Benedict’s brows twitched. Ursula thought: Now is that laughter, or is he jealous because I have thrown a sop of praise to the Cock?
Sir Henry said, ‘And now, Sir Benedict!’
Everyone stirred in their seats. The expressions of non-interest which had been worn by Simon, Peter and Merle since they arrived disappeared, to be replaced by watchfulness. Ursula thought: Holy Mother, defend us! They none of them believed a word that Reynold said. He’s forfeited their respect, and they have given it to Benedict instead!
It was a sobering thought. The men of that coast were not given to easy loyalties, and were ever suspicious of strangers. Especially if the stranger were black-avised and swarthy. Yet the eyes now turned on Benedict bore identical expressions of trustfulness.
Benedict rubbed his head. Apparently he did not know where to begin.
Sir Henry helped him. ‘I agree with you, Sir Benedict, that these trusted men of mine should know everything. About the food, as well.’
Benedict took a deep breath. He stood and went to lean against the stone hood over the hearth. ‘Yes, it does not look good. We are going to have to do some hard thinking. I have a few ideas, but nothing worked out properly. Any suggestions …’ He glanced at the three villeins. ‘And I mean that. Any suggestions are welcome.’
Sir Reynold tilted back in his chair, looking bored. ‘Oh, come now. Surely all we have to do is sit it out.’
Peter Bowman pulled on the lobe of his ear. ‘They’ve cut down four or five trees, over Spereshot way. Only saw it when I came back up into the castle this evening.’
‘Oaks?’ said Benedict.
‘Too tough for them, I reckon. Beeches. Bad enough.’
‘Yes. That means they’ve decided to make a ram, or a trebuchet. I’d make both, if I were Hugo. I’ve been trying to think what I’d do, if I were him. He’s been quiet today. Too quiet. I wondered what he was up to. Now we know. He’s going to make siege engines.’
‘What can he do?’ said Reynold, brows lifted. ‘Pick at the front gate with a matchstick?’
‘A giant matchstick,’ said Benedict, nodding. ‘With a well-protected ram, and enough men, I could get up that road and smash through the outer tower of the gatehouse in a few days …’
Reynold laughed. ‘You’d be mad to try! You’d be met with a fire of arrows … you’d be cut to pieces. …’
‘And be met with fire of all kinds,’ said Benedict. ‘Yes, I would have to be prepared to lose twenty—maybe thirty—men. But what are twenty or thirty men to Hugo? Especially since he’s sitting across a town full of free labour. I doubt he’d even bother to put any of his mercenaries in the front ranks. Once through the outer gatehouse wall, I’d raise the portcullis, because the mechanism for the portcullis is in the front pair of gatehouses. Then I’d be in the well between the two gatehouses, with the drawbridge up like a second gate in front of me. I’d have to bring in enough timber to make a staging of sorts across the well, and then I’d start picking away at one of the inner gatehouses. And despite everything the garrison could do to deal with individual men, I’d be through in about. … ten to twelve days, I should think.’
There was silence in the room. Sir Henry put his hand on Ursula’s. Reynold’s chair fell to the floor as he jumped to his feet.
‘Traitor! Even to think such a thing …!’
‘Given enough men, I could do it. So why should Hugo not do it?’
‘You said you knew how to avoid …’
‘There are things we can do. We have started on some of them already. We can man the ramparts of the gatehouse towers with archers, and with cauldrons of boiling oil to pour down on the enemy. We can try to set fire arrows into the shields they will carry to protect themselves … but if I were Hugo I would not bring my ram up the hill until I had a cradle to cover my men, and that cradle would be covered with hides which will repel all fire arrows … most missiles, in fact.’
‘Then what can we do?’
‘We can make grappling-irons, like big hooks. We swing them down from the ramparts and hope to catch the ram with them, and lift it up, and away. … right into the castle, in fact. That might delay Hugo long enough to go and cut down another tree … say another couple of days. And making grappling-irons depends on our getting hold of a smith.’
‘There is no hope, then,’ said Sir Henry. ‘We had best treat with the man, and obtain what terms we can.’
