By Right of Arms

by Robyn Carr

  Guillaume was slow to rise, but his story came out in a week. He was abed in the seneschal’s house, his leg stretched out on a board, and his delirium cured. He was weak, as he would be for some time to come, but not too feeble to tell the tale. He had been hunting for his daily fare at dawn when he heard the approach of horses on the road nearby. Reasoning that they could be soldiers, he climbed a nearby tree until they passed. The trip down was not so good, for he fell and broke his leg. It was impossible for him to drag himself up the hill to his camp, so he pulled himself into a sheltered copse in hopes of rescue. A murky bog greeted him there, for it was not a good, secret thicket that he hid in, but a covered marshy hole. For a week he held himself out of the murk by grasping a tree root, no food to sustain him and only dew off the nearby brush to quench his thirst.

  He was still there when Girvin came thrashing through the wood in search of him. And he did not know his own name or the name of any friend or foe.

  Aurélie had visited Guillaume nine times and heard the story, with better embellishment as the days wore on, an equal number of times. To her seneschal she reported the progress in De la Noye. “We lost a few good men, but Hyatt proudly adds some of the de Pourvre knights to his troop, among them Sir Verel.”

  “Ah, he’s come about then,” Guillaume sighed. “Good. It’s coming together now, lass. De la Noye will rise above the war and be whole.”

  “There is good reason we should come together now, Sir Guillaume. Without Hyatt and Girvin, you would be dead now.”

  Guillaume’s eyes became wistful and sentimental. “My lady, there is a thing you must know. There is gossip whispered amongst Hyatt’s men, but he forbids them to speak of the battle with de Pourvre knights. And our own will not even yet speak out against the Sire de Pourvre. But what is told is that Giles died fleeing from the field. He fell from his horse and broke his neck.”

  Aurélie’s eyes widened. “But I saw him, Guillaume. His chest was covered with blood and Girvin admitted it was his sword.”

  Guillaume nodded solemnly. “Girvin’s blade. He knew the shield was that of the lord, the leader. He gave Giles a deadly wound to make his demise seem more honorable.” Guillaume shrugged. “He does not admit his own tender heart, but I suppose he meant to spare us some dignity in our downfall. We thought we buried a fighting lord, though most of us doubted it was possible. Girvin’s act gave us a little pride. Only one fled from battle. Giles.”

  Aurélie felt tears come to her eyes. “Why do you tell me this, Guillaume? Do you mean to punish me for some crime I am unaware of?”

  “Oh nay, my lady, nay. But I shall not rise to my former strength.” He patted her hand and looked on with sympathy as tears coursed her cheeks. “The leg will never hold me upright without a staff; it was broken a week without tending. I can hobble about and give instruction for a few more years, but I shall never again have my former worth. You must look to Girvin. You must not let Giles’s death come between you.”

  “Oh, Guillaume,” she wept, laying her head on her seneschal’s chest. He gently stroked her back as she cried. “He need not have died. He could have refused the king’s order and stayed behind his wall. Hyatt would have spared him and sent him away.”

  “ ’Tis done, Aurélie. Edward means to secure Aquitaine, if not all of France. And so he has.”

  She raised her eyes. “Do you count it done, Guillaume?”

  He shrugged again. “But for this business with Hollis, we are nearly at peace. And my lady, Sir Hyatt burns with the desire to lay Hollis low … along with Ryland, may God help them all.”

  Aurélie’s hand went to the slight rounding of Hyatt’s child. “I pray every day and night that my child will be born to a castle and family united. And I had such hope, before Hollis attacked. Now, I don’t see how it can be.”

  “After all that we’ve seen, my lady, do you fail in faith now?” Guillaume squeezed her hand. “We are better fixed than we have ever been, my Lady Aurélie. At least when you pray, you do not rely on prayers alone. We no longer pray for mercy and miracles, but only for the right to use the hard-earned talents that defend our home. Tell your husband that if he is interested in the sworn fealty of a crippled old man, I am ready to make my pledge to his service.”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled. “I shall tell him, Guillaume. He will be honored.”

