The Grail Quest Books 1-3: Harlequin, Vagabond, Heretic (19 page)

The enemy was gone by mid-morning. They left two score of dead men, and twice that number had been wounded, but not a single Welsh or English archer had died.

Duke Charles's men slunk back to Guingamp. Lannion had been destroyed, they had been humiliated and Will Skeat's men celebrated in La Roche-Derrien. They were the hellequin, they were the best and they could not be beaten.

—«»—«»—«»—

The following morning Thomas, Sam and Jake left La Roche-Derrien before daybreak. They rode west towards Lannion, but once in the woods they swerved off the road and picketed their horses deep among the trees. Then, moving like poachers, they worked their way back to the wood's edge. Each had his own bow slung on his shoulder, and carried a crossbow too, and they practised with the unfamiliar weapons as they waited in a swathe of bluebells at the wood's margin from where they could see La Roche-Derrien's western gate. Thomas had only brought a dozen bolts, short and stub-feathered, so each of them shot just two times. Will Skeat had been right: the weapons did kick up as the archers loosed so that their first bolts went high on the trunk that was their target. Thomas's second shot was more accurate, but nothing like as true as an arrow shot from a proper bow. The near miss made him apprehensive of the morning's risks, but Jake and Sam were both cheerful at the prospect of larceny and murder.

'Can't really miss,' Sam said after his second shot had also gone high. 'Might not catch the bastard in the belly, but we'll hit him somewhere.' He levered the cord back, grunting with the effort. No man alive could haul a crossbow's string by arm-power alone and so a mechanism had to be employed. The most expensive crossbows, those with the longest range, used a jackscrew. The archer would place a cranked handle on the screw's end and wind the cord back, inch by creaking inch, until the pawl above the trigger engaged the string. Some crossbowmen used their bodies as a lever. They wore thick leather belts to which a hook was attached and by bending down, attaching the hook to the cord and then straightening, they could pull the twisted strings back, but the crossbows Thomas had brought from Lannion used a lever, shaped like a goat's hind leg, that forced the cord and bent the short bow shaft, which was a layered thing of horn, wood and glue. The lever was probably the fastest way of cocking the weapon, though it did not offer the power of a screw-cocked bow and was still slow compared to a yew shaft. In truth there was nothing to compare with the English bow and Skeat's men debated endlessly why the enemy did not adopt the weapon. 'Because they're daft,' was Sam's curt judgement, though the truth, Thomas knew, was that other nations simply did not start their sons early enough. To be an archer meant starting as a boy, then practising and practising until the chest was broad, the arm muscles huge and the arrow seemed to fly without the archer giving its aim any thought.

Jake shot his second bolt into the oak and swore horribly when it missed the mark. He looked at the bow. 'Piece of shit,' he said. 'How close are we going to be?'

'Close as we can get,' Thomas said.

Jake sniffed. 'If I can poke the bloody bow into the bastard's belly I might not miss.'

'Thirty, forty feet should be all right,' Sam reckoned.

'Aim at his crotch,' Thomas encouraged them, 'and we should gut him.'

'It'll be all right,' Jake said, 'three of us? One of us has got to skewer the bastard.'

'In the shadows, lads,' Thomas said, gesturing them deeper into the trees. He had seen Jeanette coming from the gate where the guards had inspected her pass then waved her on. She sat sideways on a small horse that Will Skeat had lent her and was accompanied by two grey-haired servants, a man and a woman, both of whom had grown old in her father's service and now walked beside their mistress's horse. If Jeanette had truly planned to ride to Louannec then such a feeble and aged escort would have been an invitation for trouble, but trouble, of course, was what she intended, and no sooner had she reached the trees than the trouble appeared as Sir Simon Jekyll emerged from the archway's shadow, riding with two other men.

'What if those two bastards stay close to him?' Sam asked.

'They won't,' Thomas said. He was certain of that, just as he and Jeanette had been certain that Sir Simon would follow her and that he would wear the expensive suit of plate
he
had stolen from her.

'She's a brave
lass
,' Jake grunted.

'She's got spirit,' Thomas said, 'knows how to hate someone.'

Jake tested the point of a quarrel. 'You and her?' he asked Thomas. 'Doing it, are you?'

'No.'

'But you'd like to. I would.'

