Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  “The village is that way,” Roger said sharply, pointed away from the direction she had come in. “Also, I thought there were people with you? Were there? Where have they gone?” He looked very puzzled.

  “Roger, have you had too much wine? I took a ride and came back the long way. If there are people with me then please thank them for their company as I have not noticed them,” Petrona had the wit to say.

  Roger scowled. “Sister, I do not want you to ride alone anymore. These are dangerous times and I am worried about your safety. That rogue Talon and his murderers are abroad and could harm you.”

  He did not sound convincing. Petrona knew her brother well enough to know that concern for her was not in the forefront of his mind. “I shall remember that, my Brother,” Petrona said, trying to sound contrite.

  “Good. Now come back to the castle and tell the cooks to prepare a good meal. We have visitors and they need entertaining.”

  “Who is here?”

  “The Bishop of Albi,” he said proudly. “He has come to talk to father about the land dispute.”

  They rode together back toward the castle; their escort of two men fell in behind them.

  Talon and his men watched them leave from their hidden positions inside the edge of the forest. Talon looked thoughtful. The others asked him what had been said.

  “Nothing of importance except for one thing,” he replied. “The Bishop of Albi is staying the night.” He turned to Gareth. “This is the man who is one of the judges for the land dispute. Why should he be here in this castle? How can he be a judge and be thick with Sir Guillabert at the same time?”

  Gareth shrugged. “I do not know, Talon, Bach. But it does not sound as though he is being impartial.”

  “No, indeed. I think I heard Roger say the bishop was here for the purpose of discussing the land dispute. Why then has he not visited my father?”

  The four men were crouched a good five yards back inside the woods, well concealed from the road. Talon stood up and began to pace in agitation. “I must know more, but how?”

  They were about to leave when Devonalt seized Talon by the shoulder, forced him down with his great strength and put his finger to his lips. Talon gave him a startled look. Devonalt pointed out onto the track. They all crouched down and listened. Talon was impressed with the man’s keen ears—it was some seconds before he saw what Devonalt had been talking about.

  A party of horsemen was coming down the track, moving quickly and quietly, almost furtively. They were well armed and very alert, watching the sides of the road intently as they rode by. But it was not the men themselves that caught Talon’s attention most—Aicelina was seated at the front of the party on one of the men’s horses, her hands bound. Behind him came another horse and on this was Guillaume, looking small and frightened, and also held by a burly man to prevent him escaping.

  Talon flicked his gaze back to Aicelina and saw that she was limp, with her head lolled back; there was a lived bruise on her cheek.

  Marcel was riding close to both and looking very pleased with himself.

  Talon looked hurriedly about at the men with him and realized that they were too late to do anything but watch. Neither of the prisoners would survive if he charged in at this late moment, although he saw the anger and willingness to do so in his companions.

  They were too few and all they would do would be to alert the men of the castle that they were in the vicinity. He put his finger to his lips and cautioned his men to do nothing. He was thinking furiously as to how he could get into the castle. Marcel was a dead man once he got close to him.

  They watched enraged as the party came to the gates and after an exchange of shouts the drawbridge was lowered. Marcel led the way over and the drawbridge was withdrawn.

  Stand, who comes here? What means this knave to peep

  And skulk abroad, when honest men should sleep?

  Speak, what's thy name? and quickly tell me this,

  Whither thou goest, and what thy business is?

  “Death.”

  Chapter 10

  The Bishop

  Talon gained entry to the castle the hard way. Late that evening, when it was quite dark they gathered at the base of the walls near a corner where there was no activity. While they were all looking up at the dark walls Talon whispered to Gareth that he would go up at that point. Gareth stifled a startled exclamation when he realized what Talon was going to attempt.

  Talon then astonished the archers by climbing the rough stone walls using only his fingers and toes in the crevices just as he had been taught. For him it was relatively easy even in the dark but as he reached the top he heard the muttered exclamations of relief from the archers.

  He had Gareth toss up a rope end which they’d stolen from the village nearby, which was a lot closer than the de Guilles’ fort. It took two tries but he finally had the end in his hand, then pulled the rope up. He estimated the length and then dropped the loose ends down so that he had just the loop at the top which he dropped over one of the stone emplacements. He didn’t want to leave any clues as to how they had departed if he could help it.

  Talon and his men had correctly deduced that the visit of a bishop to the castle of Sir Guillabert would probably take a lot of attention away from the walls. No one was threatening to attack, so there was only a lone sentry walking the battlements near the gateway, his attention more on what was going on inside the castle than without, which suited them well.

  Talon could see all the way along the walkway; there was no one there so he jerked the rope and instantly felt a tug back. The Welshmen were waiting for his return. Not for the first time he gave thanks for these tough men from a distant country who seemed to revel in this kind of thing. He had to firmly refuse to allow any of them to come with him, even when Gareth vehemently begged him.

  “Gareth, this is what I was trained to do when I was with the ’Assassins. Please wait here and cover me if I have to make a quick escape.”

