Deus Militis - Soldiers of God

by Jonathan A Longmore

Jaxon looked at le Breton who shrugged and carried on slicing an apple.

  ‘The truth,’ Jaxon replied, ‘is we have an ally we don’t trust, with a motive we’re not sure about, and a temperament that could affect his reasoning.’

  ‘His reasoning,’ said de Montfort ‘is ruled by his obsession with Blanche de Warenne.’

  Le Breton chuckled as he crunched on the apple, both de Montfort and Jaxon glared at the Frenchman with questioning looks. Le Breton returned their stares, shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands in the typical Gallic posture, ‘I think if de Clare makes war for this lady, she is a belle femme beautiful woman, non?’ He grinned, his mouth full of apple, ‘Worth fighting for, non?’

  ‘No woman is worth fighting for ahead of this country and de Clare will cause problems because he is more than obsessed with her,’ de Montfort cupped the beaker to his chest and stared down into the blood red liquid, ‘that unruly obsession could alter things, especially if the King decided to offer her as a bargaining tool.’

  Jaxon glanced at le Breton before asking, ‘What about de Capo?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘She is de Capo’s woman and he won’t give her up that easily.’

  ‘The King is just as likely to offer them both to de Clare if it makes him change sides. Two people for a Kingdom! What would you do?’

  ‘He won’t change sides,’ said Jaxon confidently, ‘he has too many men who are opposed to the King, and without their support it won’t matter what the King offers.’

  De Montfort shook his head, ‘Nothing is certain where he is concerned, suggestions?’

  ‘Make sure he knows he can have them both, no questions and no conditions,’ Jaxon looked at le Breton who nodded his agreement, ‘the spoils of war my Lord and they will all be his.’

  De Montfort looked thoughtful, ‘It’s not enough to have an ideal, men still need to be tempted.’ He took a sip of wine, sat back in his chair and with one elbow on the arm he rested his chin in his hand and rubbed his lips as he considered what Jaxon had said, ‘You’re right, if he knows there will be no objections from me, that he will have free rein, he should not be tempted to stray.’ He looked into his wine and murmured, ‘What about this de Chauvigny?’

  ‘A few men have heard of him,’ Jaxon said, ‘and there is a rumour de Capo had de Chauvigny banished from Acre, perhaps he is here for revenge!’

  De Montfort was tired but the mention of de Chauvigny being banished made him look up, ‘Banished? Would he come all this way simply for revenge? Find out what you can about him, I still want to meet him and I want to know why he is fighting for us when he should be fighting the Saracen.’

  Chapter Eight

  As dusk fell over the castle the torches and braziers were lit on both sides of the river, sentries were sent out to protect the perimeter of the hastily created bridge defences. De Capo ordered patrols to scour both sides of the river, their task to find the enemy, observe their numbers and condition and report back. Each patrol consisted of three mounted men, and they were under strict orders to ‘avoid any form of contact.’ The garrison could ill afford to lose nine fighting men, but the risk had to be taken to gain the information de Capo needed.

  The defences were making good progress and as each section of the ditch reached the dimensions Gilbert had demanded, so the sharpened stakes were dug into the bottom and smeared with human excrement. They were designed to maim and inflict an injury that would become infected, causing the sufferer excruciating pain before death. The stakes from the start of the ditch through to the river were slowly being dug into the ground at random angles between boats, carts and anything else usable. By lashing the stakes together an immovable, solid and fearsome wall of sharpened points would be created. This barrier would be impressive and deep and even if it didn’t stop the rebels, it would slow them down and allow the archers to pick them off. The shield wall would be the final defence before falling back to the Gate House and it would be a bloody fight for both sides.

  Gilbert had been striding around the defensive works since they had started, barking orders, and threatening the pox on the people for not working fast enough. Although a hard task master, he knew how to get the best from the men and ensured plentiful supplies of food and water were available throughout the night, giving praise where it was due. By morning the defences would be completed, the workers exhausted and if God was on their side it would be at least another day before the rebels appeared. Exhaustion was as much an enemy as the enemy themselves and he needed his men ready to fight.

