By Right of Arms (41 page)

“Aye, Hyatt.”

“But we have sent twenty-five out, and with ten more …”

“ ’Tis important, Hyatt. ’Tis
Guillaume!”

The sound of his voice, the devotion mixed with command, was an order that the highest lord would not dare dismiss. Aurélie reached out a hand and touched her husband’s back. He looked over his shoulder and in her eyes there was a sentimental gleam, a plea. The two warriors were as brothers. Hyatt looked back at Girvin. “Who knows the wood as well as you and Sir Guillaume?”

“You, Sir Hyatt.”

He looked again at Aurélie.

“Go, my lord. Take ten men and find my seneschal. We have need of his wisdom; his talent. Please.”

“Find my squire and have my gear and horse readied. The wood has some two-legged dangers and we will be forced to travel as knights would. The scavengers are crude, but desperate.”

Girvin stood for a moment longer, his cheeks darkening with what could have been a blush. “Thank you, my lord. My lady.” And then he was gone.

Hyatt gathered his clothes and gear quickly. “I shall leave you Trevor and Maximilian. They can command archers and pikemen in my absence. I will give them orders.”

“And I have Delmar and others.” She shrugged. “They have not forgotten so soon. And they would hold the wall.”

“Do not be afraid, Aurélie.”

“Hyatt, I am not. I have had you as my very own, and you have had me. If fate is cruel to us now, we will have the strength to carry on in memory, if nothing else. Nay, my liege, I am
not
afraid. Nor will you be. Hyatt, let us be strong, not fearful. Go with God. Come back swiftly.”

“I shall be quick.”

“Be careful. Be strong.”

* * *

It was a great strain on all of De la Noye to have the best gone together. Girvin, Guillaume, and Hyatt were all away. Trevor could barely take the time for a meal, and Aurélie suspected by the look in his eyes that he did not sleep. The residents were all flinching at the slightest sound, the merest movement in the trees. Hyatt and Girvin had been out three days. The watch was tired.

A group of monks had passed the castle and a fully armed group of knights rode destriers out to their entourage, judged them to be safe, and the gates were opened to let them enter. A lucky charm must have accompanied this pilgrimage, for they carried loaded carts of jugged wine and were eager to trade it for lodging, fresh bread, vegetables, and a bit of roasted meat. It was an abbot and his friars, and they were a worldly bunch from the Dominican order, of which Father Algernon did not approve. But Aurélie both welcomed them and enjoyed their company, for they were not so devout and sang songs, laughed, and made no crippling demands for offerings.

When Hyatt was gone four days and Abbot Charlisle was about to ready the brothers for travel, Aurélie stood with them in the inner courtyard. The abbot’s carts were loaded with crated chickens, fresh food, cloth, and barrels of good ale. Beside the carts were cases of the abbot’s wine. “My husband will be pleased,
monseigneur.
Will you not stay a day longer and make his acquaintance?”

“Nay, child, we’ll be along our way, for our journey has only just begun.”

“But my priest is not yet come.”

“I shall bless the travelers, madame. Your priest is of another order and does not approve of us.”

Aurélie knew it was true, but it galled her that Algernon was so superior. He had no right; he had fallen far from the Divine. “That’s preposterous, Father. Wait, and I shall get him.”

She made to turn away when a call came from the gatehouse. “My lady. Flagellants. Almost a hundred.”

Aurélie sighed. She did not like to face these pilgrims. They were too much like her late husband—peculiar, obsessed. They beat themselves as they traveled. They did not come to trade but to show their penance and collect coins. This lot would not be satisfied with lodging and food. They would request silver.

“Where?” she asked with a shout.

“Far out. More than five leagues.”

“Let them come closer. We can meet them with a troop before we escort the abbot out.”

She lifted her skirts then to make a fast trip to the chapel. An ill feeling had surrounded her because of the priest, for she did not know how to deal with him. He was not satisfied with his plenty; he could only be satisfied to rule through a puppet lord. He had had so much power when Giles was alive. Aurélie was often betwixt them, fighting religion with reason, an impossible battle that she frequently lost.

“Father Algernon,” she said upon entering the chapel.

He turned from the altar and looked at her.

“The Abbot Charlisle is prepared to leave. Do you not give him a blessing and wish him a safe journey?”

