Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  His father grunted. “Marcel makes a good point, m’lord Bishop. We could have one each; they bring good revenue. Let’s not forget the river rights, either. I want part of that; I’ve earned it, by God.”

  “I shall thank you not to blaspheme so much in my presence, Sir Guillabert. It is unseemly before God’s servants. But I do not see a complication there, one each.” There was a short pause. “Did I hear right earlier? That you have taken a maiden and Sir Hughes’ young son prisoner?”

  “Young Marcel here ‘found’ them wandering in the woods by the riverside. He felt it his duty to protect them, my Lord. You never know these days what dangers reside in the woods. Why, only the other day some of my men were attacked and cruelly slain by vagabonds and rogues.”

  The bishop chuckled. “I hope you do not have Sir Hughes banging on these gates demanding them back before I leave.”

  “He doesn't know where they are and certainly not that I took them, Sire,” Marcel said thickly. He sounded heavily into his cups.

  “The girl is worth nothing and will do for a bed companion for one of my sons, but we will use the boy to keep Sir Hughes from making any rash decisions before the court is concluded,” Guillabert said with satisfaction. “Well done, Marcel; you did very well.”

  “What is this I hear about there being some moneys left by your uncle before he died?” the bishop asked silkily, changing the subject.

  There was a pause, “I have heard a rumor, but nothing more,” Guillabert said carefully. “I expect it was only a rumor. Should he have had any I am sure it would have been discovered by now. I ransacked the castle and the fort before that God-cursed de Gilles came back from the Holy Land.”

  “Your uncle was a wealthy man, Sir Guillabert. I wonder indeed if he might have had coin hidden somewhere when he died.”

  “I was not there to hear him say so,” Guillabert said. “It was a frightening time for all. You will recall that my own wife died during the time before this last one.”

  “Yes, I recall the time, and she died alone,” the bishop said dryly. “You realize that although the decision of the court is a foregone conclusion, you might still have to force Sir Hughes out of the castle.”

  “That will be arranged. He will not make it back to the castle after the court hearings. My people will deal with him and that whelp of his long before they get home.”

  The bishop gave short a bark of laughter. “I hear that whelp of Sir Hughes is making life difficult for Marcel here,” he said unsympathetically.

  “That will not continue for very long hereafter, my Lord Bishop,” Marcel snarled truculently, “One way or the other, I shall finish that heretic.”

  “Oh, heretic, you say? What is this I hear?” the bishop demanded.

  “You might not know this, my Lord, but he lived for many years among the Saracen and as such is a heathen,” Marcel blurted out.

  “My Lord, I believe this to be true.” This came from the priest who had remained silent up to now. “I had occasion to talk to a priest who traveled the same road from the coast. I also had cause to meet him when I went to the de Gilles fort to remonstrate with Sir Hughes about the lawful will of your uncle Sir Guillabert. He is impenitent and without doubt a dangerous heretic in his heart.”

  “How interesting! Then we should remove the boy from the game using all the power of the Church to do so,” mused the bishop. “That means prison and a trial for heresy. There is only one route out of that prison and it is to the stake. This removes any subsequent claims to the land. Finally, there is the young brother whom we have here, in any case.”

  “Indeed, my Lord Bishop.”

  “Then you should see to it that he does not inherit, either,” came the chilling comment.

  There was a silence for a couple of long seconds and then the sound of a hand slapping a thigh. “You are not a man I would cross lightly, my Lord Bishop.” Sir Guillabert laughed a nasty laugh that sent chills down Talon’s back. Everybody else laughed.

  In his hiding place Talon felt his anger rising. These men had decided upon the complete destruction of his family and the bishop was abetting them.

  The conversation became desultory after that. The bishop decided to retire and was seen off by the unctuous Guillabert and his son. The priest went back down the stairs after bidding all good night. Father and son stayed and drank more wine while they discussed the visit and its implications. Marcel was slurring his words while he talked about the future. It was clear that he wanted the fortress for himself and was urging his father to grant it to him. But Guillabert chided him for neglecting his brother, chuckling at the silence with which this was greeted.