'I don't know,' Thomas said. He thought Jeanette beautiful, but Skeat was right, there was
a hardness
in her that repelled him. 'I suppose so,' he admitted.

'Of course you would,' Jake said, 'be daft not to.'

Once Jeanette was among the trees Thomas and his companions trailed her, staying hidden and always conscious that Sir Simon and his two henchmen were closing quickly. Those three horsemen trotted once they reached the wood and succeeded in catching up with Jeanette in a place that was almost perfect for Thomas's ambush. The road ran within yards of a clearing where a meandering stream had undercut the roots of a willow. The fallen trunk was rotted and thick with disc-like fungi. Jeanette, pretending to make way for the three armoured horsemen, turned into the clearing and waited beside the dead tree. Best of all there was a stand of young alders close to the willow's trunk that offered cover to Thomas.

Sir Simon turned off the road, ducked under the branches and curbed his horse close to Jeanette. One of his companions was Henry Colley, the brutal yellow-haired man who had hurt Thomas so badly, while the other was Sir Simon's slack-jawed squire, who grinned in expectation of the coming entertainment. Sir Simon pulled off the snouted helmet and hung it on his saddle's pommel, then smiled triumphantly.

'It is not safe, madame,' he said, 'to travel without an armed escort.'

'I am perfectly safe,' Jeanette declared. Her two servants cowered beside her horse as Colley and the squire hemmed Jeanette in place with their horses.

Sir Simon dismounted with a clank of armour. 'I had hoped, dear lady,' he said, approaching her, 'that we could talk on our way to Louannec'

'You wish to pray to the holy Yves?' Jeanette asked. 'What will you beg of him? That he grants you courtesy?'

'I would just talk with you, madame,' Sir Simon said.

'Talk of what?'

'Of the complaint you made to the Earl of Northampton. You fouled my honour, lady.'

'Your honour?'
Jeanette laughed. 'What honour do you have that could be fouled? Do you even know the meaning of the word?'

Thomas, hidden behind the straggle of alders, was whispering a translation to Jake and Sam. All three crossbows were cocked and had their wicked little bolts lying in the troughs.

'If you will not talk to me on the road, madame, then we must have our conversation here,' Sir Simon declared.

'I have nothing to say to you.'

'Then you will find it easy enough to listen,' he said, and reached up to haul her out of the saddle. She beat at his armoured gauntlets, but no resistance of hers could prevent him from dragging her to the ground. The two servants shrieked protests, but Colley and the squire silenced them by grabbing their hair, then pulling them out of the clearing to leave Jeanette and Sir Simon alone.

Jeanette had scrabbled backwards and was now standing beside the fallen tree. Thomas had raised his crossbow, but Jake pushed it down, for Sir Simon's escort was still too near.

Sir Simon pushed Jeanette hard so that she sat down on the rotting trunk, then he took a long dagger from his sword belt and drove its narrow blade hard through Jeanette's skirts so that she was pinned to the fallen willow. He hammered the knife hilt with his steel-shod foot to make sure it was deep in the trunk. Colley and the squire had vanished now and the noise of their horses' hooves had faded among the leaves.

Sir Simon smiled, then stepped forward and plucked the cloak from Jeanette's shoulders. 'When I first saw you, my lady,' he said, 'I confess I thought of marriage. But you have been perverse, so I have changed my mind.' He put his hands at her bodice's neckline and ripped it apart, tearing the laces from their embroidered holes. Jeanette screamed as she tried to cover herself and Jake again held Thomas's arm down.

'Wait till he gets the armour off,' Jake whispered. They knew the bolts could pierce mail, but none of the three knew how strong the plate armour would prove.

Sir Simon slapped Jeanette's hands away. 'There, madame,' he said, gazing at her breasts, 'now we can have discourse.'

Sir Simon stepped back and began to strip himself of the armour. He pulled off the plated gauntlets first, unbuckled the sword belt,
then
lifted the shoulder pieces on their leather harness over his head. He fumbled with the side buckles of the breast and back plates that were attached to a leather coat that also supported the rerebraces and vambraces that protected his arms. The coat had a chain skirt, which, because of the weight of the plate and ring mail, made it a struggle for Sir Simon to drag over his head. He staggered as he pulled at the heavy armour and Thomas again raised the crossbow, but Sir Simon was stepping back and forward as he tried to steady himself and Thomas could not be sure of his aim and so kept his finger off the trigger.

