Hawk Quest (27 page)
‘I’m not talking about the perils of the sea. A woman on a ship full of men is a recipe for disaster. You know how Raul behaves when he’s taken a skinful.’
‘Raul wouldn’t dare touch her.’
‘You see. You’re already contemplating the challenge.’ Vallon sank back. ‘We’ll be taking on more hands and I’m not in a position to pick and choose. Doubtless we’ll end up with some men of base character. I’ve seen the madness that infects soldiers when a woman is set loose in their company. God knows, I’ve buried enough of them.’
‘The dog will kill anyone who lays a finger on her.’
‘Is that supposed to reassure me?’
Wayland lapsed back into silence.
Vallon leaned back. ‘Then there’s Snorri.’
Wayland met his eyes. ‘What about him?’
‘Don’t pretend there isn’t bad blood between him and the girl. I care nothing for his superstitions, but we rely on his cooperation.’
Wayland gave a contemptuous smile. ‘He’ll betray us with or without the girl.’
Vallon’s eyes narrowed. ‘Explain yourself.’
‘His wits have grown soft. He talks to himself without knowing it. He plans to rob us.’
Vallon shifted on his seat. ‘Well, I’ll deal with that problem in due course.’ His voice hardened. ‘It changes nothing. The girl goes.’
Wayland looked at his feet. ‘I’m sorry.’
Vallon softened his tone. ‘I’m sure your motives were kind, and by good fortune your rashness didn’t result in our ruin. We’ll set the girl down adequately provided for. The money will come from your share of the profits. That will be your punishment and you must agree that it’s milder than you deserve.’
Wayland lifted his eyes. ‘I meant, I’m sorry I can’t remain in your service.’
‘Don’t tell me you intend to go with her.’
‘You said I could leave once you’d set sail.’
Vallon gestured in the direction of the coast. ‘The girl’s stolen your wits. That isn’t your native country. You won’t find anything there except poverty and death. You’re an outlaw with a price on your head. Someone will turn you in. Even if you get away from the coast, you have no land and no one to protect you. At best you’ll end up a bondman guiding a plough. Is that what you want?’
Wayland’s eyes flashed. ‘I’ll find a forest where we’ll live as well as any lord and lady.’
‘Rubbish. When you ran wild, you ran alone. Think what it will mean to saddle yourself with a girl. You’re only – what? – seventeen? Too young to tie yourself down.’
Wayland didn’t answer. Vallon had been speaking in a heightened whisper, aware that Snorri was straining to overhear. He beckoned Wayland closer. ‘Our relationship has been thorny. You haven’t shown me the respect that’s due. No, don’t interrupt. I speak from experience, not vanity. Every enterprise must have a leader. From the outset you’ve only submitted to my authority when it suited you. I would have let you go your own way long ago if I hadn’t seen in you some admirable qualities. You’re brave, resourceful, sharp-witted. Learn to submit to your superiors and you could have a bright future.’
Wayland kept his face down.
‘I thought you wanted to trap gyrfalcons.’
Wayland raised his head. ‘I do. That’s why I joined you.’
‘Then don’t throw the opportunity away. Only once in a lifetime can a man follow a dream.’
Wayland’s voice choked. ‘I can’t abandon her. I made a pledge.’
‘Of marriage?’
‘Not that.’
‘What then?’
The dog came pattering down the deck. Wayland cuffed it and it lay down with its eyes fixed on Vallon’s face. He crossed his arms.
‘So that’s your final word. If the girl goes, you go too.’
Wayland composed himself. ‘Yes.’
Vallon gave a slow expiring sigh and looked across the moon’s silvery track. The land was out of sight. All horizons were empty. He rubbed his forehead.
‘Bring her to me.’
‘You won’t frighten her?’
‘Just fetch her.’
When Wayland had gone, Vallon contemplated how low his stock had fallen. Only two years ago he’d commanded armies. With a wave of an arm he’d brought squadrons sweeping into action. He’d ridden into towns at the head of his troops and seen the shuttered dread of citizens who knew he wielded the power of life or death. He’d doomed deserters and cowards to the rope without a moment’s thought. Now he was reduced to negotiating with a peasant over his sweetheart.
Syth moved so softly that he didn’t hear her approach until her shadow fell over him. Taller than he’d expected, slim as a reed, with eyes like a cat’s, something fey in her aspect. He almost reached out and touched her to see if she was real.