  Talon wondered if it would not be a good idea to kill them both right there and then, but the risk of one or the other shouting for help was too great. He needed to get out of the place and find Aicelina and his brother, then take the information home.

  Eventually, both men left for their respective bed chambers. The room darkened as the candles went out one by one, leaving only the glow of the embers in the fireplace to light the room.

  He could hear snoring from the chambers where Guillabert slept and once again he thought about taking the man’s life. It would be so easy. He thought about the bishop and made up his mind: He would kill the bishop; that man was the pivot of the whole plan. If he could he would take out Guillabert as well, as the man still posed a threat. His anger threatened to overcome him, but he realized that if he was to achieve his purpose he must stay icy calm. He took a deep quiet breath, stood up, and made his way carefully toward the entrance that led to the bishop’s rooms. The noise from below had died to a murmur as the remaining men drank themselves senseless with what was left of the wine and beer. There would be a lot of thick heads in the morning.

  He was close to the doorway to the bishop’s rooms when there was a noise on the stairway below. Talon looked around frantically for a hiding place in the short corridor, but there was nowhere to hide. Hastily he retreated to his previous place of concealment and hid there waiting.

  Two men came up the stairs, one of them the priest, who asked for more light. He had work to do he told the other and this was as good a room as any. It was clear that he was talking to a servant who brought more candles and left him alone. Talon watched the priest while he settled into his chair and began to work on some papers. The light of the candles flickered and danced in the draft that came up the stairs and window but the priest concentrated on his work, oblivious of everything.

  Talon eased himself out of the hiding place and moved silently across the room. He moved so lightly the priest could not have seen even a flicker from the candle flame. Talon came to the opening which led to Petrona’s apartment and was just crossing this to get to the stairway when the priest suddenly stood up and stretched. He turned as he did so and faced directly toward where Talon had been.

  Talon slipped silently into the room where Petrona slept. He could hear her breathing quietly in the darkness, very close to him as he stood inside the doorway. To his dismay he heard the priest coming along the short corridor toward the door, it could only have been the priest. After a very hurried fumble he located the latch wedge and slipped it into place. Then, to his astonishment, there was a light knock on the door. Petrona slept on. There was a furtive attempt to open the latch, but as it held this soon ceased. Then there was another knock, this time more urgent.

  Petrona stirred and sat up in the bed. It was impossible for her not to see Talon within a second. He turned and grasped her by the shoulders with one hand and put his other over her mouth and whispered urgently for her to stop and listen.

  “It is me, Talon. Listen, Petrona, the priest is outside and wants entrance to this chamber. Did you agree to that?” She calmed and then shook her head vehemently.

  “You must call back and threaten to wake the house if he persists.”

  He released her and took his hand off her mouth. His heart was beating wildly. She could denounce him then and there an
d he would be dead, or she could help him. He waited tensely.

  There was another knock on the door and a whispered request, barely audible through the thick wood of the door, and again there was an attempt to open it.

  “Go away, whoever you are, or I shall call the servants,” Petrona called out in a loud tone.

  Talon let out his breath. The sound of someone leaving could just be heard outside. Talon listened intently and thought he could hear the priest go down the stairs. He could hardly believe it had happened. The man had actually thought he could bed the girl. He wondered what the brothers at the abbey would have thought of that. He would have laughed if it had not been such a tense situation.

  He did not have time to reflect long, however.

  “Is that really you, Talon? What are you doing here, in God’s name! In my bed chamber, too! Who was that outside my room just now?”

  He gave a vague answer. “I got into the castle to find my brother, Petrona, and then I decided I wanted to see you again. The man outside was the priest.”

  “The priest?” She gave a giggle. “I knew he wanted to bed me. He hinted all night while father and the bishop were talking to each other. The disgusting toad!”

