The Grail Quest Books 1-3: Harlequin, Vagabond, Heretic (17 page)

'I asked what you are doing.'

'Ladders, my lady, ladders.'
Jacques cuffed a stream of mucus from his nose. There was a weeping ulcer on his neck and the stink of it was as bad as the red herrings. 'They want six ever so long ladders.'

'Why?'

Jacques looked left and right to make sure no one could overhear him. 'What he says,' he jerked his head at the Englishman who was supposedly supervising the work, 'what he says is that they're taking them to Lannion. And they're long enough for that big wall, ain't they?'

'Lannion?'

'He likes his ale, he does,' Jacques said, explaining the Englishman's indiscretion.

'Hey! Handsome!' the supervisor shouted at Jacques. 'Get to work!' Jacques, with a grin to Jeanette, picked up his tools.

'Make the rungs loose!' Jeanette advised Jacques in Breton,
then
turned because her name had been called from the house. Sir Simon Jekyll, looking heavy-eyed and sleepy, was standing in the doorway and Jeanette's heart sank at the sight of him.

'My lady,' Sir Simon offered Jeanette a bow, 'you should not be waiting with common folk.'

'Tell that to the clerk,' Jeanette said coldly.

The clerk tallying the arrow sheaves squealed when Sir Simon caught him by the ear. 'This clerk?' he asked.

'He told me to wait out here.'

Sir Simon cuffed the man across the face. 'She's a lady, you bastard! You treat her like a lady.' He kicked the man away,
then
pulled the door fully open. 'Come, my lady,' he invited her.

Jeanette went to the door and was relieved to see four more clerks busy at tables inside the house. 'The army,' Sir Simon said as she brushed past him, '
has
almost as many clerks as archers.
Clerks, farriers, masons, cooks, herdsmen, butchers, anything else on two legs that can take the King's coin.'
He smiled at her,
then
brushed a hand down his threadbare wool robe that was trimmed with fur. 'If I had known you were gracing us with a visit, my lady, I would have dressed.'

Sir Simon, Jeanette noted gladly, was in a puppy mood this morning. He was always either boorish or clumsily polite and she hated him in either mood, but at least he was easier to deal with when he tried to impress her with his manners. 'I came,' she told him, 'to request a pass from Monsieur Totesham.' The clerks watched her surreptitiously, their quills scratching and spluttering on the scraped parchment.

'I can give you a pass,' Sir Simon said gallantly, 'though I trust you are not leaving La Roche-Derrien permanently?'

'I just wish to visit Louannec,' Jeanette said.

'And where, dear
lady,
is Louannec?'

'It is on the coast,' Jeanette said, 'north of Lannion.'

'Lannion, eh?'
He perched on a table's edge, his bare leg swinging.
'Can't have you wandering near Lannion.
Not this week.
Next, maybe, but only if you can persuade me that you have good reason to travel.'
He smoothed his fair moustache. 'And I can be very persuadable.'

'I wish to pray at the shrine there,' Jeanette said.

'I would not keep you from your prayers,' Sir Simon said. He was thinking that he should have invited her through into the parlour, but in truth he had small appetite for love's games this morning. He had consoled himself for his failure to boil Thomas of Hookton's backside by drinking deep into the darkness, and his belly felt liquid, his throat was dry and his head was banging like a kettledrum. 'Which saint will have the pleasure of hearing your voice?' he asked.

'The shrine is dedicated to Yves who protects the sick. My son has a fever.'

'Poor boy,' Sir Simon said in mock sympathy,
then
peremptorily ordered a clerk to write the pass for her ladyship. 'You will not travel alone, madame?' he asked.

'I shall take servants.'

'You would be better with soldiers. There are bandits everywhere.'

'I do not fear my own countrymen, Sir Simon.'

'Then you should,' he said tartly.
'How many servants?'

'Two.'

Sir Simon told the clerk to note two companions on the pass,
then
looked back to Jeanette. 'You really would be much safer with soldiers as escort.'

'God will preserve me,' Jeanette said.

Sir Simon watched as the ink on the pass was sanded dry and a blob of hot wax was dropped onto the parchment. He pressed a seal into the wax,
then
held the document to Jeanette. 'Maybe I should come with you, madame?'

'I would rather not travel at all,' Jeanette said, refusing to take the pass.

'Then I shall relinquish my duties to God,' Sir Simon said.

