Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  The abbot smiled his warm smile that crinkled his eyes. “You are always welcome here, but there is a price to pay.”

  Talon gave an exaggerated sigh. “You mean that I have to discuss my time in Persia some more, Father?”

  The abbot laughed gently. “Just so, but only after you have supped and we have provided for the young lady here, and of course the child.”

  He gave quick orders to his secretary, then Aicelina and a sleepy Guillaume clutching her hand were guided off by one of the older Brothers to an area reserved for visiting ladies and gentry. The abbot assured Talon they would be well looked after.

  Aicelina touched Talon’s arm lightly with her fingers as she left. “Thank you, Talon. It was very brave of you.” Her look said more.

  Talon mumbled that he could not have done anything without Anwl to help and got an equally embarrassed mumble back from that man who felt totally out of place in this high company.

  The abbot, considerate above all, asked one of the brothers standing around them to look to Anwl’s needs and provide him with a cell to sleep in. Anwl left after ducking his head to Talon, who grinned at him and told him to sleep well.

  Then taking Talon by the elbow, the abbot returned with him to the main dining hall to continue his interrupted meal, and to spend time with him over some wine.

  That night was one that Talon would remember.

  The abbot was a learned man who had lived beyond much of life’s pettiness and went directly to the point of most issues. Talon was reminded of another man he had known in another life who had been very wise in the ways of men. The doctor Farj’an, physician to the Khan, had taught him much about the gentler side of life, and had imparted his own understandings of existence to a half-savage youth new from the Valley of the Assassins.

  The two retired to the abbot’s rooms where candles were lit and they settled into comfortable chairs and sipped the good wine. The abbot talked to Talon as an equal while the light breeze coming through the open windows made the candles flicker and their shadows move around the stone walls.

  They talked much of Talon’s boyhood experiences as well as the issues of the day here in Languedoc. Talon now had questions of his own about the land in which he was now living, and this man could answer many of them.

  One big question Talon finally posed although he was uncertain as to its reception. “Who are the Albiginians, my Lord?”

  The abbot gave him a sharp look but nonetheless after a pause answered, albeit reluctantly. “They are Christians, Talon, otherwise known as Cathars. But they go very much their own way. They do not accept the Church of Rome or the Pope for their leader. This much complicates their position alongside the Catholic faith.”

  “What is it that is so different? Are they then considered to be heretics?” Talon asked, very much aware of his own precarious position within the Christian community.

  “There is a risk that they might one day be considered so,” the abbot observed. “They claim to be of a more fundamental faith than that founded on the Rock of Saint Peter. This some find disturbing.”

  “Do you, sir?”

  The abbot smiled wryly at his directness. “In fact I do not, but I would not say it abroad too loudly.” He paused, looking at Talon thoughtfully. “Talon, I have lived a long life, most of it devoted to God and the Church. I am here because I shun politics and the pursuit of power. I do not claim to be wiser than other men, but I have had the time to contemplate much of what I see around me.”

  He looked up at Talon with a wry smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and then took a sip of the fine wine they were sharing. “I know that the people of Occitania, those who speak Languedoc, are free-thinkers. You could say that our neighbors in Aquitaine are somewhat to blame for that. There is much ado about the troubadours and their songs and the freedom of the expression of love. Our Lady of Aquitaine, Eleanor, now married to Henry of England, is the most ardent purveyor of this kind of thing. Her songs of love are seductive and allow many freedoms to the ladies of the realm. That is all very well, but when it comes into contact with the Church of Rome—which would prefer that all people simply bow to the church’s rule and abandon song and dance—then there is the making of conflict.”

  “What is so wrong in songs and dancing?” Talon asked naively.

  His host smiled. “Very little in moderation, but the church cannot abide that people should find the time to enjoy life without they pay homage to God and observe the rules of the Church with all.”

  “This sounds like the Mullahs of Persia,” Talon said. “They do not encourage life’s enjoyments. But the Ismaili did,” he observed.

  “So they were heretics, too?” the abbot asked.

  “I suppose so. But they also bring terror to everyone. They are hated and feared by all.”

  “Hmm, well, in the case of the Cathars it presents a conundrum because although they are Christians they claim to be from a more distant source than the Rock of St Peter. They are not, as far as I know, violent people, however.”

  “I don't understand,” Talon said, puzzled.

  “Nor should you be expected to. But I can assure you that the Church in these parts has played the game of power and politics to the point where I fear it might have lost its way; small wonder then that a group of ‘free-thinkers’ should look for other paths. They will pay a price for that, as the Church of Rome will treat them badly should they confront it too loudly. The Church has only just completed its subjugation of the kings of England, Germany, and France. It will not tolerate independence from such as the Cathars.”

  The conversation drifted to other things and then on to Talon’s time in Isfahan. The abbot wanted to know all about the city and the curious game of Chess. Although known, it was not a commonplace game, more to be found in palaces of the kings of France and other kings than anywhere else.

  Talon was in the middle of describing the game when there was a disturbance at the main entrance to the monastery. They listened intently while the gates were opened and men talked to one another. They were relieved to hear that it was the group of monks returning from the fair who had arrived late.

