“I sincerely hope that Sir Saer finishes his business swiftly and returns,” he said. “You will be safe while he is here.”
Gilliane bit her lip. Perhaps Sir Richard was right. All evidence pointed to the correctness of his estimate. Only Gilliane’s long experience with Saer made her heart flutter with fear. She had not the thinnest, smallest shred of proof, yet she knew that Saer was planning something that boded ill for her and Gilbert. “I hope we will be safe,” she sighed. “I hope so.”
Chapter Four
Saer de Cercy had good reason to congratulate himself on his accurate perception of the situation and on the speed with which he had acted. He did not waste time attacking Telsey again. He had a far larger goal in mind. He intended to take Kemp while its master was gone. The start of this project was unusually propitious. Not only was there no resistance to Saer’s passage across Adam’s land, but he had the good fortune to come across and capture a patrol of Adam’s men who were ranging out from Telsey keep to give warning of just such an invasion as was taking place.
The capture was not without cost. The few men fought fiercely and seven of the eleven were left dead, or good as dead, on the field before the leader of the group could be captured. It seemed to Saer, when he saw who his prisoner was, that fate had decided to repay him for the indignities Adam had inflicted on him. Sir Robert de Remy’s face looked out after the helmet had been removed. Saer chortled with pleasure as he thought of the revenge he would have to salve the unpleasant memories. Nonetheless, his voice was cordial when he spoke to Sir Robert.
“So we meet again.”
“That is how it seems,” Sir Robert replied neutrally.
He had not had an opportunity to take personal measure of this man. There was nothing in the attack upon Telsey to indicate whether or not Saer was an honorable man. The shooting of arrows at Adam during a parley hinted that there was something rotten at the core, but it could have been an accident. In any case, Adam had called the parley. Saer had given no promise to observe a truce. As far as the attack itself went, it was not dishonorable for an avowed enemy (and Saer was Louis’s man) to make a surprise attack, nor for that enemy to choose the best tactical time for his attack. And it was nothing but common sense to capture a patrol that might destroy the surprise. Thus, Sir Robert could see no reason to be defiant or offensive. If Saer was an honorable man, he would imprison Sir Robert until the campaign was over, and then set a ransom for him so that he could be freed.
Sir Robert was bleeding from several small wounds. Saer eyed the red trickles for a moment and then bellowed for servants to remove Sir Robert’s armor and for a leech to treat the hurts. Sir Robert was still too furious with himself for being caught to feel much relief, but Saer did seem an honorable adversary. He felt somewhat surprised when Saer began to tell him of the power he already had and of his intention of widening his sphere of influence, but some perfectly good men could not resist boasting, especially to an enemy. Since it would be impolitic to laugh in a captor’s face, and stupid to increase an enemy’s wariness by giving him warning, Sir Robert did not tell Saer that not only Adam but his whole powerful family would rush out to crush this invasion. He bit his tongue and kept his eyes on the ground.
Saer had no way of judging Sir Robert, either. True, he had closed Telsey and fought back, but that did not prove anything. It was entirely possible that Sir Robert hated, envied, and feared his overlord as Saer hated, envied, and feared the Comte de la Marche. Under those circumstances, especially if he knew Lemagne was close by, Sir Robert would not dare yield the property entrusted to him. However, if the man were offered protection and reward, he might be the key that opened the gates of Kemp without bloodshed, Of course, having got the gates open, the lock would be changed and the key thrown away—but Sir Robert would know nothing of that part of the plan until it was too late.
“How would you like to be a vassal instead of a castellan?” Saer asked, after a recital of his possessions and future plans had, he was sure, made Sir Robert aware of his ability to fulfill such a promise. “A vassal with far better lands than that little nothing at Telsey—a vassal holding Kemp, let us say?”
Fortunately, just at that moment the leech did something very painful to Sir Robert. His howl of outrage had enough physical pain in it, and the pain made him sufficiently breathless, to prevent him from speaking. He was able to conceal his reaction, but he could not trust himself to say what he knew must be said.
