Blanche froze as de Clare continued, ‘Everyone here will die soon and if you want to live you will leave with me now, you are promised to me and you will not break that promise.’
Blanche moved her face away from his and held her chin up in a pose of defiance, ‘Ralf will kill you for this.’
De Clare kept a firm grip on Blanche’s arms but moved away slightly, ‘Sir Ralf will die but he can live if you wish it.’
Blanche turned to face de Clare, ‘What do you mean?’
‘I will guarantee his safety once the Keep falls,’ his eyes widened as his grip increased, ‘but only if you come with me, now!’
‘You’re lying!’
‘You have no choice my Lady, we will mine the Keep and it will fall and we will slaughter everyone,’ he shook her harshly, ‘is that what you want?’
‘You will never get out of here alive….RALF!! RALF!!’
The screams came to an abrupt halt when de Clare struck her twice on the left side of her face with a gauntlet covered hand. Her head lolled to the right and she spat blood as tears filled her eyes. She coughed and slowly turned her face to stare at her abuser, ‘Bastard, bastard, BASTARD!!’
She grabbed for his face and clawed at his flesh, kicking and screaming as de Clare raised his hand and struck her again.
She half turned and fell into the thick stones and found herself with her head hanging through the crenulations at the ground below. Pushing herself back she turned to face de Clare who stood, breathing hard, sweat on his face and his eyes fixed in a blind fury. He stepped forward, raised his fist and bought it down into the side of her face. Once more she fell into the thick stones and stared through the crenulations at the ground. She turned, smiling through the blood and the swelling as de Clare raised his fist and stepped towards her….
‘DE CLARE!’
The sound of his name made him stop and turn round slowly until he faced his old adversary standing on the opposite side of the Keep with a crossbow pointed at him. Blanche turned and her shoulders slumped with relief as she saw de Capo with Ranulf and other knights.
‘If you want her to live,’ shouted de Clare, ‘you will allow us to leave!’
For several long seconds no one moved. De Clare stood breathing heavily, splatters of Blanche’s blood on his gauntlets and across his face. Blanche held onto the thick stone of the battlements and looked from one man to the other.
De Capo stared at de Clare, his face was calm and he glanced at Blanche, she gave a small nod, and de Capo released the bolt.
~
Gilbert de Clare sighed and his legs buckled as he dropped to his knees. The steel barbed head punched through the chest and into the heart.
He stared, horrified at the wooden shaft protruding from Blanche! She had been thrown back by the force of the bolt striking her after glancing off his armour. His breast plate had been designed with a ridge in the centre to prevent a frontal strike from a bolt or an arrow and de Capo’s bolt had bounced off to the side.
Blanche was dead before her head smashed into the stone battlements, shattering her skull and leaking blood that formed an expanding pool beneath her. She lay there arms outstretched as her eyes looked up lifelessly at the disappearing clouds.
De Capo, the blood drained from his face as he realised what he had done, dropped the crossbow and half ran, half stumbled towards Blanche as a strangled cry struggled to leave his mouth, ‘NO!’ As he reached her his legs gave way and he slumped to his knees and lifted her head which lay heavy in his hands. Unaware of the blood that seeped through his fingers he stared into her eyes. With an expression of utter despair he looked at de Clare who still knelt, his face grey, staring at the corpse of the once beautiful Blanche.
FitzAlan ascended the stairs and burst through the doorway to find de Capo with his head bowed cradling Blanche. Sir John was the next to arrive with Sir Roger and they both listened as Ranulf explained what happened.
Sir John forced himself to remain calm and broke the silence as he ordered de Clare to be seized, ‘Take him to the Constables chamber, four men to guard him and if he tries to escape you can take his head.’
As de Clare was disarmed and led away by Templars, Erasmus appeared and knelt beside Blanche. De Capo looked at him with desperation in his eyes, ‘Can she have the last rites?’
Erasmus nodded with tears in his eyes, ‘She can. Her soul still lives and will remain with us until they are given.’
Sir Roger motioned Henry to follow de Clare, ‘Ensure he is not harmed, if he is the truce will be broken and we need this day for the King to arrive.’
