The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Sir Baldwin’s over there,’ Hugh pointed, and Simon nodded, running after them.

  Coroner Roger saw the way that Brian turned, shouted, and then took aim. There was nothing he could do to stop the man firing, and he glared at his men. Two of them had strung bows, and he shouted, all but unintelligibly, that they must fire on Brian. In a couple of moments the bows were in action and two yard-long arrows sped to him.

  Brian was fortunate. In the moment that the arrows were fired he had loosed his second bolt at Esmon, missing as Esmon avoided a sword thrust, and before they struck, he bent to reach for a fresh bolt. One arrow thumped into the stone of the wall behind him, and he ducked a little lower as the second hurtled past him.

  At his side, the gate’s watchman muttered, ‘Fuck! These bastards are getting serious!’

  Brian chuckled. The blood was singing in his veins, and he felt more alive than he had done in weeks. ‘Make sure the gate stays barred,’ he grinned and dropped down the ladder to the yard.

  Esmon was dying. He rested on his sword, the point sitting on the ground, panting while two men watched him warily. They were trained fighters. Seeing he was soon to die anyway, they saw no point in risking their own lives while he still had a spark of energy left. They would move in when he was past defence.

  Brian gave a dry, humourless laugh. He dragged back the string on his bow, set another bolt in the groove, and shot Esmon through the heart.

  Baldwin and Simon slammed the door shut. It was made of good, new, light-coloured oak, and the bars too were fresh and clean, as though they had recently been renewed. Simon slid them from their housings in the wall, dragging them across until the timbers fitted into the slots on the opposite wall.

  They were in a rib-vaulted cellar with a loop in the east wall that gave a dim illumination to the room. Stairs within the thickness of the wall near the door led upwards, and the four men hurried to climb them as weapons began to hammer on the door.

  Upstairs was a smaller chamber. This was about seven yards long, four wide. There was a loop over the barred doorway, a fireplace in the eastern wall with another two loops, and a fourth in the northern wall.

  ‘Rats in a trap,’ Baldwin breathed.

  ‘Yes, but we can make their lives difficult,’ Simon said, staring about for a weapon which might be dropped on the heads of the men attacking the place.

  ‘There’s nothing,’ Sir Ralph said. ‘I didn’t want that rabble having access to too many weapons in case they decided to mutiny.’

  ‘That was wise,’ Baldwin said sarcastically. ‘Perhaps it would have been wiser still not to allow them into your castle?’

  Sir Ralph said nothing. His eyes held a strange kind of wildness which Baldwin had not seen before, but then he had not seen men witness their sons being shot down before them. His heart went out to Sir Ralph. He disliked the man, detested the way he had behaved, and yet he could sympathise with his present appalling situation.

  ‘Where are the women? Your wife and the girl Flora?’ Simon asked.

  ‘I don’t know. Did the men leave them in the hall?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Simon grunted. ‘But if they’re there, that’s where Ben and Esmon were too, so they’re probably safe.’

  ‘We won’t know until we get out of here,’ Baldwin said. He glanced about him. ‘And there’s no easy escape.’

  Simon nodded, and cocked his head. There was a change in the sounds from below. No more thumping, but gleeful roars, as though a new force had broken into the castle’s yard.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  It was with relief that Coroner Roger heard the sudden bellow from the rear of the castle. Squire Hubert and the Reeve were climbing the walls! The Coroner debated whether to chase around to the back to join them, but the Squire had promised he’d have the gate opened in moments and was true to his word. Soon there was a grating noise as the bars were dragged back, and then the gates opened quietly on their greased hinges. The Coroner spurred his mount inside, Thomas and Godwen at his side, the posse immediately behind them.

  The yard looked as though it was filled with corpses. Everywhere was the metallic scent of blood. The Coroner gazed around, urgently seeking a face he knew, and he felt only relief when he realised that nowhere could he see Baldwin or Simon among the dead or wounded.

  Ahead there was a fight at the foot of the tower. When the men had clambered over the fence, they had been hidden by the mass of the tower itself, and they had surprised Brian and his men at the foot of the keep.

