My Lord, the Hermit

by Veronica Heley

  ‘Allow me, mistress,’ said Alice, when Joanna turned a greenish-white.

  ‘No,’ said Joanna. ‘It is my right, and I will do it.’

  Father Hilarion said, ‘That wound ought to be cauterised.’ No one took any notice of him, so he went aside, muttering. Peterkin stood by with a cup of hot water in which he had put some refreshing herbs to steep. Amory drank deep of this, and then passed the cup to Joanna, who finished the liquid. Her colour returned to normal, and her eyes grew less wild.

  Father Hilarion tried once more. ‘Remember the duty you owe the Count, your uncle. You cannot spend the night down here, without chaperonage.’

  ‘I think I am safer here than in the castle.’

  ‘But what if Sir Bevil returns?’

  ‘You said he would not dare attack either the convent or the church.’

  ‘But if he does?’

  ‘Then I will defend them with my life, as you have bidden Amory to do.’

  ‘His name is Keren, and he is a hermit, vowed to poverty and silence.’

  ‘I have given him back his own name.’

  ‘This is absurd. Do you think to wed him?’

  ‘Possession is nine points of the law. The Count cannot wed me anywhere if I am out of his hand, and I intend to stay that way. He has proved he will not come out to take me back by force, and you cannot compel me to return.’

  ‘The hermit could. He is bound to obey me, remember.’

  ‘True. But the only argument he could produce that would get me back into the castle is one he cannot use. I will return with you, if you will release him from his vow of silence, and give him leave to retire to the hills, until he can go back to rebuilding his own church. He cannot use that argument, but I can use it for him.’

  Now it was Father Hilarion’s turn to bow his head and clench his fists. He glanced from under his brows at Amory, but Amory was looking away from them, up at the hillside. All around them men were gathered, leaning on weapons, firelight glinting on suits of linked mail, on armour that had been taken from the men of Sir Bevil’s troop who had died on the field of battle that day.

  ‘I am afraid,’ said Father Hilarion at last, ‘that it is not within my power to vary the terms of the hermit’s penance; only the abbot or the bishop could do that. But if you will return with me to the castle now, I promise to write to the abbot, and request that he give the matter his consideration.’

  ‘If you will do that,’ said Joanna, her voice sweet, ‘I will certainly give the matter of returning to the castle my consideration.’

  ‘Too late,’ said Amory, pointing up the hill. Two sparks of fire showed under the trees, where bonfires had been lit. ‘Sir Bevil and his reinforcements have been sighted riding across the valley towards us. Arm! Arm! Back to the convent and shut the gates! Douse the fires, and take up your stations. You, too, priest; unless you wish to risk being caught in the open.’

  An hour later Julian sought out Herkom once more. The sergeant was on the ramparts. Julian had chewed his fingernails to the quick, and Herkom had slowly but thoroughly crushed in a helmet which had been left there by a sentry. Down below them the cries of battle were fading as roof after roof glowed with fire, and Sir Bevil’s men regrouped around the giant timber they had brought from the church, to act as a battering-ram against the gates of the convent. Three times Amory and his men had sallied forth and been driven back. On three sides the courtyard roofs blazed, and the flames were reflected in the slow-moving waters of the river beyond.

  ‘It is not to be borne,’ muttered Julian, for the fifth time. ‘Cannot my father understand …?’

  Herkom said nothing, but his face twitched.

  ‘What is to be done? I ask you, Herkom: what is to be done?’

  ‘You know the answer to that, my lord,’ said the sergeant. ‘You have the support of every right-thinking man in this castle. Your father and grandmother are retired to rest, the seneschal sleeps, the captain has taken to the bottle. The keys are at his side. The men are at their stations, awaiting the word. But we cannot act without your orders.’

  ‘But my father’s orders were to do nothing.’

  ‘Suppose you were to tell them that you had fresh orders, to act on your own initiative if the situation took a turn for the worse during the night? A key turned in a lock here and there, the captain bundled into one of the cells … we could have the portcullis up and the drawbridge down, and be out there within ten minutes; if you would but give the order.’