“What?” he gasped, as if pain had made him uncertain of what he had heard.
Obligingly, Saer repeated and elaborated his offer. “It will be easy and safe enough,” he urged. “All you need do is ride up to the keep with fifty of my men. Doubtless they will close it when they see you because I have reason to believe Lemagne is absent, having gone to the coronation of this babe the fools intend to set up as king. That will make it easier. You have only to say that you have been summoned to bring the men to him. Or, if he is there, you can say you have come to support him because you have news that I am on the way to attack Kemp. In either case, you will be welcomed in. It will be little work then to fall upon the men-at-arms who will be unprepared and kill those who resist. Or, if you cannot take the whole keep, at least you will be able to take the towers that guard the portcullis and drawbridge. Then I can come in with the remainder of my men and we will make short work of the castle.”
Sir Robert’s eyes bulged. Instinctively, before reason and guile could control him, he shook his head.
“There are worse things than death that can happen to a man,” Saer suggested. “I am rich now. Your ransom is nothing to me.”
The personal threat was a blessing. It enabled Sir Robert to feel rage instead of revulsion. He shook his head again. “I did not mean that I refused your offer,” he got out, knowing that his choked, unnatural voice would be taken for a sign of fear. After all, Sir Robert thought contemptuously, fear was what Saer would have felt, so how could he attribute any other emotion to another man? “What I meant was that it would not work.”
“Oh?” Saer said suspiciously. “In what is the plan lacking?”
Truly it was not lacking in much. Sir Robert knew that it would work because he was a trusted friend. In fact, he would need no excuse for whatever tail of men he brought. On his word, Saer’s whole army might have marched into Kemp keep. A weird and painful pleasure seized Sir Robert. He did not delude himself as to the final outcome. He would die. Possibly he would die in agony. He knew, however, that he would die in any case. Saer was not the man to keep a promise, particularly to someone he already knew to be untrustworthy. Thus, there was a kind of delight in tricking the trickster that made bearable the fearful sinking of his heart, a bitter satisfaction in knowing he would taste his revenge for his own agony before it overtook him.
To gain that revenge and make his own trickery successful, Sir Robert needed to make Saer believe he was unprincipled and a coward, and thus completely willing to fall in with Saer’s plans. What if he were not a trusted friend but a new castellan in whom Adam did not yet have full confidence? How would Adam have reacted to such a man arriving with fifty supporters? How would Alberic, the master-at-arms, react to such a situation if Adam were absent? Sir Robert began to voice his objections to Saer’s plan. They were sound objections, and Saer recognized them as such. Then Sir Robert began to make suggestions that would get around the difficulties he had fabricated.
Saer questioned and probed, but the answers he got were all obviously true. By the time Sir Robert was done, Saer was reconsidering his decision to kill the man after Kemp was taken. Sir Robert was clever in military matters. Perhaps he would be useful. There was a shadow of a smile on his lips from time to time that hinted he was enjoying the planning of his overlord’s downfall.
“I see there is no love lost between you and that young upstart that rules here,” Saer remarked when the plans were set and he and Sir Robert were sharing a flagon of wine.
Sir Robert’s face se
t hard. “My feelings for Adam Lemagne are my own business,” he said stiffly. “Let it be enough said that I welcome this chance to do what I am about to do.”
Saer laughed. “Very well, I am content. Now I will arrange for your comfort, Sir Robert. You are wounded and will no doubt be glad of some rest before we begin our march again.”
To that Sir Robert agreed gratefully. He did not know how much longer he could have maintained his pretense, particularly if Saer continued to speak ill of Adam, to whom Sir Robert had become most sincerely attached in the year he had served directly under him. Saer went out. There was no guard at the open flap of the tent nor could anyone be seen who seemed to be watching. Sir Robert grinned wryly. He was not likely to fall into so obvious a trap. He was sure there was no chance at all that he could escape. A man so given to treachery as Saer trusted no one, probably not even long-time “friends”. Certainly he would not leave a prisoner unguarded, except in an attempt to trick him into some action that would betray his true intentions.
