The Grail Quest 1 - Harlequin tgq-1

by Bernard Cornwell

  The hellequin arrived shortly after midday. The archers rode into the village first, followed by the men-at-arms, who were escorting a one-horse wagon that had wooden hoops supporting a flapping cover of brown cloth. Father Hobbe and Will Skeat rode beside the wagon, which puzzled Thomas, for he had never known the hellequin use such a vehicle before. But then Skeat and the priest broke away from the men-at-arms and spurred their horses towards the field where the stallion grazed.

  The two men stopped by the hedge, and Skeat cupped his hands and shouted towards the woods, Come on out, you daft bastard!“ Thomas emerged very sheepishly, to be greeted with an ironic cheer from the archers. Skeat regarded him sourly. God's bones, Tom,” he said, but the devil did a bad thing when he humped your mother."

  Father Hobbe tutted at Will's blasphemy, then raised a hand in blessing. You missed a fine sight, Tom,“ he said cheerfully: Sir Simon coming home to La Roche, half naked and bleeding like a stuck pig. I'll hear your confession before we go. Don't grin, you stupid bastard,” Skeat snapped. Sweet Christ, Tom, but if you do a job, do it proper. Do it proper! Why did you leave the bastard alive?"

  I missed."

  Then you go and kill some poor bastard squire instead. Sweet Christ, but you're a goddamn bloody fool."

  I suppose they want to hang me?“ Thomas asked. Oh no,” Skeat said in feigned surprise, of course not! They want to feast you, hang garlands round your neck and give you a dozen virgins to warm your bed. What the hell do you think they want to do with you? Of course they want you dead and I swore on my mother's life I'd bring you back if I found you alive. Does he look alive to you, father?"

  Father Hobbe examined Thomas. He looks very dead to me, Master Skeat."

  He bloody deserves to be dead, the daft bastard.“ Did the Countess get safe home?” Thomas asked. She got home, if that's what you mean,“ Skeat said, but what do you think Sir Simon wanted the moment he'd covered up his shrivelled prick? To have her house searched, Tom, for some armour and a sword that were legitimately his. He's not such a daft fool; he knows you and she were together.” Thomas cursed and Skeat repeated the blasphemy. So they pressed her two servants and they admitted the Countess planned everything."

  They did what?" Thomas asked.

  They pressed them,“ Skeat repeated, which meant that the old couple had been put flat on the ground and had stones piled on their chests. The old girl squealed everything at the first stone, so they were hardly hurt,” Skeat went on, and now Sir Simon wants to charge her ladyship with murder. And naturally he had her house searched for the sword and armour, but they found nowt because I had them and her hidden well away, but she's still as deep in the shit as you are. You can't just go about sticking crossbow bolts into knights and slaughtering squires, Tom! It upsets the order of things!"

  I'm sorry, Will," Thomas said.

  So the long and the brief of it,“ Skeat said, is that the Countess is seeking the protection of her husband's uncle.” He jerked a thumb at the cart. She's in that, together with her bairn, two bruised servants, a suit of armour and a sword."

  Sweet Jesus,“ Thomas said, staring at the cart. You put her there,” Skeat growled, not Him. And I had the devil's own business keeping her hid from Sir Simon. Dick Totesham suspects I'm up to no good and he don't approve, though he took my word in the end, but I still had to promise to drag you back by the scruff of your miserable neck. But I haven't seen you, Tom.“ I'm sorry, Will,” Thomas said again.

  You bloody well should be sorry,“ Skeat said, though he was exuding a quiet satisfaction that he had managed to clean up Thomas's mess so efficiently. Jake and Sam had not been seen by Sir Simon or his surviving man-at-arms, so they were safe, Thomas was a fugitive and Jeanette had been safely smuggled out of La Roche-Derrien before Sir Simon could make her life into utter mis-ery. She's travelling to Guingamp,” Skeat went on, and I'm sending a dozen men to escort her and God only knows if the enemy will respect their flag of truce. If I had a lick of bloody sense I'd skin you alive and make a bow-cover out of your hide.“ Yes, Will,” Thomas said meekly.

  Don't bloody yes, Will“ me,” Skeat said. What are you going to do with the few days you've got left to live?“ I don't know.”

  Skeat sniffed. You could grow up, for a start, though there's probably scant chance of that happening. Right, lad.“ He braced himself taking charge. I took your money from the chest, so here it is.” He handed Thomas a leather pouch. And I've put three sheaves of arrows in the lady's cart and that'll keep you for a few days. If you've got any sense, which you ain't, then you'd go south or north. You could go to Gascony, but it's a hell of a long walk. Flanders is closer and has plenty of English troops who'll probably take you in if they're desperate. That's my advice, lad. Go north and hope Sir Simon never goes to Flanders."

