Ann of Cambray
Page 31
The leader reined his horse to a jarring stop, setting the rest in the yard there starting with fear. The French envoys had drawn their men around their fallen comrade, swords out, shields locked against the flight of arrows overhead. Geoffrey was already at my side, Raoul at the other, his only weapon a dagger he had snatched from Geoffrey as he came. And in the centre of the courtyard Sir Brian lay in his own blood.
The leader, a knight, heavily armed, his helmet low, sword swinging, cried out his challenge as he came on. It echoed eerily through the empty yards and stalls, for he had not yet understood that all of Sedgemont was gathered here. And the cry he used sounded even more strange: ‘The Lord of Sedgemont, the Lord of Sedgemont. Behold him here.’
With that he slipped off his helmet and we saw him clear: Lord Guy of Maneth, back from France to make good his claim.
‘By God,’ Raoul said, ‘how came this weasel slinking back? Ann, get you behind me.’
‘In the king’s name, the king’s name,’ the French knights shouted, making a shield wall to cover their man although he was as dead already, his throat torn half-apart that would have uttered such sweet words.
‘I come at right time, then,’ cried Guy of Maneth, his quick glance taking in all before him, three separate tableaux that revolved around three separate groups: the French knights ready to ride forth; Sir Brian and his womenfolk; Raoul and I and Geoffrey at one side, alone. I bit my knuckle through that I had been so thoughtless not to have considered him. But no one had. Even the French were bewildered by his presence. And Raoul’s main concern was to protect me.
‘Bind me that man,’ Maneth shouted, ‘nay, that one,’ as they lunged first at Geoffrey, who beat them back with his sword.
‘My lord, my lord,’ Geoffrey cried in turn, throwing it hilt first to Raoul. But it was too late. There were too many of Maneth’s scum and some had already run round behind them both, so that they were drawn together back-to-back and over-powered. I tried to force my horse upon them, but was afraid of trampling Raoul underneath, and before I could wheel free, Lord Guy himself had cut off my escape and his men had no difficulty in pulling me from the saddle. The French envoys still stood in their solid mass, but they were outnumbered and they knew it, although they continued to shout out defiance, threats, outrage. And by Sir Brian’s body, there in the centre courtyard, without protection at all, the Lady Mildred knelt, dry-eyed with her women, and they prayed.
‘So,’ said Lord Guy above the cries—I heard the smirk of satisfaction in his voice, ‘I, too, come in the name of the king. See you here his seal.’
He waved a parchment roll that he had pulled from his belt and thrust it towards the French envoys. ‘Henry of Anjou is king. I left him but a week ago at the French coast. Already will he have come to England for his coronation. And to me, his loyal ally, has he given deeds and rights to Sedgemont. Lord am I of Sedgemont and its castle and all its lands. Gag me that man here.’ He motioned towards Geoffrey, who was mouthing obscenities. ‘Or better yet, string him alongside his master there.’
‘Then are we all King Henry’s men,’ said one of the French envoys, as he detached himself from the group; a brave man he was to step outside their shield wall. Yet I think had not one of those first arrows taken their fellow by accident, they would not have moved at all. They had no part in these petty disputes. You saw it writ upon their faces, how they moved and talked among themselves. No doubt, they would as soon a stranger killed Raoul as they themselves, provided they saw the job done cleanly. But then, my men and I were also unknown to them. Innocent bystanders we may have seemed, caught up in some other quarrel. They had no wish to be held responsible for us.
The Frenchman was stout and broad-shouldered, yes, brave in truth, to shout defiance at this mounted knight and all his men.
‘In the king’s name, I bid you hold. This outrage must be accounted for. Two men slain without cause, and one a spokesman for the king himself. How answer you that?’
‘Sir Gautier,’ Lord Guy said—how well I remembered that voice—‘I did not recognise you at first, nor your companions, so far from home. Nor you me, I think. But you know me in France these past months. I have been much at the king’s court there; am newly come from Maneth, where I have called out my men along the border posts that have been my charge to keep the peace.’ How smoothly he lied, how glibly talked. ‘This is an ill day’s work. Come we together, now, at our leisure to discuss it. These Celtic bowmen are too quickfingered. My quarrel is not with you.’
