Ironhand

by Hilary Green

  He slept on a palette in the hall with the rest of the Count's retainers and two days after his arrival he had just risen when a page came to inform him that he was required to attend the count in his bedchamber. He had never entered that room before and the command surprised him. He went with some misgiving. The room was at the top of the tower and comfortably but not extravagantly furnished, with a fine tapestry on one wall, a beautifully carved chest for the count's clothes and a prie dieu in one corner. To his relief, Alessandro was not alone. A small, slightly stooped man stood at the end of the great bed, across which was thrown a swathe of fine woollen material in a shade of blue which Ranulph recognised as the colour of the livery worn by all the count's servants.

  'Come in, Ranulph.' Alessandro greeted him with a smile. 'It seems to me that, as you are going to be in my service, at least for the present, you should be dressed appropriately. Benno, here, is my tailor and he has come to measure you.'

  Ranulph regarded the fabric with mixed feelings. He knew that it was, as Alessandro said, appropriate for him to wear his livery, but since leaving the monastery he had been left to dress as he pleased, or as his limited purse allowed. He had called Piet 'master' and he owed duty to Leofric, but he had never felt he 'belonged' to either of them. To put on livery felt like relinquishing his independence. It was true, nevertheless, that all Alessandro's household wore his colours. The ordinary servants wore tunics of that shade of blue, while his men at arms had his device of a leopard emblazoned on theirs in silver. Higher ranking men of the household wore the same colour but their garments were of finer fabric and embroidered at cuffs and hems with silver. He wondered, while the tailor fussed round with his tape measure, what he could expect.

  In the event, he was well pleased. The following day he was summoned again and Alessandro watched with an indulgent smile while he was arrayed in a clean white linen shirt and a tunic of wool as soft and fine as any he had seen come out of the looms of Bruges, the hem edged with a deep band of silver embroidery. With it came two pairs of hose, one dark blue, the other white – not to be worn, Alessandro remarked with a grin, while he was jousting or hunting – and a fine leather belt with a silver buckle. To complete the outfit there was a cloak of a deeper blue, trimmed with white fur, and a small round cap.

  Alessandro looked him up and down when he was dressed and nodded. 'If I had chosen my livery specifically to suit someone of your colouring I could not have done better. Are you pleased?'

  'Pleased, and honoured, sir,' Ranulph replied, and meant it.

  Although the business of the estate took up much of his time, Alessandro still found space for the occupation which had first drawn them together. Many mornings were spent in his library, reading together at the lectern, and Ranulph was introduced to more of the great writers of the classical era. Alessandro even began to teach him Greek, so that he had access to a wider range. In the process, Ranulph became used to their close physical proximity, to Alessandro's hand on his shoulder or the back of his neck, or playfully tugging his hair when he made an error.

  There were new pleasures to be sampled, too. In the evenings, after they had eaten, Alessandro often called to one of his pages to fetch his lute and sing. The boy had a clear, pure treble which sent shivers of pleasure down Ranulph's spine. The only music he had known up till then had been the plain chant sung by the monks or the coarse sea shanties and soldiers' songs of his later occupations. When the boy tired, the lute was passed from hand to hand. Vincente had a strong tenor voice, but was too much given to adding extra ornamentation to the notes for Ranulph's taste. The other squires could acquit themselves reasonably, except for Felipe, whose voice cracked and swooped from treble to baritone, to the good natured amusement of the assembled company. Alessandro sang as well, of course, in a light baritone and his skill on the lute was greater than all the rest. Inevitably, on the first evening, the moment came when Ranulph was offered the instrument. He shook his head, blushing.

  'I have no skill with this, sir. And I am afraid that the only songs I know are not suitable for polite company. Please forgive me.'

  Alessandro laughed. 'We all know the sort of songs you mean, and I guess we have all sung them on occasion. But as you say, perhaps not here.'

  He offered later to teach Ranulph to play, but he found that it was one skill he could not master, or not without the commitment of more time and effort than he was willing to give.

  Ranulph continued, as the count had promised, to train with the squires and he was soon as proficient as any of them at the tilt and almost a match for Rollo with a sword. He was loaned a better mount, a big iron grey stallion called Jupiter, and learned some of the finer points of horsemanship; but he always felt more comfortable riding Silver.