  Ranulf had spent several hours getting to know the Keep and the men inside it. Once satisfied with what he saw and with de Capo’s permission he walked back to the opposite bank to assist with the defences. He was helping to dig in some of the stakes when he heard a shout and looked up to see Jerold the Bow Master walking towards him, ‘Found your men!’

  Wiping his brow, Ranulf got up from his knees and brushed the dirt from his hands, ‘How many?’

  Jerold leant on his bow, a habit most archers seemed to have, ‘Well….I admit to being surprised, but I’ve tested them all and they can all draw a bow and loose an arrow….whether they can hit the target every time is between them and God, but tomorrow it’ll be between them and me….we found two score.’

  Ranulf was amazed, ‘You found forty archers?’

  Jerold chuckled and spat on the ground, ‘You called them archers, not me, I said they can draw a bow and loose an arrow and if God grants us another day of peace I’ll practice them until their idle fingers bleed.’

  He looked at the barrier of stakes slowly taking shape, ‘This should slow them down; make a few targets, maybe I’ll join in when the fun starts.’

  ‘Aye’ Ranulf looked around, ‘it won’t stop them, but you’re right, it will slow them down and any bastard who wants to join will be most welcome.’

  Jerold nodded and smiled at the friendly insult before looking serious, ‘You have ten of my best archers. Use them from the bridge to pick the bastards off when they try and get past this shit sticking wall of spikes. As for the rest, use them for volleys, make the turds keep their heads down.’

  Ranulf nodded his thanks and as Jerold made his way back to the castle he walked over to Gilbert who stood staring through the gloom to the west. He half turned at Ranulf’s approach, his face and body looked weary but his eyes were still alert, ‘The bastards are out there, I can smell them, probably watching us right now, are you ready for a bloody fight?’

  Ranulf nodded, ‘Aye, we’re ready and Jerold found more archers, which will maybe make a difference!’

  Gilbert turned and placed a hand on Ranulf’s shoulder, ‘I knew he would, are they any good?’

  Ranulf shrugged, ‘We’ll find out tomorrow if we get a chance, he’s going to practice them hard. He said to use his best men from the bridge, the rest can fire in volleys from the bridge house.’

  A bell in the castle rang the hour and the sound floated across the river and reminded Ranulf of his new task ‘I promised to return to the Keep before nightfall.’

  Gilbert nodded and turned back to the west to continue his watch as Ranulf walked swiftly back across the bridge to take up his new position as commander of the Keep.

  ~

  De Capo stood at the top of the Keep and shivered in the cold wind sweeping between the towers. He sanctioned the fires which were being lit providing the men on the walls were not silhouetted. Watching Ranulf stride across the bridge he hoped he had made the right choice in the man. He was a good judge of a man’s character and worth and he believed the choice was sound, but even he made mistakes.

  He felt rather than heard the footsteps behind him and silently pulled a dagger from his belt. He had ordered the bodyguard to rest knowing the next day could well be the last a lot of men would see. He turned his head very slightly to catch the sound behind him and relaxed as the faint aroma of scented soap, the soap Blanche used reached his nostrils before being swept away on the
wind. He turned slowly to find her standing there shivering, although wrapped in a cloak.

  Her face was creased in worry and moving closer to him she looked up into his face, ‘Why are you up here alone?’

  De Capo smiled, ‘I’m not alone, not anymore.’

  ‘Erasmus is scared,’ she said holding his arm tightly, ‘I went to the chapel to pray and he was there. At first I thought he was praying, but he was talking about things I didn’t understand. They were the strangest prayers I have ever heard.’

  ‘What was he talking about?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ admitted Blanche, ‘but he kept mentioning your name and asking what would he do if you were killed!’

  ‘I don’t intend getting killed, but I do know he is scared. I don’t blame him. He should have stayed at Lewes and so should you. I shouldn’t have allowed you to come here, it was foolish and selfish.’

  Blanche released her hold on his arm and he placed it around her and held her close, ‘It was my choice, not yours,’ she said rebelliously, ‘you may become my husband but I will still have my own mind.’