  Within minutes Claude was at the door to the abbot’s office, greeting them. He glanced at Talon and then said, “You have left the town of Albi in an uproar, Talon. They say you attacked innocent men with a band of archers and slew three of them before running off.” He chuckled at Talon’s bewildered look. “It is clear that was not what happened, but indeed you have left the town of Albi on its head. What did happen?”

  Talon told the story again of how they had to defend themselves against the four men and then their flight.

  When he had finished, the abbot said, “Brother Claude, I have already heard the story and I believe Talon’s version of it. I have also sent a layman off to Sir Hughes’ fortress to inform Talon’s people that they are safe with me for the night.”

  Claude looked relieved. “I was so worried, my Lord Abbot. We met Talon and his companions at the fair and then later we heard these wild stories. I did not know what to think.”

  “Well, calm yourself, Brother Claude. I shall even offer you a beaker of wine to assist you to do so,” the abbot remarked dryly, “then we can continue our discussion. I was hearing about that interesting game called Chess and more of that splendid city named Isfahan. Talon, pray continue.”

  Instant through copse and heath arose

  Bonnets and spears, and bended bows;

  On right, on left, above, below,

  Sprung up the lurking foe.

  - Sir Walter Scott

  Chapter 9

  The Reckoning

  Sir Hughes was at the gates to greet Talon and the escort sent to fetch them when they arrived home the following afternoon.

  There were many questions and angry exclamations that Talon hastened to calm, saying that they were perfectly safe and that the damage had been done to Marcel, not him. The only thing missing was the cart but that was easily replaced.<
br />
  Philip, his beard bristling with rage, wanted to ride out straight away and confront Guillabert at his castle gates. Hughes and Talon persuaded him to relent and discuss the situation first. Aicelina and Anwl added to his story so that between the three a clear picture was painted of the events.

  There was an impromptu council of war between Talon, his father, mother, and uncle, and it was here that Talon outlined his plan. By now three of Sir Hughes’ villains had been burned out and killed, their families were within the confines of the fort where they were wards of Sir Hughes.

  There was now a genuine fear in the land, which had consequences as the fields were only being worked in the immediate area of the fort and village. No one dared to work the outlying farms and could not be persuaded to. This meant a poor harvest in the coming autumn, and a lean winter. Even the millers were fearful and wanted to know if there was going to be any protection for them.

  Talon told Sir Hughes and Sir Philip of how impressed he had been with the Welshmen and their ability to live in the forest. Most men could hunt in the forest; but these men, he pointed out, were able to live comfortably.

  He wanted to send them out to watch the remaining houses, patrolling the forest and taking note of men who should not be there and might be up to mischief. He wanted to go with them. Both his father and his uncle looked at him as though he had lost his senses.

  “Why would you want to go and live in the forest? Why do you not stay here and go out every day?” his puzzled father asked.

  “Because there may be a spy within these walls or even watching our activities from the village, Father, and I do not wish to advertise my movements. Let me take the Welshmen out into the forests and see what we can do.”

  “Very well, but I doubt very much that we have a spy in our midst and I am not at all sure what to think of this; but you have proved to have a good head on your shoulders. Go with them, but not for too long, and let me know your movements.”

  “Thank you. I shall report... when I am able to.”

  Talon went out to talk to Gareth about his plan. It was well received and the Welshmen all enthusiastically signed up for the work. He had to disappoint three of them by telling them they would have to stay at the fort; but he told them he would rotate the duty, which mollified them somewhat. When he had explained that he wanted men who could shoot a long bow in the vicinity of the fort in case a problem developed here, they were quick to agree.

  Talon, Gareth, and two other archers, Drudwas and Ap-Maddock, slipped out of the fort two nights later as though on a simple hunting expedition and headed for the extreme edge of Sir Hughes’ land where it abutted that of Sir Guillabert. Talon reasoned that whoever was raiding his father’s land was not taking much in the way of precautions so it would not hurt to be right in the area if they did come.

  Gareth was enjoying the whole adventure. He told Talon that he thought it was a great idea, but if they wanted to remain inconspicuous they should have a camp deep in the forests where there would be no possibility of discovery by others. After all, these were ruffians who most likely rode the trails and were more interested in reaching their objectives quickly than probing the depths of the forest. Sir Hughes’ landholdings, while not extensive, were nonetheless large. They were a good hour’s march from the castle when they set up a very basic camp with only a bank and a crude branch shelter for them to sleep under. They kept a fire alight for warmth on the cold nights and to cook what they had trapped or killed for food. Their supply of bread and cheese, some olives and herbs that Aicelina had slipped into Talon’s leather satchel, were to last a week.

  They patrolled the boundaries and checked the hovels and huts of the villeins during the following days and evenings. Some had refused to leave and hence were considered good targets, while others had left and their stone-walled huts were deserted. Talon and Gareth resolved to stay as near as they could to the occupied huts.

  Talon and Gareth were taking their ease at the camp on the fifth night, making shafts for more arrows to pass the time. Both were unshaven, dirty, bored, and about ready to go home when Drudwas came running into the camp to tell them that he had heard the sound of horses out on the edge of the woods. This was a good mile away. Gareth immediately interrogated Drudwas in rapid Welsh as to where he thought the horses were going.

