flying a banner/ he added, but I couldn't see it. It was hanging straight down." Routiers, perhaps?" Sir Guillaume suggested.

Thomas shook his head. He could not think why any band of routiers would be in this desolate place or why they would fly a banner. The men he had seen had looked like soldiers on a patrol and, before he had turned tail and galloped back to the village, he had clearly marked the lances bundled on packhorses. Routiers would not just have lances on their sumpter horses, but bundles of clothing and belongings. I think/ he suggested, that Berat sent men to Astarac after we were there. Maybe they thought we'd go back for a second bite?"

So they're enemies?"

Do we have any friends in these parts?" Thomas asked. Sir Guillaume grinned. You think twenty?"

Maybe a few more/ Thomas said, but no more than thirty." Perhaps you didn't see them all?"

We'll find out, won't we?" Thomas asked. If they come." Crossbows?"

Didn't see any."

Then let's hope they are coming here/ Sir Guillaume said wolfishly. He was as eager as any man to make money. He needed cash, and a lot of it, to bribe and fight and so regain his fief in Normandy. Maybe it's your cousin?" he suggested. Sweet Jesus/ Thomas said, I hadn't thought of that/ and he instinctively reached back and touched his yew bow because any mention of his cousin suggested evil. Then he felt a pulse of excite ment at the thought that it might truly be Guy Vexille who rode unsuspecting towards the fight.

If it is Vexille/ Sir Guillaume said, fingering the awful scar on his face, then he's mine to kill."

I want him alive/ Thomas said. Alive."

Best tell Robbie that/ Sir Guillaume said, because he's sworn to kill him too/ Robbie wanted that revenge for his brother. Maybe it isn't him/ Thomas said, but he wanted it to be his cousin, and he especially wanted it now for the coming fight promised to be a straightforward trouncing. The hors.e.m.e.n could only approach the village by the ford unless they elected to ride up or downstream to discover another crossing place, and a villager, threatened with a sword held to his baby daughter's eyes, said there was no other bridge or ford within five miles. So the hors.e.m.e.n had to come straight from the ford to the village street and, in the pastures between the two, they must die. Fifteen men-at-arms would protect the village street. For the moment those men were hidden in the yard of a substantial cottage, but when the enemy came from the ford they would emerge to bar the road, and Sir Guillaume had commandeered a farm cart that would be pushed across the street to make a barrier against the hors.e.m.e.n. In truth Thomas did not expect that the fifteen men would need to fight, for behind the orchard hedges on either side of the road he had deployed his archers. It was the bowmen who would do the initial killing and they had the luxury of readying their arrows, which they thrust point down in the roots of the hedges. Nearest them were the broad-heads, arrows that had a wedge-shaped blade at their tip, and each blade had deep tangs so that once it was imbedded in flesh it could not be pulled out. The archers honed the broad-heads on the whetstones they carried in their pouches to make sure they were razor sharp. You wait," Thomas told them, wait till they reach the field marker." There was a white painted stone by the road that showed where one man's pasture ended and another's began, and when the first hors.e.m.e.n reached the stone their destriers would be struck by the broad-heads, which were designed to rip deep, to wound terribly, to drive the horses mad with pain. Some of the destriers would go down then, but others would survive and swerve about the dying beasts to continue the charge, so when the enemy was close the archers would switch to their bodkin arrows. The bodkins were made to pierce armour and the best of them had shafts made of two kinds of wood. The leading six inches of ash or poplar was replaced with heavy oak that was scarfed into place with hoof glue, and the oak was tipped with a steel head that was as long as a man's middle finger, as slender as a woman's little finger and sharpened to a point. That needle-like head, backed by the heavier oak shaft, had no barbs: it was just a smooth length of steel that punched its way through mail and would even penetrate plate armour if it hit plumb. The broad-heads were to kill horses, the bodkins to kill men, and if it took a minute for the hors.e.m.e.n to come from the field marker to the edge of the village, Thomas's twenty archers could loose at least three hundred arrows and still have twice as many in reserve.

Thomas had done this so many times before. In Brittany, where he had learned his trade, he had stood behind hedges and helped destroy scores of enemies. The French had learned the hard way and had taken to sending crossbowmen ahead, but the arrows just killed them as they reloaded their clumsy weapons and the hors.e.m.e.n then had no choice but to charge or retreat. Either way the English archer was king of the battlefield, for no other nation had learned to use the yew bow.

