Benedict took his tongue between his teeth and said nothing. Merle folded his arms, leaning against the parapet.
‘I’m to relieve him at dusk. Said you wouldn’t like that, either. Got a bet on it. I don’t go, and Peter comes back. Stands to reason.’
Still Benedict held his tongue.
‘Spit it out!’ urged Merle. ‘Or you’ll bust! We told the Cock, moreover, that you wanted to speak with us come noon. He said for us not to go, as it couldn’t be anything important. We’m all villeins, you see. Dirt beneath his lordship’s feet.’
‘That’s enough,’ said Benedict, with subdued violence. ‘If Sir Reynold has given certain orders, then of course they must be obeyed. It is true that the outpost is … something of a surprise to me. Nevertheless …’
‘Sticks in your craw, don’t it?’ Merle looked Benedict in the eye. ‘I been a soldier, too. Twice to France with the old lord, when we was both young. I’m the miller down in the town, and I minds my own business, normally. But Peter’s a friend of mine, and I don’t want him sacrificed for nothing.’
‘I daresay you’ll win your bet. Thank you, Merle. And by the by, I do want that conference, as soon as possible. I will send you word, when and where.’
Benedict turned on his heel and caught sight of the Weasel whipping away down the stairs. The boy slid in and out of sight like a snake—or like the weasel after which he was named. Very aptly named.
Benedict raised his voice, that the Weasel might hear him. ‘I have to thank you for something else, Merle. The boy you sent me. I think he’ll be very useful.’
Merle guffawed with laughter and returned to watching the road below.
Benedict took a deep breath. He had hoped to avoid a show-down with Reynold. They had known each other too long, and disagreed about things so many times that it was unlikely the forthcoming interview would be pleasant. Well, he would try to handle Reynold with tact, but if tact were impossible … Benedict shrugged. There was always force.
CHAPTER TEN
‘You sent for me?’ Reynold swaggered in and took the only chair in Benedict’s room.
Benedict was busy at the writing-desk. He jerked his head at Parkyn, who left the room.
‘Yes. I will be with you in a moment.’ He finished his letter, read it over and signed with a flourish.
Reynold yawned. ‘A hard night’s work. You should have been with us. You might have learned something for a change.’
Benedict said nothing to that, but pulled another sheet of paper to him and began another letter.
‘Well?’ said Reynold, becoming impatient. He glanced out of the window. ‘If you have nothing to say, then I will leave you to your gloominess. I have something better to do with my time than sit here watching you make scratch marks on paper.’
‘I was writing to Aylmer. I thought you would like to see the letter. I want to get some of the children and nursing mothers away from here, if we can organise enough boats. I have told Aylmer that I am sending you back with the refugees. He’ll understand. You can do no more here.’
Reynold sprang to his feet, hand on dagger. ‘Now what maggot have you in that clownish head of yours?’
‘Just that. There is no more of your sort of fighting to be done here. It is a matter of sitting it out. And supplies of food. And pulling down certain buildings, making machines and so on. All that sort of clerky nonsense that you find so distasteful. Therefore it will be best if you escort the women and children to safety.’
‘You don’t get rid of me as easily as that! Was I not appointed with you? Did I not win my place?’
‘Under my command, yes. But you have done your part. I do not understand your reluctance to leave.’
‘Am I not entitled to enjoy my reward for work well done?’
‘Meaning?’
Reynold laughed and tapped his nose. ‘Ah, but you are a backward lad, are you not? The ladies, my dear friend. The beauty and dignity of our lovely Lady Ursula. May I not bask awhile in her smiles? As you say, there is nothing more to be done, save to pass the time pleasantly till Aylmer relieves us. So …’
‘Nothing more to be done? Well, that is a matter of opinion. But there is no more of your sort of work to be done. And that includes any plans you might happen to have for diversion with the Lady Ursula. You may remember that she is betrothed to Aylmer.’
‘That doesn’t stop you looking at her, does it? Eh? Did you think I hadn’t noticed?’
