While all this happened, I stood below in the courtyard with my “plan,” as it were. It was simple, really. I’d constructed three miniature siege engines of my own. Two of Celia’s villagers who were handy with tools helped me peg them together from timbers we’d removed from the interior of the castle keep. They weren’t fancy, and not likely to be highly accurate, but I didn’t need accuracy, only power, for I intended to rain my own version of vengeance down on Sir Hugh.
Each siege engine was primarily a twelve-foot plank mounted on a triangular base and pulled backward by a rope attached to its end. As it bent backward, nearly to the breaking point, the rope was released and the plank shot upward. Each was capable of hurling an object placed on the end of it quite a distance. I had tested one off the back wall of the fortress, out of sight of our attackers, to get a sense of its power. I pried a sizable stone loose from the keep wall and managed to hurl it about sixty yards or so. Perfect.
Now I stood just below the main battlement, in the courtyard behind the gate, waiting for a signal from Robard. With Celia’s help, I’d taken several barrels of lard from the kitchen stores. Next to the siege engines, which were spaced below the southwest wall, the lard melted in iron kettles over a fire. We’d taken several earthen jugs, covered them with tinder from the fireboxes and wrapped them with burlap, which we also soaked in the melted fat. Now came the test.
When the next wave of scaling ladders came surging forward, I would release my missiles when they were about fifty yards from the wall. I could hear a yell come up from the lines outside and knew they were on the way. I waited, eager to hear the signal.
“Tristan! Now!” Robard shouted from above.
Each of us manning one of the devices emptied the melted lard into a jug until it was full, and replaced the stopper. It was quickly loaded upon the end of the plank. Then a torch was set to the burlap covering, setting the jug on fire. When the flames burned steadily, two more men pulled back on the rope attached to the planks’ end and the boards bent backward.
“Loose!” I shouted and they released the ropes. The boards sprang forward and the flaming jugs flew through the air, clearing the wall by a good ten feet. I only wished I could see what happened next, but I was forced to rely on Robard’s report.
He later told me that when the jugs hit the rocky ground outside the fortress walls, they shattered, and the flames came into contact with the melted grease inside. The flaming lard flew in every direction, and with the first shots we managed to set the clothing of dozens of our attackers on fire. I heard screams and horses whinnying, but by then we already had the second round of jugs loaded and ready to fly. I would have only a few minutes before the soldiers recovered and spread out from each other enough to limit the missiles’ effects.
“Loose!” The jugs flew, and again I could hear the screams as we found more targets.
We let several more go before Robard signaled us from the battlement. “Hold, Tristan, they’re pulling back!”
A cheer went up from the people inside Montségur, and I raced up the ladder to gaze out at the field. Sir Hugh’s forces had retreated out of range of the crossbows, and the ground below us was littered with the dead and wounded. Some small pockets of lard still smoldered, and the smoke wafted over the ground.
“Is anyone hurt?” Celia shouted to her people. We had been lucky. We had one man dead at the hand of an attacker who managed to make it over the wall, but Maryam had run him through with her pitchfork. There were a few other villagers with minor wounds, but we had inflicted some serious damage on Sir Hugh’s men. Across the field the soldiers milled about, confused and disorganized. Knights, especially Templars, are trained to think victory will easily be theirs. They had found Montségur a much more difficult fruit to pluck.
“Well done, Tristan,” Robard said, joining me at the wall. “You gave them something to think about, the jackasses!”
“Yes, I suppose we did,” I said. “You did some fancy shooting yourself.”
Robard nodded. Maryam and Celia joined us on the battlement, and the four of us peered out at the assembled troops where they had retreated near the tree line.
“What do you think they will do next?” Celia asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said, looking across the battlement at Jean-Luc, who would one day make a very capable commander, tending to his injured men and making sure they were resupplied with bolts, food and water. “I think it will be some time until they try another attack. They got more than they bargained for. Sir Hugh is not stupid. He’ll come up with something. He will not retreat. Either he will gather more forces, or wait until he starves us out,” I said. Something pushed at my leg, and I looked down to find Angel sniffing about. I scratched her ears and she yawned. What would happen to her, I wondered, if Sir Hugh captured the castle?
We had won the first round with a little trickery and the overconfidence of our enemy. They would not be so easily surprised the next time. Celia’s faith in her people was palpable, but they could not hold out forever. I had to do something to give them a better chance of survival.
“I know that look!” Robard said as he studied my face. “You have another one of your plans?”
“In fact I do,” I said. “We’re leaving.”
“Leaving? How?” Celia asked with a fair measure of alarm in her face.
“Yes, Templar, how?” Maryam joined in. “You won’t be able to get past Sir Hugh or his men. If you were lucky, you might outrace them to the trees and slip away in the forest, but his men will ride you down. The only other way is climbing down the cliffs, and you can’t possibly . . .” Maryam stopped when she saw the look on my face.
“No. You can’t be serious. Do you think . . . No.” She couldn’t get the words out. “Robard, tell him. Tell him he can’t do what he’s thinking.”
“I’d be happy to, but I have no idea what he’s thinking,” Robard replied, confused.
