By Right of Arms

by Robyn Carr

  Here was the pact with Prince Edward that Hyatt had made. The prince had need of good fighting skills and found it necessary to look the other way if a knight of England had low morals, but was a good soldier. Hollis was a good one to take into battle, but one must not be too certain of his loyalty. And because Sir Hollis shifted his alliances to improve his wealth, here was a man who could threaten even a king if given too much power. That was why Prince Edward and the king had conspired with Hyatt for De la Noye. Hyatt was meant to hold a strong castle in Aquitaine to serve England, and to keep Hollis at bay, arrest his growth before he gained too much territory in Aquitaine. By the same token, Prince Edward would not openly protest Hollis’s fighting, for Hollis still fought for England.

  Hyatt’s stomach felt sour and his brow was damp. He was confident in his ability to fight Hollis, if necessary, but he admitted a stronger adversary could not be found. He pulled off his helm and rolled up his coif, looking at the old man now with a full face.

  “You have a dozen or more here and no reason to stay. Do you know the castle De la Noye?”

  “I have heard, sir knight, but have never been there.”

  “It will take you five days walking. I will loose two palfreys for your sick or injured, and a knight named Sir Girvin holds the wall there on my behalf. If you can make the journey, you will be admitted.”

  “Does it matter to you that we hate the English?” the old man tested.

  Hyatt smiled suddenly. “You will find plenty of company, old man. Hate whom you like, it is of no matter to me. But if it appeals to you to be dry and fed, you will lift a hoe and work for your enemy. Or—” He shrugged. “—You may stay here and build out of your ashes.”

  “You do not wish to kill us, as your brother knight desired? I was ready to die.”

  “Cease such lies. You did not approach me as a man ready for death, but as one with the wisdom to hold life as a great value. Even the lowest life can plant a seed, mend a pot, or produce a prayer. Any man who cannot do some small thing of value will die from his own lack of existence. My sword and lance are for the winning of battles, not to collect deaths as the queen collects jewels. Nothing worth having is wrought of killing for sport. Now, I hear a scholar’s learning in your speech, though you claim to be farmers all. Is there some reason to send you to De la Noye, or are you as useless to me as you pretend?”

  The old man smiled, showing a perfect row of white teeth against his aging face. He bowed his head slightly. “I am a teacher and planter. My son works with leather and my wife bakes bread. There are few of us, and made poor by this carnage you see, but our skills could not be burned. I am Percival.”

  Hyatt looked over his shoulder. “Give the man two palfreys and a bag of grain to see them through.” He looked back to the old man. “I could give you my banner to carry, but it will do you ill against any French force, and I cannot promise that it will offer protection against the English knights.”

  Percival’s eyes sparkled with emotion. “John’s forces are few in this part of the country. North is where the true fighting exists. I will carry your banner, sir knight, for I suspect it is feared by your friend and foe.”

  Hyatt nodded over his shoulder for a squire to fetch a spare tunic on which was sewn the blazon of his arms, a ferret and a star fashioned against a red background. It would do well enough to convince Girvin. He handed the tunic to Percival. “Beware, old man; the blazon will protect you best if you travel in brush and tall grass. Soldiers who feast on the blood of the helpless pay little regard to any threat. But it will open the doors of De la Noye.”

  Hyatt led his troop away from the demolished little burg, not looking behind to see what the few remaining villagers did with the horses and grain. He took the chance that they would flee to some camp deep within the forest and replay this scene for every passing troop. The investment was minute for a dozen good hands, and, in addition, had Hollis taken even a moment to talk to the old man, he’d have discovered at least one good head. In Hyatt’s opinion, one intelligent man was worth twenty brawny morons.

  As the troop traveled silently and watchfully on, Hyatt considered the ravages of war. Being quite proud of his own skills, he had slain many lesser warriors in battle. He had even laid a town or two to waste, when there was enough fighting to warrant it. It was not because of a soft heart that he left his enemies their lives, but because nothing could be gained from a dead man.