  Coroner Roger roared at his men and, brandishing his sword, cantered to them. He could see Brian, who turned with a look of shock on his face at this new threat, and bellowed to his own men. One fell as Godwen rode over him, but then two men grabbed Godwen’s booted foot and pulled him from his mount. Before Coroner Roger could get to him, he heard an almost insane-sounding scream of pure demoniacal rage, and saw Thomas running past him on foot, a heavy war-axe in his left hand, a thick, battered-looking club in his right. With these he flailed about him like a berserker of old, and soon there was a respectful space about him. Godwen was lying still on the ground and Thomas went to him, standing over him with his weapons ready.

  The Coroner saw that Brian was being pushed back, but then two of his men appeared from behind, from the stables, and suddenly it was the Coroner’s men who were being beaten back. Coroner Roger dropped from his horse to rally the men, running to the front, and arrived in time to see Brian pointing at him. Roger had time to deflect one blow at his head, and then, when he threw a look at Brian again, he saw to his horror that the man had a crossbow in his hands and was aiming it at him.

  For the Coroner, time seemed to stand still. The noise of the battle faded and died, and he was aware only of the point of the bolt that was aiming at his body. Men about him screamed and shouted, stabbed, slashed, moved forward and back, lifted their arms, and then themselves fell, and Coroner Roger knew nothing of them. The sounds were faded and dulled as though heard from an immense distance, while all he could hear was the blood hammering in his veins like an enormous drum. He could think of nothing but his wife, whom he adored, whom he would have wanted to see just once more, and yet whom he must never see again. That thought was hideously painful, as though the quarrel’s dart had already punctured his breast. She was his lover, but more than that, she was his very best friend.

  Then the door to the keep was pulled wide, and Sir Ralph stood in the doorway for an instant, before running straight at Brian, roaring ‘TRAITOR! TRAITOR!’

  His onward rush took him through the first group of men, and he was almost at Brian’s back in the time that it took Brian to glance over his shoulder. Seeing his peril, he ducked, and the crossbow was pointed away. Suddenly Coroner Roger was aware that he had been holding his breath, and he exhaled, light-headed. Then he felt his senses renew as he caught sight of Baldwin and Simon leaving the door to the keep. They ran out and joined Sir Ralph in attacking Brian’s men in flank, and that turned the course of the battle.

  Brian and his men had been pushed back until now he was at the hall’s entrance with the last few of his men. There was a scuffle there, and Roger saw Sir Ralph trying to clamber up the steps to reach Brian, but then he saw that dreadful crossbow rise, saw Brian take a casual aim – from that distance, a matter of feet, he could not miss – and fire.

  The bolt struck Sir Ralph in the forehead, and the Coroner saw his head jerk as though struck by a hammer. Even as Sir Ralph’s body hesitated, Coroner Roger knew he was dead. No man could survive a wound like that. Then Sir Ralph fell backwards down the steps and lay at the foot of them, a crumpled body with all life gone, and then Brian was in the hall, the door slammed firmly shut in the face of the attackers.

  ‘Aha! Coroner. We thought you might have forgotten us,’ Baldwin gasped.

  ‘You thought I’d forgotten you? When I’d promised you a good meal last night, I knew you had to be ill or detained, when you never arrived. A trencherman like you, missi
ng a free meal!’

  Baldwin could laugh now. The relief of surviving made him feel an excess of delight that rushed through his veins and into his head, almost like sex. He gave a great sigh. ‘I am glad you have so little understanding of my appetites.’

  ‘Ha! You think so?’ said the Coroner, and hiccupped.

  He stumbled, a hand grabbing for Baldwin, catching him by the shoulder. Baldwin smiled still more broadly, thinking merely that his friend had stubbed his boot or tripped on a cobble, but then the Coroner coughed, and a little gobbet of blood spattered on Baldwin’s tunic. Coroner Roger was gazing up at Baldwin’s face with an expression of confusion, and then a frown passed over his features. That was when the knight saw the point of the crossbow bolt protruding from Coroner Roger’s breast.

  ‘Christ Jesus!’ he murmured, and it was almost a sob. The Coroner was now feebly trying to stay on his feet, but his legs would not support him. Baldwin tried to smile at him, but he had a great choking lump in his throat, and the words would not come for a moment.

