Alain laid him down carefully, half-rose from his knees, looked about him, then set off instantly for the bush and the hidden tunnel entrance. In the distance he could hear blundering feet heading well away from him and hoarse grunts. So far the first sentry was too occupied in his pursuit of Sigurd to give a warning and was totally unaware still of the death of his companion.
Alain spent some moments searching the ground behind the bush. The opening was well hidden; at last his sharp eyes saw that some of the fallen branches had been laid more carefully than by accident.
He dropped to his knees again and began hurriedly to pull away the covering. The entrance yawned before him and his heart misgave him. It seemed merely to be an enlarged burrow of some animal, scarcely wider than one of his own rabbit warrens. The boy had been right to be dubious. Could he possibly crawl through such a narrow place?
He hesitated and his bowels turned to water. All his life he had experienced a dread of confined places, had baulked at entering caves near his own village with his brothers, even dreaded being sent to dungeons to deal with prisoners.
His flesh crawled. Any other danger he would have faced willingly for Gisela, but the fear of being trapped in this dank, dark burrow was deeply unnerving, yet it would have been useless to send in Sigurd. The boy would have been completely unable to persuade Gisela against her determined course of action. He had to make the attempt.
The entrance was not such a tight squeeze as he had first thought. He managed to wriggle in and began the crawl. Someone, he thought, perhaps the man who had revealed the secret of the place to Sigurd, had partially shored up the roof with wattle and daub. Later, as soil began to fall, Sigurd had reinforced the roof with heavy branches, which further impeded the traveller.
The light from the entrance permeated the place for some yards and Alain was able to proceed, but with difficulty. Once, well within the tunnel proper, he felt as if the earth wall above was closing round him and the earthy, dank stink of the place began to affect him as if it were the interior of a prepared grave. He crawled steadily, for there was no room to even crouch, and some of the way he had to lie on his belly and pull himself along by his arms, finding just enough room to move onward, but in total darkness and without any sound from outside.
If he was once caught tight he would surely die here, buried beneath tons of soil, yet the air was not bad. It must be permeating in through holes to the surface, possibly made by Sigurd on his several illegal excursions. Alain told himself that his feeling of breathlessness was merely fear and pushed on.
At one point he found himself stuck and he froze in helpless panic, then realised that his belt had caught on one of the supports and was holding him back. He managed to reach behind and release it, which gave him sufficient purchase to continue. Several times soil fell, half-choking him. Greyish light was beginning to filter in from somewhere and he muttered a swift prayer of gratitude to the Virgin.
Outside, sounds were still utterly excluded and he could not tell how far he had to go, when suddenly the light deepened. He gave a triumphant grunt of satisfaction as he scrambled determinedly forward and pushed at lightly piled soil and straw, which had been pulled over to conceal the castle entrance from inside the tunnel. He lay still, panting, his outstretched hands within distance now of his goal.
He made the final push upwards to free himself and found he was in an angle of the inner bailey wall near the keep. He half-lay for a moment, his back propped against the chill stone, drawing in mouthfuls of cold air.
He was not at first discovered, for the men on watch had been drawn to the wall and stood on the wooden platform, backs to him, some peering across to the outer wall, others gazing upwards to where men on the keep battlements were gazing down on to the cleared land and the outskirts of the wood.
A trumpet sounded shrilly. Alain ground his teeth in fury as he surmised that Mauger de Cotaine was about to arrive before the castle and issue his threatened challenge to its chatelaine.
A man, hearing him dislodge a stone with his foot as he rose to his feet, turned sharply and saw the intruder. Instantly he drew his sword and advanced. Alain was acutely aware that he must be almost unrecognisable, in unfamiliar garb, covered in soil and straw. He stood up and called imperiously, “Hold there, man. I am your lord, Alain de Treville.”
The man halted, bewildered, as he was joined by two curious companions who turned to stare in hostility at the filthy stranger. One advanced, looked closely and gave a relieved shout. “Praise the Virgin, lads, it is Lord Alain himself—”
Alain cut off the man’s further expostulation and jabbed a finger towards the wall. “De Cotaine?”