  ‘You’re stubbornness could bring danger,’ de Capo looked down at her as if she was a child to be scolded, ‘and while I will never allow you to be harmed, you should listen to me sometimes.’

  ‘And sometimes I will,’ she smiled, ‘and you will still love me even when I make my own choices.’

  De Capo squeezed her as he looked out over the city, ‘Erasmus believes God brought us together and gave me something good to live for.’

  ‘Perhaps he did,’ agreed Blanche, ‘and perhaps he gave you something else to live for.’

  De Capo looked down at her, ‘What do you mean?’

  Her smile radiated warmth and he forgot about the chilly wind that swept over the top of the Keep, ‘I have your child inside me,’ she declared as her eyes widened in anticipation of his response.

  De Capo took a deep breath and closed his eyes, unable to speak at the revelation of the bittersweet news. Not only was he risking the life of the woman he loved, but now he was risking his unborn child.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told you,’ she tried to pull away as she mistook his reaction as anger but he kept her close to him and leant down and kissed her forehead, ‘you were right to tell me,’ he smiled,

  ‘Are you angry?’

  ‘Why would I be angry?’

  Blanche sighed as she pushed herself closer into his body, ‘You have so many other things to worry about.’

  ‘I will fight harder knowing you have our child inside you….does Evelyn know?’

  ‘She suspects,’ said Blanche as she shivered.

  ‘And you should tell her,’ de Capo insisted, ‘tonight!’

  ‘I had to tell you first,’ she said as her eyes became wet with tears, ‘I could not bear it if anything happened to you and you did not know.’

  ‘I understand,’ said de Capo, ‘but I still have this task to complete, and now I have something else worth fighting for.’

  ‘And after this is over? Will you still go north with Erasmus?’

  ‘I made a promise,’ said de Capo sadly, ‘I have to go north.’

  ‘Can’t someone else go?’ she pleaded.

  ‘Perhaps.’ He paused, ‘Are you sure about the baby?’

  ‘Yes,’ she frowned at his expression, ‘you don’t look pleased!’

  De Capo shook his head slightly, ‘No, I am pleased, but from now on you will listen to me, you will do as I or Evelyn say and you’re not to come up here again. When the siege starts you will stay in your chambers.’

  Blanche sighed again, ‘Ralf…please!’

  He gently moved her away so he could look into her eyes, ‘Tomorrow men will start dying, I was wrong to allow you to come here. We are at war and you will do as I say or I will have you removed from this castle tonight and taken to the nearest nunnery.’

  Blanche recoiled at the suggestion, ‘You wouldn’t!’

  The look on de Capo’s face suggested to her that he would.

  ‘This is not a game Blanche; you have just told me the greatest thing a man could wish for and I will protect you and our child any way I can.’

  Blanche smiled, ‘Very well, for now I will do as you say.’

  ‘Let me take you back inside before you freeze to death,’ he pulled her towards him and embraced her gently as he closed his eyes and savoured the moment, ‘or should I say before you both freeze to death!’

  ~

  Much of the stores and weapons had been removed to the Keep before Ranulf arrived at Rochester. Apart from getting to know the faces of the men who would be in there with him, his task was to ensure the security of the Keep and maintain the vigil that was necessary. The duty roster for the sentries, archers and crossbowmen had been handed to him by the sergeant, but Ranulf knew well enough to let the sergeant carry out his duties without too much interference from a knight who had only just been appointed. Ranulf had expected some animosity from the men in the Keep but the sergeant was respectful and pleasant and seemed happy he had a superior to report to. The rest of the men were equally respectful and Ranulf’s pleasant and easy going manner seemed to suit the circumstances.

  Once he had left the Constable’s chambers he walked into the Fore building to find the sergeant sitting at a table next to a scribe who was ticking off a list of stores still being carried through into the inner hall. The drawbridge that led from the Fore building to the steps leading down to the guard tower trembled with the footsteps of the men and women who carried food, bundles of arrows and crossbow bolts into the great stone tower.