Quietly, Sir Robert finished his wine, praying that he would be able to die with dignity. Then his eyes brightened and he reached for the flagon again, poured a little more, and drank it off. There was a chance after all—not a chance to live, but a chance to die as a man should rather than screaming as he was torn apart by hot pincers or flayed alive. When Saer returned, Sir Robert wiped away the smile that had been on his lips, but he was not much concerned whether Saer had seen it. That treacherous rat would only think he was contemplating the reward he would reap for his betrayal.
In fact, Saer was thinking along those lines, and Sir Robert’s behavior on the march confirmed his opinion that de Remy hated Adam. Temptation after temptation was offered Sir Robert. He was given a tent to himself and allowed to keep his eating knife. Instead of slitting open the wall of the tent and attempting to escape, Sir Robert went quietly to bed and, seemingly, slept through the night. The next day his own horse was brought. No one led it; no bonds were placed upon him to tie him to the saddle. When he rode out of the center of the group to the very front of the force, no one blocked his way or warned him back. But Sir Robert did not set spurs to his horse and try to escape. He rode up to Saer and pointed out the most uninhabited areas through which to travel so that there would be the least chance of warning Kemp of their coming.
Saer was delighted. It did not occur to him that keeping his army on the uninhabited grazing lands also protected the people and the small hamlets and outlying farmsteads from being harmed. Saer would never have considered the safety of such people. That night Sir Robert did not sit drinking with Saer. He said his wounds hurt and went to bed as soon as he had eaten. Saer frowned and warned those who were secretly watching to be especially alert. They were now near enough to Kemp that a man could hope to steal a horse and, if he had even a short start, outdistance pursuit to the keep. Sir Robert, however, did not stir, except twice to drink and once to piss.
The next morning the army itself did not break camp at dawn. Sir Robert, Saer, and the fifty men detailed to follow them made ready. The most trusted of Saer’s captains was instructed to move the main body of the army to Kemp in as close to half an hour’s time as he could judge. As they mounted, Sir Robert looked at Saer, then down at his own body, and shrugged.
“What is that for?” he was asked sharply.
“There is one thing I did not mention before, but I fear it will tell the tale. What knight in these times rides abroad without shield or weapons?”
Saer snorted. “Are you telling me I must arm a prisoner?”
“I am telling you only that the meanest man-at-arms will see that there is no shield on my shoulder, no sword by my side, no mace or ax on my saddle. Moreover, they will see me traveling in the company of a full-armed knight.”
“How does it come about you never mentioned this before?”
“Because it never came into my head that you would not see that to keep me unarmed would give away the entire scheme. And what you say is true, of course. It is not a prisoner’s place to ask for arms. You must decide which chance to take. I can only swear I will do my part, but I do not wish to be blamed if I am not believed.”
Saer grumbled a little, but in his heart he was convinced that what Sir Robert said was true. Moreover, as he judged all men by his own nature (which is a common fault), he was greatly inclined to believe that Sir Robert lusted after the prize of vassalage he had been offered and, in addition, would be glad to do his overlord an injury if he could. There was also the evidence of Sir Robert’s actions. He had had, seemingly, enough chances to escape and had not tried to do so. Finally, he was one against fifty-one. What could he do? Having warned his prisoner not to make any suspicious moves, Saer ordered that Sir Robert’s shield and weapons be returned.
Sir Robert’s behavior could not have been more docile on the short ride to the keep. He rode exactly where Saer told him to and kept exactly to the pace prescribed. Only at the start he kept fidgeting the strap of his shield, moving it forward and then back until Saer asked impatiently what ailed him. It rubbed on a wound, Sir Robert replied shortly, and he was seeking a position where it would not hurt him so much.
“Oh, take it on your arm.” Saer growled impatiently. He was keyed up beyond belief. In fact, he could not remember being so eager and excited since he was a little boy. Revenge was indeed a very sweet and heady draught.