“Aye, my lord, come to…”
“I know why he’s come,” Alain said harshly. “Take me to your lady at once, man.”
Chapter Eleven
Gisela stood in her bower, facing a weeping Rohese and a stern-faced Aldith. She had dressed in her best, the gown she had worn for her marriage. When she walked through the gatehouse she was determined she would not present a picture of a terrified, shrinking girl but a mature woman, chatelaine of Allestone, going proudly to do her duty to protect her vulnerable tenants in the only way possible.
“Please,” she said gently, bending to raise up the tearful Rohese who had dropped on to her knees in a desperate attempt to plead with her friend, “please, do not weep, Rohese. Let me go with a brave face. I know what I am doing does not please your husband, but, believe me, I can conceive of no other way to salve my conscience. Those women and children out there are my responsibility. Since Mauger de Cotaine demands only one sacrifice, mine, I must do as he demands.
“I was rash to accuse him so publicly. Had I not done so, he may have well thought twice before attacking Allestone and bringing this trouble upon our villages, so, you see, I am the one who must pay the price.”
“Aye,” said Aldith grimly, “but are you sure you know the full price that devil is asking?”
“Yes.” The single word was forced out through gritted teeth. Certainly she knew. Mauger de Cotaine would kill her, of that she was sure, but first—a shudder passed through her body, as she thought what might come first. Would he ravish her himself or—would he hand her over to his men? At all events it would end in her death, slow and painful. She faced Aldith determinedly and put out her hand. Her former nurse made an inarticulate sound like a sob and gathered her lady into her arms.
“Oh, my dear one. I promised your mother I would care for you always…”
“As did I.” Sir Walter’s formidable tones came to them from the door. “And by God, Sweet Jesus and the Holy Virgin, I will not allow you to do this. I’ll lock you in your chamber first.”
He strode in and tore his daughter determinedly from Aldith’s arms, shaking her. “Do you hear me, girl, do you?”
“Father—” tears rained down helplessly now “—don’t you know you are only making things worse for me. I am the mistress of Allestone. I will not allow you to make a prisoner of me.”
“No, but I will, and lash you to the bed before I’ll allow you to take one more step nearer to that gatehouse.”
Gisela swung round, her eyes widening, the tears still raining down, her hands caught into fists by her sides, staring at the door, unable to believe the evidence of, first, her ears and then her eyes.
Sir Clement, who had accompanied her father to the bower to help remonstrate with his lady, had been pushed aside and a tall scarecrow clad in filthy, torn fustian clothes stood there, feet astride, chin jutting aggressively, stance, despite the inadequacies of his apparel, one of supreme lordship, not to be gainsaid.
“Alain?” Gisela murmured wonderingly, then tearfully, “Alain, my love, is it really you?”
He strode in and she rushed to him, unmindful of the full skirt of her gown, stumbling right into his arms. She was half-laughing and crying hysterically, her arms reaching up round his neck as if she could not bring him close enough to her. The two men stood and stared
in utter bewilderment.
At last Gisela pushed herself a little from him and stared up into the beloved face she had thought never to see again.
“I cannot believe it,” she whispered brokenly. “We thought—feared—”
“Aye, I know. I was forced to go first to Wallingford only to have to press on to Malmesbury. Since then I’ve been riding as if the devil were at my heels to get here.” He gave a little grim laugh. “And now I am here, I find you preparing to do the most insane thing I could have ever conceived of. Stand clear of me, my sweet, I am filthy and have besmirched your fine gown already…”
“But—” She could hardly bring out the words for joyful tears. “How—how did you get into the castle? We have been besieged for days and…”
“Sigurd knew of a tunnel, which explains my appearance.” He waved a hand as if to brush aside explanations. “But I cannot wait to tell you. I must go change my clothes and don mail. I’ll not face de Cotaine in this guise. No, do not argue with me, Gisela. In this I will be obeyed. Leave the business of the hostages to me.”
She clutched at his arm as if to detain him.
