By Right of Arms (45 page)

Hyatt got to his feet as quickly as possible and a piercing whistle left him. Verel reared the destrier with a sharp turn and maneuvered the steed between the combatants, his sword still high.

“ ’Tis mine to do, Verel,” Hyatt called out sharply.

Verel stared for a moment, then with a smile on his lips he threw the broadsword to Hyatt and pulled the destrier out of the way.

Hyatt tossed the hilt of the sword from hand to hand. “Unsheath your blade, Hollis,” he ordered.

Hollis tore the blunted sword from its cover and swung the blade at Hyatt. Hyatt stopped it once, twice, thrice, and when Hollis made a wide, powerful sweep at Hyatt’s middle, Hyatt moved back a half-step and plunged his mighty sword into Hollis’s gut.

Hollis dropped his weapon and clutched the heavy hilt of the sword that ran through him. His eyes widened for only a moment, a trickle of blood running from his mouth, and then he fell for the last time.

Hyatt stood and wiped the sweat from his eyes, oblivious to the roaring of the crowd. He saw a rustle of movement in the direction of Hollis’s pavilion and saw Thormond push a squire down and clumsily mount a destrier. Hyatt whistled again, a short blast to alert Verel and two long, calling for a horse. He turned and began to run toward the prince’s pavilion.

A knight astride met Hyatt before Edward’s seat and quickly dismounted, giving the steed to Hyatt. Hyatt bowed briefly over the saddle. “Does that satisfy Your Highness?”

Edward gave a half-bow. “The contest is yours, sir knight, and not from your opponent’s disgrace. You took it fairly. He will not attack your back again.”

“Nay, Your Highness. But the contest goes to the streets, for Hollis claimed he somehow held my wife and son.”

“Then do not dally here, Hyatt. I was told the lady went to see about a sick child.”

“Aye, sir. The sick child is my brother, Ryland. By your leave.”

“Godspeed, Hyatt. And good luck!”

Hyatt bowed and gave his horse a firm heel, leaving the grounds and making for the streets of Bordeaux.

* * *

Hyatt was still in the saddle and Aurélie’s breath was still caught in her throat when the page arrived. “The child, Derek, has taken a bad fall, my lady. Mistress Perrine begs you come quickly.”

Aurélie had looked around frantically, not knowing what she should do. She looked toward the prince, her host, and he gave a slight nod. Hyatt’s heir was more important than his wife, especially in the eyes of a future king.

She rose with great hesitancy. She had an odd tightening in her stomach. It was not like Perrine to call her from something like this, especially since Aurélie could do no more than Perrine could do in an emergency. And Aurélie’s advanced pregnancy, coupled with Perrine’s protectiveness, made the request even more strange. She followed the page out of the gallery, across the grounds. The afternoon sun was bright and the air was brisk, but Aurélie’s cheeks were hot. A deepening fear for Derek and a deep apprehension for herself began to bloom.

The lodgings Hyatt had secured for them were in a hostel in Bordeaux kept by an elderly couple. The page had brought her a palfrey to ride, and led the way. Behind her she could hear the shouting from the lists and imagined the crashing of metal. “Oh, Hyatt, be strong,” she silently prayed.

The sounds faded as she rode. In the streets there was an eerie quiet with almost everyone gone to the pavilions to catch a glimpse of the captured king, the English prince, the knights called to contest. The clattering hooves of the palfreys echoed, the sound surrounding her.

She stood before the humble hostel. The page tethered her horse, bowed, and departed. She opened the door and stepped inside. There was a stony silence within, not typical of a place that was both heavily guarded and where a bad accident was to have occurred. She looked toward the staircase and down the hall ahead. “Perrine,” she called. “Perrine …”

The door was not yet closed behind her, when an arm encircled her waist and another closed over her mouth. She could not see who held her and struggled in vain. On the stairs leading to the room where she had left Perrine and Derek, Faon appeared. She held the boy on her hip and under her reddened eyes were deep, dark hollows. She stared at Aurélie with a mixture of hatred and pity. And then the demon’s voice came to her ears.

“Be still now, my lady, or we shall have to do you harm,” Ryland threatened.

He relaxed the hand that covered her mouth, but the arm around her waist tightened.

“Ryland,” she said in a breath, “what do you dare?”

“We’re going to keep you safe until the contest is done, my lady. Perhaps, if the cocky knight is very lucky, there will be a ransom. It should be a tidy sum, to equal what he holds, for a wife and son, both valued.”