Benedict said in an even tone, ‘The Lady Ursula is indeed most kind and gentle. And worthy in every way to be Aylmer’s wife.’
‘Oh, you are thinking of him, are you, when you look at her?’
‘Not always. Sometimes I think of all the other women and children in the castle. And sometimes I think about you. Reynold, I do not wish to quarrel with you. There is no stigma attached to your going with the women and children. They need protection on their journey, and you are the one best fitted to give it.’
‘I will not go! What! Steal away at night like a felon, and leave all the fun to you?’
‘“Fun” is not exactly the word I would have used to describe a siege.’
‘You cannot order me to leave. Aylmer appointed me, and only he can bid me withdraw.’
Benedict weighed his words. ‘Reynold, this is no time to revive ancient quarrels. If you will not go of your own accord. … if you insist upon staying despite my advice. … then you must acknowledge me as your superior officer. We can have no divided command. That way we waste men and resources. If you have suggestions to make, I will gladly listen to them, and where appropriate I will give orders that they be put into practice. But there must be no more over-riding of my orders, or redeploying of my men. And as for the outpost …’
‘Ah! Now we come to it! I have done something to defend the castle which you had overlooked.’
‘I am afraid that I cannot agree. …’
‘And what have you to say to that? Do you commend me? Oh, no! You find fault. Why? Because you had not thought of it yourself. You are eaten up with jealousy. Do you think I had not anticipated your reaction? Do you think I had not feared what you might say, if I took the scheme to you first? I knew you would not be able to stomach my having any glory …’
‘Glory! The outpost is untenable!’
‘What?’ Reynold laughed. ‘It is as safe as the keep itself!’
‘It is out of bowshot from our walls, and you have sent one of the key men in the castle to man it! How will it be, if Hugo sweeps up that road at dusk today, and in the half-light, when bows and arrows are of little use, takes our men prisoner?’
‘Why, are they not ready for an attack? And will they not repel it?’
‘With what weapons? Five men—perhaps six—can hide themselves in those contraptions, and shoot through the slits in the hides. But not in the dark. Suppose Hugo sends fifty men at them! Then our men have no chance. They will be taken prisoner, or worse. You have not been in a siege, Reynold …’
‘Spare me! Have I not heard that tale time and again?’
‘… and you do not know what happens to prisoners, if they have kin within the castle. Or friends. The prisoners are tortured, Reynold. Before the castle walls. Slowly, and with maximum effect, so that their cries will be heard by their kin and friends within. Then, when they are dead, their mangled bodies will be thrown within the castle walls by a trebuchet, and come to rest at our feet … at the feet of their kin …’
‘That is not likely to …’
‘How many children has Peter Bowman? Has he a wife here? And Merle?’
‘How should I know?’
‘You ought to know, Reynold. If you have sent them to their deaths, you ought to know.’
‘I have not sent them to their deaths. This is ridiculous. The outpost is as safe as if they were standing here in this room with us. It is your stupidity, your jealousy …’
Benedict turned away with an abrupt movement.
‘… and if you think you will i
mpress the Lady Ursula with this show of authority … this empty show … why, you are mistaken! I will make it my business to let her know exactly why you have taken up this extraordinary stand. And if you bring those men back against my orders …’
‘They are to be brought back; the carts are to be dismantled, and hauled back into the castle by dusk. Or I will have you clapped in irons until such time as Aylmer comes to take you off my hands.’
‘You. …! I see how it is, you are bluffing! You would never have the nerve to …’
‘No? You know me better than that, Reynold. You know I mean what I say.’
Reynold turned and walked out of the room.
An hour later Ursula stepped out of the keep into the heat of noon. She had resumed her old gown, and her hair was once more braided and covered with its silken sheath. She scanned the grounds. Everyone seemed to have some task to perform. A dozen or so men were sweating and straining to pull the thatch off the stabling here, and over there another group were clustered around the head carpenter, who was directing hammers and saws as if his life depended on the speed at which his men worked. As indeed it probably did.