  Hyatt had even intended to let Giles de Pourvre live, and had had nothing to do with his death. Did none of Giles’s men-at-arms speak of their leader’s death? Aurélie had accepted his warrior’s departure in good faith, as if she did not know the truth about her husband’s cowardice. Hyatt had ordered his own men to keep silent about the details of the battle, but they all knew that Giles could have spared many men’s lives had he stayed behind the De la Noye walls or issued a surrender on the field. The questions came again and again: How did she love him? What had he ever done to justify her respect and loyalty? How had she kept herself virtuous? How had she managed the clever lie that she was barren? And why?

  They made camp in a thick, protected copse at dusk. They were still days away from Limoges, and the rubble they had viewed this day had happened as long as a fortnight before. Hollis had surely passed through on his way to the richer conquest. How like the foolish knight to steam up his desire for battle by laying a path of carnage behind him. Hyatt assumed, already, that Hollis was victorious; if he had failed to conquer the keep he sought, English stragglers would be seen along the road back.

  “Why venture on, Sir Hyatt? It is certain he has won.”

  “I do not go for Sir Hollis; that should have been clear from the start. He will resent my appearance, though he will be careful about his behavior for now. I venture onward for Edward. Hollis will lie about the booty and give less than the fair portion to the king.”

  “But he will not let you examine his stores,” a young knight said. “And his troop is two or three times larger than yours.”

  “Aye, larger in numbers. But I should like to see for myself how Hollis holds them. I have been told that as many as a quarter of his men are dangerous criminals, freed by a pardon bought by Hollis to form a large troop. Most are indentured to him for some years to come. When he cast about looking for a sizable army to join Prince Edward, there were not many eager to ride with Hollis. Although he is frequently victorious, he does not pay his men well and he allows them a meager share of the winnings. But criminals soon to die will take life at any price, however low. It is important that I see for myself how many are there now, many months after the battle has begun, and how they regard Hollis as their leader.”

  They sat around a low fire, making their pallets on the ground, and passing around dry bread, pork strips, and water. Most of Hyatt’s men were indentured to him for the cost of their arms, their ransom in tournaments, or debts Hyatt had cleared for them. But he did not have one man of whom he was unsure. This, compared to Hollis’s two and a half hundred, was better.

  “It is rumored, Sir Hyatt, that Hollis hates you and would strike your back,” the young knight remarked.

  “ ’Tis not rumor. It is truth, and he has.”

  “Then why do you ally yourself with him?”

  “It is with Edward that I am allied, and do not sheath your swords when any of Hollis’s men are behind you.”

  “He would not do you harm when he fights now for Edward, as do you …”

  “He would take what I have claimed in a moment, lad. And he would tell the king he took it from Guienne. But mark me, he could not succeed in such a lie if but one of my men lives. That is why we are safe in approaching him now; more than half my men remain at De la Noye under Sir Girvin.”

  “Yet we ride toward him? Sir Hyatt, if he is in trouble, we will have to fight for him, will we not?”

  “Do not discount a good plan because it is not as swift as a single thrust of the lance. We go to see what damage Hollis has done, for I am ce
rtain he has won the keep. And what you see upon our arrival is a pure example of what he would do to you, for Hollis’s enemies are not solely those few whom King Edward will name for him, but anyone whom Hollis thinks he can beat. When we arrive, look at the conquered demesne as you looked at the village. Know it. Taste it. Smell it. The only way to best a man in any contest is to know full well his manner of fighting, and Hollis is as much my enemy as the French forces of John. Only with Hollis it is much more dangerous, for we do not acknowledge it openly. Rivals, they call us at the tournaments. ’Tis far more serious than that. And remember, each knight has a style, and Hollis’s is sly and brutal.”

  “Are we not on the same side after all?”

