‘I am skilled in such matters,’ said Ursula, protesting.
‘So is Benedict,’ replied Aylmer. He was rewarded with a quick smile from Benedict.
Ursula, withdrawing from the courtyard, caught both the smile and Benedict’s subsequent flashing glance in her direction. His eyes were so light a grey that they appeared to blaze.
She could not remember when she had last felt so rejected.
Now that she had retired from the scene, the children were all jumping up and laughing. Even the injured boy was raising his head and looking about him. Servants were coming up, all of them smiling, greeting Benedict. Aylmer had his arm round Benedict’s shoulders.
She was forgotten.
But not by all. Reynold said, close in her ear. ‘Did you not know he was afraid of women?’
‘Who? Benedict?’
Reynold laughed. Benedict had turned and was walking away … no, not walking, but limping. His left leg was crooked, and shorter than the right.
‘Did you not know?’ said Reynold. ‘They call him The Lame Knight … among other things.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘First we will feast, and then we will talk,’ said Aylmer. He led Ursula to the place of honour on his right at the top table. ‘I want everyone to see how highly I value my bride. They cannot praise you too much, for me. I am out of practice in such courtesies. Perhaps they can teach me the trick of it once more. I did know how to please a lady, once.’ Here he sighed.
Ursula knew that he had loved and mourned his wife Joan, who had died the previous year.
She said, ‘It will not be easy for an untried girl to take the place of your lady wife. You will forgive me if I make mistakes, at first?’
His hand pressed hers. ‘She begged me to remarry, when she knew she was dying. She said I must look for someone young, beautiful and kind. I did not think I would ever have such good fortune …’
Ursula frowned. ‘I will admit to you, my lord—and only to you—that my so-called beauty lies chiefly in my hair. It is long and thick and of a good enough colour. Men look only at that, and think “There goes a great beauty!” And yet it is not so, for when my hair is close braided as it is at home, I excite no great admiration. Or perhaps—what a humiliating thought!—I have been raised to the position of “Beauty” because I am to marry you? Naturally your wife must be worthy of you, and possess all the accomplishments in the world. I daresay that is why they say I am beautiful.’
He lifted his cup in a toast to her. ‘Not only beautiful, but also witty and modest! With every word you cause me to value you more.’
‘Yet you would not allow me to help with the injured boy this afternoon. I assure you I am no idler. I have been used to dealing with all the hurts and fevers of the castle.’
‘It was not that. I could see you spoke the truth, but …’ He looked down the table. Reynold was seated on the far side of Lady Editha, and beyond them were the four knights she had met earlier. At the end of the table was an empty chair, where Benedict should have sat.
The steward, hovering behind Aylmer’s chair, bent forward to say that Sir Benedict had gone to see his old tutor, who was now bedridden. He had sent word he might be late.
‘Ah, of course,’ said Aylmer. ‘I might have guessed.’ He turned back to Ursula. ‘No, I did not mean to slight you, but … how can I explain it to you? Benedict is not at ease with women.’
‘Reynold said he was a ward of yours. Could you not arrange a suitable marriage for him, to correct that fault in his education?’
‘I did. He married a young girl of good family—another ward of mine—when they were both eighteen. The marriage did not turn out well, and Benedict has been left with a dislike of women which I doubt even you could overcome.’
‘Do you wish me to try?’
At that moment Benedict limped into the room, stuffing a small book into his wallet. He smiled as he bowed to Aylmer, did not smile as he ducked his head to Ursula, and went to take his seat.
Servants sprang to bring him dishes. He greeted each by name, and they smiled as they piled food on his platter. Then he addressed himself to his meal, talking now and then in a low voice to his neighbour, a grizzled knight of considerable girth.
The rest of the party had donned brilliant clothing in honour of the betrothal feast, but Benedict wore black, without so much as a jewel on his hands or a gold chain round his neck to relieve its severity. Although he had presumably washed his face and hands and combed his hair before he came to table, he still looked unkempt.
Yet Ursula’s eyes strayed to where Benedict sat, even while she listened to the talk of those about her, and applauded the acrobats in the body of the hall below.