The archers, like Sir Guillaume's men, were hidden, but Robbie commanded the rest of the men-at-arms who were the lure. Most of them were apparently scattered on the mound which was just to the north of the village street. One or two dug, the rest simply sat as if they rested. Two others fed the village bonfire, making sure that the smoke beckoned the enemy onwards. Thomas and Genevieve walked to the mound and, while Genevieve waited at its foot, Thomas climbed up to look into the great hole Sir Guillaume had made. Empty?"

Lots of pebbles," Robbie said, but none of them gold." You know what to do?"

Robbie nodded cheerfully. Wait till they're in chaos," he said, then charge."

Don't go early, Robbie."

We'll not go early/ an Englishman called John Faircloth answered. He was a man-at-arms, much older and more experi enced than Robbie, and although Robbie's birth ent.i.tled him to the command of the small force, Robbie knew well enough to take the older man's advice.

We'll not let you down," the Scot said happily. His men's horses were picketed just behind the mound. As soon as the enemy appeared they would run down from the small height and mount up, and when the enemy was scattered and broken by the arrows, Robbie would lead a charge that would curl round their rear and so trap them.

It might be my cousin coming/ Thomas said. I don't know that/ he added, but it might be."

He and I have a quarrel/ Robbie said, remembering his brother. I want him alive, Robbie. He has answers."

But when you have your answers/ Robbie said, I want his throat/ Answers first, though/ Thomas said, then turned as Genevieve called him from the foot of the mound.

I saw something/ she said, in the chestnut woods/ Don't look!" Thomas called to those of Robbie's men who had overheard her, then, making a great play of stretching his arms and looking bored, he slowly turned and stared across the stream. For a few heartbeats he could see nothing except two peasants carrying bundles of stakes across the ford and he thought, for a second, Genevieve must have meant those men, then he looked beyond the river and saw three hors.e.m.e.n half hidden by a thicket of trees. The three men probably thought they were well concealed, but in Brittany Thomas had learned to spot danger in thick woods. They're taking a look at us/ he said to Robbie. Not long now, eh?" He strung his bow.

Robbie stared at the hors.e.m.e.n. One's a priest/ he said dubi ously.

Thomas stared. Just a black cloak/ he guessed. The three men had turned and were riding away. They were soon lost to sight in the thicker woods.

Suppose it's the Count of Berat?" Robbie asked. Suppose it is?" Thomas sounded disappointed. He wanted the enemy to be his cousin.

If we capture him/ Robbie said, there'll be a rare ransom/ True/ So would you mind if I stayed until it's paid?" Thomas was disconcerted by the question. He was used to the idea that Robbie was leaving and so ridding his men of the rancour caused by his jealousy. You'd stay with us?"

To get my share of the ransom/ Robbie said, bridling. Is there anything wrong with that?"

No, no/ Thomas hurried to soothe his friend. You'll get your share, Robbie/ He thought maybe he could pay Robbie's share from his existing stock of cash and so spur the Scotsman on his penitential way, but this was not the time to make the suggestion. Don't charge too early," he warned Robbie again, and G.o.d be with you."

It's time we had a good fight," Robbie said, his spirits restored. Don't let your archers kill the rich ones. Leave some for us." Thomas grinned and went back down the mound. He strung Genevieve's bow, then walked with her to where Sir Guillaume and his men were concealed. Not long now, lads," he called, climbing onto the farm wagon to see across the yard's wall. His archers were concealed in the pear orchard's hedge beneath him, their bows strung and the first broad-heads resting on their strings. He joined them and then waited. And waited. Time stretched, slowed, crawled to a halt. Thomas waited so long that he began to doubt any enemy would come, or worse, he feared the hors.e.m.e.n had smelt out his ambush and were circling far up or down stream to ambush him. His other worry was that the town of Ma.s.seube, which was not so very far away, might send men to find out why the villagers had lit their warning pyre.

Sir Guillaume shared the anxiety. Where the h.e.l.l are they?" he asked when Thomas came back to the yard to climb onto the wagon so he could see across the river.

G.o.d knows." Thomas gazed into the far chestnuts and saw nothing to alarm him. The leaves had just started to change colour. Two pigs were rooting among the trunks.