  The response excited Gareth. “Talon, we have to hurry, they are probably headed for the house of that man we visited yesterday. Remember he refused to leave his house, in spite of our asking him to.”

  “You're right. Gareth, come on. Where is Ap-Maddock.?”

  “He is following them on foot,” Drudwas said.

  It was a sticky evening when they set out. Although he could barely see the sky, Talon could sense that there were dark storm clouds gathering with a good chance of rain. They ran as fast as they were able through the dense woods over soft loamy ground, which allowed them to make almost no sound as they hastened toward the edge of the forest. They then headed in the direction that Drudwas had indicated. They ran silently along the dimly lit track, tall trees on either side of them. So quiet were they that they disturbed a fox crossing the path. He barked with surprise and sped off into the undergrowth at the edge of the wood.

  The running men did not pause. They heard the rumble of thunder and several drops of rain landed on Talon’s shoulder. Then it began to rain harder. Lightning flashed and lit up the track they were running down, throwing the nearby trees into sharp relief, pale and ghostly. They were a quarter of a mile away when they saw a glow ahead that lit the sky.

  “We're too late,” Gareth said angrily.

  “Hurry, we have to catch the murdering pigs,” Talon replied.

  They each took out an arrow and notched it in readiness. It was not long before they heard the sound of men shouting ahead. Talon hoped that they were not too late to at least kill some of them; he, too, was angry now. He remembered that the man had three skinny children and a wisp of a wife who had looked worn out and very frightened when they had appeared at the door asking to speak with him.

  Suddenly a dark figure ran out in front of them and they came to an abrupt halt. It was Ap-Maddock, who whispered that they were going to be too late for the house, but there was no time to lose as the men on horses were about to ride away.

  They ran hard the last few hundred yards along the trail toward the opening in the forest where the hut stood. The hut was on fire, the roof exploding upward in a stream of sparks and flames. The now fierce wind was tossing the black tops of the trees about and blowing the sparks in all directions. The flames cast an ominous light on the dark horsemen who were milling about, preparing to leave, their dirty work done. Talon spied a form lying on the ground near the door but no sign of the woman or the children.

  He had told Gareth that they should attack immediately. So it was that a shower of arrows flew with deadly accuracy at the group of six mounted men. They were well silhouetted against the flaming hut. Three men cried out in pain and surprise and fell off their horses, arrows deeply embedded, while another clutched his arm and yelled with pain before another arrow silenced him forever. He, too, fell off his horse with a thud. The remaining two, although taken by surprise, were quick to react. One of them jerked his horse toward the gap in the trees and, jamming his spurs into its sides, fled down the darkened trail. An arrow whispered after him but missed and fell to the ground to the side of the trail.

  The other turned his horse the wrong way. He quickly realized his mistake but still tried desperately to run the group of archers down. They all had to dodge out of the way as he thundered by, but another arrow from the quick-acting Gareth felled him before he had made twenty yards. It was over within seconds. There were two men groaning and writhing on the ground while another three were untidy bundles lying on the ground, very dead.

  Walking carefully over to one of the men lying clutching his chest where an arrow protruded, Talon knelt and placed his dagger on the man’s throat then told him, “You will
tell me who sent you and then I shall send you to your maker. Otherwise, you shall be left to die in agony in the forest where the animals shall eat you as you die.”

  The terrified man groaned in pain, the light of the fire illuminated his sweating face, pallid with agony. He rolled his eyes up at Talon, wide with fear. “Save me, do not kill me. I beg you, do not kill me.”

  “You are already dead. You can confess to the forest before you die. Tell me who sent you?”

  As he said this there was a flash of lightning and huge crash of thunder overhead. The rain that had been only a steady shower up to now started to come down in earnest.

  The dying man seemed to come to a realization. He sobbed as he felt his life ebbing away. “Will you confess me if I tell you?”

  “Yes,” Talon said.

  “It was Sir Guillabert. He wants to burn all the huts and houses to destroy the crops and put fear into the people who belong to Sir Hughes,” he gasped. “Please, I need water. This hurts so much.”

  Talon cupped his hands and caught some of the rain as it hurled down. He poured some into the man’s open mouth. He need not have bothered; the man gave a gasp, blood trickled from his open mouth, he kicked his legs in the mud, and was still, his eyes staring up to the dark sky, oblivious of the rain.

  Talon straightened up and turned to the others, who now gathered round. “It seems we were right about one thing: this was done on Sir Guillabert’s orders.”

  He had to shout over the noise of the pouring rain. They were already all soaked to the skin but they had work to do before they could take shelter.

  Gareth had looked at the other wounded man and pronounced him fit to ride, but there was no fight left in him. Talon had an idea, now that he knew for sure who had given the orders.

  First they had to find the woman and the children, which eventually they did, hiding in the overhang of a bank deeper in the woods. They persuaded the terrified and sobbing woman to come out with her three fearful, crying children. Talon told them who they were; he was angry that they had not arrived in time to save her husband but it was no use worrying about that now. They had to get her away.