  Thank you," Thomas said.

  But how do you get to Flanders?" Skeat asked.

  Walk?" Thomas suggested.

  God's bones,“ Will said, but you're a useless worm-eaten piece of lousy meat. Walk dressed like that and carrying a bow, and you might just as well just cut your own throat. It'll be quicker than letting the French do it.”

  You might find this useful,“ Father Hobbe intervened, and offered Thomas a black cloth bundle which, on unrolling, proved to be the robe of a Dominican friar. You speak Latin, Tom,” the priest said, so you could pass for a wandering preacher. If anyone challenges you, say you're travelling from Avignon to Aachen.“ Thomas thanked him. Do many Dominicans travel with a bow?” he asked.

  Lad,“ Father Hobbe said sadly, I can unbutton your breeches and I can point you down wind, but even with the Good Lord's help I can't piss for you.”

  In other words,“ Skeat said, work it out for yourself. You got yourself in this bloody mess, Tom, so you get yourself out. I enjoyed your company, lad. Thought you'd be useless when I first saw you and you weren't, but you are now. But be lucky, boy.” He held out his hand and Thomas shook it. You might as well go to Guingamp with the Countess,“ Skeat finished, and then find your own way, but Father Hobbe wants to save your soul first. God knows why.” Father Hobbe dismounted and led Thomas into the roofless church where grass and weeds now grew between the flagstones. He insisted on hearing a confession and Thomas was feeling abject enough to sound contrite.

  Father Hobbe sighed when it was done. You killed a man, Tom,“ he said heavily, and it is a great sin.”

  Father Thomas began.

  No, no, Tom, no excuses. The Church says that to kill in battle is a duty a man owes to his lord, but you killed outside the law. That poor squire, what offence did he give you? And he had a mother, Tom; think of her. No, you've sinned grievously and I must give you a grievous penance.

  Thomas, on his knees, looked up to see a buzzard sliding between the thinning clouds above the church's scorched walls. Then Father Hobbe stepped closer, looming above him. I'll not have you mutter-ing paternosters, Tom,“ the priest said, but something hard. Something very hard.” He put his hand on Thomas's hair. Your penance is to keep the promise you made to your father.“ He paused to hear Thomas's response, but the young man was silent. You hear me?” Father Hobbe demanded fiercely.

  Yes, father."

  You will find the lance of Saint George, Thomas, and return it to England. That is your penance. And now,“ he changed into execrable Latin, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I absolve you.” He made the sign of the cross. Don't waste your life, Tom."

  I think I already have, father."

  You're just young. It seems like that when you're young. Life's nothing but joy or misery when you're young." He helped Thomas up from his knees. You're not hanging from a gibbet, are you? You're alive, Tom, and there's a deal of life in you yet. He smiled. I have a feeling we shall meet again.

  Thomas made his farewells, then watched as Will Skeat collected Sir Simon Jekyll's horse and led the hellequin eastwards, leaving the wagon and its small escort in the ruined village. The leader of the escort was call
ed Hugh Boltby, one of Skeat's better men-at-arms, and he reckoned they would likely meet the enemy the next day somewhere close to Guingamp. He would hand the Countess over, then ride back to join Skeat. And you'd best not be dressed as an archer, Tom," he added.

  Thomas walked beside the wagon that was driven by Pierre, the old man who had been pressed by Sir Simon. Jeanette did not invite Thomas inside, indeed she pretended he did not exist, though next morning, after they had camped in an abandoned farm, she laughed at the sight of him dressed in the friar's robe.

  I'm sorry about what happened,“ Thomas said to her. Jeanette shrugged. It may be for the best. I probably should have gone to Duke Charles last year.”

  Why didn't you, my lady?"

  He hasn't always been kind to me,“ she said wistfully, but I think that might have changed by now.” She had persuaded herself that the Duke's attitude might have altered because of the letters she had sent to him, letters that would help him when he led his troops against the garrison at La Roche-Derrien. She also needed to believe the Duke would welcome her, for she desperately needed a safe home for her son, Charles, who was enjoying the adventure of riding in a swaying, creaking wagon. Together they would both start a new life in Guingamp and Jeanette had woken with optimism about that new life. She had been forced to leave La Roche-Derrien in a frantic hurry, putting into the cart just the retrieved armour, the sword and some clothes, though she had some money that Thomas suspected Will had given to her, but her real hopes were pinned on Duke Charles who, she told Thomas, would surely find her a house and lend her money in advance of the missing rents from Plabennec. He is sure to like Charles, don't you think?" she asked Thomas.

