Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  Talon thought he heard some shouting and guessed that the bodies had been discovered; but it was not long before the shouts faded to nothing and Talon felt it safe to slow their headlong rush. He stopped Jabbar on a small rise, both to rest the blowing horses and to listen for pursuit. But for the sound of small birds in the uppermost branches of the tall trees, the forest was silent.

  “We have to find our way out of here and head north to a place called Auch. I remember Sir Guy talking about that town. He said that Prince Richard would be there hunting. The Prince is waiting for a message from Sir Guy, but I do not think it will be delivered now,” he told Anwl.

  Anwl, who was quite at home in the forest, indicated that north was in the direction he pointed and they could proceed. They dismounted to rest the horses, which were still blown from the mad dash out of danger, but all the while they walked they listened to the forest for any clue as to who might be following them still.

  Anwl was aggrieved. “I thought you were told this was to be a gentle visit to a Prince, Talon? This is not gentle!”

  Talon was anguished. “For the love of God, I do not understand what is happening, Anwl. But I fear our good Count anticipated this, or something like it, and now we are to deliver a message to a place I have never been, to a man I do not know, and have never even seen before.”

  “Do not fear, m’lord. If we can find the road again we might be ahead of these men and have a chance of making this Auch place before them. In which case you can bear witness against them. Would you recognize any of them again? In any case, we must find the town you speak of and try to find the Prince, should we not?” he asked anxiously.

  Talon shook his head. “There was only the one with his helmet off, a man with red hair and a wide face. He I would recognize in the middle of a pitched battle, but none of the others… not one, God curse them! Sir Bertrand called a name. Cumb’land I think it was, but I am not very sure. What did Lord Guy do to deserve this? I don't think it was meant to end in this manner,” he muttered, “Come Anwl, You're right we must press on and try to get to the town before those murdering cutthroats.”

  They rode all the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon before the forest began to thin out indicating that there might be signs of human habitation and cultivation. They rode with extra care after this, staying away from any large tracks, keeping instead to the narrow trails that wove in and out of the stands of trees. Despite this, they ran into woodsmen who had been cutting trees and charcoal maker huts along the way. None of these filthy and ragged people tried to stop them however, other than to greet them respectfully with curious looks. They appeared to be pondering as to what two riders were doing in this remote area of the forest.

  Anwl with unerring accuracy held them in a north westerly direction, saying that the road had followed this course before they left it. Late in the afternoon they passed what looked like a monastery perched on a hill, and Talon would have dearly liked to have taken shelter there. But, even with his fears and uncertainties, he knew their mission was to find the Prince and warn him of the treachery, despite the unknown dangers that might await them in the town.

  Soon after they crested a hill and saw what appeared to be a sizable town in the distance. It was seated on a high wide hill and contained what seemed to be a church or cathedral and a massive castle with many tall towers, all clustered tightly together. The town had high walls built all round the one side they could see. There was a river flowing at the base of the hill providing further defense against a would be besieger. They could see boats sailing up and down the water.

  It seemed to the two weary travelers that this must be the town they were seeking.

  “I wonder if that is Auch,” Talon asked himself.

  “It is a great town, m’lord. It seems to be almost as large as Carcassonne. We have no choice but to ask,” said Anwl. “There are carts down there, we could ask the farmers,” he added pointing.

  With great caution they approached the carts stopped on the side of the road where some peasants were seated eating and Talon asked them the name of the town.

  He was told it was indeed Auch and that, yes, it was known the English Prince was in residence. The peasants were going to the market which was to open the next day.

  “Have you seen any other travelers going along this road towards the town today?” asked Talon.

  “No m’lord, but there was a large group of English going the other way last evening. Most of the travelers around here are the pilgrims.”

  Talon turned to Anwl. “It must have been the men we had the misfortune to encounter, Anwl. You were right; we are ahead of them and must get within the gates before nightfall and hide.”

  Thanking the peasants they galloped the last mile or so to the city gates, arriving in time to join a party of peddlers and other people with laden donkeys who were about to gain admittance. There were the usual heads on spikes above the gate and even a corpse hanging from the limb of a nearby tree to greet them.

  The soldiers waved them in and the two trotted their horses along the cobbled streets towards the center looking for the entrance to the castle.

  They passed the by now familiar mounds of filth at every corner, and the sides of the street they rode along were piled with dirt and other stinks that made Talon want to gag. There were a lot of people milling about near the center of the town at the entrance to the large twin towered church.

  “They are pilgrims, I think, m’lord,” Anwl told Talon when he asked. According to Anwl the men and women carried the staff and cup that was associated with those on a pilgrimage, some even wore elaborate badges on the front of their tunics indicating from where they had come. Talon wondered if this town contained a famous shrine. He’d heard about those.

  He thought that he could ride up to the gates of the castle and demand entrance to see the Prince. But in this he was to be disappointed, as the guards were English and spoke only a smattering of French. They were not interested in a young man impudently asking to see the Prince for whatever reason. Talon even tried to invoke Lord Guy’s name but they were not interested in that either. They barred his entrance with long pikes and made it clear that if he tried to ride past they would use them.