Sir Guillaume was wearing a full-length hauberk, the mail covering him from shoulder to ankle. He had a scarred breastplate that was tied in place with rope, one plate vambrace that he buckled on his right forearm, and a plain sallet for a helmet. The sallet had a wide sloping brim to deflect downward sword blows, but it was a cheap piece of armour with none of the strength of the best helmets. Most of Thomas's men-at-arms were similarly protected with bits and pieces of armour they had scavenged from old battle fields. None had full plate armour, and all of their mail coats were patched, some with boiled leather. Some carried s.h.i.+elds. Sir Guillaume's was made of willow boards covered with leather on which his coat of arms, the three yellow hawks on a blue field, had faded almost to invisibility. Only one other man-at-arms had a device on his s.h.i.+eld, in his case a black axe on a white field, but he had no idea whose badge it was. He had taken the s.h.i.+eld off a dead enemy in a skirmish near Aiguillon, which was one of the princ.i.p.al English garrisons in Gascony. Has to be an English s.h.i.+eld/ the man reckoned. He was a Burgundian mercenary who had fought against the English, been discharged at the truce after the fall of Calais and was now hugely relieved that the yew bows were on his side. Do you know the badge?" the man asked. Never seen it/ Thomas said. How did you get the s.h.i.+eld?" Sword into his spine. Under the back plate. His buckles had got cut and the back plate was flapping around like a broken wing. Christ, but he screamed/ Sir Guillaume chuckled. He took half a loaf of dark bread from beneath his breastplate and tore off a chunk, then swore as he bit into it. He spat out a sc.r.a.p of granite that must have broken off the stone when the grain was milled, felt his broken tooth and swore again. Thomas glanced up to see that the sun lay low in the sky. We'll be late home/ he grumbled. It'll be dark." Find the river and follow it/ Sir Guillaume said, then flinched with the pain from his tooth. Jesus/ he said, I hate teeth." Cloves/ the Burgundian said. Tut cloves in your mouth. Stops the pain/ Then the two pigs among the distant chestnuts raised their heads, stood for a heartbeat and lumbered south in ungainly haste. Something had alarmed them and Thomas held up a warning hand as if the voices of his companions might disturb any approaching hors.e.m.e.n, and just at that moment he saw a gleam of reflected sunlight from the trees across the river and he knew it must come from a piece of armour. He jumped down. We've got company/ he said, and ran to join the other archers behind the hedge. Wake up/ he told them, the little lambs are coming for their slaughter/ He took his place behind the hedge and Genevieve stood beside him, an arrow on her string. Thomas doubted she would hit anyone, but he grinned at her. Stay hidden till they reach the field marker/ he told her, then peered over the hedge. And there they were. The enemy, and almost as soon as they appeared Thomas saw that his cousin was not there for the flag, spread now as its carrier trotted from the trees, showed the orange and white leopard badge of Berat instead of the yale of Vexille. Keep your heads down!" Thomas warned his men as he tried to count the enemy. Twenty? Twenty-five? Not many, and only the first dozen carried lances. The men's s.h.i.+elds, each showing the orange leopard on its white field, confirmed what the banner said, that these were the Count of Herat's hors.e.m.e.n, but one man, mounted on a huge black horse that was hung with armour, had a yellow s.h.i.+eld with a red mailed fist, a device unknown to Thomas, and that man was also in a full harness of plate and had a red and yellow plume flying high on his helm. Thomas counted thirty one hors.e.m.e.n. This would not be a fight, it would be a ma.s.sacre. And suddenly, oddly, it all seemed unreal to him. He had expected to feel excitement and some fear, but instead he watched the hors.e.m.e.n as though they had nothing to do with him. Their charge was ragged, he noted. When they had first come from the trees they had been riding boot to boot, as men should, but they quickly spread out. Their lances were held upright and would not drop to the killing position until the hors.e.m.e.n were close to their enemy. One lance was tipped with a ragged black pennant. The horses" trappers flapped. The sound was of hooves and the clash of armour as pieces of plate rapped each other. Great clods of earth were slung up behind the hooves; one man's visor went up and down, up and down as his horse rose and fell. Then the onrush of hors.e.m.e.n narrowed as they all tried to cross the ford at its narrowest point and the first white splashes of water rose as high as the saddles.