  The ground floor of the Keep was already filled with barrels of salted or dried meat; including beef, pork, lamb, rabbit, mutton and various types of poultry. Pickled herrings, salmon, eels and a variety of other fish, bread, nuts, corn and most importantly for some, ale and wine sat waiting to be taken to the food store below the first floor. Other foodstuffs in barrels together with spices and vegetables indicated the Sheriff was preparing for a long siege. Wood was being hauled into the inner bailey by wagon, and men were starting to unload it and carry up it the steps to the Keep.

  Ranulf stood and watched as the men struggled, hunched over and laden with the fuel that would keep their fires going. He turned to the sergeant who was validating the completed lists the scribe had finished before passing them to Sir Roger. Everything carried across the drawbridge and bought into the Keep was checked by one of the soldiers who called out the contents for the scribe to write and the sergeant to corroborate, ‘Any problems?’

  ‘Not enough time and not enough fighting men, other than that everything is fine.’ The sergeant grinned, ‘Plenty of monks though. We might end up throwing them at the rebels if we run out of arrows, not much good for anything else!’

  ‘Monks?’

  The sergeant nodded, ‘Aye, there’s a group of them outside, they want to come inside for protection.’

  Ranulf walked across to the doorway and looked out again, he couldn’t see them but guessed they were at the bottom of the steps on the west side which was out of his view; he turned back to the sergeant, ‘Why don’t they go to the Cathedral?’

  The guards on the door gave each other a sly glance as the sergeant stopped checking his list and looked up from his parchment, ‘The Cathedral?’ He shook his head as Ranulf looked confused, ‘They don’t want them there, the bishop says they already have too many people. They only look after their own when it suits them and it don’t suit them now, so we either take them in or tell them to go and plant their holy arses somewhere else!’

  There were six other men in the Fore building, five guards and the scribe and they all grinned at the insult.

  ‘Let them in,’ ordered Ranulf.

  The sergeant furrowed his brow and shouted at the man checking each load, ‘Wait.’ He looked up at Ranulf, ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘How many surgeons have we got?’

  ‘One,’ replied the sergeant grumpily
at the mention of the man most people dreaded. If a man was wounded in battle and faced the surgeon he would normally end up doing what the enemy didn’t, ‘He’s over at the bridge.’

  ‘There will be a lot of wounded,’ said Ranulf, ‘and they’ll likely as not end up here, who’s going to look after them?’

  The sergeant grinned and nodded as it became clear to him, ‘William.’

  One of the guards looked his way as he continued, ‘Go and fetch the monks and tell them to report to Sir Ranulf.’

  ‘Bring them to the Great Hall,’ Ranulf instructed as he nodded his thanks to the sergeant, he entered the inner hall of the Keep and turned towards the stairs. The Great Hall on the first floor was busy, it had two galleries overlooking it on the east and west side, convenient positions for the archers who could use the extra loopholes situated along the galleries. The fireplace was huge and devoured up logs quicker than rats feasting on a corpse. The temperature was dropping and Ranulf stood near to the flames and savoured the heat. He felt weary as two days and a night without sleep caught up with him.

  ‘A good idea,’ said the familiar voice behind him.

  Ranulf turned to see de Capo standing there rubbing his hands in the heat and looking around at the activity.

  A guard led the monks in, left them standing by the stairs and approached Ranulf, ‘Seven of them Sir Ranulf, very grateful they are, promised to pray for all of us.’

  Ranulf thanked the guard and quickly explained his plan to de Capo.

  De Capo nodded his agreement, ‘Another good idea,’ he grinned, ‘make them earn their place here, just keep them away from me. Find Erasmus, he has skills in the art of medicine, tomorrow will be a busy day for these men of the cloth and I need Erasmus occupied.’

  ~

  De Capo walked the south battlements alone with his thoughts. The men who manned the wall watched and nodded to him as he walked past realising whatever happened in the next few days would weigh heavily on his shoulders. Men were going to die and there was nothing he could do to change that. He thought of the task facing him; the fate of a kingdom was in his hands. If he failed here, he would also fail in the task that bought him back to England in the first place. If he thought too hard he would waver, he thought of Blanche and his love for her; that love would set his resolve. He sighed knowing he had done everything he could with the resources he had. Now it was up to God and fate to decide what happened next.