By Right of Arms (16 page)

A long moment passed before an elderly man appeared. He approached Hyatt warily, the others staying well away from the monstrous, horsed knights. The man was dressed in ragged chausses and a dirty and torn tunic, and used a staff for walking. But he wore a sculptured silver beard that spoke of some previous prosperity. That and a glitter in his intelligent eyes were the only signs Hyatt had to read.

“Is this your village?” Hyatt asked.

The man’s lips curled in a bitter smile. “Where do you see a village, sir knight?”

“Are you bound to Edward or John?”

“I was bound to my family and Guienne, and there is much brutal discussion about whose land this is. Yesterday this belonged to France, today to England, tomorrow … perhaps Rome.”

“To England, now and forever, old man.”

“Yea, that is what I am told.” He looked at the rubble behind him. “I was told by the man who left us this, that England claims it.” He spat in the dust. “You will rend a hearty tithe from this.”

Hyatt leaned down and stared closely into the old man’s eyes. “You should have surrendered and pledged, old fool, and perhaps something would be left for you.”

The man threw back his head and let go with a wicked laugh. “Hah! Do you see a wall or bridge? A castle or donjon? Do you think this meager lot was ready to raise scythes to fight the English strangers? We are
farmers.
We are decent folk with no time for the arguments of kings, popes, and knights. I met the force at the cross in the road and pleaded for mercy. They burned everything that stood, slew everything with two legs, and led away everything with four legs. Your English brother has a fine pot of chicken brewing in some war camp, and yonder we have buried a score of babies.”

Hyatt straightened in his saddle. “How many resided here?”

“Over fifty.”

“And how did you survive?”

“We fled, O great knight. We hid ourselves deep in the wood and came back when there was no more smoke. No one was left to live and there is nothing with which to rebuild. How does England hope to profit from this conquered land? Do you sell the bones of the dead and drink their blood?”

Hyatt bristled slightly at the sarcasm, but did not let it show. Yet he despised the carnage that he saw for the very reason the man had named. It had been a foolish tactic to level the land and people to this degree, when a clever knight could use them well. Even this little village, though a minor quest, could wrest pâtis payment of a few livres in exchange for the protection of the nearest men-at-arms. Buried in crude mounds behind the ash there were probably boys who would have made decent pages and squires and girls who would have worked and bred more.

Here lay a common mistake of men bred for fighting. Chevachie, total war, was useful in its place. A king could be ruined as his lands were destroyed and nothing was left from which he could wring a tax or tithe. It was a method painfully learned by the English knights at war with the Scots, and the battle tactic had depleted the French king’s stores, making France more vulnerable to Edward’s onslaught.

But there was also a code of honor among the knights—that death would not occur upon surrender. Pillage would be the reward of conquerors till the end of time and all valuables were fair game, but with life the people could rebuild. The man who destroyed this village could have had all the booty he could carry without killing almost the entire town. It was, with some, like a parasite in the blood, a heat to slay the enemy, whether in a fair contest or otherwise. The sad fact was that women and children were frequently sacrificed when the men of the town raised up arms in a fight already lost, but Hyatt was more than wary of a man who would kill a child for the sheer love of murder. Yet it was a defect quite often overlooked if armies were engaged in a serious war.

He knew it was useless to chafe at the misdeed, for this was a common malady within the knighthood of men. He had known many who bragged at the flow of blood they could leave on the dirt, then bemoaned their lack of coin when the wreckage they claimed did not produce. Only a few had the true principles of lords; the hard-learned ethics necessary for good leaders in high places. Few men could feel a victor’s zeal unless they had slain many.

Hyatt meant to draw his winnings from a full purse, not a pile of ash.

“Do you remember the arms of the English knight?”

“Yea, he carried two snakes on a lily. And unlike you, only one in his troop had the Gascon tongue. He commanded his men in Anglo-Norman.”

“He took no prisoners?”

The man hung his head, sad rather than angry for the first time. “Everyone is accounted for,” he murmured with a catch in his voice.

Hyatt knew, as did those men who rode with him, that the knight to destroy the village was the same one they rode toward. Sir Hollis Marsden had been bound toward Limoges, where a keep of great strength and wealth was rumored to be unconquered. Hollis meant to add that parcel to his conquests and gain much of the king’s favor, for he almost always won in battle and seemed to be rich enough to supply good armaments to his men and their squires. But Hollis’s wealth would be depleted soon if this was how he used his weapons and soldiers.