They came out of the ford. Robbie's men had vanished and the hors.e.m.e.n, thinking that it was now a pursuit of a panicked enemy, touched spurs to destriers and the big horses thumped up the road, stringing out, and then the first of them were at the field marker and Thomas heard a trundling noise as the farm cart was pushed out to block the road.

He stood and instinctively took a bodkin arrow instead of a broad head. The man with the yellow and red s.h.i.+eld rode a horse that had a great protective skirt of mail sewn onto leather and Thomas knew the broad-heads would never pierce it, and then he drew his arm back, the cord was past his ear and the first arrow flew. It wavered as it left the bow, then the air caught the goose-feather fledging and it sped low and fast to bury itself in the black horse's chest and Thomas had a second bodkin on the string, drew, loosed, and a third, drew and loosed and he saw the other arrows flying and was astonished, as ever, that the first arrows seemed to do so little damage. No horses were down, none even slowed, but there were feathered shafts jutting from trappers and armour and he pulled again, released, felt the string whip along the bracer on his left forearm, s.n.a.t.c.hed up a new arrow, then saw the first horses go down. He heard the sound of metal and flesh cras.h.i.+ng on the ground and he sent another bodkin at the big black horse and this one drove through the mail and leather to bury itself deep and the horse began frothing blood from its mouth and tossing its head, and Thomas sent his next arrow at the rider and saw it thump into the s.h.i.+eld to throw the man back against his high cantle. Two horses were dying, their bodies forcing the other riders to swerve, and still the arrows came at them. A lance tumbled, skid ding along the ground. A dead man, three arrows in his chest, rode a frightened horse that veered across the line of the charge, throwing it into further confusion. Thomas shot again, using a broad-head now to cut down a horse at the rear of the group. One of Genevieve's arrows flew high. She was grinning, her eyes wide. Sam cursed as his cord broke, then stepped back to find another and string it to his bow. The big black horse had slowed to a walk and Thomas put another bodkin into its flank, burying the arrow just ahead of the rider's left knee.

Horses!" Sir Guillaume called to his men and Thomas knew the Norman reckoned the enemy would never reach his barrier and so had decided to charge them. Where was Robbie? Some of the enemy were turning away, going back to the river and Thomas sped four fast broad-heads at those faint hearts, then loosed a bodkin at the black horse's rider. The arrow glanced off the man's breastplate, then his horse stumbled and went down to its knees. A squire, the man holding the flag of Berat, came to help the rider and Thomas slammed a bodkin into the squire's neck, then two more arrows. .h.i.t the man who bent backwards over his saddle's cantle and stayed there, dead with three arrows jutting skywards and his flag fallen.

Sir Guillaume's men were hauling themselves into their saddles, drawing swords, taking their places knee to knee, and just then Robbie's force came from the north. The charge was timed well, hitting the enemy at their most chaotic, and Robbie had the sense to charge close to the river, thus cutting off their retreat. Bows down!" Thomas called. Bows down!" He did not want his arrows cutting into Robbie's men. He laid his bow by the hedge and drew his sword. It was time to overwhelm the enemy with pure savagery. Robbie's men hammered into Berat's hors.e.m.e.n with terrible force. They rode properly, knee to knee, and the shock of the men at-arms threw three enemy horses down. Swords chopped hard down, then each of Robbie's men picked an opponent. Robbie, shouting his war cry, kicked his horse towards Joscelyn. Douglas! Douglas!" Robbie was shouting, and Joscelyn was trying to stay in the saddle of a horse that was dying, that was down on its fore knees, and he heard the cry behind him and swept his sword wildly back, but Robbie met the blow on his s.h.i.+eld and kept thrusting so that the s.h.i.+eld, with its device of the Douglas red heart, struck a huge blow on Joscelyn's helm. Joscelyn had not strapped the helm down, knowing that in a tournament it often helped to take the big steel pot off at the end of a fight to see a half-beaten opponent better, so now it turned on his shoul ders, the cross-shaped eye slits vanished and he was in darkness. He flailed his sword into empty air, felt his balance going and then his whole world was a huge ringing blow of steel on steel and he could not see, could not hear, as Robbie thumped his helmet again with his sword.