‘Some English scum,’ the other French knight said softly, coming slowly forward himself now, ‘about some dirty business of his own, feathering his own nest before time no doubt. The devil shall pay for this.’
‘In time, in time,’ Sir Gautier said, hardly moving his lips. But it was clear to me, he meant in time that was safe for them.
‘I have long been searching for this Raoul of Sedgemont,’ Guy said, twisting his mouth at the name as if to disdain the speaking of it. ‘Pretender to these lands, traitor to the king, in France, as here, murderer of my own son.’
He leaned down from his horse, beckoning his men to drag Raoul closer.
‘Murderer and traitor both,’ he snarled, and with his mailed fist he smote him on the face, laying open the flesh to the bone in a long red slash.
He will kill him where he stands, I thought in agony. And not one of them here will raise a hand to help him, although he is their prisoner.
There was a muttering at the blow, Geoffrey straining at the gag that bound him; even the French stared, still standing in their circle, apart from the rest of us.
‘Murderer yourself,’ I cried, shaking off the grip of the men who held me, standing out so that all could see me. ‘Craven coward who dares not fight openly with armed men, only by stealth, in secret.’
‘Ann of Cambray,’ he said, ‘I told you, you would rue my return.’
‘And you thought to see us dead before it,’ I taunted. ‘We have lived this long in your despite.’
‘He will be dead before nightfall,’ he said, gesturing to Raoul. ‘This time you can be sure of it. You shall watch it yourself.’
‘You know this woman then?’ the French knight, Sir Gautier, asked. ‘How comes she here by chance at this time?’
‘By chance as the devil gives her leave to roam,’ he said again. ‘Or to save her paramour, shield him behind her skirts. Never raise your voice at me.’
He reined back as Raoul, too, shook off his captors and, bound as he was, made a leap across the cobbled stones. As Maneth’s men knocked him to the ground, he still had strength to shout at me, ‘Say nothing.’ But I paid him no heed either, except to watch they did not beat him to a pulp before our eyes.
‘So with your leave, my lords,’ Lord Guy continued as if we had not interrupted him, ‘I will take this Raoul from off your hands, since I hold the same commission as you. As Lord of Sedgemont, none, I think, will doubt my right to justice on my own lands, against my own enemies. He has merited death of me a thousandfold.’
‘That was not our order, my lord,’ Sir Gautier said hesitatingly. I caught the hesitation, as it struggled with caution. ‘We hold the king’s writ. By the Treaty of Westminster is the castle of Sedgemont declared illegally built, its former master deposed of all his titles and lands, a prisoner of the king’s pleasure.’
On his big square face with its clipped beard and moustache, indecision sat almost comically. Yet grief struggled there, too.
‘So are you saved a chore, my lords,’ Lord Guy began, ‘that I have taken him for just punishment. . .’
‘Not as just as you deserve,’ I cried again. ‘Note him well, lords, who killed my father and my brother both, who would have had me killed here in this castle, who sent the same cur to snatch me from a convent, with money yet to buy me from a holy place. Who boasted of this all when he took me in a secret raid. Whose son would have raped me before his men, had not Lord Raoul slain him justly. Where is the justice to right me
all these wrongs? Will the king grant me that?’
I saw they were all watching me: the French; Raoul, with the blood still trickling on his bruised face; even Guy of Maneth paled beneath my accusations. And as the torrent of words fell, I felt prayers rising as I spoke, yet I never knew that I was praying. And never had God so put it into my mind words to say.
‘This is the man,’ I said, ‘who would have married me to his son and yet have bred me himself that he might have an heir of my house to inherit my lands at Cambray.’ I heard Raoul groan. I had never spoken of that to him. ‘Claimant to Sedgemont, my lords! Look to his letters there, that he be not lying again, or has not changed vague promises into deeds. What king would support a man like this, who has ravaged all the lands about his own that he must now prey on other men’s. I do not fear death, my lords. I have told him to his face. But death does not have to come in such shameful guise, wrought by the malice of liars and cowards both.’