Here was the pact with Prince Edward that Hyatt had made. The prince had need of good fighting skills and found it necessary to look the other way if a knight of England had low morals, but was a good soldier. Hollis was a good one to take into battle, but one must not be too certain of his loyalty. And because Sir Hollis shifted his alliances to improve his wealth, here was a man who could threaten even a king if given too much power. That was why Prince Edward and the king had conspired with Hyatt for De la Noye. Hyatt was meant to hold a strong castle in Aquitaine to serve England, and to keep Hollis at bay, arrest his growth before he gained too much territory in Aquitaine. By the same token, Prince Edward would not openly protest Hollis’s fighting, for Hollis still fought for England.

Hyatt’s stomach felt sour and his brow was damp. He was confident in his ability to fight Hollis, if necessary, but he admitted a stronger adversary could not be found. He pulled off his helm and rolled up his coif, looking at the old man now with a full face.

“You have a dozen or more here and no reason to stay. Do you know the castle De la Noye?”

“I have heard, sir knight, but have never been there.”

“It will take you five days walking. I will loose two palfreys for your sick or injured, and a knight named Sir Girvin holds the wall there on my behalf. If you can make the journey, you will be admitted.”

“Does it matter to you that we hate the English?” the old man tested.

Hyatt smiled suddenly. “You will find plenty of company, old man. Hate whom you like, it is of no matter to me. But if it appeals to you to be dry and fed, you will lift a hoe and work for your enemy. Or—” He shrugged. “—You may stay here and build out of your ashes.”

“You do not wish to kill us, as your brother knight desired? I was ready to die.”

“Cease such lies. You did not approach me as a man ready for death, but as one with the wisdom to hold life as a great value. Even the lowest life can plant a seed, mend a pot, or produce a prayer. Any man who cannot do some small thing of value will die from his own lack of existence. My sword and lance are for the winning of battles, not to collect deaths as the queen collects jewels. Nothing worth having is wrought of killing for sport. Now, I hear a scholar’s learning in your speech, though you claim to be farmers all. Is there some reason to send you to De la Noye, or are you as useless to me as you pretend?”

The old man smiled, showing a perfect row of white teeth against his aging face. He bowed his head slightly. “I am a teacher and planter. My son works with leather and my wife bakes bread. There are few of us, and made poor by this carnage you see, but our skills could not be burned. I am Percival.”

Hyatt looked over his shoulder. “Give the man two palfreys and a bag of grain to see them through.” He looked back to the old man. “I could give you my banner to carry, but it will do you ill against any French force, and I cannot promise that it will offer protection against the English knights.”

Percival’s eyes sparkled with emotion. “John’s forces are few in this part of the country. North is where the true fighting exists. I will carry your banner, sir knight, for I suspect it is feared by your friend and foe.”

Hyatt nodded over his shoulder for a squire to fetch a spare tunic on which was sewn the blazon of his arms, a ferret and a star fashioned against a red background. It would do well enough to convince Girvin. He handed the tunic to Percival. “Beware, old man; the blazon will protect you best if you travel in brush and tall grass. Soldiers who feast on the blood of the helpless pay little regard to any threat. But it will open the doors of De la Noye.”

Hyatt led his troop away from the demolished little burg, not looking behind to see what the few remaining villagers did with the horses and grain. He took the chance that they would flee to some camp deep within the forest and replay this scene for every passing troop. The investment was minute for a dozen good hands, and, in addition, had Hollis taken even a moment to talk to the old man, he’d have discovered at least one good head. In Hyatt’s opinion, one intelligent man was worth twenty brawny morons.

As the troop traveled silently and watchfully on, Hyatt considered the ravages of war. Being quite proud of his own skills, he had slain many lesser warriors in battle. He had even laid a town or two to waste, when there was enough fighting to warrant it. It was not because of a soft heart that he left his enemies their lives, but because nothing could be gained from a dead man.