Berat's men-at-arms were yielding, throwing down swords and offering gauntlets to their opponents. The archers were among them now, hauling men out of their saddles, and then Sir Guillaume's hors.e.m.e.n thundered past to pursue the handful of enemy trying to gallop out of trouble through the ford. Sir Guillaume backswung his sword as he overtook a laggard and the blow ripped the man's helmet clean off his head. The man following Sir Guillaume swept his sword forward and there was a burst of misting blood and the dead man's head went bouncing into the river as the headless body kept riding.

I yield, I yield!" Joscelyn screamed in pure terror. I can be ransomed!" Those were the words that saved rich men's lives on battlefields and he shouted them again more urgently. I can be ransomed!" His right leg was trapped under his horse, he was still blinded by his skewed helmet and all he could hear were thumping hooves, shouts and the screams of wounded men being killed by archers. Then, suddenly, he was dazzled by light as his dented helmet was pulled off and a man stood over him with a sword. I yield," Joscelyn said hurriedly, then remembered his rank. Are you n.o.ble?"

I'm a Douglas of the house of Douglas/ the man said in bad French, and as well born as any in Scotland." Then I yield to you," Joscelyn said despairingly, and he could have wept for all his dreams had been broken in one brief pa.s.sage of arrows, terror and butchery.

Who are you?" Robbie asked.

I am the Lord of Beziers/ Joscelyn said, and heir to Berat." And Robbie whooped for joy.

Because he was rich.

The Count of Berat wondered if he should have ordered three or four of the men-at-arms to stay behind. It was not because he thought he needed protection, but rather it was his due to have an entourage and the departure of Joscelyn, Father Roubert and all the hors.e.m.e.n left him only his squire, one other servant and the serfs who were scrabbling at the earth to clear the mysterious wall which seemed, the Count thought, to be hiding a cave beneath the place where the chapel's altar had once stood.

He sneezed again, then felt light-headed so sat on a fallen block of stone.

Come by the fire, my lord/ his squire suggested. The squire was the son of a tenant from the northern part of the county and was a stolid, unimaginative seventeen-year-old who had shown no inclination to ride with Joscelyn to glory.

Fire?" The Count blinked up at the boy who was called Michel. We made a fire, lord/ Michel said, pointing to the far end of the vault where a small fire had been conjured from the splin tered lids of the coffins.

Tire/ the Count said, for some reason finding it hard to think straight. He sneezed and gasped for breath afterwards. It's a cold day, lord/ the boy explained, and the fire will make you feel better/ A fire/ the Count said, confused, then he discovered an unex pected reserve of energy. Of course! A fire! Well done, Michel. Make a torch and bring it/ Michel went to the fire and found a long piece of elmwood that was burning at one end and gingerly extracted it from the flames. He took it to the wall where the Count was feverishly pus.h.i.+ng the serfs aside. At the very top of the wall; which was made from dressed stones, there was a small gap, no bigger than a sparrow would need, and the hole, through which the Count had peered excitedly but uselessly, seemed to lead into a cavern behind. The Count turned as Michel brought the torch. Give it here, give it here/ he said impatiently, then s.n.a.t.c.hed the burning wood and fanned it to and fro to make it flare up. When the elm was burning fiercely, he thrust it into the hole and, to his delight, the wood slipped right through, confirming that there was a s.p.a.ce behind; he pushed it inside until it dropped and then he stooped and put his right eye to the gap and stared.

The flames were already becoming feeble in the cavern's stale air, but they threw just enough light to reveal what lay beyond the wall. The Count stared and drew in a breath. Michel!" he said. Michel! I can see . . ." Just then the flame guttered out. And the Count collapsed.

He slid down the ramp of earth, his face white and mouth open, and for a moment Michel thought his master had died, but then the Count gave a sigh. But he stayed unconscious. The serfs gaped at the squire who stared at the Count, then Michel gathered his few wits and ordered the men to carry the Count out of the vault. That was hard, for they had to manoeuvre his weight up the ladder, but once it was done a handcart was fetched from the village and they pushed the Count north to Saint Sever's monastery. The journey took almost an hour and the Count groaned once or twice and seemed to s.h.i.+ver, but he was still alive when the monks carried him into the infirmary where they placed him in a small white washed room equipped with a hearth in which a big fire was lit. Brother Ramon, a Spaniard who was the monastery's physician, brought a report to the abbot. The Count has a fever," he said, and a surplus of bile."