  As winter set in, the situation underwent a subtle change. With the prospect that there would be no fighting until spring, Alessandro gave permission for his knights to return to the castle in relays, always providing that enough remained with his forces in the city to maintain discipline. The first four arrived with their squires and took up residence, claiming the best sleeping positions nearest to the hearth and threatening to monopolise the tilt yard. Ranulph was puzzled by their attitude to him. Initially they largely ignored him, as a mere scribbler without rank or position, but seeing him constantly in Alessandro's company they were forced to acknowledge his existence. He expected condescension, but instead he detected in some of them a barely concealed hostility.

  Sometimes Alessandro entertained noblemen and their ladies from the surrounding estates. They brought an added refinement, which Ranulph was careful to observe. He was also intrigued to notice that whoever was invited, they usually brought along with them some young woman, a daughter or a niece, whose beauty and accomplishments were delicately drawn to the count's attention. After one such evening, when they were alone in the library, he remarked, 'The lord and lady who were here last night are hoping that you will take their niece to wife.'

  Alessandro sighed and grinned. 'Was it so obvious? Yes, of course it was.'

  'They are not the first. I am surprised that they have not married you off to one or other of the young ladies you have entertained lately.'

  'It's not for want of trying,' Alessandro said dryly.

  Ranulph hesitated, but felt compelled to ask. 'You have no wish to marry?'

  Alessandro put down the quill he had been writing with and stretched his arms. 'Oh, one day I suppose I shall have to think about getting myself a wife and breeding heirs. But there's time enough for that.'

  The weeks passed and Christmas approached. Ranulph watched the preparations for the festival with growing excitement, but also with some trepidation. Father Salvatore held regular Masses and all the household attended, but he had so far managed to remain in the background and no one had questioned him about his failure the take the sacraments. He had a feeling that it would not be so easy during such a great religious festival. He was right. Two days before Christmas Salvatore cornered him as he left the library.

  'Walk with me a little. The sun is shining and the air is surprisingly mild for the time of year.'

  Ranulph had no choice but to allow himself to be steered out into the count's private garden.

  'It concerns me,' Salvatore began, 'that since you came here you have not confessed yourself, or taken the blessed sacraments. When you were only a visitor I concluded that you must have your own confessor back in the city and I did not wish to intrude. But now, with the day approaching on which we celebrate the birth of Our Lord, I feel I would be failing in my duty if I did not offer you the comfort of confession and absolution.'

  Ranulph said nothing for a moment. He had dreaded this, and had still not succeeded in thinking up an excuse. At length he said, 'Forgive me, father. I think I am too deep in sin for words to wash me clean.'

  'Words?' Salvatore exclaimed. 'You think the sacrament of confession is nothing more than words?'

  'Forgive me,' Ranulph repeated. 'I did not mean to o
ffend. I meant that whatever I might say could never truly reveal the depths of my offending.'

  'Come now,' Salvatore admonished him gently. 'The love of Christ is infinite and so is His forgiveness. I do not believe that you can have committed such a grave offence that confession and penance cannot redeem you.'

  Ranulph turned to him in desperation. 'You do not know! There is something of which I cannot speak, ever. '

  'But do you not understand? If you go to your grave unshriven you face eternal damnation.'

  'The so be it.' Ranulph lowered his head. 'If God, who knows all things, condemns me I must accept it.'

  Salvatore laid a hand on his shoulder. 'My poor boy! I had no idea that you carried such a heavy burden. But, be assured, God in his mercy will not judge you harshly if you truly repent. And if, at any time, you wish to set aside that burden and throw yourself upon His mercy, I am here. I shall wait for you, in hope.'

  Ranulph swallowed back tears that threatened to overwhelm him and muttered, 'Thank you, father.' Then he tore himself away and stumbled out of the garden.

  Christmas Day arrived and the household attended Mass, but no one challenged Ranulph, though he was conscious of Salvatore's worried gaze whenever they encountered each other. Alessandro either did not notice that he abstained from taking the sacraments, or he did not regard it as a matter to be discussed.

