Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  Talon gave the ring back to the knight then called out to Anwl that all was well, and after Anwl had shown himself they set off southeast to find the ford.

  It was quite dark by the time they came to the scene of the tragedy. The silence of the place was in keeping, Talon thought, as there were new ghosts in the area. They found the field again, and the horses shied at some dark shapes lying in the middle near to a large tree. It was Bertrand, or what remained of him, alongside his horse and several other men whom he had doubtless slain before he himself died.

  They settled in for a cold night with no fire. Talon and Anwl were grateful for the hunk of cheese and stale bread that was pressed upon them by Sir Harold, however.

  The next morning dawned cold and wet with a light rain. The men huddled in their cloaks and watched as Talon took Sir Harold over the details of the fight near the ford and then back into the field.

  Talon stood over the body of Sir Bertrand in silence, Anwl by his side.

  “He was a brave man, Anwl; how I misunderstood him!”

  “Aye, he was that, m’lord. May God have mercy upon hi' soul!” they crossed themselves in silence.

  His thoughts were of the man who he had not trusted simply because of his demeanor, but the man had been a true knight and had served his Prince to the death. Talon hoped that he might one day have the courage to meet his fate with such loyalty as this man. He muttered a prayer for the fallen knight just before the English soldiers came to collect the body and place it alongside the others they had discovered.

  The bodies of the other slain men were dumped together in a ditch just out of sight of the road. No attempt to bury them had been made so identification was easy. They had been known to this party.

  They found Sir Nigel lying almost where he had fallen off to the side of the road on the northwest side of the ford. His body was like that of the others, mutilated and torn where wild animals had eaten at the exposed flesh.

  Sir Harold and his men were deeply angry and there were anguished shouts of rage as the men swore revenge upon the perpetrators of the crimes they were looking at.

  The knight, however, composed himself enough to send off men to bring several carts from a nearby village and then addressed Talon.

  “There is one curious thing. There is no sign of my Lord Guy. This must mean that they took him prisoner, God protect him. My Prince must find out where before they torture him to death.

  “My liege told me that once we were here to let you go. He told me not to ask you where you were going, so all I can do is to wish you God speed and hope you arrive at your destination alive and well, Sir Talon. Go with God,” he said.

  They clasped hands and parted. Talon waved as they took to the road and headed south into the misty day. Sir Harold did not notice, however. He was engrossed in the gristly business of recovering the corpses of the soldiers.

  The two men arrived at Carcassonne late at night and had to talk their way into the city using the Count’s name. They were forced to wait outside while the confused sentries went to find a knight who would have the authority to let them in.

  Eventually they heard the drawbridge creaking downward to land with a thump on the bank. Men with pikes and torches raised high walked along the bridge to look at the two travel weary men before them.

  “What is it that cannot wait until the morning?” asked a man in a truculent tone. Clearly these men had been abed and resented being woken at this time of night.

  “I have business with the Count and it cannot wait. His orders were to report to him no matter what time of night or day,” answered Talon tiredly.

  “God help you if you're lying!” said the same man.

  He barked an order and a group of pike men surrounded the two, who were told to dismount and follow them into the town.

  It was not a long walk to the castle proper but to a weary Talon it seemed far.

  Half an hour later, after much discussion and waiting while a knight was dispatched to see if the Count would see them, Talon was summoned. Leaving Anwl with the horses and the escort, Talon was ushered into the same chamber he had been in before he had started his journey. There was a cheerful fire going in a grate in the middle of the room, the smoke leaving via a hole in the tower roof.

  The Count turned when he heard Talon enter and greeted him.

  “Well, young knight, you have returned. With good news, I hope?” The Count was dressed in a loose robe as though he had just come from the bed chamber.

  Talon knelt in front of the Count and said, “I met with the Prince, my Liege, but the circumstances were much different than those which either you or I had anticipated.”

  The Count told him to rise. He handed Talon a silver goblet brimful of mulled wine. Talon sipped the hot brew gratefully, warming his hands on the hot cup.

  “There is cold food on a tray over there,” the Count indicated a table nearby. “You can tell me what I want to hear as you eat.”

  “My Lord, I think that on balance the news is good, and I have a message for your ears only, my Lord,” Talon said between mouthfuls of chicken.

  “There is none but us two in this room. Say it and then tell me in your words what transpired.”

  Talon then recited the message from the Prince. The Prince thanked the Count for his support and generosity for such a gift that Richard would not forget. However due to circumstances he would have to wait for a while, as the spies were so thick on the ground that he could barely tell who was working for his father or for himself. Richard told the Count that he had to tread carefully, as his father was jealous of his kingdom and there was a lot of suspicion about. Therefore it would not hurt to wait a while. He would send word when the time came.

  In the meantime the prince complemented the Count upon his messenger and his skill at gaining entrance to a well guarded castle. The Count gave a questioning look at that, but Talon hurried on to tell him of the ambush and the disappearance of Lord Guy, recounting in detail the circumstances surrounding that grim event. He presented the ring and mentioned Richard’s words. The Count was aghast at the news of the ambush and presumed capture or death of Lord Guy, but he nodded approval over the ring.