Ursula shaded her eyes. There was a “foreigner” working among the carpenters; a big man with a crop of short curly hair that gleamed blue and black in the sun. He was stripped to the waist, wielding a mighty mallet. The men around him were all working with a will, as a team. It was a rare thing, thought Ursula, for her men of Salwarpe to accept a stranger like that.
She hesitated. She did not want to call him away from his work, and yet … her grandfather’s words were still in her ears. “Charm him, Ursula! You can get him to see reason, if anyone can!”
Yes, it would be easy to wind Benedict round her finger, but she did not wish to do it, particularly. It was like taking the coins out of a blind man’s begging-bowl. Too easy by far. It implied a contempt for the man which she did not feel. He was so starved of affection that if she did but smile on him, press his arm and talk to him awhile he would do this thing for her. And that was not how it should be.
Parkyn was crossing the garth. She asked him to bring Benedict to her in the garden. Parkyn delivered the message, prevented his master from snatching up a tunic belonging to one of the carpenters, deftly pulled Benedict’s own tunic around him, and twitched it straight. Then Benedict was coming towards her, running his fingers through his mop of hair in an ineffectual attempt to make himself look presentable.
“As if that matters,” thought Ursula. “I like you as you are, Benedict. …”
There was colour in her cheeks as she waited for him in the shade of the honeysuckle. She clasped her hands together and seated herself on the bench. She told herself that she would not give him too warm a welcome, and felt her lips curve into a smile when he came up, bowing as awkwardly as the youngest of their pages.
He said, ‘Reynold has been with you.’ She nodded. He said, ‘He wants you to intercede for him?’
‘Yes. But that is not why I called you away from your work. Both my grandfather and I believe that your authority must be upheld. We have told Reynold so.’
‘But …?’
‘Yes. But.’ She laughed to hide her uneasiness. ‘I am supposed to charm you into giving in, but I will not.’
He was smiling. ‘You could, if you wished.’
‘I know. At least, I suppose I could if I … but that would be wrong. I know that I ought not to interfere. I asked grandfather to speak with you, but he said I would do it better. The truth is that we are worried what will happen if Reynold is discredited. Aylmer was insistent that you have a second-in-command to share the burden of the siege, and indeed we have no other man here fit to take Reynold’s place, if only he would agree to work under you.’
‘Which he will not do, I think.’
‘It must be your decision. We see that very clearly. We cannot judge the wisdom or otherwise of maintaining the outpost. Only you can do that, and we are content to abide by your judgment. But what we felt was—both grandfather and I—that you might have been pushed into making a hasty decision by the bad feeling that exists between you two.’
He folded his arms and leaned against the wall of the keep, his eyes on the ground.
She watched him. There was no need for her to say any more. She knew he would give her argument full consideration. She could gaze on him as long as she liked, because he was wholly occupied with his problem. His hair had been cut very short, but it was a becoming style to one whose head was so. … not handsome, of course, but … perhaps “noble” was the right word. The shape of his head was almost round. The features looked as if they had been carved with a blunt chisel, except for the nose, which had been given more delicate treatment.
He looked up at last, and she lowered her eyelids that he might not guess she had been studying him.
He said, ‘It might be so, though I do not think it was. I think my judgment was sound. Merle certainly thought so, and I would trust his mind in this, as you would trust mine. And yet—now that you have put the doubt in my mind, I do not know what to say.’
‘No. I understand.’ She had gained her point. She knew he would reconsider his decision now, and that if Reynold only came halfway to meet him there could be some sort of compromise. She ought to leave it at that, but she could not.
She said, ‘This trouble between you. My lord Aylmer spoke of it to me once. Can you not forgive each other, after so many years?’
‘Forgive him?’ He looked startled. Then he looked puzzled. Then he laughed and, laughing, shook his head. ‘Lady, it is not like that. Or not on my side, anyway. I do not hate him. At least, I don’t think I do. You think our present dispute has its roots in Sir Reynold’s admiration for my wife, years ago? Certainly that affair did not improve relations between us, but the roots of the trouble lie further back. They cannot be found in what we did or did not do, but in the sort of people we are. I cannot explain better than that.’