  At the hall, Baldwin saw a movement in the great window. Brian must be standing on a table to fire through it. ‘Look out! ’Ware the crossbow in the window, there,’ he roared, before carrying Coroner Roger into the protection of the keep.

  Flora and Lady Annicia remained in the relative safety of the solar block with Ben. Lady Annicia had been in the hall when Brian leaped in through the door with his remaining companions, slamming and barring the door to the hall. She had been going to ask about her husband when she saw the expression on Brian’s face. There was a feral brutality there; this man was going to die, and like a badger caught in a narrow alley, he was turning at bay ready to slaughter as many others as he could.

  She slammed shut the door to the solar, shoving the first of the heavy bolts across before Brian could reach her. Then the other two bolts, one at the top, one at the bottom. The oak timbers of the door were sound enough to hold any man at bay for an age. Without an axe, he could do little more than hurl abuse through it. There was one loud thud, and she guessed that it was a crossbow bolt slamming into it, but the point failed to penetrate the inch-thick wood.

  There was a slight gap between door and frame, and from this she could see Brian stacking one table upon another, then peering through the window and firing. Suddenly the shouting outside grew louder, and she wondered what was going on. Lady Annicia was worried. She hoped that her husband and son were still alive and well, but she had seen nothing of either. Similarly, she had seen nothing of the other men. Where were her own servants – the grooms, gardeners, steward and others?

  At a fresh outburst of noise, she peeped through the door crack again, in time to see a howling flurry of arrows fly through the window. All was quiet for a while, and then there was a sudden shout of pain. One of the men had been pinned to the floor by an arrow, the fletchings still quivering, protruding from his calf.

  ‘We can’t stay here,’ she said under her breath, ‘but there’s no other way out.’

  ‘We can’t get out from above?’ Flora asked.

  She shook her head. All the windows were barred. Ben sat on a chair, his face a mass of weeping burns, and he began to chuckle. ‘Father will save us. He won’t let us come to any harm. Father? Dad? Help!’

  ‘Shut up, fool,’ Lady Annicia snarled. Ben took hold of her shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, his fist struck her chin, and she tumbled down, stunned. She saw, as if through a misted glass, Ben swing his fist into Flora’s face; the girl was knocked off her stool by the force of the blow. Ben went to the door, unbolted it and pulled it open.

  ‘Dad! Father, I’m here!’ he called, heaving the door wide and pelting into the room. As he did so, there was a noise like a flock of geese flying through the air, and a cloud of arrows appeared. Ben was struck, in the throat, the breast and legs. Then, still upright, he began to shriek, a hideous scream like a rabbit in a fox’s mouth.

  ‘Kill him!’ Brian ordered, and Ben’s cry was cut off as a sword whistled in an arc. With a thump, it sliced through his neck and his head flew off. It was then that Lady Annicia fainted.

  Baldwin had gently set Coroner Roger on the ground, and he lay still, his fingers clasping Baldwin’s shoulder. ‘Old friend, hold on. Please, hold on.’

  He went out to the yard again. Brian and his men were being forced to keep their heads down, because a group of six archers were up on the walls, shooting down through the window. In a corner, near the door to the hall, Baldwin saw Hubert, and he ran to the Squire.

  ‘We shall have to storm it,’ Hubert said. ‘We can’t break in from here, the door’s too thick, but if we bring the ladders here, we can set them against the window and climb in there.’

  ‘It would be too dangerous,’ Baldwin reckoned. ‘They have crossbows in there, and they could cut you to pieces as you tried to hack through the bars and squirm between them.’

  ‘What else can we do? Fire the place and drive them out?’

  Baldwin looked at the hall, remembering the horror on the face of Flora as she awoke after the fire last night. ‘Only if there’s no other way.’

  Simon joined them, fingering his blade with a black expression. ‘He’s dead. The Coroner’s dead.’

  There was a roar from the hall, then they heard Brian’s voice.

  ‘You! Coroner! Can you hear me?’

  ‘The Coroner’s not here,’ Squire Hubert said, but Baldwin put his hand on Hubert’s forearm.