  “It was well that I sent you and that the parchment was a diversion and held nothing other than greetings to the Prince. They can do nothing with that to further their ends.

  “This ring is proof enough that you met with the prince, Sir Talon. The old king is not about to share his kingdom with any of his sons, so Richard might have to carve out his portion one day, and I think it will be Aquitaine. It does no harm for me to keep on good terms with him should he become my neighbor. If Richard gave you this, then you did him a great service. You must keep it for it is a pass to his lands, and one never knows when it might be needed. Keep it well.”

  When Talon was done the Count offered him another goblet of wine. Talon declined politely. He was exhausted and just wanted his bed.

  “I would keep you near me, Talon, as you have served me well, but I hear that there is a problem of land ownership between your father and your mother’s cousin. You must go and help protect your father’s interests; and be assured, when the case comes to the court, as surely it will, then your father will be well regarded. When that is over, you will be commanded to attend my court.”

  On that note Talon realized he was dismissed. He knelt and kissed the hand of his liege Lord and left the room.

  Two days later they left for Albi.

  All door-ways

  Before going forward,

  Should be looked to;

  For difficult it is to know

  Where foes may sit

  - Unknown Poet

  Chapter 17

  Ambush

  The journey home was full of good cheer. Although it could be said that most of the men in Sir Philip’s entourage, including Talon, had mild hangovers, they were still happy to be going home to the uncomplicated existence at the modest fortress, Fort De Gilles, as it was becoming know
n. During the ride, Philip leaned over to Talon and told him that he had spent some time with the Count talking about the situation at home.

  “The Count told me that he was angered that a man who had fought the good fight in the Holy Land should be treated in this manner, Talon. He told me that his representative would watch the court carefully for any signs of treachery.”

  “I wonder what that means,” Talon responded.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I was much encouraged all the same.”

  “Please do not think I doubt the Count’s concern, but it would seem that even he has to be careful with the church and its ways.”

  “He did suggest that we do not seek to engage Sir Guillabert in open conflict while we await the courts to convene.”

  Talon concurred; they could only lose an all out battle with Guillabert and his mercenaries.

  He thought back to the final evening at the court of Carcassonne. Elena had stayed close to him for the remainder of the day, but they had not stayed with the others long that night as she wanted to take him into the gardens. “For a walk,” she had said, but his senses told him it might be more than just that.

  In fact, she had wanted to walk, and hold him, and talk, too. They had not been alone in the gardens on this warm balmy night. There was muffled laughter and small rustlings and sighs in various dark corners of the gardens.

  “You are a strange man, Talon from the Holy Land, a fine and accomplished warrior. My father would have good use for a man of your caliber.”

  “Why, my Lady, I am flattered. But why do you tell me this?”

  “My brother is very impressed with you and asked me to tell you. You should also know that my father is a vassal of the Count of Carcassonne so there would be no conflict there as to loyalty. But also...” She paused, looking down at the ground, hesitating. Then she lifted her head and told him softly. “I, too, have strong feelings for you.”

  “My lady, you barely know me.”

  She took his sleeve. “A woman cannot say when and where her love will commence, Talon.”

  He had been too surprised to answer.

  She led the way into a bower of low trees and bushes, and there in the darkness she turned and faced him. Taking hold of both his hands, she said, “I want you to love me as a woman. I am sure that you are as gentle to a female as you are harsh to your opponents on the field. My blood has sung a song for you since the tournament.”

  He was about to refuse as nicely as he knew how; but, as though anticipating him, she placed his hand on her breast and whispered, “Does your blood not sing too, my warrior from another land?”

  Much later they had made their way back to the hall, but their friends were gone and the hour late. Elena kissed him goodbye with tears in her eyes. “I was right... you are gentle. Remember what I asked before, Talon. There is time before you answer. Fare thee well, we will meet again.”

  The small party stayed the night at one of the fortified villages along the route after a long day. It was a good three days’ ride to Albi and they hoped to be able to make it back before sunset on the third day.

  Talon was looking forward to the return for another reason. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of seeing Aicelina again. There were twinges of guilt at his behavior at the palace, but also because he knew she had been right about him. His heart was somewhere else in the world, and he did not even know if Rav’an were still alive. He doubted it. The cruel, unforgiving world of Islam would see to that.

  They set off early on the third day and made good time along the old Roman road that the main track crossed or followed, whimsically, it seemed. The forest was becoming thicker as they began the slow climb into the slightly higher ground of the foothills of the Cévennes. This was composed of tall oak trees that resembled those around Sir Hughes’ land. Mixed in with the oaks were beeches and the occasional stand of fir. The trees were so tall they made the riders seem puny as they rode along under the huge boughs.

  By late afternoon Albi itself was only an hour away and that meant they could be home well before the sun set.