“Was it not enough to pit him against Hollis in Aquitaine, and again in the lists?”

“Hollis will win,” Ryland said with a laugh. “And I shall take you back to De la Noye, where the saddened brother of the slain knight will keep his lot for his son.”

“How have you secured Hyatt’s son? Where are the guards? Hyatt left two of his best here.”

Ryland laughed wickedly. “Would I come here alone and ask very kindly that they yield me Hyatt’s son? I brought some of Hollis’s with me. Hyatt’s are dead and the other knights guard the back of this humble place, lest we be interrupted.”

Aurélie gasped in spite of her wish to be strong. “Perrine?” she asked with hesitancy.

“Tied. She will not scream.”

Aurélie stiffened and tried to think clearly. She watched Faon warily, wondering what to make of the woman’s blank stare. “And if Hollis loses?” she asked.

“Then we have a little plan, of which you and Hyatt’s son are an important part. But do not worry,
chérie.
When your man is down, Hollis will tell him that I have you … and Derek.” He let go with a vicious laugh. “Hyatt will turn his head to look, and …”

Aurélie stiffened suddenly. “He will not look,” she said.

“He will look! And his skull will split as he turns his head!”

There was a crash that caused all heads to turn. From a rear door, Sir Girvin appeared, an evil smile on his lips and his short-handled ax in his hand. He tossed the heavy weapon about effortlessly and there was blood staining its edge. “He will not turn his head from the contest, Sir Ryland,” Girvin rumbled. “He entrusted the lady’s welfare to
me!”

Faon stood paralyzed on the stair and Derek began to squeal, not knowing that death lay at hand. He murmured and fussed and reached out hands toward Aurélie. Aurélie looked and saw the glint of steel in Faon’s hand. She held a sharp dagger in the hand at her side. Her eyes were hollow and blank, her face void of emotion.

“Girvin, hold, I beg you,” Aurélie whispered. “Faon, do not! He is your own flesh!”

Faon drew her breath sharply in, lifting her proud chin as she did so. She had been cast aside by Hyatt, tricked by Ryland, and used most brutally by Hollis. What next, she dare not think.

“She will kill him,” Ryland said. “Tell Goliath to step back and drop his ax, and come with us peacefully.”

Aurélie disregarded Ryland, though he held her so tightly that she felt cut in half. Still, she focused on Faon’s green eyes. The dress that the haughty mistress wore was tattered and ill-fitting. Her hair was not its usual mass of coppery curls, but dirty and unkempt.

“Faon, Hollis does not win this contest. As I left the lists, Hyatt was ahead by much. ’Tis Hyatt you will have to deal with, not the brute. Do not harm the boy.”

“Come, Faon,” Ryland urged in a cajoling tone. The blade moved in her hand, rising toward the boy. “Come with us, Faon, and we’ll have the best of them yet.”

Faon’s raging eyes darted to Ryland’s face. Then the green glitter went back to Aurélie.

“He is a noble babe, Faon. Hyatt will rear him to take his due. You cannot doubt that.”

The glitter increased as tears gathered in Faon’s eyes. The sound of horse hooves pounding down the lane could be heard, a sound like no other. In these narrow city streets, emptied because of the tournaments and feasts, only one person would ride so. Aurélie smiled. “ ’Tis not Sir Hollis,” she said shrewdly. “ ’Tis Hyatt, come to settle this.”

“Nay,” Ryland shouted. “He’ll not find one of you alive!” He tossed Aurélie aside in a move of sheer panic, lunging for the stairs. His hands were stretched out toward the boy and the knife. Faon backed away and gasped in sudden fear. But the ax was swift and sure and the sound was faster than the sight. There was a whiz and thump and only the weapon’s handle stuck out of Ryland’s chest. A look of terror gripped his face as he slumped. Faon seemed not to react, but still held her own blade at about the waist of her child.

The hooves came closer, the noise echoing between the closely built houses. Aurélie raised herself quickly. She stepped toward Faon, but not too near for the woman to pass her if she would come down the stairs. Aurélie reached inside her cloak and produced the leather purse she had offered to Hyatt.

“By the rear door, Faon. Girvin will let you pass. I wager his horse is tethered yonder.”

Her eyes darted toward the huge servant. “This last time,” Girvin agreed.

Faon’s eyes teared again and she did not lower the blade. “I tried to kill you. You will ask him to chase me down.”

“Nay! You are the boy’s mother. I know what that means.”