  * * *

  Sir John Chandos, the highest ranking knight in Prince Edward’s army, rode through much of Aquitaine on the business of gathering word of the English progress, and delivering news to the knights who had fought and secured land. De la Noye received him warily, for it would not be unlike Hollis to disguise his army by the prince’s livery and a royal banner, if he could but afford the cloth.

  Fifty armed men rode out of De la Noye to meet the approaching troop, Girvin at their head. The gate was promptly opened and the bridge lowered as the royal entourage entered. Hyatt met Sir John with Aurélie at his side. He bowed before the esteemed knight under whom he had fought more than once.

  “You hold the wall most agreeably, Sir Hyatt,” Chandos teased. “But we’ve passed a countryside at rest. Is it not a waste of good horseflesh to arm so many?”

  Hyatt was deadly serious. “The countryside might be at peace but for my hearty neighbor at Innesse, Sir Hollis. He has already caused us much damage and death by way of his attack. And it was in monks’ clothing that his archers and bowmen crept up to our gate. We nearly let them in, thinking they were but a wayward pilgrimage of flagellants.”

  “Monks’ garb?” Chandos bellowed. “Courageous man, Hollis! How did you fare it?”

  “Better than he.”

  “Good, Hyatt. Then it should please you to know that the battle ends. King John is taken prisoner by Edward and he bids you come to Bordeaux for the tournaments and ransoming.”

  “Captured? My God!”

  Chandos smiled. “I think we can count Aquitaine settled, if not the whole of the country. I am making a fast sweep of the newly settled lands to deliver the word. Edward the Prince will wish to award you full title in his demesne at the celebration.”

  Hyatt stood proudly, not looking askance at Aurélie. He was a bit afraid to see the pain in her eyes at the word that her king was captured and held.

  “Sir John, ’tis well known that I would ride into Hell on a peacock for the prince, but if I leave De la Noye and travel to Bordeaux this castle will belong to Sir Hollis before the dust has settled in my path. And for the next attack, I suppose, he will come dressed as a dowager with a sword up his skirt.”

  Chandos laughed heartily and for the first time regarded Aurélie. He looked at her briefly, smiling, and then looked back to Hyatt. “Hyatt, do I hear you say you are afraid to leave your home because you are too wary of Hollis? Why do you not finish with him?”

  “I shall, when he comes next. But I do not launch an attack on Prince Edward’s own castle of Innesse just because my enemy resides there. That is Hollis’s shallow loyalty to his king, his overlord. Not mine.”

  “Sir Hyatt, you have just cause to take him out. The prince will not chastise you, but support you. Do it in Bordeaux.” He gave his belly a pat. “I am sorely hungry and thirsty, but if you feed me well and give me some decent wine, I will deliver your challenge to Hollis myself … and escort him to Bordeaux to meet you in the lists. Hollis cannot beat you in a tournament of rules. Well?”

  Hyatt glanced warily at Aurélie. He expected to see grave disappointment at the news that her country was settled within the reign of an Englishman. And if not that, fear that her husband would go against the treacherous Hollis. But he saw that her eyes were fixed on Sir John, and a smile of confidence graced her lips.

  “So happens, sir knight, we have the best Gascon wine in these parts,” Aurélie said. “And enough good food to make your journey to Innesse a comfortable one.”

  “Most women are wary of such conflict and beg their lords to avoid such battles.”

  “I can under
stand such women,” she said with a shrug. “How could they be otherwise? They have not been wed to Sir Hyatt.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sir John Chandos sent two squires to De la Noye bearing the message that Sir Hollis and a small company were riding to Bordeaux under the banner of the prince. Michaelmas was barely past. Then, and not a moment before, Hyatt gave the order to make ready for their own departure. He selected a good troop of thirty knights with squires and pages, a balanced combination of longtime de Pourvre knights and his own men. Sir Guillaume reigned over De la Noye as the seneschal, his voice cracking like a whip from his portable litter. Girvin prepared to travel with Hyatt and was heard to remark that Guillaume’s booming voice had more than compensated for his immobility.