“He is capable of that, my lady.”

“But you are the priest of the burg. ’Tis your obligation.”

He shook his head. “He is not of my order. He worships worldly goods and fleshly pleasures.”

Aurélie shook her head in frustration. “Oh, Father, will you not? You are to be above jealousy, above judgment. Come be our priest; be the Word again, I beg you.”

“Ah, you beg, my lady. How I’ve waited.”

She stiffened. “You may disapprove of the abbot, but flagellants approach. Do you wish to have them admitted? Will you bless their number?”

“How many?” he asked with acute interest.

“A goodly number. One hundred.”

“Yea, my lady, you must admit them straightaway. They do penance for God. For all of us.”

“Will you come?”

“In time, my lady,” he said, his voice strangely nervous. Aurélie saw that his hands trembled. “Let them in and I shall come.”

Her mind tumbled. Father Algernon had been acting too oddly. It could not be ignored. He did not believe Hyatt’s rule was good; he believed that outside the gates of De la Noye priests prospered under the English siege.

“Father,” she said, stepping nearer. “Father Algernon, you have not left De la Noye for a day or night since Hyatt has come. We escaped much death. Do you know it? Did you ask Percival what his village suffered?”

“ ’Twas not necessary. Hyatt gave him shelter, so he spoke for Hyatt. I understand the give-and-take of such politics.”

“Do you know of Sir Hollis?” she asked. He stiffened visibly; his eyes wandered upward. “The priest from Château Innesse was castrated and left to bleed to death in the street. Ask one of Hyatt’s men. They witnessed the rape of the château. Hollis laid it to ashes. Sir Ryland is his friend.”

Father Algernon’s eyes drifted back to her face. She heard the sound of the horn that signaled that the gate would be opened. “You have listened to idle tales meant only to make you believe you have a good leader here. ’Tis a familiar trick. The priest of the château has a larger church than before.”

“My God,” she whispered. “The flagellants! One hundred!”

It was all suddenly clear. The castle and wall could not be impregnated unless the bridge was down. Ryland would have seen how strong they were, how ready. But the discontented priest who hungered for power, for money, would believe Ryland. And Algernon had assured himself that pilgrims would he admitted. In addition he had asked to be relieved for a journey of his own—to be away from De la Noye when the flagellants arrived to open the gate.

“My God, you utter
fool!”
She whirled away from him, bolting out of the church and running down the length of the gardens, the street, toward the courtyard. The creaking of the bridge screamed inside her skull. She heard it hit the opposite side and the horses of the escorts, ten mailed knights …
only ten
as they rode out. She knew as she had never known anything that the cowardly Hollis meant to get into her walls by a monk’s costume.

She flew past the inner gate, screaming. “Secure the gate! Raise the bridge! It is a trick! My God, a trick! ’Tis Hollis! Raise the bridge! Close the gate! Secure the portcullis! Your arms! Your arms! Men! Arm the wall!”

Sir Trevor was at the portcullis gate and stared at Aurélie with wide, disbelieving eyes as she ran into the outer bailey. Maximilian, older and more experienced, needed no further prompting. He manned the bridge and gate and jabbed the squire at his side to sound the horn. Ten knights only just on the other side of the moat looked back in confusion, for the horn and subsequent raising of the bridge made the attack alarm.

Abbot Charlisle ran through the portcullis behind Aurélie. “Madame, madame, these monks …”

“Our priest, abbot, has sold us to the enemy. These are English raiders, murderers, who mean to enter by a cleric’s costume. They are not here about a Christian war, but bent on killing us all.” She turned away briskly. “Delmar, form a group of archers to lend aid. We are sorely in need of men. Percival, gather any of yours who can string a bow, throw a spear, carry arrows to the bowmen. Maximilian, sound the horn for the pikemen. Full armaments, all from the wall … no destriers. It is a trick to get inside.” She looked back at the abbot. “If your faith prevents you from saving our lives by aiding our fight, at least bind my priest. He is the cause of this.”

The abbot whirled away and Aurélie went straightaway to the wall. She requested a hand up, but was rebuffed immediately. Her cheeks heightened to a fiery red and her eyes blazed. “My lord is gone and the wall is
mine!”
And while the knight who would prevent her from climbing to the platform stood in awe of her, she pushed him aside and made the familiar climb without assistance.