  ‘I am here – the Keeper. Will you surrender to us?’

  ‘Set us free and we’ll go. There’s no need for more bloodshed.’

  ‘You have to surrender unconditionally.’

  ‘We won’t. We have two hostages here, Lady Annicia and a girl…’

  ‘Shit!’ Simon muttered. ‘That must be Flora.’

  ‘… but they won’t be hurt if you let us have free passage from here.’

  ‘No!’ Baldwin shouted. ‘You must surrender unconditionally.’

  ‘We won’t. If you don’t want these women to die, you’ll have to set us loose. We want all your men away from the door. Any more arrows coming into the hall will hit the women first. They are in the room without cover.’

  ‘It’s true, Sir Baldwin! He has us sitting in the middle of the floor.’

  ‘Lady Annicia, are you harmed?’ Baldwin called, muttering under his breath, ‘Damn! If we let them go, we’ll never catch them again.’

  ‘No. Not yet. Not from these men,’ came her response.

  ‘Baldwin, you have to agree to let them free if the women are released,’ Simon said.

  ‘We can’t! He’s murdered the Coroner and God knows who else. How can we let him go?’

  ‘Do you want the ladies’ blood on your hands?’ Squire Hubert demanded. ‘Come, we have to let him go, and as soon as he’s ridden off, we can attack him.’

  ‘This man is no fool,’ Baldwin said. ‘Right, Squire, take four men and remove all the horses from the stables. There will be none here when they come out. All of them, mind. I don’t want one left. Simon, when he comes out, we can offer him sanctuary, but I won’t have him leave this vill without releasing the women.’

  ‘Very well.’

  They could see Squire Hubert at the stables. In a moment there was an alarmed neighing, a scattering of hooves, and then a sudden explosion of noise as men bellowed and shouted at the sight of all the castle’s horses pelting out of the stables. Some few beasts became lost and milled about the yard, their metal-shod hooves a threat to all the men who approached, but then they realised where the gate was, and there was a clattering as they galloped off, out of the castle and through to the road. Baldwin, glancing quickly after them, saw Squire Hubert and two other men on their own horses rallying them all and keeping them together in a tight pack.

  When he looked back, he saw Brian at the window, his face a picture of dismay. That gave Baldwin some satisfaction for a moment, but then came the call once more.

  ‘That was clever, Sir
Keeper, but not clever enough! If you want one of these women to live, you’d best decide which is the one worth saving, because one of them is going to get cut into little pieces for what you just did. Tell me which shall live, which shall die. There’s no hurry.’

  ‘Burn them out,’ Godwen said. ‘That’s the only way.’

  ‘Don’t be mad! That would enrage them further and guarantee that they would kill their hostages,’ Baldwin snarled.

  ‘Sir Baldwin. Let me go in!’ Osbert had joined the Coroner’s men, and he gripped his axe like a man who was desperate to hew at something other than wood. ‘She’s my sister, Sir Baldwin. Let me get her out.’

  ‘How? If you know of a way inside, tell us!’

  Osbert gave a dry smile. ‘There’s always a back passage. If you can distract them here, at the front of the place, I can get in, if you have a ladder.’

  Baldwin gained the impression of great confidence. He nodded slowly, but then he noticed some logs waiting to be cut for timber or firewood, and began to speak to Simon about creating a diversion.

  The room felt hot. Brian wiped at his face with his sleeve, listening intently. He had two hostages and he was keen to lose neither, but he didn’t expect that he would be permitted to live. The expression on Sir Baldwin’s face had told him that. There was a rage that was near to madness in the knight’s eyes and Brian was quite sure that he would be executed before he could find a mount. Especially now the bastard had loosed all the animals from the stables.

  Flora and Annicia sat mute. Both had the look of women who scarcely cared now whether they might live or die. Flora’s bodice was drenched in blood from her brother’s death. She had gone to him as soon as his head began to bounce, and cradled his body with the blood pumping obscenely from the severed neck. Annicia was little better. She had heard that her only son and her husband had been slaughtered by this man, and now she was numb to any fresh pain. There was nothing left.