  Gareth, Belth, and Ap-Maddock gave way with ill grace, but he knew they would be there with Drudwas, bow strings taut, when he came back.

  Talon was wearing his forest rags which were of dark brown material and blended well with the dark, but he needed to find a change of clothes if he was to walk freely among the company below. He quickly got off the exposed walkway and descended the wooden stairs to the main courtyard, keeping to the shadows. His plan was sketchy but he hoped that he could masquerade as one of the visitors and find his way into the main keep that way.

  His first objective was to find Aicelina and Guillaume. He had been greatly angered to see them taken prisoners and wondered how it could have happened. Were his parents safe? Had Marcel taken the fort by surprise while he was away? The questions rattled around in his head as he moved cautiously down the steps from the ramparts. He remembered that there had been some nasty-looking hounds in the yard the last time he’d visited and wondered where they might be. He knew he’d be no match for them if they came for him while he was creeping about in the darkness.

  There was a lot of activity. The entire population of the castle was occupied in the business of making sure that the bishop and his men were taken care of. The cooking pits were alight with burning wood that cast a deep red glow over the sweating men who turned the spits. The carcass of a bullock was being basted and huge chunks of cooked meat were being sliced off. Talon’s mouth watered at the smell of it. It had been some time since he had eaten a piece of beef, since he was thirteen when in his father’s castle. It was not a meat commonly eaten in Persia and they had been eating venison at this father’s fort. The cattle would be killed for the winter but for now they were left to eat their fill when let out onto the common ground near to the fort.

  Servants ran about bringing jugs of beer or wine to thirsty throats within. There were shouts from the cooks as they prepared the pies and tarts for the honored guests and called for the servants to hurry up and take them away.

  Talon crouched in the
shadows, watching the activity, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. When it came he found it almost too easy. The man was clearly one of the visitors as he wore a livery that Talon guessed belonged to the bishop. He had not seen any livery on the men in the castle the last time he had visited with his father and uncle. The man came to the corner of the wall and the stairs near Talon to relieve himself.

  Talon came up to his victim without a sound and slipped his blade into the man’s back, exactly placed to reach the heart. His victim died with a huge convulsion, but Talon had a hand was over his mouth to prevent any scream. He held up the corpse for a few more moments and listened tensely in the dark for any indication that the man might have been expecting company.

  After lowering the dead man to the ground, Talon went through the gruesome task of changing clothes with his victim. When he had finished he pulled the heavy body up the stairs as quietly as possible to the battlements and dropped him to the ground on the other side. He was sure the archers would dispose of the body after they had heard its fall. It would be late in the following day when anyone discovered him.

  The next thing he had to do was disguise his face. Talon went down the stairs quickly and headed for the pits. He stood back from the group of Sir Guillabert’s men and when the opportunity presented itself he moved forward casually and took one of the burning brands from the fire. It was not an unusual thing to do—people needed to light torches so they used a brand from the fire.

  He retired to the shadows, dowsed the coals and waited until they were cool. Then, reaching down, he used the dust to change the color of his beard and rubbed it into his hair. He wore a cap that he had taken from his victim but all the same he rubbed it in hard. He hoped fervently that no one would notice. Then he pulled the cap down over his eyes. When satisfied that he was reasonably well disguised, he sauntered out into the main throng of people, adjusting his clothing as though he had just been relieving himself.

  He made his way with the jostling servants toward the doorway of the hall. There he was greeted by a wave of warm air. The hall was full of people. Mostly men-at-arms and some few favored villagers who belonged to Sir Guillabert, but it was quickly clear to Talon that the bishop had come with a sizeable retinue as well. They were seated on benches along either side of the hall mixed in with Sir Guillabert’s men. The high table drew his attention.

  He quickly found Sir Guillabert, Marcel, and Roger. Seated in the place of honor was a man Talon had not seen before; he assumed the man was the bishop. Talon watched him intently. He wanted to recognize the bishop another time. The man obviously enjoyed eating. There was gravy on his chin and he ate the meat like Sir Guillabert, without ceremony, tearing at it with his teeth, using his hands and a knife to cut the meat off in front of his munching jaws. The bishop had a look of arrogance to his features that Talon recognized well. It was clear that this man wielded power and knew how to use it.

  Talon was well shielded from the table by the throng at the main entrance so he could pause and watch. The bishop, seated in the center, was engaged in an intense conversation with Sir Guillabert to his right; Marcel listened intently from his left side. Roger was staring vacantly off into the distance and looked drunk.

  Petrona was seated to the left with the priest who had offered to confess him. She looked distracted and unhappy, although the priest was paying her a lot of attention.

  Talon realized that if she looked up he could be discovered if he lingered at the doorway. He noticed that servants were coming in from behind the trio at the table.

  He moved back into the press at the doorway and then walked purposefully around to the back of the building. There he found what he was looking for, steps led up to a door that in turn led to the kitchens and the living area of the castle. He eased his way in past the sweating men-at-arms and the irritable servants who shouted for way while they carried the food to and fro. It was easy to become lost in this confusion so Talon decided to take the first set of stairs he found and see where it led. He seized a jug of wine that was standing waiting to be taken into the hall and moved out of the main throng.