‘Oh, I didn’t say there was no hope.’ Benedict pushed himself off the chimneybreast and began to stride up and down, hands clasped behind his back. ‘Of course there are other things we can do to delay Hugo. Some of them we have already set in motion and others … when will Dickon be back? No matter. He could not go out again tonight, and the guard-boat will not be repaired until tomorrow … where was I?
‘Food. Well, we have asked the abbot to sell us supplies sufficient to last out the twenty-eight days. I think he will agree to sell, but I do not think he will agree to transport the grain here. That is one problem. But there is a bigger one, and that is that we have no smith. And as a corollary to our having no smith, Hugo has one, and, what is more, he has an army of slaves below, which he can use against us.’
‘My own men?’ said Sir Henry. ‘How could he force my own men to fight against me?’
‘I daresay they won’t wish to do so,’ said Benedict. ‘But they have little choice, do they? Hugo has only to take hostages: a child here, a young bride there … and the rest of the town will do his bidding. It will be they who have cut down the trees, and it will be they who shape the timbers and haul the ram up the road … to face fire from their kin within the walls here. Why should Hugo risk the lives of his mercenaries, when he has all those slaves at his command? What say you, Merle? Will your townsfolk do Hugo’s bidding?’
Merle shifted on his bench. ‘Hugo burned Spereshot. They’ll mind that. I have kin still down there; a brother, and his wife and childer. My brother has a little girl, some three years old. If she were taken from him, he’d be beside himself. Aye, he’d work for Hugo, if that happened. As I would, in his place. I’m only thankful my wife died last year. At least I don’t have to worry about her, now.’
Peter Bowman spoke up at that. ‘I have friends down there, also. If they came up to the castle with the ram … I doubt I could fire my arrows to their hearts …’
‘Strangely enough,’ said Benedict, ‘you would. You don’t think you would now, because you are a kindly man. But when you remember that Hugo will set his yoke about your neck if your hand fails, when you think of what he could do to the women and children in this castle, then you will shoot straight. For if the men below become enslaved by the monster, yet the women and children here in the castle are still free, and you will fight for them, and for yourself.’
‘Has the world gone mad?’ cried Reynold. ‘First you say Sir Henry’s men will forget their duty to him, and next you say the men here will forget the love and duty they owe their families?’
‘Yes,’ said Benedict. ‘That’s what sieges are all about. There are no loyalties, except to self. The men, women, and children in this castle become your family. Those outside, however much loved before, must be thought of as the enemy. Only thus can we survive.’
‘Never did I think to hear a knight declare that might should triumph over right,’ said Reynold. ‘You are a disgrace to your knightly vows!’
Benedict put up a hand, as if the candlelight had blinded him. Then he was his calm self once more. ‘Sir Reynold, be seated, if you please. We have not finished. In fact, we have merely started to set out the probable way this siege will develop. Now we must consider what we should do ourselves.’
Sir Henry said, ‘How many days do you think we can last out, Benedict?’
‘We have grain for fourteen—no, thirteen days. If we succeed in keeping the channel clear, we can take fish from the river, and fowl from the marshes. Also, if Dickon has luck with the abbot, we may expect at some point to receive fresh supplies. Th
ere are still difficulties, but I think that for the moment we can set that problem aside as in a fair way to being solved.
‘Next, we must defend ourselves from Hugo’s assault. The outposts will hold him off for an hour or two—not much more. The outer tower of the gatehouse must be stoutly defended. We will make and lower cradles—a sort of wooden shelving—from the ramparts and man them with archers to defend the approaches. We must defend the outer gate as if it were our last stand. But once he is through there and the portcullis is raised, we must defend the well between the two sets of gatehouses as if that were our last stand. He will be fighting in a confined space and there are tricks there which may stand us in good stead. Sir Reynold should have charge of the defence of the gatehouse. His swordsmanship is unequalled and, with Simon Joce at his elbow, I think he might keep Hugo out for … a minimum of four days and a maximum of ten.’
‘And we have twenty-eight days to go.’
‘Correct. So we must consider the alternatives.’
‘There are no other alternatives,’ said Sir Henry. ‘Save surrender.’
