by Dan Davis
I placed my hand on his shoulder, for I believed I knew a good man when I saw one, and he seemed to be suffering greatly. Taking my leave, I swore I would not bother him again and reaffirmed that if anyone asked, I would deny ever having spoken to him.
“I swear to you, Dominus Blanchet, that one way or another, this will all be over soon.”
“God bless you,” he said, and went away shaking.
I went out to find the porter and told him my business was concluded.
Miton shrugged. “Thought you might have him with you.”
I nodded. “You thought I was here to murder Blanchet. Yes. Of course you did. Not today, Miton.”
He shrugged again and led me out through the decadent, beautiful interior of the castle. Before I left, I heard the distant sound of the choir starting up again and I thought about what the priest had told me.
Henriet, Poitou, Sillé, Briqueville. And Prelati the alchemist.
I had their names, their descriptions, and I knew they roamed the countryside hunting for prey and I meant to pick them off one by one.
In fact, I was to find that the damned porter or some other bastard told those very same men about a prying visitor calling himself Le Cheminant. And I would find out that, while I was searching for them, they were coming for me.
Two days after my visit, with his entire household, Gilles de Rais returned to Castle Tiffauges.
5. Abduction
June 1440
Tiffauges was a distant silhouette against the bone-white sky. I crept forward toward a cluster of jagged black rocks and behind wind-blasted scrub and sedge so the position was shielded from the main track heading northeast or southwest. There was also a good view on the track into Tiffauges village.
I whistled a couple of short trills, like a blackbird, and after a moment the replying tune came from deep in the rocks. I crawled forward and settled in next to Walt.
“Bring any wine, Richard?”
“You will find barrels of the stuff back at the inn.”
“Bloody chilly again, is it not? Did you not bring any wine for yourself? Miserable cloud and damp all day long but it’s clearing up now so it’ll get real cold tonight, real cold and you’ll wish you had it.”
“Drinking wine on watch is utterly foolish. Once a man gets comfortable, he may as well give up and go to bed, for sleep is certain.”
“Oh yes, is that so?” Walt said, looking me up and down. “Why you got that nice fur-lined cloak with you, then?”
I laughed. “What happened today?”
Walt’s face grew serious. “Thought you might have heard tell of it at the inn by now. He’s come back. Our lord of Rais.”
“Dear God. When? What did you see?”
“Started early on. Stream of riders coming in, one or two at a time from the west. About the middle of the day came about fifty soldiers, all in their finery. Shining armour like each one of them was a prince, with pennants on their lances and streamers on the horses’ tales.”
“Yes, the Marshal has a penchant for ostentation.”
Walt raised his eyebrows. “Does he, by God? These debauched barons, eh. Well, like I was saying, they were all done up fancy but they rode smartly, too. Like they was parading before a king, only there was no one to see them but I. They came up the road, tight together, two-by-two and nose to tail. Pages and squires came up behind and they was not far off in neatness, neither.”
“Fifty soldiers, you say?”
“First group was fifty or so. Then came up the lord himself, riding in a party with fine horses. I swear to you, each horse was a walking fortune. Beautiful creatures, they was. His lordship rode beneath an unfurled banner in black and gold, great big thing like a war standard. Behind him was men playing trumpets and banging drums as they rode. And up after came more soldiers. Seventy, maybe. Same as the first lot. Fanciest fighting men you ever saw, all trotting on powerful big war horses. Later on comes wagon after wagon, some full of servants, most of them with barrels and sacks. Few people still coming in, here and there.”
“By God, that is a large household.”
“If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn it was a king coming home from war. Or going off to one.”
“Anything since then?”
“Nothing much and I doubt you’ll see anything now. They just arrived after a day or two on the hoof so they’ll all be pissed up by sundown. Might as well come back to the inn and sleep in your bed, sir, not sit in this dank hole and shiver in the dark for no reason.”
“I appreciate your concern but one never knows what might occur. If the Marshal or any of his men are in fact immortals then they may sneak out for blood. We must remain vigilant. Besides, I already slept today in preparation. No, you get back and get yourself to rest. It will be your watch again on the morrow.”
“All right, I will go get my head down after a flagon or two of ale and a bit of that boiled beef, if they have it still. But you just promise me you ain’t going to go in there and fight all them soldiers. Not without me and Rob, at least.”
I laughed. “Have no fear of that. We seek only to nab a servant for questioning. Nothing more.”
“If you say so, sir. Good luck. God bless.”
After he scrambled away toward the horses behind the hillock, I noticed the sounds of the place. The ceaseless wind rustling through the clumps of grass and whistling between gaps in the rocks. Buzzards wheeled overhead and already I could hear an owl screeching in the distance. Rooks cawed as they headed for their roosts, their black shapes sliding across the darkening sky. Goats cried their misery to each other across the plain. I pulled my fur-lined cloak closer about me and settled down further. It was sheltered from the worst of the wind but the rocks under me and at my back leeched the heat from my body even through the furs.