“He wants to climb down the cliffs,” Celia said. “And he’s a fool, for it can’t be done.”
“Celia, you don’t understand. He won’t give up. He will stay here until you surrender or he will gather enough regimentos to overwhelm you. You have your people to think about. I have to go. It’s the only way.” I tried to make her understand. I had no desire to leave, just when I had found her again. But I could not let her or her people suffer further on my account.
“Tristan, they might be right,” Robard cut in. “If you want to leave, fine, but wouldn’t it be better to try slipping through the woods at nightfall?”
“I’ve thought of that. It’s too risky. Sir Hugh will have his men covering the woods around the clock. We have no horses, and we’re no match on foot against well-mounted Templars, even in a thick forest.”
“I’d rather take my chances against the knights than fall to my death,” Robard said with a shiver.
“I don’t expect any of you to join me. You can stay here. When Sir Hugh finds out I’m gone, he’ll leave to come after me. You’ll be safe,” I promised.
Robard and Maryam looked at each other. Then at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Why are you doing this, Tristan? Why are you risking your life like this?” Maryam demanded. Robard nodded in agreement.
I decided they needed to know. Despite what Sir Thomas had told me, they deserved the truth. They were not power-mad Templars or treasure seekers or wanting to control the world. They were born to simple lives. Now they were warriors who wanted nothing more than to return to their homes, but they had given up much to help me. Both of them had saved my life numerous times. And Celia as well. They were my friends.
“I will tell you everything . . . I promise—” I was interrupted by a shout from Jean-Luc. Sir Hugh was riding back toward the fortress, holding a white flag aloft.
My confession would have to wait.
20
Sir Hugh had two other knights with him. This time, I kept Robard on the battlement, his longbow at the ready. Jean-Luc and t
wo of the cross- bowmen joined me, leaving Maryam and Celia inside. Before I left, and for the first time in the past many weeks, I removed the satchel from my shoulder. Handing it to Maryam, I said, “Promise me this: if anything happens to me, see to it this satchel finds its way to Father William of the Church of the Holy Redeemer in Rosslyn, Scotland.”
Maryam’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you needed to take testimony to the Master of the Order in London.”
“I’ll explain later,” I said. With the Frenchmen behind me we slipped through the gate and walked across the rocky ground to where Sir Hugh squirmed nervously astride a speckled gray warhorse.
“Are you a woman?” he asked when I stood in front of him and his two companions.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Is this how Sir Thomas trained his squires? To fight like women, with fire and trickery? What’s wrong, squire? Are you and your peasants incapable of fighting like men?” he yelled.
“If you find you’ve lost your taste for battle, feel free to leave the field,” I replied calmly.
“You kill my men with flaming grease, squire? Are you a warrior or a cook?” he thundered as he spurred his horse forward, his hand going to the hilt of his sword as if he meant to draw it and strike me down. In an instant Jean-Luc and his men raised their crossbows and pointed them directly at him.
“Not another step, Sir Hugh,” I warned. “These men will kill you where you stand. You can’t win here. Withdraw. You have no chance. We can survive for months inside this fortress. We have plenty of food and water. There is no shortage of weapons.”
“I will have it, squire. I will have it! Do you hear me?” Sir Hugh reined his horse backward, in line with the other knights. Jean Luc’s men slowly lowered their crossbows, but Jean-Luc, apparently a good judge of character, kept his pointed at Sir Hugh’s chest.
“Mark this, squire. Your life is forfeit. I will see you and everyone in Montségur dead. You will give me what I want or I will not stop until everyone inside your fortress is nothing but a pile of bones. I don’t care how long it takes. Do you understand me?”
“Sir Hugh, I’m tired of this. And tired of you and your empty threats,” I replied wearily. “Take my advice and withdraw from this place. If you try to take this fortress, we will make you pay and pay and pay again. We will not yield. With my last breath I will destroy what you seek before you lay eyes on it. Do you understand me?”
Sir Hugh’s face became a vision of anguish and frustration. The very thing he wanted more than anything in the world was within his reach, yet unattainable. He pursed his lips, and even over the distance between us and the noise of the wind, I could hear his breath coming hard and fast in tortured gasps. His gloved hands were knotted on the reins of his horse as if he might wring water from them. In contrast, the two knights with him sat atop their mounts as still as stones.
“However, in the interest of preventing further bloodshed, I will make you a deal, Sir Hugh,” I said.
He looked at me, his eyes hooded, but with just a glint of expectancy within them. He said nothing, waiting for me to speak.
“Leave the field, take your regimento and retire to the small hamlet that lies at the entrance of this valley. You must have passed through it on your way here. There is a small inn there. You leave this mountain and promise never to return, and in three days’ time I will meet you there and give you what you seek.”
Sir Hugh waved his hand at me and smirked.
“You must think me a fool, squire. The minute I withdraw, you vanish into the forest. No, I think not.”
“Where would I go?” I said, pointing to the mountains surrounding us. “We are on top of a mountain. The cliffs and peaks around us make the way north impossible. The only way out is through the valley below. With you and your men stationed there, it would be impossible for me to slip past.”
“No,” he said.
