The Baron's Bride

by Joanna Makepeace

  Alain rose reluctantly and stretched. “If you can find me a place to sleep I’ll retire early. I’d ride on tonight but I have to think of Edwin, too. I’ve pushed him hard over these last few days and the weather has been against us.”

  “There’s a folding camp cot in my tent.” Rainald rose too and the two men headed for the tent flap.

  They were not destined to reach it, for it was dashed aside and a figure stumbled in, mired with slush from the road, exhausted to the point of collapse and peering myopically round, as if he suffered from snow blindness.

  “I seek my lord de Treville,” he said hoarsely, “they tell me he is in here.”

  Alain had reached his side in moments and lowered him on to one of the fald stools.

  “Algar,” he said sharply, “stay still, man, or you’ll not manage to get even your message out.” He reached out a hand imperatively to de Tourel. “Wine, quickly, Rainald. This is one of my men from Allestone. Something is very gravely wrong there.”

  Algar gulped at the wine, half-choked, then drained the cup and forced himself upright on the stool. His eyes were adjusting to the dimness of the shaded tent after the snow glare outside. He clutched at Lord Alain’s sleeve.

  “My lord, thank God I have found you. I rode to Wallingford and—” he could hardly find breath to continue “—they told me you had gone on here and—and—I thought my horse would founder. I’ve half-killed the poor beast. My lord—Mauger de Cotaine is about to attack Allestone.”

  Alain started but made no comment as Rainald gave a dreadful gasp behind him. He waited impassively for Algar to continue, fearing to interrupt him and lose the gist of his news.

  “We—we reached Brinkhurst safely,” Algar gasped out. “Lady Gisela wished—wished to see her father but—one of Gloucester’s men of our escort had thought he’d seen followers, armed followers, and Osbert Greetholm, the sergeant, sent him back to investigate. He came riding back in haste to say he believed there were two men from Offen Castle. He’d—he’d recognised one from the castle when Mauger had waited upon Count Henry.”

  He paused again to regain his breath. “Osbert feared the possibility of attack and urged that we all ride immediately for Allestone—though it was almost full dark then. Sir Walter agreed to accompany his daughter with most of his people and we set out.”

  He looked bleakly across the tent, swallowing hard. “Someone was needed to ride back and try to alert you and I knew the way. I could not wait to be sure whether our fears were well founded and there would be an attack, but as I left for the Leicester road I saw a company of Mauger’s men heading towards Allestone.”

  Alain signalled for one of the waiting servants to bring Algar food and more wine.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. “You’ve done well. You are sure she is safe behind the walls of Allestone?”

  “Aye, my lord, I’m sure she would make it in time, well within the castle, but as to safety—” The man gave a helpless shrug.

  Alain gave a wolfish smile. “We must pray Allestone’s defences are strong enough to hold until I can get there.” He turned and looked briefly towards Rainald. “Will the King grant me a detachment, do you think, to help raise the siege? You said a surrender was expected soon here. He should be able to spare the men.”

  “I’ll see to it at once.” Rainald moved towards the tent flap. “If the King gives me leave, I’ll take my own men and join you.”

  Again Alain’s lips curled in a cruel smile normally foreign to his nature. “Good. This time,” he said quietly but with deadly assurance, “I’ll see to it that Gisela gets her revenge and we’ll rid the world of this devil who preys upon the vulnerable and weak.” He turned to Algar. “You must stay here a day at least, eat and rest. Catch up with us when you can.”

  Rainald had already left on his vital errand.

  Chapter Ten

  Gisela consulted with Sir Clement, her father and Osbert Greetholm within the small room Lord Alain used as his office. She looked miserably down at the unrolled parchment that lay before her.

  “So, Sir Clement, you think we might have difficulty feeding our garrison if this siege is to be prolonged?” she asked, her eyes searching the seneschal’s face for some sign of comfort.