  I'm sure," Thomas said, glancing at Jeanette's son, who was shak-ing the wagon's reins and clicking his tongue in a vain effort to make the horse go quicker.

  But what will you do?" Jeanette asked.

  I'll survive," Thomas said, unwilling to admit that he did not know what he would do. Go to Flanders, probably, if he could ever reach there. Join another troop of archers and pray nightly that Sir Simon Jekyll never came his way again. As for his penance, the lance, he had no idea how he was to find it or, having found it, retrieve it.

  Jeanette, on that second day of the journey, decided Thomas was a friend after all.

  When we get to Guingamp,“ she told him, you find somewhere to stay and I shall persuade the Duke to give you a pass. Even a wandering friar will be helped by a pass from the Duke of Brittany.” But no friar ever carried a bow, let alone a long English war bow, and Thomas did not know what to do with the weapon. He was loath to abandon it, but the sight of some charred timbers in the abandoned farmhouse gave him an idea. He broke off a short length of blackened timber and lashed it crosswise to the unstrung bows-tave so that it resembled a pilgrim's cross-staff. He remembered a Dominican visiting Hookton with just such a staff. The friar, his hair cropped so short he looked bald, had preached a fiery sermon outside the church until Thomas's father became tired of his ranting and sent him on his way, and Thomas now reckoned he would have to pose as just such a man. Jeanette suggested he tied flowers to the staff to disguise it further, and so he wrapped it with clovers that grew tall and ragged in the abandoned fields.

  The wagon, hauled by a bony horse that had been plundered from Lannion, lurched and lumbered southwards. The men-at-arms

  became ever more cautious as they neared Guingamp, fearing an ambush of crossbow bolts from the woods that pressed close to the deserted road. One of the men had a hunting horn that he sounded constantly to warn the enemy of their approach and to signal that they came in peace, while Boltby had a strip of white cloth hanging from the tip of his lance. There was no ambush, but a few miles short of Guingamp they came in sight of a ford where a band of enemy soldiers waited. Two men-at-arms and a dozen crossbowmen ran forward, their weapons cocked, and Boltby summoned Thomas from the wagon. Talk to them," he ordered.

  Thomas was nervous. What do I say?"

  Give them a bloody blessing, for Christ's sake,“ Boltby said, dis-gusted, and tell them we're here in peace. So, with a beating heart and a dry mouth, Thomas walked down the road. The black gown flapped awkwardly about his ankles as he waved his hands at the crossbowmen. Lower your weapons,” he called in French, lower your weapons. The Englishmen come in peace."

  One of the horsemen spurred forward. His shield bore the same white ermine badge that Duke John's men carried, though these supporters of Duke Charles had surrounded the ermine with a blue wreath on which fleurs-de-lis had been painted.

  Who are you, father?" the horseman demanded.

  Thomas opened his mouth to answer, but no words came. He gaped up at the horseman, who had a reddish moustache and oddly yellow eyes. A hard-looking bastard, Thomas thought, and he raised a hand to touch Saint Guinefort's paw. Perhaps the saint inspired him, for he was suddenly possessed of devilment and began to enjoy playing a priest's role. I am merely one of God's humbler children, my son," he answered unctuously.

  Are you English?“ the man-at-arms demanded suspiciously. Thomas's French was near perfect, but it was the French spoken by England's rulers rather than the language of France itself. Thomas again felt panic fluttering in his breast, but he bought time by making the sign of the cross, and as his hand moved so inspiration came to him. I am a Scotsman, my son,” he said, and that allayed the yellow-eyed man's suspicions; the Scots had ever been France's ally. Thomas knew nothing of Scotland, but doubted many Frenchmen or Bretons did either, for it was far away and, by all accounts, a most uninviting place. Skeat always said it was a country of bog, rock and heathen bastards who were twice as difficult to kill as any Frenchman. I am a Scotsman,“ Thomas repeated, who brings a kinswoman of the Duke out of the hands of the English.”

  The man-at-arms glanced at the wagon. A kinswoman of Duke Charles?"

  Is there another duke?“ Thomas asked innocently. She is the Countess of Armorica,” he went on, and her son, who is with her, is the Duke's grandnephew and a count in his own right. The English have held them prisoner these six months, but by God's good grace they have relented and set her free. The Duke, I know, will want to welcome her."