  Carts, horses, wagons, and people stood ready to depart, but Hyatt had misplaced his lady. She was not in the bedchamber, the hall, the inner bailey, or ready to mount her palfry. Finally the gatekeeper in the portcullis whistled, then pointed, and Hyatt strode impatiently over the bridge. He stopped short when he sighted her at the graves, her wrap pulled tightly over her shoulders and her head bowed as if in prayer. He approached her more slowly then, as he realized that she stared down at de Pourvre’s grave.

  She had voiced no protest at the capture of King John. No tears were shed for France, nor did her spirits seem to lag while Sir John Chandos boasted of the battle in which twenty-five hundred English met over twenty thousand French at Poitiers. All he had heard her mutter was “Your English prince must be a most brilliant warrior.” And feeling some sympathy for her, he had replied, “Edward will hold Aquitaine well, chérie, and you need not fear for your future, or the future of your children.”

  He stood behind her in silence for a moment, his hands gently squeezing her upper arms. She turned to face him and there were tears in her eyes.

  “I did my best as his wife, Hyatt.”

  “I know. He knew.”

  “There was nothing of passion in what we had. No passion of the mind, heart, or body. I served him out of duty and I tried not to complain if there was anything lacking. Many women dislike their husbands. But oh, I did long to be a cherished wife … to be made whole.”

  “Aurélie, do not …”

  She lifted a hand to stop him. “Marriage is nothing more than a settlement of property, and any love and desire that come are fortuitous. Most marriages are duty only. It could have been far worse for me, a mere child of nine years. I could have been given to a mean-hearted old knight, or a cruel and abusive man. Giles was not a great man, but he was not terrible. Hyatt, Giles never intentionally hurt me.” She placed a hand on his chest. “You knew, all along, what Sir Girvin had done?”

  He nodded, his eyes clouded with doubt. He had not seen any reason to hurt her with the truth. No harm would have ever come from her burying her lord with pride.

  “I fought you hard, Hyatt,” she said. “Do you forgive me?”

  “Aurélie, my love, had you not fought me, I would have doubted your worth. I did not expect you to coddle your conqueror.”

  “I did not expect such a conqueror. I am not a skittish woman, my lord. Had you been any other kind of man, I would have held fast to my hate and perhaps finished your life as you slumbered by my side. But you owned this land by right of arms; you could have cast me aside and searched about for a rich wife and doubled your booty.”

  “No,” he said softly. “I could not.”

  “Hyatt, do we go now?”

  “Aye, love. All is ready but the lady.”

  “Wait,” she said, turning from him and kneeling on the ground. She scraped a little hole with her hands and sat back on her heels, pulling off the ring that bore the de Pourvre crest. She put it in the ground and covered it. She stood, and after brushing the dirt from her hands she reached again into her cloak, pulling out a purse of silver livres.

  “This is what I had hidden away when I learned that Giles was dead. It is yours. For armor, weapons, ransom; anything that will help you in the contest.”

  “What is this, Aurélie? Why do you do this?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes again. “There need not be money or goods hidden to guard me against the future. I have need of nothing but you. Should anything happen, Hyatt, I shall not return to De la Noye. I go with you.”

  “My lady, we do not joust for you, but for land. I would enter no contest for you.”

  “I know that, my love. But it is important to me that you believe I shall never take another. Never. No matter what …”

  “It is not like you to be cowardly, my lady. It is not like you to think the worst. Do you doubt me now?”

  “Oh nay, Hyatt, my dearest love. I believe you will win. I would ride in the lists with you and guard your back. But I see now that this silver protects me from nothing. If I somehow lose you, I have lost the one thing in my life that matters most. I love you, Sir Hyatt. And I shall love you through all eternity.”

  “Then continue to keep the silver and the faith, my lady. Let love make you strong. Your love gives me strength and I will win.”

  She smiled and put her hands on his arm. “I doubted I would hear that from your lips.”

  “I don’t know why, madame,” he said with a chuckle, leading her back toward the wall. “You put the words there with yours.”

  * * *

  Faon tried to pretend she was asleep so that Hollis would not bother her again. She lay still on a straw tick in a loft of a merchant’s house in Bordeaux. The family had been ousted by the surly knight, tossed a few coins that would hardly keep them, and were sent cruelly on their way. Now the humble abode housed too many and they were all uncomfortable, but Hollis was here on business and did not listen to any complaints … least of all hers.