  “My lady, we had ample provisions for our own garrison, as you know—you helped to oversee the storing—but now that we have so many extra mouths to feed that might prove problematical.” He tapped the roll on which he had numbered the amount of barrels of salted meat and meal they had left. “We are well into winter and the Brinkhurst community as well as the villagers makes an added burden, also the small number of your escort men.”

  He pursed his lips as Sir Walter frowned at him over the oaken table. “Of course, the weather might worsen and Mauger could decide to withdraw. As yet, he has made no move to attack, simply drawn a circle of men around our castle, but he can get supplies from the cottages within the village. Most have chickens still running loose and foodstuffs they abandoned when they made for refuge within the castle.”

  Osbert said gloomily, “He is well aware that the Baron is absent since he witnessed his arrest at Devizes, and relies on your vulnerability. There are no signs of siege weapons being brought up yet—but,” he added morosely, “Offen is not far. Within days he could bring up mangonels and rams.”

  “But the walls of Allestone are strong enough to withstand such an attack, surely,” Sir Walter said mildly. “As yet we have little to fear. In time the shire reeve will be aware of our plight and send reinforcements to raise Mauger’s siege.”

  No one agreed with him. Osbert looked steadily away and Sir Clement coughed uncomfortably. “That is by no means certain, Sir Walter,” he said. “The presence of Mauger’s besiegers makes it impossible for news of our plight to reach the shire reeve at Oakham. Our greatest threat is eventual lack of supplies, as in any siege.

  “This attack comes at an unusual time of year, though,” he added quickly. “I know the King has been busy besieging both Wallingford and Malmesbury, but we had not expected such a provocative move from Mauger de Cotaine so early in the year—if at all.”

  Gisela said worriedly, “Are all our villeins and serfs within the castle? How many are at risk from these mercenaries?”

  Sir Clement shrugged. “Some did not make it in time. Many refused to leave their properties, particularly the older ones. You know these people. They value their few possessions more than their lives. It is almost impossible to convince some of them that they must abandon their homes and come to safety immediately the warning is given.”

  Gisela recalled, with a little shiver, that nightmare ride through the darkened wood to Allestone. She knew, only too well, what was at stake; it had not been hard to convince the men from Brinkhurst that they must assemble their families and follow to the safety the castle offered. They had seen with their own eyes the terrible carnage Mauger’s unscrupulous routiers could manage in a few short hours.

  They had piled what they had on available wagons and the rest had taken what they could on their backs and hustled their womenfolk to Allestone. The inner bailey was now packed with men, women and children, all huddling together miserably against the cold under improvised canvas shelters.

  The older women and younger children had been accommodated within the hall of the castle, but it was necessary for the men of Allestone garrison to have room to move when there was need. A constant guard was kept on the roof of the keep and the gatehouse and at strategic points along the outer bailey wall.

  Gisela could see now her husband’s foresight in clearing the forest land well back from the castle environs. Mauger’s men, so far, had kept a discreet distance from the firing range of Allestone arrows and were ringed just within the outskirts of the greenwood, barring all routes to the surrounding strongholds which might have come to their assistance but, thanks to the Baron’s strategy, well within view of the defenders of a possible advance attack.

  She dismissed Sir Clement and Osb
ert Greetholm courteously and they hurried out of the office, grateful to return to their own duties. Gisela looked appealingly at her father.

  “Our situation is very grave, isn’t it? Sir Clement is efficient but he is no de Treville and I feel totally inadequate.” She brushed away a tear. “And I am responsible. I forgot all discretion and accused Mauger openly, which has brought him down on us so vindictively. Had I not done so, Alain would have been with me here now.”

  She got up from her chair and went to the unshuttered lancet, striving to control her growing panic. All these men and their dependents looked to her for instructions, even Sir Clement. She had to hold Allestone for Alain, she must—and yet what would happen if he never returned?

  Edwin had not come back to her. Why? Common sense told her he might have been delayed on the road and now he would not be able to enter the castle, but the intruding fear that pierced her mind when she did not rigidly keep it to the task in hand insinuated that the news was so bad that Edwin dreaded bringing it to her.