There was another murmur at that.
‘She lies,’ Lord Guy muttered, white with rage or fear. ‘Who talks of murder? Ask her how my messenger was struck down. Ask how my son was killed if not within her arms.’
There was an uneasy stir. The French were already whispering among themselves. They would make a break for the safety of the keep and leave us to our own disputes. Whatever quarrels were here were no concern of theirs; whatever fate Lord Guy could think up for us would be our misfortune. I must hold their attention still. Although they did not know it, they were the best hope we had for the moment. Raoul saw it too. I saw him nod at me, although the blood splattered as he moved.
‘Ask what your son would have done to me,’ I cried, although I never thought to speak of it. ‘To dishonour me like a beast. Death came easy for such shame.’
‘Then shall it not come easy for you both,’ Lord Guy cried. ‘A rope and a long fall to make you twist and wish for death. And you shall toss dice which one will watch the other first.’
‘God help us all,’ I heard a woman moan. Was it the Lady Mildred who cried out at last?
‘Yes,’ I said, standing stiff, feeling Raoul’s cuts as if scored upon my own flesh, ‘God help us all if the king’s law will not. Here is the avowed enemy of my house. If this new king, who loves maidens so, will not befriend me, what man will answer for me here?’
‘Let God decide.’ Raoul’s voice rang out as clear, although the blood ran from his mouth as he spoke. ‘I claim a Judgment of God.’
There was a cry at that; even Lord Guy of Maneth cried aloud and dropped his shield arm. And all about, confusion swelled as man turned to man, to whisper and repeat.
Well, we live in an age of faith, and Raoul had evoked the oldest privilege there is, known throughout Christendom. Greater than any lord’s justice it is, yea, greater than any king’s. It reaches up to Heaven, beyond the scope of men. It is an awesome choice—God speaking through blood and death—to reveal the innocent, punish the guilty. By victory or defeat in battle to the death between these two men would our lives be decided. As champion, Raoul would live or die on my behalf as well. Yet, God, I know, had put it into his mind to claim it.
I shut my eyes to avoid the thought that God had also power to use it for our own defeat. Not yet, Oh God, do not use it to punish us yet, I prayed.
I could not have closed my eyes a second’s space. Yet, when I opened them, all was changed. While I stood brooding on the awesome choice, there had been others who were quick to take advantage of the confusion. Even before the words had finished their echoing, before the Celtic bowmen on the walls had time to train their long bows, men had leapt to Raoul’s side, cutting him and Geoffrey free. Some had driven the womenfolk like cattle before them to the safety of the keep.
Raoul, in turn, had snatched at a weapon, and raced before me so I, too, could back with him, whilst the French phalanx, still in order with their shield wall high, in turn, came behind us. Within seconds then the situation was reversed. We were still outnumbered, but lined up on the steps, with the Lady Mildred and her women already scuttling inside. We had a wall at our backs, a refuge beyond. And if we were divided, it still not being clear on those side the French would fight, yet they were less in number than we, and we still had more men without the walls if we could get to them.
Lord Guy knew he had lost the advantage that chance before had given him. He was too busy explaining and cajoling his own followers to try to recover it.
‘We could attack now and have him at our mercy,’ I said, speaking my thoughts aloud.
‘Perhaps,’ Raoul said as quietly at my side, and I felt his hand in mine, alive and warm, ‘but we still cannot count on the French to help us. Patience. His own men will do it for us.’
We stood waiting whilst the argument flared about us in the courtyard. Maneth’s men, I think, at least the mounted knights who rode with him, would have ignored the import of the challenge, but the bowmen on the walls were another matter. I knew what they would be saying. We borderfolk think alike; and a Judgment of God is strange to us, strange yet binding, for we are more superstitious than the Normans, although it is their law, not ours. Maneth’s Welsh bowmen, whom he needed to control the central court, would no more fight now than argue with a priest on matters of faith.
