By Right of Arms (3 page)

There was no conversation between the women. The chores Aurélie ordered were swiftly and silently done while outside the lady’s chamber the fires destroyed Sir Giles’s personal effects. Finally Perrine answered a light tapping at the chamber door and admitted her sadly beaten husband, Guillaume.

“I fear our time is come, my lady.”

Aurélie looked at her seneschal with clear blue eyes. She was more than aware of Perrine’s suspicious glances and chose to disregard them. Many, she supposed, considered her mad with grief. Her love for Giles was assumed by all who knew them, for she had served her husband well and faithfully, despite his shortcomings. Madness was not her malady, however. Her head was clear and her intention strong. “Sir Guillaume, you know my purpose is to let the Englishman enter this castle. You are my most valuable vassal. I give you leave to flee, if you will. If you stay, you must obey me until my rule here is over. Guillaume?”

“I would not leave your side, my lady.”

“If he does not kill you, he will chain you,” she said evenly.

“Do you know what he may do to you, lady?” Guillaume asked.

“I know. I have lived this last hour knowing.”

The knight gave a nod toward the door and they moved together through the long corridors and down the stairs until the ground level was reached and the courtyard lay just outside the hall. Here Aurélie paused and questioned Guillaume. “Have you told our people we will surrender the hall?”

“Aye, my lady.”

“Will they obey?”

“They have seen the number of English knights, lady. Many think you are wise to surrender.”

“And you, Guillaume?”

“I gave my oath to fight for this hall to my death, lady. It is all I know. And by your order, my death would come easy.”

She touched his arm in affection and then gestured toward the door. They passed beyond the inner bailey and through another wall into the courtyard of the outer bailey. There was room here for a thousand horsed knights … but there were none. She surveyed the wall and parapets and saw that her men were ready with bows should the foreigners attack. She drew in her breath and tried to still any fears that threatened to rise. Then her voice came softly. “Give them the order, Sir Guillaume, and meet the bastard at my side.”

As she watched the opening of the doors and lowering of the bridge, she willed her eyes to dry and gather all the blue from the clear afternoon sky. She allowed no outward sign of weakness or grief. Her pale ivory skin was touched by the red of a rose and her lips were bright as if in fever. The black she wore did not enhance her beauty, but her fairness was too bold to be concealed. She let her eyes lightly close and tried to form pictures in her mind of the good days with Giles. They read and sang and rode together. They shared secrets and experiments. Inseparable as children, fond companions as young adults, theirs was an easy camaraderie all the years of their union. She knew nothing of passion in her marriage and the only romance she had known came from listening to traveling troubadours’ songs. But there had been so much else she had loved because of Giles. She loved De la Noye and her people. She had learned to be content with this. She knew life would never be the same for her.

She held her chin high and posture proud, as Giles would have expected. He had always admired her strength and courage. She would show her scorn, but never let them know the infirmity of her fear.

As the English drew into her courtyard her strength was more difficult to maintain. Their size and number pitifully dwarfed her own soldiers. They were clearly ready for war; only destriers entered and no knight rode his palfrey. The war-horse was used only in battle and never ridden on any travel or errand.

The huge beasts bore their fully armored knights gracefully. Shields and swords were brightly brandished and their livery was red and black, making it difficult to see the stain of blood. The English entered in pairs and separated to line the walls, their eyes casting about furtively for the slightest sign that arms would be raised against them.

Along the ground and wall, as well as in the parapets, Aurélie judged her men to be still and acquiescent to the conquest. Some of her younger archers showed their awe of the invading army by their gaping mouths. She knew her decision, however cowardly, had been the only one. The brutish strength that circled her would have wiped out her people in little time. Even the thickness of De la Noye’s outer wall would have crumbled under this force of arms. The survivors of such a battle would have suffered far worse than these unresisting few.