‘Oh, dear me, no!’ said Benedict. ‘We must redress the balance, that’s all. He’s got the one and only smith, and he’s got the townsfolk. I think we’ll have to see what we can do about that.’
With an air of having solved the problem, he sat down and signed to Parkyn to pour him a cup of wine.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘I must be getting old,’ said Sir Henry. ‘Benedict, will you explain?’
Benedict scratched his poll. ‘Well, we could evacuate the town. …’
‘What? How?’
‘. … though there might be difficulties. …’
‘Difficulties!’
‘. … I really can’t tell you much more till I’ve been down there and talked to the mayor, or the reeve, or whoever you think would be best.’
‘Go down there! How?’
‘In the guard-boat, when it’s mended, of course. Or in Dickon’s punt. It depends on the tides and the weather. I’ll manage it, somehow, never fear.’
Ursula looked at the half-amused and half-apprehensive looks which were being exchanged between Simon, Merle and Peter. They were taking Benedict seriously, even if Reynold wasn’t.
‘The man is out of his wits!’ said Reynold.
‘It’s a good idea,’ said Sir Henry. ‘But I don’t see how you’re going to manage it.’
‘Neither do I at the moment,’ said Benedict. ‘I have one or two notions, but … if we could only get the smith away, that would be something. And there are those boats which the fisherfolk sank before Hugo could get at them. Hugo doesn’t know about them. Merle, will you come with me, and be my herald with the mayor?’
Peter Bowman laughed. ‘He is mad, of course. But that’s the sort of madness for me! I’d come with you, if it would do any good …’
‘No, you get some sleep. And Simon, too. Oh, Simon; before you go. Keep a watch on the postern, and on our ladders. Dickon will be coming back that way, and we want someone on the foreshore to help him up the cliff. And Simon! That trebuchet must be kept loaded, and aimed at the channel night and day. If Hugo manages to get another boat out there, we’re all lost. Merle, we’re off as soon as Dickon gets back, provided you can drum up someone else to take the punt out …’
‘The Weasel can manage a punt, I think!’
‘What a blessing that boy is! Then I wish you goodnight, Sir Henry. … Lady!’
‘Utterly mad!’ said Reynold, as the room began to empty. ‘Is he to risk capture for the sake of a smith?’
‘His ideas do tend to take the breath away at first,’ said Sir Henry, ‘But if he thinks we’re likely to lose this fight without the smith, then it makes sense to go after the smith.’
‘I suppose he’ll get some sleep sometime,’ said Ursula, but she spoke more to herself than to the room at large.
Benedict took Merle back to his own room, where Parkyn had ready some black, hooded capes to go over their clothing, and a dark lantern.
‘Where is the Weasel?’
A sulky face and a hunched shoulder. ‘I’ll take you down there, my lord, but I won’t take that … that pigs-meat, Merle!’
‘Ah!’ said Benedict. ‘Because he kicked you out of your slumbers? Well, I have need of him, you see. He can talk on equal terms with the townsfolk, which you and I cannot do.’
The Weasel gave the impression of one flattening his ears. He seemed to slide rather than duck from under the hand Benedict held towards him.
‘Let him take you down there, then. You don’t need the punt, so you don’t need me.’
‘But I do. I need someone who can handle a punt. Otherwise I have to wait till the guard-boat is repaired, and every hour counts. So you see, I am relying on you. …’ Then Benedict’s tone changed. ‘What, lad! Is there another way out of the castle, save for the obvious ones? Is that what you are trying to say?’
The boy stuck out his tongue and retreated to the wall. ‘Don’t know nothing!’ he declared.
‘Another way?’ Merle gasped. ‘There couldn’t be!’
Benedict considered the lad awhile. Then he said, ‘Come here. Here, where I can see you. What is your name? Your real name, I mean.’
The lad lifted his shoulders and let them drop. He didn’t know.
‘Were you never christened?’
The boy laughed and tossed his head. No, he’d never been christened.
‘I’ll have to give you a name, then. And when we can get to a priest again, I’ll stand sponsor to bring you into the Church.’
Merle was incredulous. ‘He’d have to confess all his sins, first, and be absolved. No priest would shrive that bag of rascality!’