  Julian gasped. ‘What are you suggesting? I have never gone against my father … it is my duty to. …’

  Herkom grunted. ‘Commonsense should have a say in the matter, I think. Is it commonsense to sit here like a pack of frightened women, and allow that bandit to destroy your inheritance? Is it commonsense to allow a gently-bred maid and a hermit to fight for you, to save you dirtying your lily-white hands? That is your inheritance down there, my lord, and your future wife who crams a helmet on her head and wields a sword with two hands in defence of your property. It makes her out to the better man of the two of you, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Very well.’ Julian’s voice shook, but he strode firmly enough down the stairs, followed by Herkom. ‘Sound the call to attack.’

  ‘With respect, my lord: no. Let us do everything in silence. That way we will have the advantage of surprise. They do not expect us to sally forth, you see.’

  ‘Back!’ cried Amory, as the timber crashed through the convent gates. He and his little band of men and women ran back into the chapel and barred the door. The walls and roof were of stone, and the windows small. Amory caught Joanna up in his arms, for she had sunk on to the floor, dropping her sword. Her breath came quickly. She cried out as Amory picked her up, for a pike-thrust had grazed her ribs.

  ‘How long … will this door … hold them?’ Father Hilarion was breathing hard, and the sword he held was reddened, as was his robe.

  ‘A few minutes, surely, said Rob, wiping his forehead.

  ‘I killed another one, I think,’ said Alice. ‘That makes my tally nine.’

  Peterkin and Kate crept out of the shadows, with water and bandages.

  ‘The windows?’ asked Father Ambrose, panting.

  Amory shook his head. ‘Too narrow. Perhaps Alice and Midge might get through, but there is a sheer drop outside to the river. …’

  ‘I cannot swim, alack,’ said Midge. His cap had been torn off, and the side of his face badly grazed.

  ‘I will tow you along,’ said Alice.

  ‘I can swim,’ said Father Ambrose, ‘but I doubt I could get through the window.’ He bore a pike, and its point was reddened, too. The architect leaned, groaning, against a pillar, supported by one of his men. Blood dripped to the flagstones at their feet.

  ‘It cannot be long,’ said Amory, smiling down at Joanna. She smiled back.

  Father Ambrose struck his forehead. ‘I have just remembered: I have not said my office today.’

  ‘Nor I,’ said Father Hilarion, and smiled with wintry humour.

  ‘I was to have been married today,’ said Joanna, and she put up her hand to touch a bruise on Amory’s cheek.

  ‘A pity we have no time for the ceremony now,’ said her lover, and took his first kiss from her lips.

  A thud on the chapel door caused them to start. Joanna found Amory’s hand, and drew it to her breast. ‘So it seems I was wrong,’ she said. ‘I was sure that Julian would not let us die. I am sorry.’

  ‘We have done the best we could,’ said Amory. ‘We imagine we are giants, but we are only mortal, when all is said and done.”

  She shivered, and he drew her closely to him. There was another dull thud on the chapel door, which quivered.

  ‘Christ have mercy!’ whispered the friar, and crossed himself.

  ‘What can we do?’ asked Father Hilarion, appealing to Amory.

  ‘Nothing, except sell our lives dear.’

  Joanna clutched his shoulder. ‘I have just remembered. Sir Bevil has sw
orn to crucify you. You must not let them take you alive. Kill me, and then end it for yourself!’

  Another thud shook the door, and one hinge gave. Amory reversed his dagger, setting the point against Joanna’s breast, She flung one arm up over her eyes, and held herself straight, waiting for him to strike.

  There was a clash and clamour of swords and voices outside in the courtyard. Amory’s hand still grasped his dagger, but his head went up. ‘It sounds as if. …’

  ‘From the castle? They have come down at last?’

  The battering-ram had ceased to thud at the door, and there was the sound of furious fighting in the courtyard. Amory and Father Hilarion leaped to unbar the door, and together they fell on the soldiers, who a moment ago had been all set to slaughter them, but who now faced attack on two fronts.

  ‘Sa-ha!’ Herkom sang the song of the axe, stamping as he brought that terrible weapon down on the head of a soldier, dashing out his brains.