‘Ann,’ Raoul said, his words like a breath of air, ‘shall I unsay what I have said? It is your life as well as mine.’
‘No,’ I whispered back, and felt the strength from him flow into me as my determination flowed back to him. ‘They will not dare speak against it. It is the only chance you have for a fair fight.’
‘They will know that we are linked together,’ he said. ‘They will suspect you.’
‘I know that, too,’ I said, suddenly turning and smiling, ‘so first I must convince you that that is what I wish. If God has brought us together again, perhaps he will keep us yet awhile.’
‘I wanted no more deaths upon my hands,’ he said, nodding to the courtyard, his face still taut, streaked with blood and dirt, and I knew he thought of Sir Brian lying there alone.
‘You fight to avenge one more,’ I said. ‘My lord, you cannot be rid so easily of us yet awhile. We need you.’ And I smiled at him.
He gave a sound, half-groan, half-laugh, sleeving the blood from his cut mouth. ‘My God,’ he said, ‘you cling like one of your western burrs. Go you within and comfort the other womenfolk. I will come to you when I can.’
I would have cried again to take care, but dared not. For I saw how the light had come back into his eyes, although his face was still strained with pain and grief. And I saw how the men I had brought from Cambray turned and closed behind him as he went towards the Frenchmen on the stairs. Someone had given him both sword and shield. He was Lord of Sedgemont again. I had no need to fear for him yet awhile.
When it was clear to me what must happen next—either that Lord Guy must retreat without the castle walls, being unable to control his men, half of whom I now saw must have come with him from France and were as contemptuous of his border people as the Celts were of them, or, as seemed most likely, he must abide by the judgment he had called upon his own head—I, too, retreated up the stairs.
Sedgemont is not built like Cambray, and these stairs are too wide to be guarded easily. But the Great Hall is designed for defence, with massive doors and window slits that give down upon the stairwell. And, in the morning, not standing on ceremony as happens now, would the two men fight each other. To the death. But now we had the night, which an hour ago we had not thought to see.
And the French, not so much bemused as relieved, were willing to let the process take place, having no way in their power now to turn it aside. They hammered their moral advantage home. All arms were to be laid down. There was to be no fighting without the gates. Except for the French, only the combatants were to carry weapons. The soft French lisped about my ears, yet I noted how the more they spoke, the more pompous rolled the words, the more precise the instructions, all in the name of the king.
The other women were already setting the Hall to rights as best they could, giving orders to the frightened servants who had remained to prepare something for us to eat, trying to bring order to the confusion. Like Cambray, Sedgemont looked as if it had suffered a siege, and men presently came to drag out the heavy tables and benches to form a barricade along the doors. We all worked feverishly, leaving nothing to chance, and, at the last, when the dead bodies of the French knight and Sir Brian had been brought up and set in a corner chamber, wrapped in their cloaks, I went to where the Lady Mildred sat and knelt beside her to keep watch with her.
She said nothing to me, gave me no word or look, but when the other men finally came up and barred the doors, she rose from her place, brought warm water and cloths to wash Lord Raoul’s wounds, and bade the men to table although the fare was scanty at best.
Lord Raoul sat in his usual place in the great carved chair, and I sat at his right and the French envoys, silent now, to our left. We spoke but little, it still being to our advantage to keep up some semblance of unfamiliarity as I noticed Geoffrey and his men did, as if they did not know Lord Raoul, but when we drank from the common cup, I noted how Lord Raoul raised it to toast me and placed his lips for courtesy over the rim where I had pressed mine. And when the food was done, he called for a lute, which I had never heard him play before, and sang himself, such songs from France that made our hearts both sad and gay at once. They were songs, I think, that once Sir Brian, in his youth, had loved, and he played to do his old henchman honour, that like a Norseman of the olden times he might be remembered and honoured in the Hall that he had guarded so well.