Jeanette took the pass, forced herself to thank him,
then
fled. She half expected that Sir Simon would follow her, but he let her go unmolested. She felt dirty, but also triumphant because the trap was baited now. Well and truly baited.

She did not go straight home, but went instead to the house of the lawyer, Belas, who was still eating a breakfast of blood sausage and bread. The aroma of the sausage put an edge to Jeanette's hunger, but she refused his offer of a plate. She was a countess and he was a mere lawyer and she would not demean herself by eating with him.

Belas straightened his robe, apologized that the parlour was cold, and asked whether she had at last decided to sell the house. 'It is the sensible thing to do, madame. Your debts mount.'

'I shall let you know my decision,' she said, 'but I have come on other business.'

Belas opened the parlour shutters. 'Business costs money, madame, and your debts, forgive me, are mounting.'

'It is Duke Charles's business,' Jeanette said. 'Do you still write to his men of business?'

'From time to time,' Belas said guardedly.

'How do you reach them?' Jeanette demanded.

Belas was suspicious of the question, but finally saw no harm in giving an answer. 'The messages go by boat to Paimpol,' he said, 'then overland to Guingamp.'

'How long does it take?'

'Two days?
Three?
It depends if the English are riding the country between Paimpol and Guingamp.'

'Then write to the Duke,' Jeanette said, 'and tell him from me that the English will attack Lannion at the end of this week. They are making ladders to scale the wall.' She had decided to send the message through Belas, for her own couriers were two fishermen who only came to sell their wares in La Roche-Derrien on a Thursday, and any message sent through them must arrive too late. Belas's couriers, on the other hand, could reach Guingamp in good time to thwart the English plans.

Belas dabbed egg from his thin beard. 'You are sure, madame?'

'Of course I'm sure!' She told him about Jacques and the ladders and about the indiscreet English supervisor, and how Sir Simon had forced her to wait a week before venturing near Lannion on her expedition to the shrine at Louannec.

'The Duke,' Belas said as he ushered Jeanette to the house door, 'will be grateful.'

Belas sent the message that day, though he did not say it came from the Countess, but instead claimed all the credit for himself. He gave the letter to a shipmaster
who
sailed that same afternoon, and next morning a horseman rode south from Paimpol. There were no hellequin in the wasted country between the port and the Duke's capital so the message arrived safely. And in Guingamp, which was Duke Charles's headquarters, the farriers checked the war horses' shoes, the cross-bowmen greased their weapons, squires scrubbed mail till it shone and a thousand swords were sharpened. The English raid on Lannion had been betrayed.

—«»—«»—«»—

Jeanette's unlikely alliance with Thomas had soothed the hostility in her house. Skeat's men now used the river as their lavatory instead of the courtyard, and Jeanette allowed them into the kitchen, which proved useful, for they brought their rations with them and so her household ate better than it had since the town had fallen, though she still could not bring herself to try the smoked herrings with their bright red, mould-covered skins. Best of all was the treatment given to two importunate merchants who
arrived
demanding payment from Jeanette and were so badly manhandled by a score of archers that both men left hatless, limping, unpaid and bloody.

'I will pay them when I can,' she told Thomas.

'Sir Simon's likely to have money on him,' he told her.

'He is?'

'Only a fool leaves cash where a servant can find it,' he said.

Four days after the beating his face was still swollen and his lips black with blood clots. His rib hurt and his body was a mass of bruises, but he had insisted to Skeat that he was well enough to ride to Lannion. They would leave that afternoon. At midday Jeanette found him in St Renan's church.

'Why are you praying?' she asked him.

'I always do before a fight.'

'There will be a fight today? I thought you were not riding till tomorrow?'

'I love a well-kept secret,' Thomas said, amused. 'We're going a day early. Everything's ready, why wait?'

'Going where?' Jeanette asked, though she already knew.

'To wherever they take us,' Thomas said.

Jeanette grimaced and prayed silently that her message had reached Duke Charles. 'Be careful,' she said to Thomas, not because she cared for him, but because he was her agent for taking revenge on Sir Simon Jekyll. 'Perhaps Sir Simon will be killed?' she suggested.

'God will save him for me,' Thomas said.

'Perhaps he won't follow me to Louannec?'

'He'll follow you like a dog,' Thomas said, 'but it will be dangerous for you.'