Sir Robert glanced at his captor and then hastily averted his eyes lest the joy in them give him away. He had not hoped for such a piece of good luck, only to accustom Saer to the movement of his shield so that he would not instantly realize what Sir Robert was doing when he finally shifted it from his shoulder to his arm. Now what he hoped for had become more possible. Not only that, now there was a small chance—very small, but real—that he would escape with his life. Trembling with eagerness, he concentrated desperately on not arousing Saer’s suspicions, on doing exactly what Saer expected of him.
In normal times, visitors were very welcome to any keep. They brought news and variety of conversation to people who were too accustomed to the company they had. Even in normal times, however, the unexpected arrival of fifty armed men would have been greeted with caution. In the midst of a civil war, the drawbridge went up and the portcullis down, as soon as the sentries on the walls made out the dark line moving toward them. More men were summoned, crossbows were wound, longbows strung. There was a slight relaxation when two knights separated themselves from the troop and rode a little ahead. That was usually the sign of a friendly visitor who wished to identify himself.
One knight rose in his stirrups as if to give his voice more carrying power. “I am Robert de Remy,” he shouted, but before relief and pleasure could greet that announcement, he had twisted his body and struck ferociously at the man beside him with his shield. “I am a prisoner!” he shrieked. “There is an army on its way. Shoot! In God’s name, shoot!”
A good overlord breeds loyal and devoted retainers. The people on Adam’s land were not as fanatically devoted as those of Roselynde, where the same family had held sway for more than one hundred and fifty years. To the serfs and villeins of Roselynde, the lord or lady who ruled was near a god. One died and another took power, it was true, but, to the common people, they were almost indistinguishable. Male or female, the ruler of Roselynde was the fountain of all help in times of trouble, all punishment when evil was done, all joy when celebration was decreed.
On Adam’s land the faith was not so absolute. Simon had conquered or purchased each of the holdings only some fifteen years past. Before that, each had had a varied history. Some had had many holders, good and bad; some had fallen into decay and become subject for sale or conquest either because the holder was depraved or because the holder was too mild or too improvident. All the people were aware, however, that their overlords were not immutable; they came and went. This made them less likely to rush to the defense of any particular overlord because they knew he could be overthrown and another take his p
lace.
On the other hand, the people were also aware of the difference in their lives since Lemagne had come to rule them. Lemagne, father and son, and the dark man who had ruled them while the son grew from boy to man, were hard but just, and mercy and good humor tempered both hardness and justice. Thus, if the people on Adam’s land could help their overlord without endangering themselves, they were glad enough to do so. When an army passed through the lands of Telsey, they did not run to give warning, as those of Roselynde would have; they fled and hid. However, after the army was gone, some brave souls crept out to see whether the keep was besieged or taken. They were greatly relieved to see all quiet there. The fields of the serfs where the army had passed had been trampled, of course, but that had done no harm because it was November and the harvest was already in. Perhaps it was their own lord’s army?
That notion was eliminated when one of the men came upon the bodies of the men-at-arms who had been with de Remy. Greed warred with fear. Could the bodies be stripped and the accouterments hidden until it was safe to sell them? If such an act was discovered, torture and death would be the punishment. A faint sigh of a groan tipped the balance to caution. Hastily, the serf searched out the man still living, brought him water. Caution was soon reinforced by a safer greed. If the serf would go to the keep and tell them there to come and fetch him, the man-at-arms promised there would be a reward.
By midmornmg, three messengers from Telsey were galloping toward Roselynde. Sir Robert’s master-at-arms, John of Kendal, had already been disturbed when his lord had not returned to the keep for the night. It was most unusual for Sir Robert to be away without saying where he might be found in case of emergency. When he had seen what the serf had to show, John waited no longer but sent for help. Since he knew it was useless to send to Kemp, being aware that Adam had ridden west to the new king’s coronation, John addressed his plea and warning to the place that was likeliest to know Adam’s whereabouts.
Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four) Page 7