Will he die?" Planchard asked.

Only if G.o.d wills it/ Brother Ramon said, which is what he always said when asked that question. We shall leech him and then attempt to sweat the fever away."

And you will pray for him," Planchard reminded Ramon, then he went back to Michel and learned that the Count's men-at-arms had ridden to attack the English in the valley of the River Gers. You will meet them on their return/ the abbot ordered Michel, and tell them their lord is struck down. Remind the Lord Joscelyn that a message must be sent to Berat/ Yes, lord." Michel looked worried by this responsibility. What was the Count doing when he fainted?" Planchard asked, and so heard about the strange wall beneath the castle chapel. Perhaps I should go back/ Michel suggested nervously, and find out what's behind the wall?"

You will leave that to me, Michel/ Planchard said sternly. Your only duty is to your master and his nephew. Now go and find Lord Joscelyn."

Michel rode to intercept Joscelyn's return and Planchard went in search of the serfs who had brought the Count to the monastery. They were waiting by the gate, expecting some reward, and they fell to their knees as Planchard approached. The abbot spoke first to the oldest man. Veric, how is your wife?"

She suffers, sir, she suffers."

Tell her she is in my prayers/ Planchard said truthfully. Listen, all of you, and listen well." He waited until they were all looking at him. What you will do now/ he told them sternly, is return to the castle and cover up the wall. Put the earth back. Seal it!

Do not dig further. Veric, you know what an encantada is?" Of course, lord/ Veric said, crossing himself.

The abbot bent close to the serf. If you do not cover the wall, Veric, then a plague of encantadas will come from the castle bowels and they will take your children, all of your children/ he looked along the line of kneeling men, they will rise up from the earth, s.n.a.t.c.h your children and dance them down to h.e.l.l. So cover the wall. And when it is done, come back to me and I shall reward you." The monastery's poor box contained a few coins and Planchard would give them to the serfs. I trust you, Veric!" he finished. Dig no further, just cover up the wall." The serfs hurried to obey. Planchard watched them go and said a small prayer asking G.o.d to forgive him for telling an untruth. Planchard did not believe that enchanted demons lived under Astarac's old chapel, but he did know that whatever the Count had discovered should be hidden and the threat of the encantadas should suffice to make certain the work was properly done. Then, that small crisis resolved, Planchard went back to his room. When the Count had come to the monastery and caused a sudden excitement, the abbot had been reading a letter brought by a messenger just an hour before. The letter had come from a Cistercian house in Lombardy and now Planchard read it again and wondered whether he should tell the brethren about its dreadful contents. He decided not, then he dropped to his knees in prayer.

He lived, he thought, in an evil world.

And G.o.d's scourge had come to bring punishment. That was the message of the letter and Planchard could do little except pray. Fiat voluntas tua ," he said over and over again. Thy will be done." And the terrible thing, Planchard thought, was that G.o.d's will was being done.

The first thing was to recover as many arrows as possible. Arrows were scarce as hens" teeth in Gascony. In England, or in England's territory in France, there were always spare arrows. They were made in the s.h.i.+res, bundled into sheaves of twenty-four, and sent wherever archers fought, but here, far from any other English garrison, Thomas's men needed to h.o.a.rd their missiles and so they went from corpse to corpse collecting the precious arrows. Most of the broad-heads were sunk deep in horseflesh and those heads were mostly lost, but the arrow shafts pulled out cleanly enough and all archers carried spare heads in their pouches. Some men cut into the corpses to retrieve the broad-heads. Other arrows had missed and just lay on the turf and the archers laughed about those. One of your points here, Sam!" Jake called. Missed by a b.l.o.o.d.y mile!"

That's not mine. Must be Genny's."

Tom!" Jake had seen the two pigs across the river. Can I get supper?"

Arrows first, Jake/ Thomas said, 'supper afterwards." He bent to a dead horse and cut into the flesh in an attempt to retrieve a broad-head. Sir Guillaume was scavenging pieces of armour, unbuckling greaves and espaliers and chausses from dead men. Another man-at-arms hauled a mail coat from a corpse. Archers were carrying armfuls of swords. Ten enemy horses were either unwounded or so lightly injured as to be worth keeping. The others were dead or else in such pain that Sam despatched them with a battle-axe blow to the forehead.