‘So you’re the dove who’s lured my haggard away.’
She darted a glance at Wayland.
‘What’s her name?’
‘Syth.’
Vallon stared out to sea. ‘The Normans know we haven’t quit these shores for good. They’ll be hunting us up and down the coast. We daren’t put ashore for several days – long enough for you to come to your senses. In the meantime, the girl must crop her hair and wear men’s clothes. She sleeps alone and you’ll keep a chaste distance at all times. While she’s with us, she might as well earn her keep. Can she cook and sew? Does she have any other talents?’
Wayland translated Vallon’s conditions. The girl’s hands went to her hair.
‘She won’t be any trouble,’ Wayland said.
Vallon waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Go and get something to eat.’
Wayland hesitated. ‘What about you, sir?’
Vallon pulled his cloak about him. ‘Just get out of my sight.’
Hero picked his way towards the bow. He’d checked on Vallon several times during the night, covering him with fleeces and blankets as the wind freshened. Now he stood before the shapeless heap and cleared his throat. When that didn’t wake the Frank, he reached out and gave a tentative prod.
Vallon reared up.
‘Don’t be alarmed, sir. It’s only me. I’ve brought you some pottage. Eat it while it’s warm.’
Vallon groaned and felt his ribs. ‘I feel as if I’ve been broken on the wheel.’ He supped from the bowl, his eyes switching back and forth. ‘What time is it?’
‘Not long before dawn. We’ve been running east all night.’
Vallon grunted and resumed eating. ‘This is better than the slops Raul serves up.’
‘The girl made it. She seems to have made a complete recovery. She’s a strange thing.’
Vallon’s spoon stopped halfway to his mouth. He shrugged and continued eating. ‘Has everyone found a place to sleep?’
‘We’re still feeling our way. We’ll organise things better by daylight.’
Vallon handed back his bowl and leaned against the stempost with his face to the stars.
Hero turned the bowl in his hands. ‘Do you think Drogo will leave us in peace now?’
Vallon gave a jagged laugh. ‘We’re a bone in his gullet. He won’t rest until he’s spat it out.’ Vallon squinted at Hero. ‘You heard his denunciation of me.’
‘I paid no attention to his slanders.’
‘He spoke the bald truth.’ Vallon shifted to make space. ‘Sit down. A long road stretches ahead and you may as well know what sort of man is taking you down it.’
Hero was trembling. Vallon pulled a blanket over him. For a time they just sat there, the ship rocking through the waves, Snorri half-asleep at the rudder, the rest of the company pitched in heaps on the deck.
‘I won’t weary you with a long history,’ said Vallon. ‘My family were minor nobles holding a small grant of land from Guillaume, Duke of Aquitaine and Count of Poitiers. I was a page at his court and fought my first battle under his banner at the age of seventeen. I acquitted myself well and rose in rank. My promotion to captain before I was twenty caused resentment among some knights of nobler birth. I began my campaigning in Spain nine years ago, when I was twenty-one.’
Hero must have betrayed surprise.
‘You thought I was older,’ said Vallon. ‘You’ll soon discover what stamped these lines on my face. Back to the Spanish expedition. The pope had called for a crusade against the Moors. Guillaume was one of several Frankish nobles who answered the summons. After joining our Spanish allies, the army besieged the town of Barbastro in the Muslim kingdom of Lerida. They took the town after forty days and massacred or enslaved its inhabitants. I took no part in the bloodshed – only because I’d been sent to guard against a counter-attack from Zaragoza. The ruler of that state was the King of Lerida’s brother, Emir al-Muqtadir. Remember that name.
‘At Barbastro the crusade ended. Those who’d taken part in the assault went home laden with booty and slaves. I returned no richer than when I’d left Aquitaine. The following year I married a girl I’d known since childhood. She was five years younger than me. It was an advantageous match, bringing with it a useful dowry.’
‘Was she beautiful?’