‘My lord Aylmer,’ said the Lady Editha. ‘When shall we celebrate the marriage proper? As you know, we came away in haste.’
‘Ursula shall have everything she wants,’ said Aylmer. ‘I have sent for the women who acted as attendants to my late wife, and they should be here tomorrow. Trinkets, gowns. … order whatever you wish, my dear.’
‘But when will the ceremony take place?’ Editha was persistent. ‘Two days? A week? You know that my father looks to you for help. He has but one carrier pigeon left, which will fly to our good neighbours at Spereshot. They are still true to our cause. They will send us any news from Salwarpe, and we can send news to Salwarpe through them. I will write tonight to tell him that we are safe, but when should I tell him that help will arrive?’
Uneasy looks passed around the table, and there were mutterings about “the harvest” and “impossible!”
Aylmer said, ‘We will adjourn to the solar, if you please, where we can discuss the question of Salwarpe in private.’
Once more Aylmer seated Ursula on his right, and Editha on his left. Once more Benedict sat far back in the shadows, saying nothing.
Aylmer put the case for relieving Salwarpe well. His family and that of the Lords of Salwarpe had long been friends and allies. The lands around Salwarpe were rich, the township and harbour below the castle were prosperous and the family’s present predicament due to the greed of a villain called Hugo de Frett.
Hugo was a man of whom men spoke ill. He was faithless, unscrupulous and rich. Some years ago the Lord of Salwarpe had thwarted a scheme of Hugo’s whereby the latter had claimed the goods and chattels of a prosperous merchant by falsely claiming that he was a villein, and no free man. When Hugo had lost his case, he had sworn vengeance on Salwarpe in general, and on Henry, Lord of Salwarpe, in particular.
Now Hugo’s father had married a distant cousin of Sir Henry. Both parties to the match were long since dead, but Hugo now laid claim to the Salwarpe estates, claiming that Ursula had no right to them, and that he did.
Hugo’s claim was preposterous, but since he was rich and powerful, he had made out a case of sorts to present to the King. Everyone knew that it might be months before the case was heard, and that Sir Henry—being temporarily short of funds—could not fight a lengthy duel in the courts. To defend his suit, Sir Henry would have to travel with the Court wherever it went, waiting and greasing palms, till such time as the King condescended to listen to his plea. Hugo knew that Sir Henry could not afford to do this.
It was at this juncture that Sir Henry played his last card. He sent his daughter Editha out into the world with Ursula, to see if the girl’s beauty could attract a champion to Salwarpe. And at the tourney in York Aylmer had seen Ursula and spoken for her.
Sir Henry could not have dared hope for such luck. Although Aylmer and he were neighbours—not more than twenty miles separated their estates—yet Aylmer could have looked to ally himself with the highest in the land.
On learning of the proposed marriage, Hugo might have been expected to withdraw his claim, but he did not. The man had the instincts of a gambler. He staked everything on one last throw. There were mercenaries in plenty to be hired once the summer’s campaigning on the Continent was at a close. Hugo knew that Aylmer could not put another force
into the field at harvest-time, and he did not think he would employ mercenaries.
So one day Sir Henry found the town below the castle invaded by hostile forces, who swept on up the road to the very gates of the castle … and stayed there.
Lady Editha and Ursula had been out riding when Hugo arrived, and, warned of his coming, had fled through the forest to Aylmer for help. Now there was no way in or out of Salwarpe, except by carrier pigeon.
Aylmer’s audience shook their heads. It was a dreadful affair, they agreed. No one had a good word to say for Hugo, save for the grizzled knight who remarked that he was an experienced soldier. Why, said one of the others, did not the ladies take their case to the King?
‘The King is abroad for the winter,’ said the Lady Editha, removing all her rings in her agitation and dropping them onto her lap. ‘By the time we reach him, and gain a hearing, Salwarpe may have fallen, and our case be lost. If Hugo once gains entry. …’
‘What precisely does he mean by saying that he is the rightful heir to Salwarpe?’ said Reynold. ‘Surely the Lady Ursula is the rightful heir?’