Fifty men soon lined her inner walls. They held their tense bodies still, watching; silently waiting. Aurélie sensed their number and immediately knew the clever battle tactics of this invader. Half of their army remained outside the outer wall, prepared for any trickery on the part of the inhabitants. Long, quiet moments passed and even the destriers were motionless. Then the sound of a single war-horse crossing the bridge could be heard.

Into the center of the courtyard, protected on all sides by the army, a lone knight rode. Aurélie assumed him to be the leader. He was massive in size; larger than any man Aurélie had ever seen. He would be called a giant in fairs and festivals and was easily four hands higher than she. His livery, too, was black and red and she strained to see the blazon on his shield, but he held it away. His face was covered by his helm and only a glitter from his eyes within gave proof that he was human. His voice rang out in clear, beautiful French. “Where is the lady of this hall?”

Aurélie paused a moment and then took one small step forward. She felt Guillaume, stiff and ready, join her. The conqueror bent his shielded gaze toward her for a moment before he dismounted. He looked around once more before pulling off his helm. The face that bore down on her was the face of the devil. His eyes were of slate, his skin was scarred and deeply bronzed, and his black hair fell errantly over his brow. He smiled an evil smile and his eyes glittered. Several teeth were missing and his lips were thick and swollen. Aurélie knew a mixture of fear and hate so intense that she could not find one emotion without colliding with the other.

He strode toward her, still smiling, then bowed. “Madame de Pourvre. Your mass was a long one.” He looked skyward. “The incense you burned filled the sky.”

She narrowed her eyes, for she knew the knight taunted her. When he saw her frown, he laughed loudly.

“Madame, is this man your servant?” he asked, indicating Guillaume.

“Sir Guillaume, the seneschal,” she replied.

The knight inclined his head toward one of his warriors. The man dismounted and dropped his shield. A second knight followed the first and they approached Guillaume.

“Does this man command your army?” the conqueror asked.

Aurélie nodded her head.

“Command him,” the knight demanded.

Aurélie looked toward Guillaume and spoke in her gentlest voice. “You are to be the example, beloved Guillaume. Let them take you.” She saw the pain in his eyes. He was no match for the giant who stood before them, but he could surely cause a few bruises to these lesser knights. The will to fight was strong in him; yielding to bondage such as this destroyed the greatest part of him. She nearly wept in pity. “Forgive me,” she quietly pleaded.

She imagined she could hear hearts breaking all around her as her people watched Guillaume, so brave and strong, allow these English to restrain him. Her hatred for the bastard blossomed and grew as Guillaume was pulled away from her side.

She turned on the huge knight with renewed fury. “Will you bind them all, Lucifer?” she asked, her voice heavy with ire.

He smiled tolerantly. “If they make it necessary, madame.”

“And how will you bind me?”

“While you obey, your hands will be free.”

“You killed my husband,” she gritted out through her teeth.

His eyes took on a feral gleam. “ ’Twas my sword and no other,” he said, full of pomposity.

Aurélie spat at him. The spittle struck his face and the insult brought four men from their steeds, banners and shields falling abruptly to the ground. Only two were required to stay Guillaume, but in the instant it took to spit in the face of her conqueror, Aurélie found herself seized by four large, armor-clad men. Guillaume strained against his ropes and guards, but it was futile.

“You court death,
demoiselle,”
he growled.

“Ha! Do you expect me to weep? My blood should blend on your foul blade with the blood of the Sire de Pourvre!”

“But I do not wish it so,
demoiselle,”
he said, his voice low and mocking. “One so lovely as you should not die … so soon.”

“I will await the moment; I will pray for it.”

He looked at her for a long moment, a patient smile growing on his lips. “For each time you spit at me, one of your villeins will die. We will begin with him,” he said, nodding his head over his shoulder toward Guillaume.

A broadsword slid out of its sheath the moment the words were spoken. Aurélie gasped in disbelief. She could not fathom their power. The men responded to their leader as if he sent them silent messages from his mind. “Mercy, sir knight,” she pleaded. “It is my crime, not his.”

“Need I spill his blood,
demoiselle,
for you to believe I will do it?” he asked.