Henry nodded and quickly made his way to the Constables chamber on the first floor before any unsanctioned attack was made on de Clare. Blanch had been popular and already the news was starting to spread.
Bradyn watched dispassionately, he climbed down from the tower and disappeared inside the Keep.
~
The guard swept open the entrance flap to the tent and stood waiting for de Montfort to give him permission to speak.
De Montfort looked up and nodded.
‘Something has happened on the Keep my Lord.’
Chapter Thirty One
Blanche was removed to the Archbishops Chamber and placed on her bed. Evelyn wept as she washed her and dressed her in her finest clothes. She had followed Ranulf up the stairs as he ran after de Capo and when she saw Blanche lying there surrounded by a pool of blood she screamed, and that scream was heard by the men on the ground who all looked up and stared in silence, as if collectively they knew a tragedy had happened that day.
De Capo knelt beside her body and held her lifeless hand. He stared at her face, drained of colour, ignoring the movement in and out of the chambers as everyone came to pay their respects. His face was white and his eyes were red although no one had seen him weeping. Two of the monks offered to say prayers over her body through the night and Evelyn had insisted she remain with her until the body could be moved for burial.
Sir John shared de Capo’s grief and promised he would arrange for her father to be informed. Even with the bad blood between them he was sure he loved his daughter and her body would be removed to the ancestral home where it would be interred.
The Keep itself had been closed down and locked up. All those outside the Keep had been ordered back in. The fires had been extinguished and cooking continued inside. As far as the defenders were concerned the truce still held but each man was told to make sure the person next to them was known. If de Clare had managed to get in, there could be others and anyone who was a stranger had to be reported.
Sir Roger stood his ground against Sir John and FitzAlan who wanted de Clare stripped naked and hung from the keep by his ankles and used as target practice. This would never happen; he was the richest man in England. Ransom was also out of the question.
Sir Roger reminded the men who wanted de Clare executed, ‘This is still a truce. Remember, however Blanche died, Sir Gilbert did not actually kill her. It was a tragic accident and Sir Ralf will have to live with his conscience.’
Everyone reluctantly agreed.
‘Release him,’ ordered Sir Roger, ‘escort him to the cross wall, he knows he is a marked man.’
The remainder of the day continued with the dark cloud of Blanche’s death over the Keep but the truce was kept and a day was gained for the King.
~
Blanche lay in the Keep, her body wrapped tightly in muslin. De Capo prayed over the body until the truce ended. At dawn the next day he stood and walked out of her chambers without looking back. His face was void of any emotion and he looked at people as if they were nothing to him. Making his way to the top of the Keep he looked out over the city, what was left of it and stared at the enemy.
~
De Montfort had dismissed de Chauvigny as soon as he realised de Clare had been captured. Jaxon followed him out and left de Montfort seething with the remarks de Chauvigny had made about the Keep not falling, ‘This is no
t good,’ de Montfort said.
Humfrey appeared from behind a screen at one end of the tent, ‘If Sir Gilbert has been caught he may end up being strung from the top of the Keep.’
‘Let us hope Sir Roger’s good sense prevails,’ sighed de Montfort as he looked at the man who continuously passed him information about his unstable ally, ‘go to the cross wall, if I know Sir Roger, Gilbert will be released, if he is not there will be dire consequences.’
Humfrey nodded and left leaving de Montfort feeling angry about de Clare’s lack of faith and his unbelievable stupidity.
~
De Clare stood ashen faced in front of de Montfort and for the first time he was completely subdued. Humfrey stood beside him, his betrayal of the trust de Clare had in him was borne of allegiance to the cause, but no one could doubt the personal loyalty he continued to show to de Clare the man.
‘What is done is done Gilbert,’ said de Montfort, ‘there is nothing you can do and nothing I can do. Mourn her as you will but remember we still have a war to fight.’
De Clare looked up, his face strained with the grief he felt as he stared into de Montfort’s eyes, he didn’t speak as strode out of the tent with Humfrey following.