  Angry and frustrated, Talon turned away and he and Anwl set about finding a likely place where they could stable their mounts and hide themselves while they decided upon their next move.

  Not far into the town they had passed a narrow street where they noticed a hostel, so they went back and turned in there. For a few coppers they were given stalls for the animals which they unsaddled and rubbed down, then fed.

  But finding accommodation was hard and Talon had to pay a high price for a room they would share in a rundown inn. The landlord told him that all the rooms were taken because it was the season for pilgrims heading south and Santiago de Compostela.

  “Where is this shrine?” asked Talon innocently.

  The man smirked at his lack of knowledge. “Why, everyone knows it's on the other side of the Pyrenees mountains and a long way from here. These poor fools have a long, long way to go and many a trial ahead of them. They will worship at the cathedral here and then make their way in large numbers to the south, and we will have a little peace for a while. That is when the English will have left too. Those soldiers are animals, they drink and whore like there is no tomorrow!” He gave another gap toothed grin and told them where to find their room.

  “I have to gain entrance to the castle and find the Prince urgently,” said Talon to Anwl. While they were leaving after the altercation with the guards Talon’s eyes had been busy. The fortifications were nowhere as good as those of Carcassonne nor quite as high; and he felt reasonably certain that he could gain entry, if he had to, by other means.

  Later that afternoon they were seated at the table of a nearby tavern eating a stew of goat’s meat and a huge loaf of bread washed down with a flask of sour wine. As dusk drew in, the tavern began to fill up. A girl in a dirty apro
n walked round the tables lighting thick candles, while the tavern keeper stayed near the kitchen and shouted orders to people bustling about within.

  Most of the customers were French speaking, either peddlers or merchants, with the occasional farmer and better off pilgrim. There were some English soldiers in a corner drinking mead and playing dice, their spears stacked untidily in a corner. Apparently they felt secure here in this inn.

  Anwl glowered at the English soldiers, muttering a curse in Welsh under his breath. Clearly he did not like them; but, apart from that, he concentrated on the conversation with Talon.

  “I shall go into the castle tonight, Anwl. We just have to find a quiet place where I can climb the walls undisturbed.” Talon whispered.

  Anwl looked across at Talon, his eyes questioning, but he nodded. He knew enough about his young leader to know that if he said he could get into the palace, then he could.

  Talon had purchased a small square of parchment from a street vendor and a quill and some ink. He busied himself with the note he was writing while Anwl kept watch for any unwelcome intrusions. The girl came and lit their candle and expressed interest in what Talon was doing; but he paid her no attention and Anwl waved her away. She left with an irritated swing of her hips.

  Once the note was completed Talon blew on the wet ink to dry it then folded the scrap of parchment carefully into a small package which he put into the folds of his tunic. They were now dressed in common homespun clothes which a few coins had purchased and were therefore indistinguishable from anyone else in the room. They carried only knives on their persons having reluctantly left their bows and swords in the flea-ridden room they had rented earlier.

  They finished their meal and pulling the hoods of their outer tunics over their heads to hide their faces they walked along the main road of the town. They joined the last crowd of the day as people made their way to their homes or traveled toward other drinking taverns.

  There were several in the town, the one nearest the gates of the palace was full of off duty English soldiers who were well into their cups, some singing drinking songs, others playing dice and others quarreling. One or two were sprawled out dead drunk in the filthy ditch nearby, ignored by their companions who were trying hard to get into the same state of inebriation.

  Apart from casting a wary eye over the less drunken soldiers, Talon paid them no attention as he concentrated on his objective. He was walking slowly along the bank across from the walls of the castle looking as unobtrusively as he could at the battlements above them; there was no moat.

  The ancient walls were made of rough stone and mortar, the mortar being worn away between the stones, which left nice spaces for fingers to grip. His heart quickened as he realized that these walls at least would not be a problem. What he wanted, however, was a quiet location where people did not come by very often and where there might be dark shadows.

  They discovered it after walking for half an hour slowly around the castle base. They had had to dodge the many drunken soldiers that were staggering from one ale house to another. With the English Prince in the town the townspeople were doing a roaring trade in ale, wine and whoring.

  They paused at the place where Talon intended to climb. Anwl looked up and said quietly, “Are you sure you can climb this wall, m’lord? It looks both high and dangerous.”

  “I have climbed much harder in the dark, Anwl. This will be easy by comparison. We will wait near here, and when it's dark enough I shall climb it. Do keep watch, but I shall be gone for several hours, as I have to find the Prince and then get him alone and talk to him, or at least leave a message for him to read in private.”

  The climb went much as he expected, although on one occasion some drunken soldiers decided to sit at the base of the wall, while he was suspended half way up, and have a drunken argument that led to knives being drawn and much shouting.