  Was Alain dead, his body hanging from the gibbet on Devizes Castle? No, her fingers drummed fiercely upon the stone sill of the lancet window. If Alain were lost to her, she would surely know it. She would feel the agony of it pierce her heart. No, she must not allow herself to despair. Count Henry would help him. Alain would return and she must hold Allestone for him.

  Her father was speaking quietly, consolingly. “You have done everything possible, had good advice from the soldiers. Osbert is experienced in siege warfare and Sir Clement is brave and competent, if a little too reliant on the views of others. Gisela, my heart has swollen to bursting point with pride in you. I know Lord Alain will be ardent in his praise. You have ordered the men calmly, without outward show of panic, though you must be feeling it inside.

  “Joshua ben Suleiman is busy laying out a section of the hall for the reception of the wounded, with Aldith and some of the village wise women to help him. All able-bodied men have been assigned duties and the womenfolk are ready with oil to heat and water as well as all available missiles for the forceful reception of those men of Mauger’s force who are adventurous enough to advance too close to our defensive walls.

  “Our archers are well practised and skilful. All precautions have been taken. You can do nothing more but wait for Mauger’s next move.”

  “But if he does bring up battering rams and mangonels he could breach our walls.”

  “To do that he must remove men from the siege circle and that could allow passage for help from Oakham and the surrounding manors.”

  “We all know the local knights are too fearful to openly oppose Mauger.” She thrust aside her remembrance that she had once thrown such an accusation at Alain. “In all events we do not know if news of our plight has reached the reeve. Algar rode straight for Wallingford to alert the King and Alain if—if—” She broke down then and turned from him again. “If only I knew.”

  “Edwin would have joined your escort if he had had such dire tidings, I’m sure. He went to Lord Alain’s help. He may yet be being held at Devizes and Edwin is attempting a rescue.”

  It was a forlorn hope and both of them knew it.

  Sir Walter said hastily, “At least we have hope that Algar will reach Wallingford and Sir Rainald de Tourel will send help if he can. He is Alain’s friend, you say. He will persuade the King to send a force, surely.”

  If one can be spared, she thought wearily.

  Mauger de Cotaine, it seemed, was in no hurry to make his move. For three days Gisela waited, her heart growing progressively heavier, while her small garrison anxiously watched the circle of mercenaries about their business. So far Mauger’s men appeared to be under tight control. There was no sign of the despicable behaviour Gisela had expected.

  She had thought insults as well as arrows would be directed at the defenders as well as some evidence of depredations to the village nearby, but all she could see, when she made her morning and nightly visits to the roof of the keep to look over the battlements, were men tending camp fires, sharpening weapons and cooking and eating food.

  She thought she caught a glimpse of Mauger de Cotaine himself only once. Just out of reach of arrow fire from Allestone a striped tent had been erected, very close to the spot where Aldith’s cottage had been destroyed in the clearance. She saw the tall, swaggering figure of the traitor lord emerge from the tent and direct his gaze mockingly upwards to where she stood by her father’s side. Behind him she glimpsed the red-headed ruffian whom she had encountered at Brinkhurst and in Allestone wood and from whose clutches Alain had saved her.

  She moved back nervously for a second, remembering their encounter in the hall at Devizes Castle and thinking longingly of Alain, then, deliberately, she drew near to the battlements once more and stood proudly, fearlessly looking back at her enemy.

  Her father, realising her peril, for she was in line of fire from the edge of the wood, insisted on her withdrawing to the trap and descending again to the castle hall. Aldith hastened forward as she saw how white her mistress’s face was.

  “I saw that devil,” Gisela said, through grated teeth. “How dare he continue to defy the King’s laws! Will no man dare to combat this evil force that is decimating our lands and tenants’ lives here?”

  Sir Walter shook his head sadly. “He is known, like Lord Alain, to be the King’s man, and no one has the authority.”