  There was a silence, then a hand came out and grasped his shirt to pull him down into the bed with her. He put out a hand to stop himself from falling over her and it landed on her breast. She gave a subdued gasp. He discovered that she was quite naked. He pulled back but she held onto his tunic firmly.

  “You have found me now, Talon. What do you intend to do?” she purred.

  “Can you tell me where they have taken my brother and his nurse?” he whispered back urgently.

  “I cannot believe Marcel would do what he did, Talon. I am sorry for your brother. Do you really think you can rescue him?”

  “If you can tell me where he is locked up I am sure of it.”

  “They are held in the strong-room near to the kitchens. They are under guard.”

  “How many guards are there?”

  “Probably one or two of my father’s men.” She gave him clear instructions on how to get into the kitchens and then the strong-room where the prisoners were held.

  “I thank you, Petrona, for your kindness, and now I must leave.” He was about to pull away but her hand gripped his shirt harder.

  There was a silence for a couple of seconds and then she whispered. “If you leave me now Talon, I shall be hurt. Are you a gentleman or not? I would know.”

  He moved back from her, still sitting on the bed. “What would you have me do, Petrona?”

  There was a tense silence. He waited in the darkness. There was a rustle of the linen bed sheets and the bed creaked. He sensed that she had settled back into the bed.

  Talon said nothing. Petrona, thinking he wavered, raised her voice. “I am in earnest Talon,” she warned.

  “Petrona, I need desperately to release my brother. You may not know it but your father and brothers mean him harm.”

  “They only want to keep him ’til the trial is over, they told me so.”

  “Petrona!” He put more urgency into his voice. “I have to get him out of here or he might not live. I know what your brothers have told you, but it's a lie.”

  Again there was silence, but this time he could sense her uncertainty. Finally, she said, “If you must go, then go!” Her voice had become sharp and he even wondered if she would betray him.

  He knew Petrona wanted him to tarry and he even suspected that she had been inviting him into her bed but he thought he had managed to persuade her to let him leave.

  He decided that at least she was entitled to a kiss of thanks and leaned over her and aimed a kiss at her lips. He connected but then she wrapped her arms around him and returned the kiss forcefully. He finally managed to extricate himself and sat up, holding her hands in his.

  “Goodnight, Petrona, and God bless you for helping me.”

  “Go, Talon, for I am close to keeping you with me,” she whispered and sitting up, she kissed him again. Then let him go and lay back in the pillow. “Goodnight, Talon,” she whispered.

  Talon eased himself out of Petrona’s bedchamber. He looked very carefully for evidence of the priest, but that worthy had gone to bed it seemed, his ardor thwarted for the evening.

  His pulse still pounding from his encounter, Talon went cautiously down the stairs, listening for any signs of activity below. He need not have worried; most of the people in the hallway were asleep except for a few too drunk to notice him slipping by.

  The servants had departed for their beds, leaving the scullery servants to sleep where they could. He stepped carefully along the filthy flagstones of the corridor that led to the kitchens, strewn with bits of vegetables, bone and flesh, already stinking of rot. He nearly trod on the tail of a cat half hidden in a corner eating some piece of meat. It hissed at him and fled into the darkness. Once there he was forced to take care, as it was only dimly lit by a dying candle and the flag stones were slippery with blood and filth from the guts of the slaughtered birds and small animals. He could hear rats already out squeaking and rustling among the filth.

  He traversed the length of the kitchen. Peering around the corner of a doorway that led into the dark recesses of the pantry, he spied a guard asleep against a doorway. There was no sign of the other. Talon knew he would have to either kill the man to get to the door or bluff his way. Deciding upon the latter course he walked boldly up to the man and kicked him in the thigh.

  “Wake up, you idiot,” he hissed. “The master will have your head if he finds you like this.”

  The man stirred slowly awake, mumbling.

  “I have come for the boy. The bishop wants to see him and the girl is to be taken to Sir Guillabert. I shall do that, too.” Talon spoke quietly, not wanting to wake anyone else.