‘He pretends to believe that she is not legitimate,’ said the Lady Editha. ‘But there is nothing in it.’
Ursula blushed. She could feel them all looking at her, and wondering if she really were legitimate or not. It would be so much easier for them, if they could convince themselves there was something in what Hugo said. For if her cause was bad, then there would be no need for them to trouble themselves in the matter.
Aylmer put his hand over hers. ‘No knight worthy of the name believes that story. In fact, it merely makes me the more anxious to champion Sir Henry’s cause. Well, what of it, friends? I speak to you as comrades, and not as your liege lord, for I know full well that you have already paid what duty you owe me this year. I also know that I have torn you from your manors at a time of the year when you most wish to be at home, supervising the harvest. I considered both those facts when I summoned you, and I felt that out of the love I bear you, and out of the love and loyalty which you owe me, you would come and advise me truthfully and bravely.’
One or two heads nodded, but the oldest of the knights cleared his throat and said, ‘My cousin and I have already taken counsel on this, my lord. We are very willing to follow your lead in raising the siege of Salwarpe, but we cannot put any company of men into the field until the harvest is in.’
‘That is so,’ said another knight. ‘Fifty men will I bring here on Michaelmas Day, or seventy by mid-October, on St. Luke’s Day.’
‘And I will bring one hundred on Michaelmas Day, or one hundred and thirty on St. Luke’s Day,’ said another. ‘But earlier. …’ he shrugged.
‘Then my father is a dead man, and Salwarpe is lost to us!’ cried Lady Editha. In her distress she stood, scattering her rings over the tiled floor.
In silence the knights retrieved the rings, and handed them back to the Lady Editha. They avoided her eyes as they resumed their seats.
‘Very well,’ said Aylmer. ‘I accept that, and I thank you for what you offer, which is more than I could have compelled you to do. Let us now consider another way of raising men. Hugo has employed a force of mercenaries to lay siege to Salwarpe. Can we raise enough money to do the same? I will waive some portion of the fees owing to me next year, in order to hire mercenaries for our side.’
‘My rings!’ cried the Lady Editha, holding them out to him. ‘You shall sell my jewels as well!’
The knights still looked grave. ‘My lord,’ said the oldest, who seemed to have been deputed as spokesman. ‘We also considered this course of action; but bearing in mind that the news from France is not good, and that we will undoubtedly be forced to mount another expedition next year, we do not think we can afford to do as you ask. We cannot afford double taxes; and as for raising a small levy now, we would be hard put to it to do so, with the harvest not yet gathered in.’
‘Besides which,’ said another, ‘mercenaries are unreliable. They work for the highest bidder, and are not particular how they complete their contracts. Suppose Hugo offers them a better deal, once they are in the field against him? And who would lead them, anyway?’
‘I would,’ said Reynold de Cressi. ‘What! Ye dolts! Here is a chance to see some stout work, and ye hang back, talking of stooks and sheaves, and let the chance of glory slip through your fingers!’
‘Glory is all very well,’ said the greybeard. ‘But glory will not fill the stomachs of our men when they come to exchange blows with Hugo de Frett!’
‘If my manor were but larger,’ said Reynold, striding up and down, ‘If I only had more men to put into the field …!’
‘But you have not.’
A large knight stirred uneasily. ‘I would we could do it. It would be a man’s work, to relieve Salwarpe and cross swords with Hugo de Frett! But we must see the harvest through first.’
Aylmer went to lean on the stone hood over the fireplace. During the previous conversation he had several times glanced in Benedict’s direction, though the latter had not spoken. Now Aylmer turned to Benedict for help.
‘Well, Benedict? You have not spoken, yet of all my counsellors you are the one upon whose judgment I would choose to rely. What do you say in this affair?’
Ursula looked at Benedict, as did everyone else. He was turning his book over and over in his hands, and frowning at it. He did not look at them, even now, but spoke to his hands.