Faon stepped down. She pressed the blade close to the boy and used him as a shield as the sound of the approaching horse came closer and slower.

“Let me have the child, Faon. Please.”

“Tell him to move,” she said, indicating Girvin with her frightened eyes. Girvin did not require the command, but moved quickly, the blade still precariously close to Hyatt’s son.

Aurélie stepped closer, caution guarding her step, sympathy clouding her eyes. “Take the silver, Faon, and leave the boy. If you take Derek, I dare not say what he will do.”

“Will you take care of him? Do you swear?” she asked, a tremor in her voice.

“Yea, Faon. I give you my word.” The sound outside of the gallop slowed to a stop. “Quickly, lass,” Aurélie breathed. “Take flight. I can forgive you, but if he cannot …”

Derek reached toward Aurélie, and Faon choked on a sob. She dropped the dagger and reached for the silver. In a flurry of skirts she ran out the door that Girvin had kicked open. Without pause Aurélie whirled to face the messenger. “Let her go,” she commanded.

Girvin let his chin fall in a nod.

“How did you know where to come?”

“We saw them yesterday, my lady. I followed Ryland from Hollis’s pavilion today, sensing his plan to come here.”

Aurélie sighed. “Someday you must tell me how one so large gets about so easily without being seen.”

Girvin smiled devilishly. “And you may tell me how one so small commands troops with such finesse.”

Hyatt hit the door to his quarters with such speed and force that he nearly tripped over the body of his brother. Straight ahead, standing like a sentry at the door that led the way out through the back, Aurélie stood, holding Derek. She did not react to the blood on Hyatt’s face because she was determined that he would not follow Faon.

“It was Faon and Ryland,” Girvin reported. “My ax.”

“Where is she?” Hyatt snarled.

“Gone, my lord,” Aurélie said. Hyatt took a step toward his wife. “Nay, Hyatt. Leave her be.” She stopped him with a hand on his chest and slowly let her hand rise to touch the blood, dried now, on his cheek. “She is alone now and can do us no harm. You have no cause to hunt down a woman.”

“She may return with yet another scheme. I have let her go for too long.”

“Nay, Hyatt … she is beaten.”

Aurélie rose on her toes to place a light kiss on Hyatt’s lips and in the close exchange, Derek encircled his father’s neck with chubby arms. Hyatt took the boy and slipped an arm around Aurélie’s waist. “You are sure, lady?”

“Yea, Hyatt. If we are strong enough to love, we are strong enough to be merciful.” She sighed and leaned against him. “Please, my love. I shall never ask you to pardon an enemy again, but let us not raise up your son with the knowledge that his father killed his mother.”

Hyatt’s eyes clouded with doubt, but Aurélie’s voice pressed him. “If the contest is met, take me home.”

He looked down into her eyes and a smile grew on his lips. “ ’Tis met, my love. Did you doubt it?”

“Never, Hyatt. ’Tis met … and done.”

The ground outside the De la Noye wall was covered with a fresh blanket of late snow. All through the night the wind had howled, the snow coming in ruthless blasts against the castle walls while Lady Aurélie labored with her first child. The morning dawned clear and bright, the sun shining on the fresh, new whiteness, and yet the lady struggled to give birth.

At dawn, unable to bear the moaning pain of his wife any longer, Hyatt brooded in the hall. It was Guillaume who said, “When my wife labored with children, I found they were born much more quickly when I chopped wood.”

Hyatt knew good sense was at work. He donned a heavy fur jerkin and high leather boots, and took a long-handled ax outside the castle wall. He plied the ax with all his strength, bringing down a tree at the forest’s edge. It was not the lord’s duty to split logs for the fire, but Hyatt could not bear the idle wait while his wife labored.

A tidy stack of split logs grew and Hyatt was damp with sweat under his heavy garments despite the chill of the air. A blast of the horn from the high citadel caused him to bolt upright, leaving his ax standing in the log. The lady had given birth.

He looked toward the castle, his breath drawn in as he waited. There was a long pause. There was to be one blast for a girl child, two for a son. Yet there was naught but silence.

He turned and began to run toward the gate. It would not end in injury … did the child not live?

As he neared the wall he heard a blast of the horn, but he continued to run. Ah! A second blast. It was a boy.

A third blast came. Hyatt’s face went pale, but he hurried on. They had not discussed what signal to use if the child did not live, or if Aurélie … It was Guillaume who had promised the call from the donjon.