“I beg of you; do these people no harm on my behalf.”

“Will you fall to your knees before your lord?” he asked.

Instantly she let herself sink to the ground, though her arms were still held by knights on each side. “I beg of you, my lord.”

The knights holding her arms jerked her to her feet, her black shawl falling away from her head and lying in the dust. She faced the victor again.

“I am not your lord,” he said evenly. “I am his messenger. And if you fear me, do well to fear him the more, for his heart is not so tender as mine.” Aurélie’s eyes widened. This was not the fearsome bastard? The question formed on her lips, but she was not allowed to ask it. “Take her to her chambers. Tie her there, lest she foolishly anger Sir Hyatt by some wickedness. Guard her door.”

As Aurélie was being led toward the hall, she was aware of the commotion behind her. Several knights followed with swords unsheathed and ready if the battle lay within, and more destriers began passing through the gate and into the courtyard. The silence was replaced by the shouting of orders and the collection of arms. What she heard all around her was the sound of De la Noye falling to the conqueror.

There were screams among the women and the sound of running. Doors that had been fearfully bolted against the English knights were ruthlessly shattered. The clanking of armor and weapons, shouting, and wailing filled the corridors and galleries.

Aurélie heard men’s laughter from her chamber and it stung her deeply, for the English army seized her home with victorious revelry. There were chortling and whooping as each family prize was discovered, or a woman servant ripe for assault was encountered. Before long the smell of roasting meat rose from the cookrooms, and she knew that her provender was being pillaged to feed the conquerors in grand style.

She had been bound with her hands behind her back. Her women were removed from her sight and she was left alone. She worried about Perrine, whom she did not think strong enough to endure much abuse from this army. And Baptiste, a young maid within her care, would likely fill the night for some ruthless warrior. There were the old and infirm among the castle people, and children too young to understand the expected behavior of the vanquished. She had been their mistress and caretaker all these years and now was locked away from them. It was only this worry that kept her from the fear that would paralyze her if she thought of what might happen to her.

The sounds dwindled as the day grew late. The violation of everything on the upper level of the castle was complete and the English, she guessed, were gathered in the hall for feasting. She could sense the presence of the guard outside her door, but he made no sound. She was brought no food or drink and left no fire or candle to light her room against the gathering darkness. The skin at her wrists was chafed and sore; she tried in vain to loosen her bindings.

She heard a sound outside her chamber door and saw the latch move. The door slowly opened. She sat on the rushes before a cold hearth. Straightening and peering into the dimness, she could make out the form of a man in a short cape standing silhouetted against the torchlight of the corridor.

“Light this room,” he instructed the guard.

The guard moved past him and into Aurélie’s chamber. Aurélie almost laughed aloud as she saw the guard still uncomfortably clad in full armor. Against whom? This conquered mistress left alone and bound? The weight of the battle accouterments made his simple task of lighting candles a difficult one.

Aurélie kept her eyes fixed on the figure in the doorway while light began to gather around her. He was not huge like his messenger. He was generous of build, but did not wear his armor, or carry a weapon. He, she thought with contempt, was confident that his men could protect him now, and he had left behind his mail and helm and gauntlets. He stood poised in the frame of the door, garbed in a short, dark gown, a quilted gambeson, and chausses. His style of clothing was not ornate, but neither was it modest. Even at first glance she could judge his apparel to be of high quality.

He frowned at the sight of her. Then, turning, he spoke to his guard. “You may leave us now. I shall be here only a short time.”

“I would stay, my lord, lest she has some weapon hidden in her clothing.”

The man laughed lightly. “If I am felled by a woman of such slight strength, I deserve my wounds. Go. This business is between the two of us.”

The guard shrugged and passed his lord, closing the door as he left. The man did not advance quickly, but leisurely contemplated Aurélie. His serious expression did not change and, if she could fairly judge, there seemed to be something of pity in his brown eyes.

“I am Hyatt,” he finally said. “I have claimed this hall and all the possessions and goods herein. And the people.”