Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  He told Drudwas and Ap-Maddock to take them back at once to the fort where the woman and her children would be given shelter. He told the men he would follow with Gareth when they were done.

  Early the next morning the guard at Sir Guillaberts’ castle’s gate house gave a start. He peered hard into the misty area about a quarter mile away where the track led into the forest. Coming toward him was an unusual procession. Soon he was able to make out more clearly what it was. He shouted urgently for his companions to get up on the rampart with him. There was a yell from below as Marcel splashed through some puddles and came running up the wooden stairs to join the small group staring out to the edge of the forest. What they saw was not something they had anticipated.

  The only man to survive the raiding party had ridden in just after midnight, frightened and confused. He told a story of goblins and devils who came out of the night with the storm and bewitched their party. There had been no warning, he said. They just appeared with the storm, their huge figures had completely petrified everyone, or so he had claimed. They slew all in their path, he babbled, there were so many of them.

  Neither Guillabert nor his sons had believed him for a minute, but they realized that they were not going to get any sense out of him at that time so they sent him packing to his billet.

  Now here were the remnants of the group coming toward the gates. There was a man slumped in the saddle of the lead horse. He looked exhausted and there was a red stain on his shoulder. He lacked his hauberk and any arms.

  Behind him were three other horses, one of which was carrying two dead men slung over its back, the other two carried one man each. The men were naked except for their undershirts, tied face down on the horses’ backs. As the sorry procession made its way to the gates everyone on the platform looked at one another.

  Marcel’s face was pale. He looked more worried than angry. He turned and stamped his way down the stairs to tell his father while Roger looked after him with a sneer and then continued to stare at the group now clustered on the grass before the gates, waiting. The gate had still not been opened. A shouted order from Roger and the men standing below began to open the wooden gates and to lower the drawbridge to let the party in.

  Marcel, Roger, and Sir Guillabert were there when the horses came into the courtyard. They looked up at the lead man and it was Roger who shouted at him.

  “What happened man? Don’t tell me it was goblins and demons that attacked you. We heard that nonsense last night when Jacob came back.”

  The wounded man looked as though he would rather fall off the horse than answer the question. “I know not of demons, but these men were not of us, m’lord. They spoke in tongues and were very fierce. They were enormous and made me sore afraid. They came out of nowhere; we were completely surprised.” He shifted in the saddle uncomfortably. “One of them, a taller one, spoke our language. He told me to tell you to stay away from the forests of Sir Hughes. He said he would send the heads of anyone of us who ventured there back to you on stakes.”

  Sir Guillabert and his sons looked at one another.

  “What else did he say?” Marcel snarled with false bravado. He tried to look as though he were not concerned about the situation, but to the crowd gathering it was clear that he, his brother, and his father were unsettled. The man slumped in his saddle had no more to say.

  Sir Guillabert’s face was red with anger. “Take this mess out of my sight,” he roared. “I know who did this and I shall be revenged, do you hear?” He rounded on Marcel and Roger. “Find out how many there were and get back to me. I want to plan against this. They will not thwart me.” He turned and stalked back to the main keep where he disappeared into the hall.

  Marcel and Roger had the difficult work of getting the dead taken off their horses and interrogating the survivor. They came back to their father in the main living hall on the second floor to find him drinking from a flagon of wine.

  “Well, what did you discover, more goblins and demons?’ Guillabert demanded sarcastically.

  “The two men who survived said there were at least twenty people who attacked them,” Marcel said uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot. Roger stood next to him with his habitual scowl on his face.

  Marcel was remembering the incident at Albi and wondering if this was not Talon’s work. That boy used a bow. All the dead had been killed with arrows, although the shafts had been retrieved by their killers.

  Sir Guillabert snorted from his chair by the fireplace. “My guess is that it was probably no more than ten at the most. These lying dogs are useless to me. I shall have to find replacements and that costs money. I would to God that I knew where in hell that uncle of mine left all his ill-gotten gains. He did not die without he had a lot of silver. Where is it?!” he shouted at the rafters.

  Marcel flinched and then turned as he heard a movement coming down the stone stairs from the floor above. His sister Petrona appeared at the doorway.

  “Why all the shouting, Father?” she asked timidly, looking her question at her brothers.

  Her father shook his head and shoulders as though to shake off the question and refused to answer. It was left to Marcel to respond.

  “We have had an unpleasant surprise this morning, Sister. It seems that honest men cannot ride abroad these days without they are ambushed and killed on the road.”

  Petrona stared. “What are you talking about?” she asked, bewildered.

  “Do you not remember the lout who came with the Templar, Sir Philip from the Holy Land? The youth named Talon? Well, it seems that he is engaged upon robbery and killing on the roads hereabouts,” her brother said angrily.

  “He is a man of the devil and needs to be taken down,” rasped her other brother.

  Petrona gasped. “You cannot mean the young man Talon? Why should he be engaged upon such a horrible adventure? What harm have we done him that he should do this?”