  ‘Sa-ha, the Swan!’ cried Amory, thrusting his sword under a shield, and withdrawing it from a dying man.

  ‘The Swan!’ echoed Harkom. ‘Sa-ha, the Swan!’

  Cries of dismay rose from the invaders, caught between two forces. They were taken by surprise, having relaxed their vigilance. Half of their force was still foraging in the ruins of the burned-out shacks under the castle walls, or riding through the unfinished church. One man screamed, and ran for his horse. His fellow followed him, and there into the breach came Amory and Rob, with Father Hilarion at Alice’s side, and Father Ambrose guarding Joanna’s left. They thrust and ran, pausing to strike, and then pressing on. Behind them came the wounded master architect, with those of his men who were still able to walk, helped along by Kate and Peterkin. Midge had found a brass cauldron, which he began to beat with a stick, shouting the while to add to the confusion. The enemy melted before them. Amory reached Julian’s side, and turned to shepherd his band into safety. Herkom put his great arm round Joanna, and bore her over the drawbridge.

  ‘Run for it!’ cried Amory, pointing to the castle. ‘Everyone, run. I will guard the rear.’

  ‘And I,’ said Herkom, counting heads as they passed him by. ‘Hola, Midge! Take care you do not do yourself an injury with that stick!’

  ‘A murrain on you for a laggard,’ quoth Midge, dragging himself along as best he could. Kate ran back to help him, for Midge was swaying, white-faced. Father Ambrose was half-carrying and half-dragging the architect along. Rob and Alice had used up all their arrows, and had their knives out.

  Julian’s teeth gleamed. ‘We three will act as rearguard.’

  ‘Is Joanna through?’

  ‘Yes, she is through.’

  Then the three tall men closed in behind the last of the workmen, and set themselves to fight a rearguard action, giving way only at Amory’s word of command, running back five paces, turning to face the enemy, fight, and run back again … until they reached the drawbridge. Amory was in the middle, with Julian on his left. Herkom was as fresh as when he had started out, but Julian had been struck a heavy blow on his helm, and was reeling. Amory caught the lad up, and together they leaped for the drawbridge as it began to rise. Then Herkom was with him, and they were all three tumbling down the sloping drawbridge into the castle. Father Hilarion had collapsed and was on his hands and knees, crawling under the portcullis as it descended. Herkom put his boot out to help the priest along, and no one raised a voice to object.

  Then Joanna caught at Amory’s arm. Her face was streaked with dirt and blood from a cut on her forehead, and her dress was torn apart, the undergown showing an ominous red stain. Yet she still held on to her sword.

  ‘Hear the women scream!’ she cried. ‘Sir Bevil must have found the poor wretches we hid in the crypt!’

  Sure enough, the night was now rendered even more hideous by the cries of women being dragged forth from the wreck of the burning convent. Julian fought to stand upright. Hands were ready to remove his helm, but they were not Joanna’s hands, for she was busying herself with Amory’s hurts.

  The courtyard was thronged with men, both those who had fought that night to fetch Amory and his party from the convent, and those who had no particular business to be there, but had not been able to resist coming to see what was happening.

  Julian got his helmet off, and shook his head to clear it. He was bruised, but not badly hurt. His eyes sought Amory’s. Everyone else was looking that way, too, and indeed Amory seemed born to command. His height was above average, and even though he had been in two hard fights that day, he was still on his feet and his voice was still strong.

  ‘Sir Hermit,’ said Julian. ‘I think God sent you to help us. What must we do now?’

  ‘You will trust me to deliver you?’ said Amory, sharp and to the point. ‘You will allow your men to sally forth under Herkom, as I direct?’

  ‘Not so,’ said Julian, smiling. ‘I will follow you myself and you shall be our captain, for we have none other to match you.’

  A bare half-hour later, while Sir Bevil and his men were still searching through the ruins of the convent for spoil, and carousing, the postern gate on the north side of the castle opened and a dark figure slipped up the hill. Ten minutes after that an owl hooted thrice in the scrub above the castle, and then a double file of figures could be seen wending its way along the outside of the castle wall. The river did not circle the castle completely, for on this side its walls rose sheer some sixty feet into the air. A rocky gorge divided the foot of the castle wall from the meadows, and this had been strewn with stakes in the distant past, to discourage any attempt to ride close to the walls. Julian led his party of twenty men this way, and with him went Amory and Rob.