  Hyatt sighed heavily. There was more than simple practice of arms to teaching a knight sound skills. “For the time being, while commands are issued from the king, we are of the same side. Hollis is not fair or prudent, but he is not stupid and he knows where to use his influence. Hollis will lay bare this land, taking ten conquests to Edward’s court … but nothing he wins will produce for him. The king will own naught but a charred field where crops once grew. My victory belongs to England for generations. There is a difference. Edward desires a quick theft, but he also needs the property peopled with loyal vassals. What we have in De la Noye is an English encampment that will provide support in any uprising that threatens Prince Edward’s hold on the land. That takes more than a good fight. It requires time and wisdom, not just skill in battle.”

  “But, Sir Hyatt, you were generous at De la Noye, and now there are two hundred or more who silently despise you. They are subdued, but how do you know they will change their fealty? Would it not have been better to lay them down, once and for all, and remove the threat, finally?”

  “And hang up my bridle and lance, to spend each hour working the soil so that I might eat? Nay, the very serfs who hate and fear me will feed me. This is not a tournament, but a war. That which is won in a single stab of my lance is useless to me. Fealty pledged in a weak and fearful moment will cut my throat when I sleep. I have more respect for a man who comes to his loyalties through long and careful consideration than one who surrenders in sheer fright and is spared, later to reconsider and decide he was hasty in his first decision.”

  “Is that why you did not insist that the Sire de Pourvre’s men-at-arms swear fealty to you?”

  “Their lord was not yet cold in his grave. Any oath to me would have been wrought of sheer survival. I spared them the punishment I would levy for betrayal. Yet … I did not give them their arms. When fealty comes from any of them, it will be a true oath. And from some it will come.”

  “And those who will not swear to you?”

  “Some will flee. Some will plot or attack and be caught. But in time, all will be accounted for.”

  The younger knight shook his head, trying to assimilate so many crafty designs. “You must be certain of your plan, Sir Hyatt, for you take your rest at the side of the former lord’s woman.”

  Hyatt nodded, but silently his thoughts were protesting such a statement. Someday, he thought, she will admit that she was never Giles’s woman.

  * * *

  Father Algernon had never confronted Lady Aurélie on any issue since her first arrival at De la Noye. There had never been reason, for Giles so strongly supported the Church and this priest that no other ally was necessary to him.

  Aurélie had expected some words from the ecclesiastic, and was frankly surprised that he had waited so long. But then, he had been silent only until Hyatt and his large number had departed.

  “I have not heard your confession and you have not taken communion, my lady,” he said to her as she was leaving the chapel after matins.

  “I cannot partake of the Blood and Body without first atoning for my sins, and I cannot atone.”

  “I will give you absolution when you name them.”

  She felt a rueful smile touch her lips. “I have done nothing of which you or God is unaware. What is your penance?”

  “My lady.” He bristled. His voice was a subdued whisper, but she could not miss the anger in his eyes. “You could begin by confessing your hatred for your priest, and atone for that.”

  “It is not within my power to hate you, Father. I am pleased that you are unharmed, and that these English accept the mass and communion from you, though they know you were for Giles.”

  “They do not pay me,” he complained.

  “You have taken an oath of poverty,” she countered.

  “My own poverty … not the poverty of the Church.”

  “Ah,” she said, remembering the argument quite clearly. That had been the cause for such depletion of funds, as she recalled only too well. Since the great site of ecclesiastic pomp resided in the Avignon papacy, there had been a priority on the buying and selling of favors. Philip of Valois had raised substantial funds for his armies by keeping certain offices vacant and selling positions. This blasphemy had helped Giles, for he had not wanted to fight and could buy his absence quite easily from King Philip. Only the highest bishops might wear cloaks of greed in their actual threads, and Father Algernon might indeed be dressed as if impoverished, but Aurélie had always known that their true wealth was in the power of the promises they traded. Giles, like Father Algernon, had been filtering money into the fleshpot of the Church for many years, attaining the purity of spirit and rising within the political ranks of the Church to guarantee a high level of eternity in heaven. Or so he might have thought. Aurélie’s prayers were that her late husband had actually, finally, gotten some spiritual reward, for those left among the living had definitely paid the price.