  One of the sentries further along the way shouted down at the weaving men and they left, shouting back and making obscene gestures at the invisible person on the battlements above. Talon slowly let out his breath when they and the sentry finally moved on. He was tucked into a corner formed by the wall and a buttress, in deep darkness, and his arms and calves ached with the strain of hanging there for so long without movement.

  He eased his way up the remainder of the wall and very carefully peered over the battlements to see if there was anyone nearby. He could make out the figure of a man standing about thirty feet away leaning on the battlements looking down at the flickering lights of the town. He was probably wishing that he too could be down there drinking himself insensible with his comrades.

  Talon slipped over the edge and disappeared into the dark shadows of the nearby tower where he rested for a while to ease his cramped limbs.

  He now had to make his way into the inner keep where the Prince would be dining at this time or even in his own chambers. But first he had to find out what the Prince looked like. He hoped that the Prince would still be dining so that he could see him in the hall, but there was a lack of noise that told him the feasting might be over. It was by now quite late.

  He contemplated the rough walls of the towers before him without enthusiasm. Keeping to the shadows, Talon slipped along the inside of the castle outer wall until he came to a large entrance guarded by men at arms. The area was well lit by numerous torches in sconces along the walls. These men wore a triple lion coat of arms on their tunics which Talon assumed belonged to the Prince. He had to get past them and into the inner keep somehow; he faded into the darkness to think about it.

  Fortune favored his patience because a group of people attended by servants came walking by. Without waiting Talon seized a torch and joined the group. Their path was lit by torches carried by these and other servants at the front of the group of chattering men and women. At the back Talon drew no attention. People seemed to think he was just another servant in attendance.

  As they approached the doorway the guards came to attention and respectfully lifted their pikes to allow the group through. Talon followed, pretending to be attentive to the people around him and ignoring the guards. His interest in the people he accompanied sharpened, these were not ordinary folk.

  The group spoke French but they were not of the Languedoc, that much he could ascertain. He assumed they were therefore from Aquitaine, but they kept using words in another language so it was somewhat confusing to listen to them.

  Nonetheless they had enabled him to gain entrance and he was just about to leave them when one of the people in the front used the words “My Lord Richard.”

  Talon froze. This had to be the Prince and a small group of his nobles and ladies. He took off his cowl, which inside the building would have made him conspicuous, and decided to stay with the group to see where they went. He looked about for hounds as these would be the greatest obstacle to his getting close to the prince, but there were none with the party so he walked on with them, hoping he would not encounter any.

  In fact the cheerful group wanted warmth and hot wine, which was called for as all of them walked up some wide stone stairs towards the entrance of another low ceilinged chamber that seemed to be private quarters. There were men at arms at this entrance too, but again the party passed through without being challenged.

  Talon gave a swift assessment of the room, deposited his torch in a vacant sconce nearby, and left the group for the darkness of the corners. He hid behind some pillars, then waited to see what would happen. In this light he did not think he could be recognized by anyone present, but in his present mode of dress he now stood out as a servant.

  He noticed a hound lying in the corner near the fire, but to his relief it showed no interest in him, preferring it seemed to be near the warmth of the fire rather than investigating the dark corners of the room.

  There was much banter and laughter from the group at the witticisms of the lead person who now stood by the fire. Clearly the people were pandering to the man’s ego as they laughed at almost everything
he said, and it was equally clear that he enjoyed the attention. Now Talon could see the features of the man he searched for. At least he assumed it was the Prince.

  The man was tall and muscular; his trimmed beard only partially hid strong, angular features and a sensual mouth. His voice was a deep baritone and his laugh infectious. He made an imposing figure dressed in tight silk doublet and fine wool leggings. His long cloak swirled in the torchlight as he turned from one to the other. Talon’s assumptions were confirmed when the conversation diverted from jokes to a question put by the same man.

  “Has anyone heard tell of Lord Guy at all today?”

  “None, my Lord. Was he not due back today from Carcassonne?”

  “According to the messenger he sent he was, and his escort was to be Sir Nigel, who has not reported anything amiss, as far as I know it, My Lord Prince.” said another.

  A log fell with a shower of sparks illuminating the faces of the whole party grouped around the fire. Talon gave a small gasp. Among the gathering of men and women was a face that he would never forget. The same face of the man at the ford who had been shouting orders. He had thought a voice among the crowd had sounded familiar but now there was a face to go with it.

  Talon’s first instinct was to rush out and denounce the man, but then common sense told him that it might be the last thing he ever did, as there would be an excuse to kill him for supposedly attacking the royal person. Instead he contained his impatience and waited and watched from the darkness.

  The mulled wine came and the people drank. More banter was exchanged but it was getting late so, one by one or in pairs, the group of people excused themselves, leaving only the Prince and an older man with a long gray beard talking by the fire. The two sat in large chairs and the old man constantly leaned forward to rub his hands, complaining about the rheumatism in his fingers.

  The murderer had left some time ago with a couple of his people. They walked close by Talon, totally unaware of his presence, but he could have reached out and cut the man’s throat.