At his orders, de Montfort’s engineers were digging a mine at the south east corner of the castle. Even though it was a round tower it could still fall if the mine was big enough and he felt there was enough time to complete it. The archers in the Keep tried to prevent it with fire arrows but the large wicker shields were too thick and the supply of arrows too limited to waste. The siege engineers were the ones to win this now and for the attackers and defenders alike it was still a waiting game.
Chapter Thirty Two
It was a long time before de Capo left the top of the Keep. His expression was blank as he spoke with Ranulf and Sir Roger. He walked around looking at each man carefully asking questions about who they were and where they had come from, how long they had been in the city, who their captains and sergeants were. He spoke to the monks again one at a time. Quizzing them on their faith and their monasteries, their abbots, their journeys and what they were going to do after the siege was lifted.
Men flinched when a rock struck the Keep and the dust continued to fall from the ceilings and the walls. De Capo didn’t flinch; he didn’t seem to notice. His thoughts turned to how de Clare had managed to get into the Keep without being recognised. The guard relieved by Bradyn swore on the bible a man had taken his place. Who the man was nobody knew and the guard could not remember his face. There was a traitor inside the Keep and de Capo was determined to find him. He was the key to Blanche’s death.
In the confusion of the fighting and the death of Blanche, no one had really taken much notice of another man’s face. Bradyn had spent time becoming a member of the garrison, mixing in well with the other men and there had been a lot of newcomers to Rochester in the days leading up to the attack. De Balon’s plan had been simple, but as with all plans it needed a certain amount of luck to succeed. His orders had been clear, but the scroll still had to be found and Bradyn still needed to speak to Erasmus. He would enjoy inflicting the pain necessary to get the information out of him. The man was a traitor and under sentence of death from Martel de Fribois.
De Capo had spoken to Bradyn as he had spoken to all the men. In the confusion of the fighting and the death of Blanche, de Capo’s mind was overloaded with information, faces, secrets and promises he had made. As he stalked about the Keep looking at people and trying to remember their names their stories, he caught sight of Bradyn again. There was something about him, but his exhaustion was overpowering and he couldn’t think straight. By the evening of the first day after Blanche had been killed, he gave up trying to think why Bradyn made him feel uncomfortable and he made his way to the chapel.
The figure sat quietly in the shadows and watched de Capo as he knelt before the altar and looked up at the cross, ‘Why?’
‘It was pre-ordained!’
He turned and saw a figure standing in the shadows. The light from the opaque windows in the chapel couldn’t penetrate so far into the room, ‘Erasmus?’ The priest walked into the dim light as de Capo relaxed and stood, ‘Hiding from me?’
Erasmus shook his head, ‘No, this is the quietest place in the Keep,’ he flinched as another rock struck, ‘I needed to think and understand what happened.’
‘And what happened?’ de Capo demanded, ‘Did God take Blanche because I was going to break my oath to you? Is the benevolent God we pray to and kill for such a murdering bastard he has to take a woman and her unborn child?’
‘Ralf!’ Erasmus was horrified at de Capo’s anger and malice towards God, ‘If it is God’s will we must accept it.’
De Capo’s face seemed to grow darker in the poor light, ‘Why doesn’t his will extend to destroying de Chauvigny and his men?’
‘It is God’s way of allowing us to prove our faith to him; he needs to know we believe in him, that we will listen to his words and his signs. It is not for us to question him…..’
‘WELL I QUESTION HIM!’ bellowed de Capo. He stared at Erasmus and slowly regained control of his temper. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, ‘I will still take you north Erasmus, but I will no longer kill for him. From now until I die I will kill because of him. Let him be the sinner in this.’
‘God cannot sin,’ said Erasmus, ‘everything he does is for our souls.’
‘My soul died with Blanche,’ de Capo hissed as he turned to the door, ‘and a man without a soul does not fear him, Satan or death!’
Erasmus moved swiftly across to him and placed a hand on his arm, ‘Sir Ralf, please, think about……’ he stopped and quickly backed away from the door, a look of disbelief on his face, ‘No,’ he croaked.
De Capo looked at Erasmus curiously, ‘No? No what?’