“Should have brought some bloody wine,” I muttered to myself as the light faded. The moon was almost full and I prayed that the clouds would indeed blow right away before it rose, else I would be able to see nothing at all.
Stephen had complained about my strategy. He believed the best way to obtain the evidence we needed was a thorough questioning of the people from every village, hamlet, and farmhouse in the region and to do it thoroughly he needed my help, and Walt’s and Rob’s.
“They shall never speak to us,” I had said. “My way is better. Swifter.”
“How can it be swifter if all you do is huddle in the rocks and do nothing, day after day? At least by speaking to the people I am making progress of sorts. Collecting names.”
“Hearsay from peasants,” I said, scoffing.
“There is often truth hidden in rumour,” he said. “And they are not peasants, Richard, as you would know if you bothered to speak to any of them.”
“I have spoken to many of these good people,” I said.
“Yes, to the physician’s pretty daughter and to the innkeeper, while he brought your wine. What a dogged pursuit of the truth you have committed to, sir. If you would but listen to the stories of those who have suffered, you would be moved to act on their behalf.”
“What do you think I am doing here?” I snapped. “Am I not taking action?”
“You mean to go charging in, as you always do. As you already have done, in fact and now you mean to do more. Illegally abducting a servant, Richard? It may undo our standing with the Bishop and the Duke and with the good folk of these parts. They have suffered for so long with no legal recourse. Despite having been so abused for so long, they are yet powerless to defend themselves but now we are here and we can represent them but first we must listen to what they have to say.”
I had no interest in hearing them complain for days on end and I believed that I knew enough.
“For years they have able to submit a petition to their Duke,” I pointed out. “And to the King. If they have not done so then that is their own fault.”
“They are rightly terrified of repercussions!” Stephen said, almost wailing. “They are being preyed up
on by the man who should be protecting them. Does it not outrage you, Richard?”
“I am here, am I not?” I countered. “I will find out if he is an immortal and slay him if he is. Otherwise, these people’s troubles are their own. Now, while you go about listening to these peasants gnashing their teeth, I am going to illegally abduct one of his servants, beat the truth from him, and then we shall know what is really going on here.”
Recalling it again, I realised that I had spoken with unnecessary heartlessness. But Stephen always did have the propensity to nag like an old maid when the common folk were concerned.
Before the last of the day’s light was completely gone, I caught movement at the base of the castle. A wagon came down the slope from the gatehouse and then went on rumbling and bumping along the track to the east. A lantern held aloft helped to show that two men sat up on it side by side, driving the single horse. It was a long way from my hiding place and they were wrapped up in cloaks and hoods but I fancied that one of the men was thin while the other was broad.
Could it be the valets Henriet and Poitou that Blanchet had told me about? It was surely wishful thinking on my part but I could not allow the opportunity to be missed. Keeping low, I slid back from the rocks and ran, stooped in half, behind the hillock to my horse. I had left him saddled so that he would be ready for just such an eventuality, the poor creature, and so I mounted him and headed out for the track. Night was falling fast and I had already lost sight of the wagon for some time.
My black horse was concerned by the strangeness of it all and went very slowly indeed until the moon came out. More clouds blew away until the world was illuminated once more and my horse picked up his pace. Following the track east, crossing the old stone bridge over the river, I thought I had likely missed the wagon. Perhaps it had turned for some house along the way. But then I saw the lantern glinting in the distance and I knew it was yet heading east. I thought it unlikely that they could see me on my dark horse but still I kept well away rather than scare them into flight before I could spring an ambush somewhere.
After a couple of miles they edged to the northeast, further from the river. I knew there were houses out there in the dark. Single dwellings, hamlets with three or four families, and larger villages, and I could smell the smoke from their fires and occasionally saw a flash of light from lamps through the edges of shuttered windows. But the wagon rumbled on by them all, deeper into the night. Every so often I stopped to listen, straining to hear over the wind. Once or twice I fancied I heard voices and perhaps a bark of laughter. Always the noise of the wagon banging over ruts and squeaking off in the distance continued and so did I.
The wagon stopped. Its lantern illuminated the driver and his passenger as they sat motionless. There was nothing in sight, not in any direction. Nothing but fields and plains edged in silver and shadow.
A light flashed in the east. A faint yellow glow winking on and off.
The wagon rumbled into life again, turning from the main track to head toward the light. Going slower than ever, I urged my horse forward. He was nervous but well-bred and he trusted me enough to obey after a moment’s hesitation.
A house loomed in the dark, the moonlight showing a reed-thatched roof and another wagon sitting outside. Far beyond, squared lines and woodsmoke suggested a village of a few houses. I stopped and waited as the wagon creaked to a stop and the men called out a greeting. Another man emerged from the house, throwing a streak of yellow light across the scene, and muttered words were exchanged. A fourth man stomped out with a bundle over his shoulder which he threw into the flat back of the wagon I had followed.