  Thomas laid on Jeanette's rank and relationship to the Duke as thick as newly skimmed cream and the enemy swallowed it whole. They allowed the wagon to continue, and Thomas watched as Hugh Boltby led his men away at a swift trot, eager to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the crossbowmen. The leader of the enemy's men-at-arms talked with Jeanette and seemed impressed by her hauteur. He would, he said, be honoured to escort the Countess to Guingamp, though he warned her that the Duke was not there, but was still returning from Paris. He was said to be at Rennes now, a city that lay a good day's journey to the east. You will take me as far as Rennes?“ Jeanette asked Thomas. You want me to, my lady?”

  A young man is useful,“ she said. Pierre is old,” she gestured at the servant, and has lost his strength. Besides, if you're going to Flanders then you will need to cross the river at Rennes." So Thomas kept her company for the three days that it took the painfully slow wagon to make the journey. They needed no escort beyond Guingamp for there was small danger of any English raiders this far east in Brittany and the road was well patrolled by the Duke's forces. The countryside looked strange to Thomas, for he had become accustomed to rank fields, untended orchards and deserted villages, but here the farms were busy and prosperous. The churches were bigger and had stained glass, and fewer and fewer folk spoke Breton. This was still Brittany, but the language was French. They stayed in country taverns that had fleas in the straw. Jeanette and her son were given what passed for the best room while Thomas shared the stables with the two servants. They met two priests on the road, but neither suspected that Thomas was an imposter. He greeted them in Latin, which he spoke better than they did, and both men wished him a good day and a fervent Godspeed. Thomas could almost feel their relief when he did not engage them in further conversation. The Dominicans were not popular wi
th parish priests. The friars were priests themselves, but were charged with the suppression of heresy so a visitation by the Dominicans suggested that a parish priest has not been doing his duty and even a rough, wild and young friar like Thomas was unwelcome.

  They reached Rennes in the afternoon. There were dark clouds in the east against which the city loomed larger than any place Thomas had ever seen. The walls were twice as high as those at Lannion or La Roche-Derrien, and had towers with pointed roofs every few yards to serve as buttresses from which crossbowmen could pour bolts on any attacking force. Above the walls, higher even than the turrets, the church towers or the cathedral, was the citadel, a stronghold of pale stone hung with banners. The smell of the city wafted westwards on a chill wind, a stink of sewage, tan-neries and smoke. The guards at the western gate became excited when they dis-covered the arrows in the wagon, but Jeanette persuaded them that they were trophies she was taking to the Duke. Then they wanted to levy a custom's duty on the fine armour and Jeanette harangued them again, using her title and the Duke's name liberally. The soldiers eventually gave in and allowed the wagon into the narrow streets where shopwares protruded onto the roadway. Beggars ran beside the wagon and soldiers jostled Thomas, who was leading the horse. The city was crammed with soldiers. Most of the men-at-arms were wearing the wreathed white ermine badge, but many had the green grail of Genoa on their tunics, and the presence of so many troops confirmed that the Duke was indeed in the city and readying himself for the campaign that would eject the English from Brittany. They found a tavern beneath the cathedral's looming twin towers. Jeanette wanted to ready herself for her audience with the Duke and demanded a private room, though all she got for her cash was a spider-haunted space beneath the tavern's eaves. The innkeeper, a sallow fellow with a twitch, suggested Thomas would be happier in the Dominican friary that lay by the church of Saint Germain, north of the cathedral, but Thomas declared his mission was to be among sinners, not saints, and so the innkeeper grudgingly said he could sleep in Jeanette's wagon that was parked in the inn yard. But no preaching, father,“ the man added, no preaching. There's enough of that in the city without spoiling the Three Keys. Jeanette's maid brushed her mistress's hair, then coiled and pinned the black tresses into ram's horns that covered her ears. Jeanette put on a red velvet dress that had escaped the sack of her house and which had a skirt that fell from just beneath her breasts to the floor, while the bodice, intricately embroidered with corn-flowers and daisies, hooked tight up to her neck. Its sleeves were full, trimmed with fox fur, and dropped to her red shoes, which had horn buckles. Her hat matched the dress and was trimmed with the same fur and a blue-black veil of lace. She spat on her son's face and rubbed off the dirt, then led him down to the tavern yard. Do you think the veil is right?” she asked Thomas anxiously. Thomas shrugged. It looks right to me."