Hyatt had even intended to let Giles de Pourvre live, and had had nothing to do with his death. Did none of Giles’s men-at-arms speak of their leader’s death? Aurélie had accepted his warrior’s departure in good faith, as if she did not know the truth about her husband’s cowardice. Hyatt had ordered his own men to keep silent about the details of the battle, but they all knew that Giles could have spared many men’s lives had he stayed behind the De la Noye walls or issued a surrender on the field. The questions came again and again: How did she love him? What had he ever done to justify her respect and loyalty? How had she kept herself virtuous? How had she managed the clever lie that she was barren? And why?

They made camp in a thick, protected copse at dusk. They were still days away from Limoges, and the rubble they had viewed this day had happened as long as a fortnight before. Hollis had surely passed through on his way to the richer conquest. How like the foolish knight to steam up his desire for battle by laying a path of carnage behind him. Hyatt assumed, already, that Hollis was victorious; if he had failed to conquer the keep he sought, English stragglers would be seen along the road back.

“Why venture on, Sir Hyatt? It is certain he has won.”

“I do not go for Sir Hollis; that should have been clear from the start. He will resent my appearance, though he will be careful about his behavior for now. I venture onward for Edward. Hollis will lie about the booty and give less than the fair portion to the king.”

“But he will not let you examine his stores,” a young knight said. “And his troop is two or three times larger than yours.”

“Aye, larger in numbers. But I should like to see for myself how Hollis holds them. I have been told that as many as a quarter of his men are dangerous criminals, freed by a pardon bought by Hollis to form a large troop. Most are indentured to him for some years to come. When he cast about looking for a sizable army to join Prince Edward, there were not many eager to ride with Hollis. Although he is frequently victorious, he does not pay his men well and he allows them a meager share of the winnings. But criminals soon to die will take life at any price, however low. It is important that I see for myself how many are there now, many months after the battle has begun, and how they regard Hollis as their leader.”

They sat around a low fire, making their pallets on the ground, and passing around dry bread, pork strips, and water. Most of Hyatt’s men were indentured to him for the cost of their arms, their ransom in tournaments, or debts Hyatt had cleared for them. But he did not have one man of whom he was unsure. This, compared to Hollis’s two and a half hundred, was better.

“It is rumored, Sir Hyatt, that Hollis hates you and would strike your back,” the young knight remarked.

“ ’Tis not rumor. It is truth, and he has.”

“Then why do you ally yourself with him?”

“It is with Edward that I am allied, and do not sheath your swords when any of Hollis’s men are behind you.”

“He would not do you harm when he fights now for Edward, as do you …”

“He would take what I have claimed in a moment, lad. And he would tell the king he took it from Guienne. But mark me, he could not succeed in such a lie if but one of my men lives. That is why we are safe in approaching him now; more than half my men remain at De la Noye under Sir Girvin.”

“Yet we ride toward him? Sir Hyatt, if he is in trouble, we will have to fight for him, will we not?”

“Do not discount a good plan because it is not as swift as a single thrust of the lance. We go to see what damage Hollis has done, for I am certain he has won the keep. And what you see upon our arrival is a pure example of what he would do to you, for Hollis’s enemies are not solely those few whom King Edward will name for him, but anyone whom Hollis thinks he can beat. When we arrive, look at the conquered demesne as you looked at the village. Know it. Taste it. Smell it. The only way to best a man in any contest is to know full well his manner of fighting, and Hollis is as much my enemy as the French forces of John. Only with Hollis it is much more dangerous, for we do not acknowledge it openly. Rivals, they call us at the tournaments. ’Tis far more serious than that. And remember, each knight has a style, and Hollis’s is sly and brutal.”

“Are we not on the same side after all?”

Hyatt sighed heavily. There was more than simple practice of arms to teaching a knight sound skills. “For the time being, while commands are issued from the king, we are of the same side. Hollis is not fair or prudent, but he is not stupid and he knows where to use his influence. Hollis will lay bare this land, taking ten conquests to Edward’s court … but nothing he wins will produce for him. The king will own naught but a charred field where crops once grew. My victory belongs to England for generations. There is a difference. Edward desires a quick theft, but he also needs the property peopled with loyal vassals. What we have in De la Noye is an English encampment that will provide support in any uprising that threatens Prince Edward’s hold on the land. That takes more than a good fight. It requires time and wisdom, not just skill in battle.”