She would have probed further, but he pushed himself off the wall, and said he would go to the gatehouse. She walked beside him, but did not think he was aware of her, he was thinking so deeply. Merle was still gazing out over the ramparts.
Benedict sighed, shook his head and called for a bow and arrows. At once the Weasel, who had not appeared to be within earshot, dashed off for some, and returned panting, with not only a bow and a quiver full of arrows but also a half dozen men from the guard-room below, who wanted to know what the Weasel was doing, stealing their weapons.
‘Peace!’ said Benedict. And there was peace. Benedict said, ‘Merle, what sort of shot are you? Send me an arrow downhill, in the direction of the outpost.’
‘Middling fair. But I cannot shoot as far as that.’ Merle took the bow, aimed and let an arrow fly. They all marked where it lay, about halfway between the wall and the outpost.
‘Now I am but a poor shot,’ said Benedict, taking the bow in his turn. ‘Yet I daresay I am no worse than many. …’ He shot. His arrow fell short of Merle’s.
Benedict looked at Merle, and then around at the intent faces of the men-at-arms. ‘You see what must be done?’
‘I still don’t like it,’ said Merle. ‘And not only because I’m losing my wager.’
Benedict clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I’ll pay your wager for you. Have two draught horses harnessed up, ready for when Sir Reynold comes to give you the order. And Merle; let him work it out for himself, if he can.’
‘Two horses only? Why not four?’
‘Bring one cart back to within the range of the arrows we shot. The men in that cart will then be able to provide cover for the men in the farther cart. Though I’d be happier if the farther cart were also moved back, say, a dozen paces. Otherwise, we might shoot down our own men, while they’re running back up the hill.’
Merle grunted. ‘If you say so. But I tell you I’m still not happy. I like stone walls around me when there’s men like Hugo around.’
‘So do I, but … well, reason tells me t
hat an outpost is a good idea if it can be covered by protecting fire from somewhere else. Outposts can delay the enemy’s advance, Merle. It is quite possible that they might save us an hour or two at a critical moment.’
Merle said, ‘If you think it’s worth while saving that one’s face, my lord, then of course we’ll do it. But for no other reason.’
‘You insubordinate rogue!’ Benedict aimed a blow at Merle’s head. Merle ducked, grinning.
Ursula stepped aside to let Benedict canter down the stairs. He had passed her without noticing that she was there. She thought, Well, I have done it, and Reynold’s face will be saved. I wish I could feel more comfortable about the part I have played. I did manipulate Benedict, although he does not realise it.
The men-at-arms were looking at her, and whispering among themselves. She heard her name mentioned, and then Reynold’s. She realised they thought she had interfered for Reynold’s sake. She ran down the stairs after Benedict, to hide her hot cheeks from their eyes.
After the evening meal Sir Henry de Thrave called a council meeting in his solar. Ursula was there, with Benedict and Reynold. Also, seated some distance from the fire, were Simon Joce, Merle and Peter Bowman. Reynold, when his eye chanced to rest on one of the three villeins, would give them a look of offended surprise. But this did not prevent him making the most of his report to Sir Henry.
Reynold declared that he had strengthened his outposts, on his own initiative, by bringing one cart back to cover the other, in case of enemy attack. He had also, said Reynold—with a glare at Benedict—appointed new men to command these outposts, since it seemed that Peter Bowman and Merle the Miller were required not to fight in this siege but to act as clerks.
‘Thank you, Sir Reynold,’ said Sir Henry, with a sweet, meaningless smile. ‘I think that is good news, is it not? An outpost … two outposts. Excellent. I would never have thought of it myself. Would you, Ursula?’
‘No, indeed,’ said Ursula. ‘Sir Reynold must be given credit, where credit is due.’
The Siege of Salwarpe Page 13