  “We have done no harm to him!” Guillabert roared. “He is Godless and worships the devil. We know this as he told Marcel that he had lived among the Saracens for many years. He shall be made to pay for this, by God.”

  Petrona now looked fearful, “What could have happened to make him do these things? How has he harmed us?”

  “He has only killed five of my finest fighting men in ambush, no fair fight, mind you. All were killed from behind. There were many more of them, dozens of them. That wretch shall burn for this,” her father raged. “I shall impeach Sir Hughes at the Court of Albi for this dispute and make him forfeit all his land and that hovel of a fort to boot, and then I shall have the pleasure of taking his life.”

  He suddenly got up as though he had decided something. “Have my horse saddled, Roger; we are going to Albi. I want to find replacements. You, Marcel, ride with some men to the area of the village next to the fort and see what they are about. Do not be seen, d’you hear?”

  The two brothers hurried off glad to be able to get away from their father. Both feared the consequences of their father’s rages, having been on the receiving end of them for most of their lives. It did not matter that both were now grown men, the fear was still there, particularly with Marcel, who did not have the backbone of his older brother.

  Petrona watched them leave the castle. After waiting for an hour she told the groom to saddle up her pony and left quietly on her own, telling the indifferent guards at the gates she was only riding down to the village by the river for a few hours to see widow Flamert, who was sick.

  She rode carefully along the track fearful of what her brothers had told her but sure in her mind that the Talon she had briefly met could not have done the things he was accused of. She had some vague plan about going to Sir Hughes’ fortress and confronting them as to the truth. So it was that a couple of hours later she came to the gates of Sir Hughes’ fort, where she was admitted by a very surprised guard and met by an equally surprised Marguerite.

  Sir Hughes and Sir Philip were away, looking over the fields as it was not far from
harvest time and they had been concerned about the power of the storm and any damage the rain may have caused to the fields.

  “What brings you here, Petrona? I have not seen you since you were a child. You have grown into a splendid young lady,” Marguerite said, squinting up at her against the sunlight.

  Petrona blushed and dismounted, handing the reins to a groom. “My Lady Marguerite. I hope I find you well?”

  They exchanged a kiss on either cheek as greeting and Marguerite studied the young lady in front of her while still holding her hands. She saw a pretty young maiden of seventeen, blue eyes and fair complexion with light brown hair held together under a wide straw hat. She dressed well although not extravagantly and looked reasonably clean and fairly well groomed. Marguerite was particular about young women keeping themselves clean even if she lost the battle with her men folk, especially Guillaume.

  “Is Talon here, Marguerite?”

  “Talon? Why no, he is not. He is out hunting with his archers, I believe. Why do you ask, child?”

  Petrona was now uncomfortably aware that what she sought was going to be harder than she had imagined. “I simply wondered, Marguerite. Did you know that men from my father’s guards were attacked last night while on the road and several were killed? They are blaming Talon for this.”

  Marguerite gave a start. “What is this, my child? I know of no such incident as you have described. But I forget myself. You must be tired and thirsty. Come into the garden and we shall talk some more. Aicelina, my dear, please go and get us some wine and water.”

  Marguerite took Petrona across the muddy yard to a sunny patch of grass near a pond and made her sit on the wooden bench nearby.

  “Now, you need to know something important, my child,” she said firmly to a tense Petrona. “Late last night one of the families from among our villeins, a mother and three children, were brought into this castle. It was raining and they were soaked to the skin. Their father was dead and they are now homeless.”

  Petrona looked puzzled. “What has this to do with Talon, my lady?”

  “Much, I have to tell you.” There was a pause while Marguerite collected her thoughts. “Talon and his men came across the men in the act of burning the house, but too late to save her husband.”

  Petrona looked stunned, but before she could respond the girl Aicelina arrived with a beaker of watered wine for them both. She regarded Petrona with cool eyes that Petrona found unsettling. However, she was more concerned about what she had just heard to pay much attention.

  Marguerite continued, “I believe the men who carried out this horrible deed paid for it with their lives, Petrona. Were these the men you were asking about?”

  Petrona could only stare at her. Her eyes wide and her mouth open. “Then... then my brothers and father lied to me,” she whispered. She looked at Marguerite with haunted eyes. “Oh, Marguerite, what shall I do? I didn't know this, and my brothers told a very different story.”

  Aicelina interrupted her with a snort. “Did your brother Marcel tell you that he sent his ruffians to kill Talon at the fair in Albi?”

  Petrona had the grace to look embarrassed. “I heard that there had been a brawl and that Talon had provoked some men,” she said, sounding to her own ears somewhat lame.

  “I was there with his little brother, Guillaume; we watched the ‘brawl,’ as you call it, while it took place,” Aicelina said scornfully. “If Talon and his archer had not been so able, they would have been killed by the hired mercenaries your brother set upon him. It was no brawl. It was an unprovoked attack.”

  Petrona looked as though she had been struck in the stomach. She was white and trembling. “Marguerite, my lady, I did not know,” she whispered.