She was barely up with both feet secure when she heard Maximilian mutter, “ ’Tis Hollis, the
bastard!”

Across the rolling hills the brown road stretched. Approximately one hundred clerics dropped brown robes off their shoulders and revealed chain mail and helms. Visors were pulled over faces, and shields, longbows, and quivers appeared. A cloud of dust rose from behind the now kneeling advance, and armored destriers could be seen thundering toward De la Noye. “Fifty,” Aurélie muttered. “Sixty horses. We have loosed ten knights astride. Dear God, we are doomed.”

The sky became black with arrows as the English bowmen fired them rapidly. Until Hyatt’s coming the archers of De la Noye had used the crossbow, accurate and deadly, but slow to arm and fire. The longbow was lightweight and quick, and a rainshower of arrows began to pelt the wall and flow into the inner bailey. The knights of De la Noye covered their bodies with shields while Hollis’s horsed troop neared.

“How many bows do we have ready?” Aurélie asked Maximilian.

“Fifty at most, my lady.”

She turned and looked into the bailey. “Delmar,” she shouted. “Loose all the weapons confiscated by Hyatt’s troop and arm our men. Serf and knight alike. Match our crossbows with Sir Hyatt’s longbows at the wall. And your axes, knives, and hammers.”

“Yea, my lady.” Delmar turned and began shouting. Aurélie watched in wonder at the scene below her. Hyatt had fewer than a hundred archers and knights, but there were close to forty good knights of De la Noye, though bereft of armor and shield. And squires and pages were running wildly through the baileys, from stable to town to keep, gathering their weapons and passing them to able-bodied men. Shields that still bore the de Pourvre crest were pulled from tackrooms and sheds, crossbows considered obsolete and useless were quickly strung by women and boys, and the short, heavy arrows for that weapon were scrounged from every corner.

Bows and full quivers of arrows were handed up the wall, while below on the nether side of the moat Hyatt’s men stood their ground, protected behind shields, in wait for the horsed knights. A scream pierced the air, and Aurélie saw one of Hyatt’s archers tumble from the north parapet with an arrow in his chest. And then she saw the sky blaze as arrows laced with fire began to hit the outer wall.

She watched in horror as a thatched roof was caught and a woman screamed. Aurélie grabbed the arm of the knight beside her. “Get the women and children to the hall and have the gate at the portcullis closed. Forget the fire. We can rebuild the town if we have our lives. Tell them to let it burn and hold the wall.”

He gave a nod of agreement and made his way down the ladder. He was barely to the ground when Percival was beside her, one crossbow in hand and another tucked under his arm.

She took the heavy bow from under Percival’s arm just as an arrow whirred past her right side. Aurélie did not give notice to the near miss. She stooped to grasp a full quiver as it was handed up and armed her bow. At a weight of twenty pounds the weapon was heavy and clumsy. She looked askance at Percival, who was aged and somewhat frail. She gave a slight smile. “Our aim will have to be sharper than most, Percival. We shall not get as many arrows off as the young and strong.”

“Aye, my lady, but in my youth I was a fair contestant in the tourneys.”

“You?”

“One does not speak of his knightly oaths to the conqueror, madame,” Percival said with a grin. He released the catch and his arrow sailed. An archer from the other side fell. “Good point, Sir Percival. Make every one count.”

In the time lapsed the archers on the wall had begun a good shower of their own arrows and with a few well-placed shots from the crossbow, a fair number of opponents fell.

The wall was manned by armored knights, squires, serfs, and the like. Men whom Aurélie had seen ride out to meet the English were lined up on behalf of Hyatt and De la Noye now. She saw knights in red and black who wore chain mail pass their shields to serfs wearing naught but quilted gambesons and thin linen gowns. Paulis and other boys who were not yet even pages were running from hall to outer bailey with as many swords, full quivers, and knives as could be carried, while a stream of women with small children were aided by doddering old men toward the main hall. Here and there a monk was seen, running supplies, carrying babies, or herding chickens and goats out of the outer bailey. Smoke rose in a thick black cloud from a peasant hut struck by a flaming arrow.

The horn sounded from the donjon and Aurélie looked about for the cause. From the wood she saw destriers emerge and her breath caught in momentary panic. They wore red and black surcoats, one with a plume of red atop his helm.