  Father Algernon did not fool her, and never had. But he was their only priest.

  “Lady, do you mean to cut this castle free of the bonds of God and life eternal?”

  “Nay, Father. We must continue to live as righteously as possible and pray for our salvation.”

  “What of benefices? The dispensation of Holy Rights? The salvation of the dead?”

  “One of those dead is the Sire de Pourvre. I do not doubt his salvation. Could you?”

  Algernon’s face grew hard and dark. His shock of thick white hair stood like snow on a shady mountain. He did not like to argue with a woman. “He died unshriven. He died without a final prayer. Cannot you bring this Englishman to do the honorable thing and buy a final prayer for the dead?”

  “Nay, Father, I think you are lucky he did not burn the chapel and turn you out. You will not find in Sir Hyatt what you had in Giles. He will give the Church only what he deems honest and fair, and he is little concerned about damnation. He has already made many harsh criticisms of Giles’s devotions.”

  “And I imagine you agreed,” he said snidely.

  “Nay,” she shot back. “Nor did I defend him, but I bid you remember that while some bishop in Avignon wears scarlet robes, we are now the captured serfs of an English warlord.”

  “God will never forgive you,” the priest solemnly confided. “You have always resisted the tithe and many times you hid money from your husband so that it would not fall the way of the Church. I think you urge the English bastard to abstain. I shall pray for you, for it is my obligation to be generous with sinners. It is not too late for you to amend this blasphemy.”

  “When I see the hand of God reach from the sky into the pocket of the Church, I shall change my mind. Now all I see is waste; had you urged Giles to spend his money on arms and food we would not be so helpless now. And you could have done it, Father. But instead you bought favors in the Church. If Sir Hyatt becomes angry and turns you out, will they take you in Avignon and make you a bishop?” When he did not answer, she smiled confidently. “Homo mercator vix aut numquam potest Deo placere.”

  The priest’s eyes grew round with wonder as he listened to her announce, in perfect Latin, the statement that had won so much power and money for the Church. A man who is a merchant can seldom if ever please God.

  “I think it does not matter what y
ou are trading in God’s eyes, Father. Whether it is forgiveness, mercy, power, or divinity, God must surely frown on the sale of it.”

  The priest was astonished at this ingratitude and it showed fiercely in his eyes. Aurélie almost laughed at the sight. “Could I have lived with him so many years and not know his rhetoric?”

  “Giles was pure, but you are a whore to give yourself to the conqueror. Better you should take your own life and …”

  “Even whoredom shines in the face of taking one’s own life, as the Book teaches. Yea, Giles schooled me well in scripture, for ’twas he who was so tormented by love of divinity that he wished to die, finally, to end his waiting and reach that sparkling realm you promised to sell him.”

  “You take a very grave chance, woman, that you and every person in your demesne will be excommunicated.”

  “I have lost everything else, Father. Why not that? But you would do well to keep your own losses small. There are still those here who will give you what you demand … some of them, I imagine, are among the conquerors. Tread carefully.”

  She turned to go and heard his words at her back. “Your hatred finally shows. I wondered when it would. You were always jealous of the love and spiritual strength I shared with your husband.” The words caused her to stiffen as if slapped. Jealousy had never been the emotion she felt. Even though she had struggled with what it was she had felt, not knowing its name, she knew the feeling to be much deeper and more violent than that. “There is nothing more dangerous than to share learning with a woman. I warned him of that.”

  She turned slowly. “Dangerous to whom, Father? A man in power … or just any man?”

  “Why do you not urge Sir Hyatt to cast me out, if your heathenish sins can match his? Surely you would not miss me.”