  “He is a traitor to King Stephen,” Gisela declared hotly. “I saw him in conference with the King’s enemies at Devizes. He has served both the King and Henry FitzEmpress. I, myself, will witness against him in the King’s court if he can be brought to face the King’s justice.”

  The grave expressions of those about her told her that there was little hope that the nearby knights would join together to oppose the man. They feared for their womenfolk and their manor houses.

  At supper Gisela fed Hereward with titbits. She looked guiltily towards her father who shook his head, smiling. She knew all food must be conserved, but it was from her own ration that she fed her pet, and her father and Huon, as well as Aldith, were only too glad to sacrifice some of their own food for the young dog they all loved.

  “Where is Sigurd tonight?” she questioned Huon. “I do not think I have seen him today or, come to think of it, yesterday either.”

  Huon looked guilty and hung his head and Gisela turned quickly to Aldith.

  “Is he with the girl, Winfrith? I thought she was safe within the hall with the other women of the village.”

  “She is.” Aldith glanced across the crowded hall below the dais and Gisela saw her nurse’s eyes alight on the head of a curly-haired girl who was greedily cramming bread and goat’s cheese into her mouth.

  “So that is Winfrith?”

  Aldith nodded.

  “But I do not see Sigurd. Where is he, Aldith? Do you know?”

  Aldith chewed her bottom lip uncertainly. “He may be in the bailey,” she said evasively.

  “When did you last see him?”

  Again Aldith looked almost furtively away. “I am not sure, my lady. Perhaps two days ago.”

  “But why is he keeping from you? I don’t understand.”

  “Sigurd has his own ways of coming and going.”

  “You mean you think he isn’t in the castle?” Gisela looked stunned.

  “He did not tell me what he intended. I imagine he was wary of alarming me and, at the same time, doubtful about giving me false hope.”

  “But if he isn’t in the castle he could be in grave danger of…How could he get out when the portcullis is down and the drawbridge raised?”

  Aldith shrugged. “He always managed to get out before. I don’t know, mistress, I thought it best never to enquire. What I didn’t know I could not reveal if questioned, but if he is free of the castle he will take good care to avoid Mauger’s men. He knows the woods like his own garden plot. If he has made good his escape and is clear, he will be in Oakham by now.”

  Gisela’s lips part
ed in wonder. “Then he could reach the reeve and it is possible…”

  “Aye, my lady,” Aldith said fiercely, “we can but hope.”

  Gisela was summoned urgently by Sir Clement de Burgh next morning to the roof of the keep. She had been conferring with Joshua ben Suleiman about the care of a sick child.

  Gisela was afraid that if the illness was contagious it could affect every living soul within the castle, but the Jewish physician assured her that the baby was suffering from severe wind pains and he administered a soothing cordial which appeared to calm the screaming infant and reassure the almost-hysterical mother.

  Huon had come with the seneschal’s message and she saw that he was very white round the mouth. She deferred questioning him and hastened up the steep spiral steps, her heart in her mouth.

  What if she should look from the battlements and see some confirmation of Alain’s death, Edwin, captured by Mauger’s men perhaps, with information that would turn her limbs to water and her heart to ice?

  Sir Clement was waiting by the trap as she emerged. He, too, she saw, wore a very grave expression indeed.

  “My lady, Sir Mauger himself is below and, beside him, one of his men with a flag of truce. He demands to speak with you, and you, alone.” He looked to the battlements and turned back to her. “I am convinced you will be safe enough to confer with the man.” His mouth twisted. “I have made sure. I have my best archer trained on him.”

  She nodded and tried to smile back. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably now as she approached the roof edge and looked down, the sturdy form of Sir Clement protectively behind her.

  Below she could see a smaller circle of men had approached nearer to the bailey wall and, in front of them, within hailing distance, Mauger de Cotaine himself, fully mailed and helmeted. Beside him was a man carrying a lance to which was tied a rag of dirty white cloth.