  Behind these twenty picked men came a rambling file of workmen, each bearing a pine branch which had been dipped in pitch. These men were in the charge of the architect, who often stumbled from pain and fatigue, but would not give up. His beloved church was his life, and he would not see it go up in flames if he could prevent it.

  By the drawbridge Herkom waited, with twenty mounted men. On the ramparts stood Joanna, her face drawn. Kate had thrown a mantle over her mistress, but Joanna would not retire to have her wound dressed, until she knew Amory was safely back in the castle.

  Sir Bevil and his men had tethered most, if not all, of their horses in the chancel of the church. They had set a couple of men to guard the animals, but Amory and Rob saw that these men were but poor watchmen. They were to pay for their laxity with their lives, for Rob put an arrow through the throat of one, and Amory thrust his sword through the other, before they had time to realize they were being attacked. Then Amory, who had discarded his heavy chain mail so that he might move more easily, was among the horses, cutting the ropes that tethered them, and with a sudden clamour setting them to gallop in every direction.

  This outburst of noise from the church was the signal for the torches to be lit. In the meadows beyond the church, between Sir Bevil and the river, a line of torches suddenly blazed into life, and a file of men moved with drawn swords between the torchbearers, advancing with grim purpose on the enemy. Sir Bevil, cursing, seized a fleeing horse and mastered it. Leaping into the saddle, he rode out among his men, intending to halt their flight. He shouted at them to cut round behind the advancing line of men. But what was this? Down from the bluff came another line of men with torches. Arrows whizzed through the air, and Sir Bevil’s horse reared, whinnying with fright. Then down came the drawbridge, and out from the castle rode twenty disciplined, mounted men, riding with lances levelled at the fleeing soldiers. And Sir Bevil wheeled his horse round, bellowing with rage. And his men scattered, not knowing which way to turn; and Sir Bevil’s lieutenant mustered enough men to make a stand, and they cut their way through the enclosing ring, and held the gap open long enough for their fellows to perceive that here was an avenue of escape. And they fled through it, with or without their horses, with or without their weapons. Hardly a blow was struck in this retreat, for Amory knew that a nig
ht-time flight was impossible to pursue with any degree of success. He had retained his grip on a suitable charger, and was now up in the saddle himself, looking this way and that, restraining the men from the hill, who would have liked to break line and rush on the better-armed rearguard below.

  ‘Let them go,’ he said to Julian, as that youth begged to be allowed to pursue. ‘If we had a hundred men and daylight, we could perhaps achieve something. But it is better now to let them stumble away. It is possible that even if some of them do manage to reach the quarry, they may find themselves without a home.’

  So with the fires of the convent buildings dying down about them, Amory gathered his captains round him; Julian and Herkom, the architect and his master carpenter, Rob and Alice. But not John Blackbeard, who had been given another task to fulfil, which kept him from their gathering.

  And those who had not fought that day were given the right to search out and capture or kill those of the enemy soldiery who might yet remain in the neighbourhood of the castle. They set out in groups of eight men, each with three torchbearers in attendance. Herkom told off his twenty mounted men to rest, so that they might be fresh to ride out at dawn again. And the peasants and the workmen wandered lamenting through the ruins of their former homes, until Julian sent provisions for them out from the castle, and they slept where they could in the ruins, or went up the hill, to join the others in the tower.

  And Amory and Herkom rode back into the castle over the drawbridge, one on either side of Julian, and weariness overtook them.

  All might have been well with the Count, if only someone had remembered to unlock his door when Julian returned to the castle. Unfortunately this was not done. In the dawn the Count awoke, and on finding himself locked in, fell into one of his rages. His servants, clustering around the heavy oak door, had no idea where the key might be, and before Julian could be woken and brought to the scene, the Count’s paroxysm of rage had ceased, and an alarming silence had taken the place of the noise he had been making. The key was produced, the door opened, and Julian uttered a cry, for his father lay senseless at his feet.