It was as complete a victory as Thomas could have wished and, better still, Robbie had captured the man Thomas took to be the enemy leader. He was a tall man with a round, angry face that was s.h.i.+ning with sweat. He's the heir to Berat/ Robbie called as Thomas approached, and his uncle wasn't here." Joscelyn glanced at Thomas and, seeing his b.l.o.o.d.y hands and the bow and arrow bag, reckoned him a man of no worth and so looked at Sir Guillaume instead. Do you lead here?" he demanded. Sir Guillaume gestured at Thomas. He does."

Joscelyn seemed bereft of words. He watched, appalled, as his wounded men-at-arms were plundered. At least his own two men, Villesisle and his companion, were both alive, but neither had been able to i fight with their accustomed ferocity for the arrows had killed their horses. One of Joscelyn's uncle's men had lost his right hand, another was dying from an arrow in his belly. Joscelyn tried to count the living and dead and reckoned that only six or seven of his men had managed to escape across the ford.

The beghard was plundering with the rest. Joscelyn spat when he realized who she was, then made the sign of the cross, but he went on staring at Genevieve in her silver mail. She was, he thought, as beautiful a creature as he had ever seen. She's spoken for/ Sir Guillaume said drily, seeing where Joscelyn was looking.

So what are you worth?" Thomas asked Joscelyn. My uncle will pay a great deal/ Joscelyn answered stiffly, still not sure that Thomas really was the enemy commander. He was even less sure that his uncle would pay a ransom, but he did not want to suggest that to his captors, nor tell them that his lords.h.i.+p of Beziers would be fortunate to sc.r.a.pe up more than a handful of ecus. Beziers was a dirt-poor collection of shacks in Picardy and would be lucky to ransom a captured goat. He looked back at Genevieve, marvelling at her long legs and bright hair. You had the devil's help in beating us," he said bitterly. In battle," Thomas said, it's good to have powerful friends." He turned to where the ground was horrid with bodies. Hurry up!" he called to his men. We want to be home before midnight!" The men were in a fine mood. They would all have a share of Joscelyn's ransom, even though Robbie would take the greater part, and some of the lesser prisoners would yield a few coins. In addition they had taken helmets, weapons, s.h.i.+elds, swords and horses, and only two men-at-arms had received so much as a scratch. It was a good afternoon's work, and they laughed as they retrieved their horses, loaded the captured beasts with plunder, and readied to leave.

And just then a single horseman came across the ford. Sir Guillaume saw him first and called to Thomas who turned and saw it was a priest who approached. The man had black and white robes, suggesting he was a Dominican. Don't shoot!" Thomas called to his men. Bows down! Down!" He walked towards the priest who was mounted on a small mare. Genevieve was already in her saddle, but now she jumped down and hurried to catch up with Thomas.

His name," Genevieve said softly, is Father Roubert." Her face was white and her tone bitter.

The man who tortured you?" Thomas asked.

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she said, and Thomas suspected she was fighting back tears; he knew how she was feeling for he had known the same humiliation at the hands of a torturer. He remembered pleading with his torturer and the shame of being so utterly abased to another person. He remembered the grat.i.tude when the pain stopped.

Father Roubert curbed his horse some twenty paces from Thomas and looked at the scattered dead. Have they been shriven?" he asked.

No/ Thomas said, but if you want to shrive them, priest, then do it. And afterwards go back to Berat and tell the Count we have his nephew and will negotiate a ransom." He had nothing else to say to the Dominican so he took Genevieve's elbow and turned away.

Are you Thomas of Hookton?" Father Roubert asked. Thomas turned back. What is it to you?"

You have cheated h.e.l.l of a soul," the priest said, and if you do not yield it then I shall demand yours as well." Genevieve took the bow from her shoulder. You'll be in h.e.l.l before me," she called to Roubert.

The friar ignored her, speaking to Thomas instead. She is the devil's creature, Englishman, and she has bewitched you." His mare twitched and he slapped her neck irritably. The Church has made its decision and you must submit."

I've made my decision/ Thomas said.

Father Roubert raised his voice so that the men behind Thomas could hear him. She is a beghard!" he called. She is a heretic!