  Hollis was large and fat, and he did not wash. He was stupid and cruel, but fighting was his forte and he almost never lost. From the talk she had overheard, he had lost but one contest, and that was not so much because of a lack of skill, but because he lost his temper and breached the rules.

  That incident was with Hyatt.

  I have not yet reached a score of years, she thought dismally, and my life is over.

  Hollis made grunting sounds as he banged around the small loft in search of clothing, gear, and food. He threw open the shutters and relieved himself out the window, the urine splashing into the courtyard below. This was what Edward wished to take into battle, this grunting, snorting pig. Hollis fought like a wild boar, even with eyes blinded by blood and sweat. He was an animal trained to fight, but trained in nothing else.

  Ryland had been good to his word, and punished her properly. Upon their arrival at Innesse, the devastated keep that sat in a pile of putrid waste and rubble, Ryland had pushed her toward Hollis and said, “Ease yourself on this for a while. She was Hyatt’s.”

  Hollis hurt her, mating with her like a wild bull, slapping her if she whimpered, crushing her with his huge, clumsy body. And then he ignored her. She asked for something to clothe herself in and was shown a coffer full of discarded gowns that had belonged to the old mistress of Innesse. They did not fit her, being too narrow in the waist and far too short. And horribly ugly. She had made away from De la Noye with her bag of gold and gems that she had acquired while with Hyatt, and Hollis had taken them from her.

  But Ryland was the evil one. Hollis was ugly and stupid and mean-tempered, but Ryland was the one who plotted and schemed and planned out acts of viciousness and murder. It was Ryland who devised the plan to clothe Hollis’s archers in monk’s robes to attack De la Noye, and Faon had smiled slyly, though carefully, when Hollis returned, defeated, and told the story of the battle. Somehow they had known he was coming, Hollis raged. Hyatt’s troops emerged from down the road, from the woods, from the keep. And the gate was not opened. The priest must have warned them.

  And the lady yet lived.

  Faon heard Hollis leave the room, slamming the door, and sighed in relief that she had been forgotten. She sat up gingerly, rubbing her back. Her
whole body ached. She longed for a bath, for though she had never been fastidious about her personal cleanliness, she had not been granted servants or grooming tools since leaving De la Noye. No mercy was bestowed on her even after it was learned that Aurélie lived. She no longer knew why she was kept with them.

  The door opened and with a start she pulled the blanket to her chest, covering herself. It was not Hollis, but Ryland. And he smiled with ruthless superiority.

  “Good morning, my love. Dress yourself in something. We’re going out to find where Sir Hyatt keeps his lodgings.”

  She glared at him without response.

  “You are not interested in your lover any longer? Well, I am. And you shall help me.”

  Faon said nothing. For once she feared to open her mouth, for between Hollis and Ryland she had suffered enough beatings.

  “Tomorrow is the contest that Prince Edward will view for the pleasure of his victorious court … and your lover’s challenge will be met. You would not wish to lie abed while Sir Hyatt and Sir Hollis do battle, would you?”

  “What is it you wish of me now, Ryland?”

  “You shall help me secure Hyatt’s son.”

  “My son, Ryland,” she said, rising in the bed, a note of panic in her voice. “You would not harm my son!”

  “Do you pretend to care for the boy? Well, perhaps you shall see him again, in that case. He is here, in Bordeaux, with Hyatt’s household.” Ryland laughed. “I could have sworn that you disliked the child, and used him to gain a place in Hyatt’s household.”

  “Ryland,” she said in a desperate whisper, “you must not hurt the boy!”

  “I do not mean to harm him, dear Faon. But do you see? If Hyatt should somehow best Hollis, we shall find ourselves in a sorry state. I have very little silver left to feed the hungry bear. I think it wise to keep a little booty at hand. You do wish to be reunited with your son, do you not?”

  “If you plot against Hollis, he will kill you.”

  Ryland laughed heartily. “Good God, dear Faon, I am not that kind of fool. Now get up! I am in no mood to tarry.”