'I shall get the armour back,' Jeanette said, 'and that is all that matters. Are you praying to St Renan?'

'To St Sebastian,' Thomas said, 'and to St Guinefort.'

'I asked the priest about Guinefort,' Jeanette said accusingly, 'and he said he had never heard of him.'

'He probably hasn't heard of St Wilgefortis either,' Thomas said.

'Wilgefortis?'
Jeanette stumbled over the unfamiliar name. 'Who is he?'

'She,' Thomas said, 'and she was a very pious virgin who lived in Flanders and grew a long beard. She prayed every day that God would keep her ugly so that she could stay chaste.'

Jeanette could not resist laughing. 'That isn't true!'

'It is true, my lady,' Thomas assured her. 'My father was once offered a hair of her holy beard, but he refused to buy it.'

'Then I shall pray to the bearded saint that you survive your raid,' Jeanette said, 'but only so you can help me against Sir Simon. Other than that I hope you all die.'

—«»—«»—«»—

The garrison at Guingamp had the same wish, and to make it come true they assembled a strong force of crossbowmen and men-at-arms to ambush the Englishmen on their way to Lannion, but they, like Jeanette, were convinced that La Roche-Derrien's garrison would make their sally on the Friday and so they did not leave till late on Thursday, by which time Totesham's force was already within five miles of Lannion. The shrunken garrison did not know the English were coming because Duke Charles's war captains, who commanded his forces in Guingamp while the Duke was in Paris, decided not to warn the town. If too many people knew that the English had been betrayed then the English themselves might hear of it, abandon their plans and so deny the Duke's men the chance of a rare and complete victory.

The English expected victory themselves. It was a dry night and, near midnight, a full moon slid out from behind a silver-edged cloud to cast Lannion's walls in sharp relief. The raiders were hidden in woods from where they watched the few sentinels on the ramparts. Those sentinels grew sleepy and, after a time, went to the bastions where fires burned and so they did not see the six ladder parties creep across the night fields, nor the hundred archers following the ladders. And still they slept as the archers climbed the rungs and Totesham's main force erupted from the woods, ready to burst through the eastern gate that the archers would open.

The sentinels died. The first dogs awoke in the town, then a church bell began to ring and Lannion's garrison came awake, but too late for the gate was open and Totesham's mail-clad soldiers were crying havoc in the dark alleys while still more men-at-arms and archers were pouring through the narrow gate.

Skeat's men were the rearguard and so waited outside the town as the sack began. Church bells were clanging wildly as the town's parishes woke to nightmare, but gradually the clangour ceased.

Will Skeat stared at the moon-glossed fields south of Lannion. 'I hear it was Sir Simon Jekyll who improved your looks,' he said to Thomas.

'It was.'

'Because you told him to boil his arse?'
Skeat grinned. 'You can't blame him for thumping you,' Skeat said, 'but he should have talked to me first.'

'What would you have done?'

'Made sure he didn't thump you too much, of course,' Skeat said, his gaze moving steadily across the landscape. Thomas had acquired the same habit of watchfulness but all the land beyond the town was still. A mist rose from the low ground. 'So what do you plan to do about it?' Skeat asked.

'Talk to you.'

'I don't fight your goddamn battles, boy,' Skeat growled. 'What do you plan to do about it?'

'Ask you to lend me Jake and Sam on Saturday. And I want three crossbows.'

'Crossbows, eh?'
Skeat asked flatly. He saw that the rest of Totesham's force had now entered the town so he put two fingers to his lips and sounded a piercing whistle to signal that his own men could follow. 'Onto the walls!' he shouted as the hellequin rode forward.
'Onto the walls!'
That was the rearguard's job: to man the fallen town's defences. 'Half the bloody bastards will still get drunk,' Skeat growled, 'so you stay with me, Tom.'

Most of Skeat's men did their duty and climbed the stone steps to the town's ramparts, but a few slipped away in search of plunder and drink, so Skeat, Thomas and a half-dozen archers scoured the town to find those laggards and drive them back to the walls. A score of Totesham's men-at-arms were doing much the same -dragging men out of taverns and setting them to loading the many wagons that had been stored in the town to keep them from the hellequin. Totesham particularly wanted food for his garrison, and his more reliable men-at-arms did their best to keep the English soldiers from drink, women or anything else that would slow the plunder.