  Looking purposeful, he searched for and found some stone stairs that led up into the gloom of the upper stories of the keep.

  Checking that he was not being watched or followed, he edged in that direction and then took the stairs. His exploration took him to the first floor where he discovered another chamber from which led short passages. This chamber looked lived in, so he assumed it might be where the family would retire when they had eaten. He looked it over carefully and then took one of the passages to see where it led.

  He was thorough. When he came back he knew exactly where Sir Guillabert, Marcel, and Roger slept. Their chambers were filthy, particularly Roger’s, which stank of sour ale and other unpleasant things. He also knew which was Petrona’s apartment. The rooms prepared for the bishop were adjoining to those of Sir Guillabert. He hadn’t discovered where Aicelina or Guillaume were, and this worried him. He continued looking in the immediate area, hoping that they might have simply locked the two in a room nearby, but no chamber offered them up.

  Talon reasoned that when the meal was over the men, and perhaps Petrona, would come to this anteroom and settle by the merrily glowing fire to talk some more before retiring. He hoped that he could perhaps get close to Petrona and ask her where the prisoners might be. He looked around for some hiding place.

  There were a few rough, moth-eaten tapestries hanging on the stone walls, and a chest nearby. The tapestries presented just enough space to stand behind, although he found he could crouch near the chest that was close by. This afforded him a limited view of the room, but he would hear any conversation well. Near the fire was rough furniture, unadorned wood that would not be very comfortable for a long talk. He found a good place to hide himself that allowed escape if discovered and settled down to wait. He was tense and hoped that they would be sufficiently in their cups not to be too alert; although crowded with furniture, the room was not large and there was the real possibility of discovery.

  If that happened he would be lucky to escape with his life, let alone Aicelina and his brother. He tried to control his breathing and waited. The fire crackled and spat, sounding loud in the silence of the room. He could hear the noise downstairs abating somewhat as the night drew on, while outside the slit of the window the noises of the forest intruded. He heard clearly the bark of a fox and the distant scream of some luckless animal captured by an owl or other predator.

  It was not long before the first visitor came to the room. A servant stamped up the stairs, came in, and quickly replenished the fire with wood from a pile near where Talon hid. Then he was gone and there was silence in the room but for the crackle of the fire and the low-pitched moan of the wind in the stone walls outside, seeking to come in through the rough wooden shutters of the narrow window. The noise from below drifted up the stairs.

  Not very long after the servant had disappeared there was a light step on the stairs and he saw Petrona coming into the room. Talon was just about to show himself to her when a servant girl walked in behind her. He withdrew; he could not risk being seen by a servant who would surely talk, and then Petrona would be compromised.

  They paused briefly to stand near the welcoming fire, but Petrona did not stay. She took the passage to her room followed by her servant. Their conversation faded as they went along the short distance to her apartments. The door opened and shut, once again he was alone with the silence.

  It was not long before the servant girl came back, having finished attending to Petrona. Talon listened to her steps receding down the stairs. No sound came from Petrona’s bed chamber. Once again he was about to move out of his cover to go to her room and wake her when he heard steps on the stairwell below. He drew back quietly into his cover.

  There were heavy steps as more than one man came up. He listened and tried to watch the doorway but it was difficult, so he waited. Sir Guillabert, followed by the bishop, walked in
to the room still talking and then there were two more sets of steps. He reasoned that they were Marcel and the priest’s. He decided that Roger had probably passed out below, dead drunk.

  The men were well into their cups and wanted more for the evening. Guillabert shouted for more wine while the chairs were shuffled about. It was cool in the evenings now so the fire was welcome.

  Talon heard them settling into their respective chairs; someone came and sat down with a thump and a creak of the wooden chair just in front of his hiding place. Then he heard the hurried steps of a servant bringing sweetmeats and more wine. There was idle talk while the guests were served, then when the servant had retired the men got down to the main subject.

  Sir Guillabert opened the conversation. “My Lord Bishop, we have already decided the ownership of the mills, but I need to know what your intent is with regard to the de Gilles fort and the remaining properties once the decision is handed down from the court.”

  “My dear Sir Guillabert, I would have thought that it was obvious. You shall have the fort but we shall share the profits from the land. The Church has no need for a castle, but the revenues from the land, the ferry, the water rights, and the mills, is considerable. We can both do very well from these sources, I am sure,” the bishop replied throatily.

  The voice came from only a couple of feet away from the crouching Talon. He could even smell the heavy perfume the man was doused with.

  “I get the village?” Guillabert asked.

  “I had thought that we should discuss this,” the bishop said comfortably. “The revenue from the woods and the fields on the land Sir Hughes occupies is considerable. I think we need to divide this into equal portions. There will be the need of a priest loyal to me in the village. You do, after all, have this castle.”

  There was a silence for a few minutes while Sir Guillabert digested this.

  “Who is to get the mills, Father?” Marcel asked.