  The guard looked up at him and then sat up. He peered at the uniform Talon was wearing; as it was that of the bishop, he didn’t seem to want to dispute it.

  “All right, all right, hold your piss, I’ll get the key,” he grumbled, clearly upset at being awakened. He fumbled around on a nearby bench and produced the heavy key which he gave to Talon. “Sir Guillabert wants a piece of leg, eh?” he leered.

  Talon grinned and shrugged, spreading his hands. “I don’t care what they want, they are the masters and I just do their bidding then I can go to bed.”

  The guard now sat on a three-legged stool and rubbed his face with a pair of dirty hands as though to clear the cobwebs. “Here, take it, and open the door yourself,” he growled, looking around for a drink.

  Talon was happy to oblige. He took the key and ran it into the door lock then pushed the stout wooden door inward. He could barely see inside, but there was a scuffle as though someone was trying to hide and then silence. Talon pretended to be annoyed.

  “Hey, you in there, come out where I can see you. I have to take you to see the bishop and no nonsense.”

  First Aicelina came slowly toward him a defensive look on her face that became incredulous, followed by a suppressed gasp of surprise when she recognized Talon despite his crude disguise, standing there looking belligerent.

  He quickly put a finger for the briefest moment to his lips and then spoke again. “Get out of there, you, or I’ll come in and get you.”

  Aicelina turned and whispered something into the darkness. Guillaume came out of the dark hesitantly, his eyes wide, staring at his brother in the doorway. Aicelina whispered again, put her finger to his lips and took his hand. He said nothing but continued to stare at Talon.

  “Come along, come along. I haven’t got all night,” Talon said roughly and he made a threatening gesture toward them. Guillaume was scared enough to actually shrink from him.

  The two came out of the darkened space and into the candlelight. The guard looked blearily at Aicelina and his eyes widened. Even in her dirtied dress and with her hair disheveled she still looked very attractive. The guard muttered a curse and stood up as though to move ove
r to her.

  He never made it; Talon quickly picked up the stool the guard had been sitting on and brought it down on the back of his head with a sharp crack.

  The man fell forward without a sound. Hurriedly, Talon reached down and grabbed the guard’s feet and dragged him into the pantry room. After locking the door behind him he looked up; Aicelina, still holding onto Guillaume by the hand, was peering out into gloom of the larger kitchen to see if anyone was coming. Talon admired her composure; despite the ordeal she had been subjected to she seemed to be able to keep her wits about her and remain alert.

  He joined them and then he moved forward, beckoning her behind him. They scurried across the filthy floor and made it to the entrance to the short corridor that led to both the hall and the outside doors.

  No one moved but there were loud snores coming from the hall as they moved by the entrance. They crept past the door that led to the stairway and Talon glanced up into the dim space. No one moved upstairs. They had almost made it to the doorway when he heard footsteps outside the wooden door, which was closed and latched. Someone was coming to the door from the other side. Talon pushed Aicelina back against the wall into the shadows and waited. He prayed that it would be only one man. The door was unlatched and pushed open; Talon could only make out a single guard in the semi-darkness, standing on the top of the outside stairs, carrying a spear and a flaming torch above his head. He was about to enter when he saw Talon standing boldly in the entrance.

  Talon was still dressed in the livery of the bishop. The man peered at him and seemed to recognize the uniform.

  “You are up late, man,” he said.

  “Bishop’s business; he never seems to sleep. God’s blood, but I am tired,” Talon said, moving closer to the man who stood in his path. “What are you doing here?”

  “I am going to relieve the guard for the prisoners...”

  He got no further. Talon seized his shoulder with one iron hand and with his right stabbed the man up under his rib cage. The man gasped and dropped the torch. Before he could cry out, Talon had his hand over his mouth and held him. There was a weak struggle, but the man was mortally wounded and he soon sagged in Talon’s arms to the ground. Talon glanced around to see if anyone had witnessed the killing.