‘Oh yes, they would,’ said Benedict. ‘Especially if the lad here had helped save Salwarpe.’
The Weasel’s eyes flickered and he kicked at a nearby stool. Then he nodded, once.
‘Very well,’ said Benedict. ‘Now, what name would you like to be called?’ The lad shrugged. ‘Well, we must call you something. My father’s name was Christian, but that is not appropriate yet, and to call you by my own name would be confusing.’
‘Barnabas,’ said the lad, twisting his arms behind his back. ‘If you like it. And I don’t care if you do or not.’
‘Why Barnabas?’ said Merle.
‘My mother said she thought that was my father’s name … though she couldn’t be sure, a course.’
‘Barnabas it is, then,’ said Benedict. ‘And now, Barnabas. Tell me how many ways you know to get in and out of the castle, apart from the gatehouse and the postern on the cliff edge.’
‘Two ways,’ said Barnabas, giving Merle a sulky look. ‘But I wouldn’t have told, if you hadn’t guessed, because they’re my secret. How am I to get in and out, if you go telling on me? But I doubt you could take the best way … or anyone but me. It’s up the cliff from the marsh, at the sea end. I keep a rope with an iron hook on the end of it in my boat, and if I fling it up sharpish here, and there, and then haul myself up … and right at the top there’s a corner where the keep bellies out, and there’s a crumbly bit of stone you can work round till you come to a straight stretch of wall above you. And if the sentry’s not looking, you can throw the rope up, and climb over. But you have to be careful, because it swings out over the cliff, and there’s nothing to hang on to. I been dropped into the marshes twice, when the rope slipped.’
Merle crossed himself.
‘I don’t think we’ll go that way,’ said Benedict. ‘I’ve no head for climbing like that. What happened to your boat, Barnabas?’
‘Hugo’s men took it, and they laughed when they smashed it up. It wasn’t much of a boat; all patched it was. But I could fish from it. When it was gone I knew I couldn’t feed myself any longer, so I crept away and came up into the castle. …’
‘After the gates were closed? After Hugo came?’
‘Yes. The bad men came, and pushed everyone into the church, and then they took out
John Peasmarsh and his sons—he’s the mayor—and they took out the smith, and some of the burghers, and two of the fisherfolk that own boats. … they said they were going to look after them properly, but they put them in the jail, instead. Then they came back in and said as they would let the rest of us go, so long as we behaved ourselves.
‘They let us out, all right. But when we got back to the quay, they were there, and they smashed and smashed. … And so I came up here.’
‘Yes …?’ said Benedict, in a gentle voice.
‘Up the hill from the town, by the back way. There’s a track, sort of. Then …’ He stopped a moment. He swallowed. ‘You won’t like it. The likes of you don’t take such ways.’
‘Let me be the judge of that. It’s a sewer outlet, is it?’
The lad nodded. Merle swore. ‘By all the saints! Who’d have thought it?’
‘How bad is it, Barnabas?’
‘Awful when there’s lots of people in the castle. But I knew there’d be food here, and no-one’ll give me food down in the town, and with my boat gone, I couldn’t fish. So coming up here was better than staying down there.’
He shuffled his feet. ‘A course, it’s not easy to find. You get into it through one of the cellars under the keep, where the wall’s broken away a bit in one corner. You have to wriggle and squirm, and then you drop down into the sewer, and there’s not much light.’
‘Surely there must be a grating!’ said Merle. ‘If Hugo and his men knew …!’
‘Ah, but they don’t. No-one knows but I. There’s a grating, a course. And a mighty big grating it be! But I be small, and the brickwork be broken away like at one side, and so I slide through. And the other end it comes out in some bushes in a sort of little hollow, where a spring rises. The spring water takes the muck all away, so no-one notices where the sewer comes out … and the spring water’s good for washing your legs, when you’re through. Phew!’ He held his nose.
‘Why,’ said Merle. ‘I’ve lived here all my life, and I never knew a sewer came out above the town. I know that stream. It’s foul. No-one uses it, even for washing. But we never thought … If we had thought, we’d have said the sewer from the castle must go out over the marshes.’
The Siege of Salwarpe Page 14