She has been excommunicated, cast out of G.o.d's holy precincts, and as such she is a doomed soul! There can be no salvation for her and none for any man who helps her! You hear me? It is G.o.d's Church on earth that talks to you, and your immortal souls, all your immortal souls, are in dire peril because of her." He looked back to Genevieve and could not resist a bitter smile. You will die, b.i.t.c.h/ he said, in earthly flames that will usher you to the eternal fires of h.e.l.l."

Genevieve raised her small bow which had a broad-head on the string. Don't/ Thomas said to her.

He is my torturer/ Genevieve said, tears on her cheeks. Father Roubert sneered at her bow. You are the devil's wh.o.r.e/ he told her, and worms will inhabit your womb and your b.r.e.a.s.t.s will give forth pus and the demons will play with you." Genevieve loosed the arrow.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed at the shot. She did not aim. Anger made her pluck the cord far back and then she loosed and her eyes were so filled with tears that she could hardly see Father Roubert. In prac tice her arrows had usually flown madly wide, but at the very last moment, just as she loosed, Thomas tried to knock her arm away; he barely touched her, just tapped her bow hand, and the arrow twitched as it leaped from the string. Father Roubert had been about to insult her toy bow, but instead the arrow flew true and struck him. The broad, tanged head slashed into the priest's throat and the arrow stayed there, its white feathers turning red as blood poured down the shaft. For a heartbeat the priest sat in the saddle, a look of utter astonishment on his face, then a second great gout of blood spurted out over his horse's ears, he made a choking sound and fell hard to the ground.

By the time Thomas reached him the priest was dead. I told you he'd go to h.e.l.l first," Genevieve said, then spat on the corpse.

Thomas made the sign of the cross.

There should have been jubilation after the easy victory, but the old mood, the sullen mood, returned to haunt the garrison at Castillon d'Arbizon. They had done well in the fight, but the death of the priest had horrified Thomas's men. Most of them were unre pentant sinners, some had even killed priests themselves, but they were all superst.i.tious and the friar's death was regarded as an evil omen. Father Roubert had ridden forward unarmed, he came to parley, and he had been shot down like a dog. A few men applauded Genevieve. She was a proper woman, they said, a soldier's woman, and the Church could be d.a.m.ned for all they cared, but those men were a small minority. Most of the garrison recalled the priest's last words that had d.a.m.ned their own souls for the sin of harbouring a heretic, and those harsh threats brought back the fears that had haunted them when Genevieve's life was first spared. Robbie propounded that view relentlessly and, when Thomas chal lenged him by asking when the Scot planned to ride to Bologna, Robbie brushed the question off. I'm staying here," he said, till I know what ransom I'm getting. I'm not riding away from his money." He jerked a thumb at Joscelyn who had learned of the antagonism inside the garrison and did his best to encourage it by forecasting dire things if the beghard was not burned. He refused to eat at the same table as Genevieve. As a n.o.bleman he was enti tled to the best treatment the castle could offer and he slept in a room of his own at the top of the tower, but rather than eat in the hall he preferred to take his meals with Robbie and the men at-arms and he beguiled them with tales of his tournaments and scared them with dire warnings of what happened to men who protected the enemies of the Church.

Thomas offered Robbie almost all the money in his keeping as his share of Joscelyn's ransom, the final amount to be adjusted when that ransom was negotiated, but Robbie refused it. You might end up owing me far more/ he claimed, and how do I know you'll pay it? And how will you know where I am?" I'll send it to your family," Thomas promised. You trust me, don't you?"

The Church doesn't," was Robbie's bitter answer, 'so why should I?"

Sir Guillaume tried to ease the tension, but he knew the garrison was falling apart. A fight broke out in the lower hall one night between Robbie's supporters and the men who defended Genevieve, and at the end of it one Englishman was dead and a Gascon had lost an eye to a dagger. Sir Guillaume thumped heads hard, but he knew there would be other fights.

What do you propose to do about it?" he asked Thomas a week after the skirmish by the River Gers. The air was cold from a north wind, the wind that men believed made them dull and irritable. Sir Guillaume and Thomas were on the keep's battlements, beneath the Earl of Northampton's fading banner. And beneath that red and green flag hung the orange leopard of Berat, but upside down to show the world that the standard had been captured in battle. Genevieve was there too, but sensing that she did not want to hear what Sir Guillaume had come to say she had gone to the farthest corner of the ramparts.

Til wait here," Thomas said.

Because your cousin will come?"