“Then I suggest you send your men against the walls again. Many more of them will die. How long do you think they’ll be willing to wait here?” I asked. “And how long do you think the High Counsel and his troops will remain here? You two appeared to be on poor terms.”
“They will remain here until I command them otherwise!” he spat. I shrugged, dismissing his outburst. Something was off about his response, and looking past him at the assembled forces, I figured it out. The High Counsel’s men were not in evidence. All I saw were Templar banners and tunics. There were none of the green-and-white markings of Father Renard’s men, and I wondered if he had slipped away or retreated.
“Is that right?” I asked him. “It would appear you have lost some of your forces. What happened? Did the High Counsel decide you were no longer friends?”
Sir Hugh waved his hand in the air dismissively, as if the whereabouts of the High Counsel were of no concern to him. I tried to keep him off balance.
“And your Templar comrades? Do you think they will tolerate such losses? If they were of your own regimento, maybe, but I’m sure you haven’t shared your reasons for being here with them. How long do you think it will be before they grow weary of your tactics?” In the eyes of one of the men behind Sir Hugh I caught something: fear mixed with hesitation. It told me that the moment might be closer than even Sir Hugh thought. If anything, he had repeatedly proven incapable of leading men in battle. His troops would quickly grow to resent him.
Sir Hugh raised and lowered himself in the stirrups of his saddle, a bundle of nervous energy. For several seconds he said nothing. Then a smile came to his face.
“Very well, squire. I accept your terms. We will withdraw and wait for you in the hamlet at the head of the valley. You have until noon three days hence to show up with the . . . to show yourself there. If you are not there by noon, my regimento will put every one of the villagers in that hamlet to the sword. All of them, men, women and children, do you understand? They all die. Tell your princess those are my terms. See how far her hospitality extends then, squire. I will kill them all. Comprenez-vous?” he added for the benefit of Jean-Luc and his men-at-arms.
My heart sank, for I had made a terrible mistake, one I had no idea how to correct. I had hoped he would agree and I could escape down the mountain. But he had nearly struck down the High Counsel, and now his madness was overtaking him and he would kill everyone in his path if he thought it necessary. I tried to keep my face a mask, but wasn’t sure I did. Our first step was to free Celia and her people from Montségur.
“I’ll be there, Sir Hugh,” I said. “In three days.”
“If you are not, then those people will die. Count on it.” Sir Hugh whipped his horse, riding back to the lines. One of the knights hesitated before following.
“Brother! Wait!” I called after him, but he did not stop, only turned to give me a brief glance.
We began the short trek back toward the castle. Jean-Luc walked beside me, his two men keeping an eye on the retreating knights.
“What you do now, Anglais?” he asked in his best English. I could tell from his tone that he knew what was happening and was worried, and I couldn’t blame him. He understood enough to know what Sir Hugh had said.
“I don’t know, Jean-Luc,” I said. “I must talk to Celia.”
Robard, Maryam and Celia had clustered around us, and Angel strolled up and sat on her haunches, staring at me.
“What did that pile of polecat dung have to say for himself ?” Robard asked.
“I made a deal. He will quit the siege and meet me in the small village at the head of the valley in three days. You and your people will be free to go, Celia,” I said.
“What? No, you can’t do it! He’ll kill you!” Maryam cried.
“I don’t have a choice,” I said.
“Why not?” Celia asked, the tone in her voice saying she more than agreed with Maryam.
“You should have just let me shoot him,” Robard said.
Celia hushed him.
“Explain yourself, Templar,” she said.
�
��I . . . made . . . a mistake . . . a miscalculation. I was so intent on getting Sir Hugh away from here and your people, I forgot who I was dealing with. He’ll withdraw and wait for us in the village, all right, but if I don’t show up, he’s threatened to kill everyone in the village. Even the women and children.”
“I see,” said Celia quietly. She put her hands on her hips and bowed her head, staring at the ground, lost in thought.
“I’m so sorry, Celia. I won’t let any harm come to those innocent—”
Celia paid no attention and called sharply for Jean-Luc. When he appeared, she spoke to him quickly and he darted off.
“Come with me, all of you,” she said.
We climbed back up to the battlement above the main gate and surveyed the ground. Sir Hugh and the regimento of Templars were retreating just as he had promised. They had carried little equipment, and those who weren’t already mounted were in the process of saddling their horses and moving out. Indeed, a line of them were already heading onto the trail and back down the mountain into the forest, toward the village.
Jean-Luc returned shortly with another one of the villagers, who carried a long horn made of brass. He put the horn to his lips and sounded several long, low notes through it. The sound echoed off the surrounding mountains.
“What is this? What are you doing?” I asked her.
She laughed. “Your Sir Hugh is in for a rude surprise. It is a signal to the people of the valley, those who were not able to come to Montségur and instead hid out on their farms and in the forest.”
“Most every place we passed through on the way here was deserted,” said Robard.
Celia nodded. “Yes, since we have become enemies of the church, we needed a way to sound the alarm when those who might do us harm draw near. It was Philippe’s idea, actually. This horn has just warned everyone that trouble is coming. The message will be delivered up and down the valley. Sir Hugh will find no one in the village to murder.”
Trail of Fate Page 12