“He will kill one of them, Alain, even while we stay here talking, considering—”
“He will not, my heart. I am sure of that. He knows that if he does so before he is forced to it will destroy his bargaining power, for he is counting on your passionate need to defend your own people. If just one dies you will recognise the full vindictiveness of his nature and may not trust him to keep his word over the others. No, if I judge him aright, he will hold his hand—for the moment. He does not want the death of some worthless peasant, he wants you.”
He turned to his seneschal. “Clement, can you get out there with Sir Walter and hold parley. Try to delay what de Cotaine has in mind. Promise that your lady is preparing herself in prayer in the chapel—anything to keep him occupied while I prepare myself to face him.”
“Aye, my lord.” Sir Clement turned briskly, thankful to have his lord returned to take full responsibility for what happened here—a brave man, Sir Clement, but not one who easily assumed leadership. He waited until the reluctant Sir Walter joined him.
Lord Alain said tersely, “Do not concern yourself about Gisela, sir. She is mine and I will not surrender her, even if I have to do what I threatened, keep her penned and pinioned.”
Sir Walter nodded, satisfied, and went with the castle seneschal to do what Lord Alain commanded.
Alain waited only for a moment to draw her close once more, tilting up her chin and smiling down into her terrified little face.
“Trust me, my love. The shire reeve is even now bringing up reinforcements to relieve us and Rainald de Tourel waits in Oakham only for his men to join us and encircle the enemy. De Cotaine is caught in his own trap.” He bawled to Huon, who was even now racing up the spiral stair to wait on his master.
“Come, lad, help me arm and—” he thrust up a knee to ward off the joyful attentions of Hereward “—keep that damned hound away for a while at least.”
As he reached the door Aldith made an agonised plea. “You said Sigurd guided you, my lord. Is—is he with you?”
He stopped momentarily in mid-stride towards the stair and turned back to her.
“I don’t know how he fared, Aldith. He acted as decoy for me, drew off the guard while I made it to the tunnel entrance. I can only pray…”
She bit down upon her lip, then gave a little rueful laugh. “I know my son, my lord. If he was leading that guard astray, he’ll lose him, right enough. Who knows Allestone wood like my Sigurd?”
Gisela longed to race after her husband. Even now she could hardly believe that he was back with her, safe and well. Then she wished to go to her father on the keep battlements and see what was happening to the hostages, but she found when she attempted to leave the bower that Alain had been as good as his word and left two stout men-at-arms to see that she did not leave. He was taking no chances with Gisela’s safety.
She waited in an agony of suspense till he returned to her, mailed from head to foot and wearing his surcoat displaying the blue chevron of Allestone. She gave a little gasp of dismay. He had returned to her and was going immediately into danger again.
She clung to him desperately, feeling the deadly coldness of his mail through the woollen cloth of her gown. She had almost lost hope of seeing him again, indeed, her very resolve to walk out of Allestone into de Cotaine’s hands had made her realise only too well what she was losing, yet here he was, so close to her, straining her tightly against his heart, and she knew this moment might well be the very last they spent together.
She forced herself not to plead with him to stay safe and hidden within the castle. She knew how he valued his knightly honour and she could not disgrace him now before his men. He felt her whole body trembling and bent to kiss her gently full upon the lips.
He took her hand. He was smiling, but his expression was grim. “Come now, my lady. Let us greet Sir Mauger de Cotaine together.”
She felt her limbs would turn to water as she climbed the keep steps behind him, Aldith bringing up the rear. When she had been helped through the trap onto the leads, he led her towards the battlements, nodding to two of his most experienced archers to stand behind her.
Sir Walter and Sir Clement were leaning down, engaged in shouted argument with the assembled host below. Lord Alain waved them back and, keeping Gisela slightly behind him, and yet in full view, moved forward and stood staring down at Mauger de Cotaine who had dismounted and stood defiantly, a drawn dagger in his hand, half-turned towards one of his men who held the thin body of a terrified girl child before him.
Lord Alain said clearly and contemptuously, “This is the behaviour I would have expected of you, De Cotaine, the murder of yet more innocents. It is what you do best, make war on those who are too weak to defend themselves.”