The armour-laden coat thumped onto the ground, leaving Sir Simon tousle-haired and bare-chested, and Thomas again put the crossbow stock into his shoulder, but now Sir Simon sat down to strip off the cuisses, greaves, poleyns and boots, and he sat in such a way that his armoured legs were towards the ambush and kept getting in the way of Thomas's aim. Jeanette was struggling with the knife, scared out of her wits that Thomas had not stayed close, but tug as she might the dagger would not move.

Sir Simon pulled off the sollerets that covered his feet,
then
wriggled out of the leather breeches to which the leg plates were attached. 'Now, madame,' he said, standing whitely naked, 'we can talk properly.'

Jeanette heaved a last time at the dagger, hoping to plunge it into Sir Simon's pale belly, and just then Thomas pulled his trigger.

The bolt scraped across Sir Simon's chest. Thomas had aimed at the knight's groin, hoping to send the short arrow deep into his belly, but the bolt had grazed one of the whiplike alder boughs and been deflected. Blood streaked on Sir Simon's skin and he dropped to the ground so fast that Jake's bolt whipped over his head. Sir Simon scrambled away, going first to his discarded armour. Then he realized he had no time to save the plate and so he ran for his horse, and it was then that Sam's bolt caught him in the flesh of his right thigh so that he yelped, half fell and decided there was no time to rescue his horse either and just limped naked and bleeding into the woods. Thomas loosed a second bolt that rattled past Sir Simon to whack into a tree, and then the naked man vanished. Thomas swore. He had meant to kill, but Sir Simon was all too alive.

'I thought you weren't here!' Jeanette said as Thomas appeared. She was clutching her torn clothing to her breasts.

'We missed the bastard,' Thomas said angrily. He heaved the dagger free of her skirts while Jake and Sam thrust the armour into two sacks. Thomas threw down the crossbow and took his own black bow from his shoulder. What he should do now, he thought, was track Sir Simon through the trees and
kill
the bastard. He could pull out the white-feathered arrow and put a crossbow bolt into the wound so that whoever found him would believe that bandits or the enemy had killed the knight.

'Search the bastard's saddle pouches,' he told Jake and Sam. Jeanette had tied the cloak round her neck and her eyes widened as she saw the gold pour from the pouches. 'You're going to stay here with Jake and Sam,' Thomas told her.

'Where are you going?' she asked.

'To finish the job,' Thomas said grimly. He loosed the laces of his arrow bag and dropped one crossbow bolt in among the longer arrows. 'Wait here,' he told Jake and Sam.

'I'll help you,' Sam said.

'No,' Thomas insisted, 'wait here and look after the Countess.' He was angry with himself. He should have used his own bow from the start and simply removed the telltale arrow and shot a bolt into Sir Simon's corpse, but he had fumbled the ambush. But at least Sir Simon had fled westwards, away from his two men-at-arms, and he was naked, bleeding and unarmed. Easy prey, Thomas told himself as he followed the blood drops among the trees. The trail went west and then, as the blood thinned, southwards. Sir Simon was obviously working his way back towards his companions and Thomas abandoned caution and just ran, hoping to cut the fugitive off. Then, bursting through some hazels, he saw Sir Simon, limping and bent. Thomas pulled the bow back, and just then Colley and the squire came into view, both with swords drawn and both spurring their horses at Thomas. He switched his aim to the nearest and loosed without thinking. He loosed as a good archer should, and the arrow went true and fast, smack into the mailed chest of the squire, who was thrown back in his saddle. His sword dropped to the ground as his horse swerved hard to its left, going in front of Sir Simon.

Colley wrenched his reins and reached for Sir Simon, who clutched at his outstretched hand and then half ran and was half carried away into the trees. Thomas had dragged a second arrow from the bag, but by the time he loosed it the two men were half hidden by trees and the arrow glanced off a branch and was lost among the leaves.

Thomas swore. Colley had stared straight at Thomas for an instant. Sir Simon had also seen him and Thomas, a third arrow on his string, just stared at the trees as he understood that everything had just fallen apart.
In one instant.
Everything.

He ran back to the clearing by the stream. 'You're to take the Countess to the town,' he told Jake and Sam, 'but for Christ's sake go carefully. They'll be searching for us soon. You'll have to sneak back.'