‘Close the door, close it!’
De Capo pushed the door shut, ‘What have you seen?’
‘Not what,’ replied Erasmus, ‘who!’
‘If this is one of your games!’
‘Bradyn,’ said Erasmus with a painful expression as he pushed himself against the wall, ‘he is one of Martel de Fribois’ men.’
‘Are you sure?’ de Capo asked as his expression changed from one of curiosity to anger.
‘I’m sure,’ Erasmus insisted, ‘he was in Cyprus with the Grand Master, you would not have recognised him.’
De Capo grabbed hold of Erasmus and dragged him towards he door, ‘Point him out,’ he ordered.
The look on the priest’s face suggested he would rather do anything but; the look in de Capo’s eyes and the glint of steel as he pulled his sword persuaded him otherwise, ‘Now!’ he snarled.
~
Bradyn was seized as he stood at a loophole looking out at Boley Hill where he and his comrades had impaled the two sentries. There was no finesse about his arrest. He was grabbed from behind and forced to the floor. His face smashed hard into the floorboards and before he could think about reacting, his arms had been pulled to one side and his weapons removed. He turned his head in an attempt to look at his attackers but the kick to his face convinced him to remain still. Once his arms were bound tightly behind his back he was pulled to his knees to face de Capo who stood with a blank expression. Erasmus stood to the side, several steps behind him and as Bradyn glared at him he looked at the floor.
‘You are Bradyn?’ De Capo asked.
Bradyn nodded and turned his head to see who else was there. Several knights including Ranulf and Sir Roger stood watching.
De Capo stared malevolently, ‘De Chauvigny sent you?’
Bradyn nodded, ‘Yes.’
‘What are your orders?’
Bradyn sniggered, shook his head and remained silent.
De Capo stepped forward and smashed a gauntlet covered fist into Bradyn’s face. His nose exploded in a fountain of blood that sprayed across the floor.
The men behind kept him upright and de Capo repeated the quest
ion, ‘What are your orders?’
Bradyn shook his head and spat blood on the floor as he glared at Erasmus.
De Capo struck him again and the sound of cartilage crunching made Erasmus wince, ‘I will ask you once more,’ he said, ‘your death will be long and hard if you refuse to answer…..what are your orders?’
Bradyn coughed and spat more blood on the floor, his left eye was split and swollen and his nose was a mangled mess. He lunged at de Capo as he tried to stand but de Capo’s fist struck again and he fell to one side half-conscious as blood flowed from his damaged face.
‘Take him to the dungeons,’ de Capo ordered.
~
Ranulf and FitzAlan’s pleas fell on deaf ears as they insisted he should not deal with Bradyn alone.
Sir John offered to take his place, ‘She was my family Ralf, trust me, I will get your answers!’
De Capo looked around the room. There were no smiles, no one took any pleasure in knowing what needed to be done and Sir Geoffrey Marston insisted two of his men guard the door to the dungeon. They would be there to prevent anyone entering and also to assist if de Capo needed them. That was the only help de Capo accepted.
‘I think you should pray first,’ Erasmus said as he walked with de Capo and the two Templars towards the steps leading down to the dungeon.
De Capo stopped and looked at the priest with a cynical half grin, ‘Pray? For guidance or forgiveness?’
‘God will forgive you, Sir Ralf, and he will guide you if you ask him.’
De Capo replied harshly, ‘I do not need his guidance or his forgiveness, you forget Erasmus…. I do this because of him, not for him.’
As de Capo entered the doorway leading to the dungeon with the two Templars following, Erasmus stood with shoulders slumped before making his way swiftly to the chapel, ‘I will pray for them both,’ he thought, ‘they will need my prayers.’
~
Bradyn had been stripped of his mail and most of his clothing. Wearing just his undershirt and leggings he was barefoot, his hands remained bound behind him and his ankles had been chained to the floor. The swelling, bruising and dried encrusted blood covering his face gave him a demonic look in the light of the torches de Capo had lit. Without them the dungeon would be in complete darkness as there was nowhere for daylight to penetrate.
Deus Militis - Soldiers of God Page 43