Vallon drew back to see Hero’s face. ‘Yes, she was.’ He seemed to lose his thread. ‘Anyway, although my first journey into Spain hadn’t enriched me, I’d seen enough to know that the country offered opportunities for a poor knight. The Moorish empire had fragmented into a score of warring states. I sought leave from Guillaume to return to Spain as a knight for hire. At his suggestion, I took service with King Ferdinand of Castile and Leon. My first action under Ferdinand was a punitive expedition against al-Muqtadir of Zaragoza. The Emir had retaken Barbastro and killed the Frankish and Spanish garrison. Until
then he’d been a Castilian tributary; in fact Ferdinand and al-Muqtadir had fought as allies against Castile’s rivals. Emboldened by his success at Barbastro, the Emir broke off relations with Castile. Our expedition against him was inconclusive, and within a year Ferdinand was dead. His empire was divided between his three sons. I transferred my allegiance to the eldest, Sancho II of Castile.
‘Two years later we laid Zaragoza under siege for a second time. This campaign was successful and al-Muqtadir sued for peace, paying a large ransom and swearing tribute to Sancho. The alliance was important because by this time Castile was fighting a war on three fronts – against Aragon to the east, and against Leon and Galicia to the west and north.
‘For the next three years I fought against Sancho’s enemies. After each campaigning season, I returned home to Aquitaine. My marriage was happy and bore three children. The youngest was still unborn when I made my final journey into Spain. With me was a nephew of the duke, a youth called Roland. Guillaume had put him under my wing to learn the arts of war. I knew the youth. His estate lay a day’s ride from mine and he was a frequent visitor. Roland was nineteen, uncommonly handsome, a fine singer and dancer, every inch the courtly noble. In short, nature had bestowed on him all the talents that I lack.’
Vallon looked around. ‘He was also treacherous and cowardly. It took me a while to learn his true character. To my face he was charming and respectful; behind my back he sneered at my modest birth and resented serving under me. The action that caused my ruin was trivial. Sancho had received intelligence that Emir al-Muqtadir planned to break the treaty with Castile. I was ordered to lead a small reconnaissance squadron to the Zaragoza border. There were only twelve of us, including Roland and two of his companions. Our task was to seek for signs that the Emir was planning an invasion. On no account were we to mount a provocation.
‘You can probably guess what happened. Towards the end of a tedious day during which we saw nothing but a few shepherds, we rounded a corner and surprised two Moorish scouts. They galloped off down a dry riverbed. Before I could stop him, Roland and his companions sped off in pursuit. I shouted at them to stop. I warned them it was a trap. They paid no attention.
‘We chased after them, but we were too late. Less than a mile down the gully Roland had run into a troop of Moorish cavalry. They’d already killed his companions and Roland was on his knees, begging for mercy. The enemy was too strong for us. The Moors killed every member of the patrol except for me and Roland. Him they saved because he was the nephew of a duke and would bring a good ransom. I was spared only because one of the Moorish officers recognised me.
‘We were taken to Aljaferia, the Emir’s summer palace in Zaragoza. Al-Muqtadir knew me by reputation – knew that I’d been part of the army that had massacred his brother’s subjects in Barbastro, knew me again from my part in the two invasions of Zaragoza. There was no reason for him to show me mercy except the possibility of ransom. The terms were too high for me to meet, and I knew that Sancho wouldn’t look kindly on a soldier of fortune – that’s all I was – who’d jeopardised an important treaty at a critical juncture in his wars against his brothers. Roland assured me that his uncle and my lord, the Duke of Aquitaine, would pay both ransoms. He composed the letter himself and it was duly despatched. For the next month we shared comfortable quarters in the palace. Then one morning, Roland was summoned to the Emir’s throne-room. He returned in a distraught state. His ransom had been received, but for some inexplicable reason mine had been delayed. He swore that he’d arrange my release or return to share my fate.’
Vallon continued in a monotone. ‘A month passed, two months. One morning at dawn, four months into my incarceration, guards came for me. With no word of explanation, they bound me and bundled me into a cart. We left the city travelling south and by noon we’d reached my new prison. The place was called Cadrete – a harsh fortress on top of a rocky hill. When we passed through the gate, my escort blinded me with a hood. As they marched me to my cell, I tried to construct a picture of my surroundings. First they led me deep into the castle on a level stone floor. I walked ninety steps before we halted at a door secured by a lock and three bolts. On the other side we descended a flight of twelve stone steps. We halted again and I heard lamps being lit and a hatch open in the floor. Guards lowered a ladder through the hatch. They guided me onto the ladder and ordered me to descend. I counted twenty-eight rungs before I reached the bottom. My guards removed my hood. Then
they climbed the ladder, pulled it up after them and closed the trap, leaving me in absolute darkness.’ Vallon paused. ‘Do you know what an oubliette is?’