De Cotaine turned back to the castle wall with a snarl of anger.
“De Treville? So they let you loose? I’d thought you dead and in Hades these days past.”
“Stoking up the fires for you?” Lord Alain scoffed.
De Cotaine stood, feet astride, in that insufferably insolent fashion Gisela had learned to recognise in the few short encounters she had had with him. He flung back his head and laughed, his black curls escaping from his mailed coif and blowing in the wind.
“Well, now you are home, my lord,” de Cotaine stressed the final words in mockery, “and how do you think you will prevent me from killing every one of these before your lady’s eyes? She will not enjoy that, the Lady Gisela.”
The mockery faded from the tone and the smile wavered. “She has cost me my honour and possibly my life, if I fail to escape to France in time, yet Stephen is still too deeply engaged with his foe to come and take me himself and I still have time to enjoy my vengeance on the vindictive bitch who brought me to this.”
Lord Alain said calmly, “How would any of that profit you, except to reveal you further as the villain you are, a disgrace to your knighthood? Even now the shire reeve is assembling the county knights against you. You cannot win and you cannot run, but I will spare you the humiliation of public trial.
“I challenge you to trial by combat, Mauger de Cotaine, deem you traitor to your King and a defiler of all that our knightly code holds sacred. Meet me here before your men below the castle walls and you may still be able to salvage some remnant of chivalry.”
“No, no.” Gisela flung off her father’s arm as he moved to restrain her. “No, Alain, do not soil your hands with this scum.”
Gently Alain pulled her clutching fingers from his mailed arm.
“It has to be this way, my heart. He has dared to threaten you. I challenge him now in the names of those he murdered that they might lie at rest and come no more between us.”
There had been mutterings from below and now there was an unnatural calm as if each man in de Cotaine’s host was waiting in strained apprehension to hear their lord’s reply.
Gisela stood staring intently into the unfathomable depths of her husband’s dark eyes. He did not move, but remained smiling down at her until he made a little decisive movement of his chin. She gave a great sob and flung back her own head in answer. She knew now that it must be so.
She had accused him of cowardice and though she had taken it back, it lay between them—and only the spilling of blood could wipe it out. He was her knight, her champion, and she drew in her breath in a little sigh of acceptance.
Instinctively she knew that, if Alain were to kill Mauger de Cotaine, his men would no longer continue to menace Allestone. They would disperse, those who were not arrested by the shire reeve’s men, and the lives of the innocent courageous defenders would be saved. If he were to die—she tasted salt blood in her mouth as she bit down savagely upon her nether lip. She would not think of that, not now when he had need of her courage to hearten him.
She reached up and kissed him full on his lips then, stepping back, tore her veil from her head and bound it tightly around his arm.
“Take my favour, my lord,” she said clearly, “and may God give you the victory and defend the right.”
There came a second shrilling of trumpets. All eyes turned towards the main road leading to Allestone village and Gisela’s hand stole out again to grasp Alain’s.
“If I am not mistaken that is Geoffrey de Marchmont, shire reeve of Oakham, with his host to relieve our siege,” he said quietly and soon the encircling men about the castle began to stir and murmur amongst themselves as the steady tramp of mailed feet and the jingle of horses’ accoutrements announced the arrival of a company of men.
Again the trumpet sounded and Gisela, straining her eyes towards the village, saw the first riders moving towards Allestone. From this distance she could not see the devices upon their pennants, but relief flooded through her as she realised that their salvation was near now. Allestone would be relieved.
Mauger de Cotaine let out an obscene oath and bawled to his sergeant to call his men to order, but it was soon very clear to the watchers that that would prove an impossible task for already the mercenaries were beginning to panic. Those most in their lord’s favour had moved quickly to stand close and support him, but many were already attempting to make good their escape into the woods behind them yet, even as they tried, they found themselves caught up from the rear by other men on foot who had come through the woods in a surprise encircling movement. Behind them Gisela saw more mounted knights and recognised the gryphon device of Rainald de Tourel.
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