That bundle was a boy, his limbs bound in some way and his head and shoulders covered in sackcloth.
He cried out as they tossed him down on the timber floor of the wagon and one of the men thumped the lad in the belly to shut him up. Another man jumped into the wagon and crouched by the boy.
I removed my cloak, rolled and tied it to my panniers, climbed into my saddle, and checked to ensure my sword and daggers were where they should be.
My intention had been to take and interrogate a single servant. If I intervened while there were four men, possibly more within the house, that made it highly unlikely I would be able to complete my mission. Alerting them to my presence would make taking them another night all the more difficult, perhaps impossible if they kept within the castle.
But of course, I could not allow them to take the lad to Gilles de Rais. He would go through the gates in the darkness and never see the light of day again and so it mattered not one bit what the consequences of saving his life might be. I resolved to take them on the road before they returned, perhaps while they crossed the bridge so that they could not easily flee. I would surprise them, bind them, question them and finally free the boy and take him back to his mother and his father, wherever they might be.
The boy cried out and I saw the men were pulling down his hose from beneath the sacking. One of the men stood over him, loosening his own doublet, pulling out his shirt tails, and undoing his belt.
Resolving to ride in, snatch the boy up, and ride away before they could react, I spurred my horse and he jumped forward, startled by my sudden command and tossing his head in protest. He was a good horse but I was asking too much of him to race toward that scene as if he was trained in war. Instead, he swerved away and snorted, stamping his foot on the stony ground. In the time it took to wrestle him back under my control, the men were alert to my presence.
“Who goes there?” an angry voice called out.
“Show yourself!”
I rode toward the light and stopped at the edge of it. “I am a simple traveller,” I said, speaking slowly but clearly.
They had their hands on their daggers and two of them wore short swords on their hips. The boy squirmed on the back of the wagon.
“You alone?” the one standing over him said. He was thin, with a pinched, ratty face.
“Course he is,” the fat one said, standing at the rear of the wagon with one hand on the boy’s bound ankle.
“Get off your horse,” a third man said from behind them. “Get off it and come here.”
I laughed. “Why would I do that?”
“If you don’t,” the fat man said. “We’ll make you.”
A fourth man edged around to my flank in the shadows, attempting to be silent.
“I think what I shall do is ride immediately to the authorities and tell them I have witnessed an appalling crime.”
They stared at the boy and back at me.
The fat one recovered his wits first. “Crime? What crime? Ain’t no crime. We’re just returning this boy to his father.”
“He run away,” the thin one said, grinning.
“What is his name?” I asked. The fourth man edged further to my flank and I lost sight of him. “For that matter, what are your names, sirs?”
They laughed, first one and then all three of them chuckled.
“Don’t you worry what our names is,” the fat one said.
“Oh, but I do worry. Let me see if I can guess them, shall I?” I pointed at the skinny man clutching the bunched-up tails of his shirt in one fist. “You are the one known as Poitou.” He gaped at me and I pointed at the fat one. “And you are called Henriet Griart.” The two men looked at each other and back at me while I pointed at the third man. “I do not know your name, nor the name of the oaf stumbling around in the dark there, but I will have them soon enough. For now, simply hand the boy over to me and I will say no more about it.”
They overcame their confusion rather rapidly when they knew what it was that I wanted and Henriet smirked and grasped the boy’s leg harder, digging his fingers in. The boy whimpered and writhed.
Poitou grinned as he stuffed his shirt back into his hose. “He ain’t for you,” he said.
“Ah, I see,” I replied. “He is for your master, is that what you mean?”
Poitou giggled. “Who’s to say where he ends up, whether it’s with
the master or—”
“Shut up, you fool!” Henriet snapped.
The man creeping in the dark scraped his foot and I realised he was closer than I expected and I turned as he rushed toward me. He was coming to grasp my horse’s bridle or reins to stop me fleeing while the others pounced on me.
I kicked out at him, connecting with his shoulder hard enough to send him sprawling with a shout. The others wasted no time in drawing their weapons and so I pulled my sword and rode forward, turning to come around the wagons. I passed by the first and into the light of the house where a fifth man rushed out with his sword drawn, screaming blue murder. It surprised me, I will admit, and frightened my horse. He came close enough to slash his blade down the back of my calf and I turned and speared the tip of my sword down into his throat. He dropped his blade and wheeled away clutching at the blood gushing from his neck and I knew that I had caused a mortal blow.
I turned to see Poitou jump from one wagon to the other, falling on his face as he landed. It was too great a distance for a mortal man to leap and I knew in that moment that he was an immortal. Rushing to kill him quickly, I found another man coming with his dagger drawn.
“He’s killed Ysaac!” he cried. “He’s killed him!”
“I’ll kill the bloody lot of you,” I shouted, and I leaned down and ran the man through his chest.