  It might have been the flicker of light on chain mail that warned Talon of danger, but his reflexive kick to Jabbar’s flanks saved his life. As Jabbar skittered sideways the bolt from a crossbow whirred past his side. He shouted his alarm but already Max and Anwl were drawing their swords. Talon stared back horrified at his uncle. Philip was sitting still on his huge horse looking down at a crossbow bolt that protruded from his chest. He looked up at Talon, said nothing, then coughed, and a gout of blood poured out of his half open mouth. Then he slowly slid out of the saddle to fall clumsily at the feet of his horse. Talon ignored the danger and leapt off Jabbar with a shout of anguish.

  “No! Uncle! No!” He let Jabbar loose and ran to kneel by his uncle, who was lying on the ground, his hands plucking feebly at the shaft of the bolt in his chest. Philip could say nothing; he was choking to death on his own blood. He simply looked up at Talon, an anguished expression on his face. Then his eyes glazed over and he slumped in Talon’s arms.

  Talon barely had time to close his uncle’s eyes when he was struck a savage blow on the back of his head and the world went black.

  He woke trussed up tight, arms tied behind him, his feet firmly bound, lying among leaves and grass in a small clearing in the forest, the peaty smell of the loamy soil in his nostrils. His head was pounding and he was very thirsty. He could feel an area on his head that hurt painfully, and it felt damp. Talon dimly realized that there was someone nearby and turned his head, wincing at the pain, and saw Max in the same condition.

  Talon perceived a fire not far off where several men were squatting, talking in low tones. He could not see Anwl anywhere until he heard a scream, followed by raucous laughter. He craned his neck to see where the scream had come from and saw about thirty yards away in the gloom of the surrounding forest several other men standing near to a tree. Hanging off the bonds that held him to the tree was another man who whimpered in agony. Talon realized that it had to be Anwl. They were playing with him and had obviously tortured him for sport.

  His anger overrode his own pain and he wriggled closer to Max. “Max, Max, can you hear me?” he whispered hoarsely.

  Max lifted his head and Talon saw how badly he had been beaten. His face was bruised and swollen and there was a nasty gash on his shoulder. His hair was matted with blood from a blow to the head. He peered dazedly at Talon from swollen eyes. “I am glad you're alive, young sir. They killed Sir Philip and our groom. God curse them for foul murderers.”

  “I know, and they intend to kill us after they have finished with Anwl, I am sure of that. How many of them are there, do you know?”

  “Maybe six. Two left to bring the ‘young Lord,’ as they called him. I can guess who that might be.”

  Talon could, too. “How did they know we would be on this road and at this time?”

  “Perhaps it was that man that Anwl saw, Talon. The poor man, they're torturing him.” He pointed with his chin.

  Talon nodded grimly. “Max, can you move your hands?”

  There was silence while Max tried his hands out. “Yes, I can move them, mainly my fingers, but not much.”

  “Hurry, we do not have much time. There is a knife in my boot. You have to get it out and cut me free. Hurry, Max!” he whispered urgently, wondering if Max was going to fall back into unconsciousness.

  He moved his position so that Max could reach down into his right boot leg. There was much fumbling and heavy breathing, but finally Max grunted with satisfaction and lay still, resting for a moment. Talon watched the men at the fire and near Anwl, praying that they would not notice anything, but their attention was on their victim, who was writhing with the pain they had inflicted upon him.

  Talon wondered where Jabbar was, hoping he was not too far off. Max, having recovered, rolled over so he was back to back with Talon and then began to saw at the bonds around Talon’s arms. The sharp knife made short work of
the ropes that fell apart quickly. Talon lay there for a moment, letting the pain of the returning circulation subside, and then moved very slowly to reach down to his feet and cut the ropes there. All the time he watched the men as they worked on Anwl. The men by the fire were too busy watching the sport by the tree to pay any attention to the two prisoners lying on the ground behind them.

  He cut the ropes that bound Max’s hands and gave him the knife to cut the ropes at his feet. Max handed back the knife when he was finished.

  “What do we do now, Talon?” he whispered.

  “We leave. Follow me and do as I do.”

  He slid slowly backward toward the cover of the saplings and trees. Their movements did not attract any attention for the first thirty feet, but then one of the men by the fire glanced up. He noticed that they had gone from where he remembered them to have been. His eyes flicked quickly around and then settled upon the two, many yards away. He let out a yell and pointed. Talon grasped Max by the arm. “Run!”

  They scrambled to their feet and dived into the cover nearby. It was none too soon because two bolts from crossbows slapped through the leaves of the bushes nearby.

  Talon led the way, hoping he was going toward the road. Ahead he thought he saw a horse trotting through the trees. He could hardly believe his eyes. It was Jabbar, who had been grazing when the noise erupted, and had shied off from the small grassy place he had found. Talon whistled urgently, and Jabbar came trotting back to him, obviously pleased to see him. Jabbar was unsettled and nuzzled Talon as though to ask if everything was all right.

  There was no time to lose. Talon seized his bow and arrows from the saddle and handed the reins to Max. “Take him farther off, Max. Find Philip and the other horses. I have something to deal with.”

  If Max had wanted to argue one look at Talon’s tight determined face warned him not to. “Take care; they are many,” he said simply as he ran off, holding his wounded arm with Jabbar trotting behind him.