He said, ‘I have only seen Salwarpe in the distance. I have never met Hugo de Frett, though I have heard of him – as who has not? You say his reputation is bad, but among soldiers his name is respected. He has done much campaigning in France. To besiege a castle is nothing new to him. Once he is in Salwarpe, Sir Henry’s cause is lost. …’
‘Faintheart!’ said Reynold.
‘On the other hand,’ said Benedict, in the same even tone, ‘I have also heard that Salwarpe is a strong castle, and well-manned. Is this true? What are its defences? When was it built? How is it garrisoned, and what store is there in its granaries?’
‘It is well built,’ said Aylmer. ‘On a natural hill overlooking a tidal marsh on one side, and the township and harbour on the other. There is a curtain wall around the top of the hill, and within is the old keep, built some century or so ago. There are also other, lesser buildings … granaries, stabling and so forth. There is a well within the castle …’
‘It never fails,’ said the Lady Editha, leaning forward. ‘Even in the hottest weather! And our granaries are well stocked.’
‘The condition of the walls?’ said Benedict. ‘The number of trained soldiers in the garrison? What officers have you?’
‘The walls are in good repair,’ said Lady Editha, ‘Although there has not seemed to be any need of recent years to effect improvements. There is a double gatehouse, with portcullis and drawbridge.’
‘Access?’ said Benedict, becoming ever more abrupt.
‘A steep road up from the township, passing under the two sets of gate towers. The outer and inner sets of towers are joined by walls, topped with ramparts, so that if invaders force the portcullis in the outer gatehouse they are hemmed into a square pit, and archers can shoot at them from the walls above.’
‘That is the only way into the castle?’
‘Yes. The sides of the hill are steep, and the walls high.’
Ursula stirred. Benedict pointed a finger at her. ‘Yes?’
‘There is a postern gate in a tower, overlooking the marsh.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, child!’ said the Lady Editha. ‘Of what good is that to a force of mounted men?’
‘Show me on a map,’ said Benedict.
Aylmer stooped, took a charred brand from the fire and drew with its charcoaled tip on the stone hood of the fireplace. First he drew the circle of the hill, crowned with walls, and enclosing a smaller circle for the ancient keep. Then he drew a winding road which bent this way and that across the steep face of the hill, until it led into the town below
. The road went into the town and stopped.
‘That is the harbour,’ said Aylmer. ‘The river is very wide at this point, and at every tide the marshes which surround the castle on three sides are flooded with water. As I remember it, the depth of water which floods the marshes is not sufficient to allow boats to approach the castle, save by the harbour. And Hugo now sits in the town and, presumably, also in the harbour.’
Ursula went to look at Aylmer’s map. It was reasonably accurate, for a man who had not been to Salwarpe for years. She thought she remembered him coming to visit her grandfather, years ago, when she was a child. … he had given her a cup and ball to play with. … or perhaps it was not he, but another. …
She said, ‘There is a channel from the river across the marshes to the foot of the hill, here.’ And she pointed to a spot on the opposite side of the castle to the town and harbour. ‘It is a narrow channel, but it will admit small boats, if you know the way.’
‘A channel for wildfowlers and unruly children,’ said Lady Editha.
‘She means me,’ said Ursula, trying not to blush. ‘I used to steal out of the castle by the postern gate. There is a gully below the postern, and we kept ropes there, to let ourselves down onto the marsh. And a flat-bottomed punt, for fishing. But small boats can come up to the foot of the hill at high tide if they know the way.’
‘Hugo has a guard on the channel?’
‘I doubt he knows of it. It is known to very few people. Local fishermen, and the like. There is nowhere on the marshes where he could station soldiers, and it is often covered with mists …’
‘The ropes are still there?’
‘I am not sure. I used to climb down that way with one of the pages when I was a child—a long time ago. Then he slipped one day and broke his leg. … I went that way a few more times by myself … and then I suppose I grew out of it.’
Reynold cut short their exchange. ‘Of what use is it to talk of secret posterns and punts? We are soldiers, not fishermen. Can we relieve the siege by taking a large force over the marshes? Sooner give them webbed feet, and teach them to swim!’
The Siege of Salwarpe Page 2