  Marguerite patted her on the hand. “I understand your not knowing, but I am disturbed about the lies that are coming from your family, Petrona. I think you should be careful not to discuss this with them when you get back. Your father will not be pleased to know you've been here. But know this; Talon is innocent of all they accuse him of. Your brother Marcel evidently does not like him, and there it is.”

  Petrona nodded. “He disliked him from the onset, even while we were on the road to Carcassonne and Albi, while he was traveling with his uncle the Templar,” she said ruefully, remembering how taken she had been with Talon at first sight.

  Marguerite took pains thereafter to make her more comfortable and before long they were talking of other things.

  Petrona did not have the luxury of the company of other women of her rank so she was inclined to tarry. After a couple of hours of pleasant conversation, however, she looked up at the sun and exclaimed. “Oh, my lady, I have forgotten the time. I must be home before my father and brothers or they will ask too many questions as to where I have gone.”

  Aicelina was looking at her intently but Petrona thought nothing of it as she got up.

  “I have intruded upon you enough, my lady.” She gave a small curtsey to Marguerite and nodded distantly to Aicelina. They followed her to the pony and waved her out of the gates.

  No one paid any attention to Devonalt, one of the Welch archers, as he slipped out of the gates just before she left.

  Petrona rode home as though in a dream. She had been badly shaken by the news. She had been quite taken with Talon when they first met. Indeed she had thought of him often during the long evenings at her father’s castle while sewing or darning and doing all the other work that she was expected to carry out for the untidy men folk of the family. His manner had been quite different from that which she had become used to.

  Her mother had died of the vomiting sickness, a lingering lonely death with no one to confess her when she was close to her end. Not even her father had found the courage to attend his wife and comfort her. Petrona had been left with loutish brothers and a father whose temper often left her frightened and crying. Now they were working themselves into fits about Talon for no other reason than he was a stranger in their midst.

  While she had only a sketchy understanding of the feud developing between her father and Sir Hughes she had not until this moment felt involved, hence she had paid no attention whenever Marcel or Roger and her father talked about the land dispute taking place. Petrona didn’t like complicated things in her life and thus shut her ears to the heated discussions, keeping to her tasks, not wanting to incur the ire of her father for some triviality.

  She awoke from her reverie abruptly, as suddenly there were men standing around her and her pony was skittering with fright. Petrona had to rein the pony in and keep her own seat while she tried to comprehend the situation. The men were dirty, armed with bows, and wore hoods of rough cloth that hid most of their faces from her. They looked very frightening. Petrona felt fear deep in the pit of her stomach and regretted not having taken an escort.

  One of the men took her reins and calmed the pony in a foreign language while another came up to her. Her first reaction to the surprise was to raise her whip and start to bring it down upon the head of the man holding her reins but a strong arm came up and a hand stopped her and clasped her wrist. The man threw back his hood and she saw Talon. His hair was long and tousled. He looked none too clean and his cloths were common and rough, but the smile he gave her was disarming and genuine.

  “I believe we have met before, my lady,” he said politely as he released her hand.

  “T-Talon! I did not know you were in this area,” stammered Petrona. Her heart was beating furiously as she tried to bring herself under control.

  “One of my men came and told me we would meet you on this road, my Lady,” he said calmly. “I was concerned enough to come and offer myself and my men as escort to you for the rest of the way home. These are uneasy times and a lady should not be on the road alone.”

  “I have heard that there are bandits who attack people without warning.” said Petrona tartly. She instantly regretted her words.

  Talon frowned. “Indeed, my lady, there have been reports of bandits who burn other people
’s houses and leave them for dead. I wish only to make sure that you are not harmed. Will you allow us to escort you to within sight of the castle? I do not think we will be welcomed at the gates.”

  Petrona looked down at him. What she saw was pleasing in spite of the peasant guise and the grime. She was struck again by his piercing gaze; those green eyes were penetrating. In spite of her attempt to be calm she felt weak. She nodded dumbly and Talon released the pony and fell in alongside her as she led the way. The grassy track was thick with long grass so it was quiet, other than the swish of the men’s leggings in the grass, and she suddenly felt a lot safer with these silent men as they walked alongside with all of the forest to either side.

  They did not say very much. Petrona could see that her escort was very alert and watched the trail ahead and behind carefully. She did ask Talon to tell his version of the “brawl” in Albi, which he did. He told the story in a matter-of-fact manner that she found very believable. She was unwilling to judge him as she had few illusions as to her brother Marcel’s temper nor Roger’s ability to adjust the truth to suit his needs. She engaged him in other matters willingly after that, enjoying his company.

  It seemed but a short while before the castle came into sight. Petrona gave a small inward sigh as she saw it, knowing that the interlude had ended. Then she noticed that there were men coming out of the gates and trotting across the drawbridge. She wondered who it could be, unsure at this distance. She turned to say something to Talon but he had vanished. She was quite alone. Petrona shivered; she had heard nothing of their departure. She was still wondering about this when her brother Roger came cantering up.

  “Where have you been, Petrona? We have been waiting for you.”

  “I was out riding, Brother; I went to the village to obtain some unguents for burns.”