  Once the religious ceremony was out of the way the festival celebrations were more luxurious than Ranulph had never known before. Alessandro had made prodigal use of his wealth and position to offer his friends and his vassals a feast to rival any of his peers. Dish after dish was carried in. There was beef and venison and suckling pig, all accompanied by sauces of a delicacy and savour that had the guests exclaiming with delight. There were birds of all sorts, in full plumage, and gilded sweetmeats and jellies coloured like jewels. Wine and beer flowed in unlimited quantities and minstrels and jongleurs, brought in from far and near, sang and played and told jokes. Very soon, Ranulph was able to put all the anxieties raised by his conversation with Salvatore out of his mind.

  The twelve days of the festival were filled with hunting and hawking and each evening Alessandro feasted his neighbours. For the first time, Ranulph saw how ladies and gentlemen danced and watched his master treading the measures with first one lady then another. He danced, as he did everything, with consummate grace and Ranulph saw that all his partners were eager, indeed in some cases he thought desperate, to win his approval. But he treated them all with equal charm and returned them to their places without showing favour to any one more than the others.

  There was jousting, too. Alessandro had invited knights from surrounding estates to compete against his own men and had also arranged events for their squires. Ranulph was eager to show his skill and mortified to discover that his lack of noble birth precluded him. When the competition started he slunk away to the stables. He was standing in Silver's stall, with his face pressed into her neck, when he heard Felipe calling his name. He brushed a hand over his eyes and answered gruffly.

  'What do you want?'

  'The count sent me to find you. There is to be a mêlèe and you are to take part.'

  'Me? I am too base born to fight alongside gentlemen like you.'

  'No! The count ordered me to find you and tell you he is counting on you to bring all your skill to bear to give us the victory. Quickly! Jupiter is saddled and ready. Get your armour on! Don't keep the lord waiting.'

  When Ranulph rode out to where the lists had been set up he found Alessandro at the head of his household knights, backed by their squires, facing the combined numbers of the men and boys from round about. As he hesitated, the count waved impatiently, indicating that he should take a place at his right hand. He had barely reached it before the trumpet sounded and the two opposing sides charged each other. Ranulph had to remind himself forcibly that this was not war and though he might unhorse his opponent he was not supposed to administer a lethal blow, but once he was in the thick of the fighting his instincts took over and it was only through good fortune that he did not inflict any serious wounds. He unhorsed two men, but then was thrown out of the saddle in his turn and found himself fighting on foot, fending off two attackers. He tripped one and dealt the other a blow that dented his helmet and sent him staggering out of the fray. He saw Alessandro, still mounted, but beset in both sides, and fought his way to him, crashing his shield into the face of one the attackers and sending him flying. Alessandro, his face alight with the excitement of battle, reached down and grabbed his arm.

  'Up! Behind me!'

  He vaulted onto the destrier's back, and Alessandro spurred forward. They knocked two more assailants aside and broke free just as the trumpets sounded the end of the fight. Alessandro turned to him laughing.

  'By God! I knew you'd be more use to us than those boys. I'd rather have you at my side in a real battle than any of them.'

  The judges, three older knights from adjoining estates, gave the victory to Alessandro's side and Ranulph found himself being slapped on the back and congratulated by men who had previously treated him with ill-concealed scorn.

  Once the festivities were over, Monteferato settled back into its usual routine. The days lengthened and the sun grew warmer, the vines that grew around the castle were in bud; but still there was no sign of renewed fighting. The stalemate between King Henry and the Pope remained unresolved. Then, in March, news came from the city that Pope Gregory had succeeded in mustering a council of bishops and had reissued the sentence of excommunication against Henry. In retaliation, Henry had returned in person and installed his puppet, Guibert, as the anti-pope Clement lll. Clement, in return, had performed the ceremony of coronation which confirmed Henry's title as emperor.

  In May a new messenger rode in from the city. Word had come that Robert Guiscard was advancing on Rome and the emperor had summoned all his allies to defend the city. Instantly, the atmosphere of cultured leisure was dispelled and Alessandro took on the mantle of warlord. Orders were issued and messengers sent galloping to the surrounding villages. The castle seethed with activity. Supplies came in and wagons were loaded with smoked and salted meats, barrels of wine and ale, provender for the horses, tents, cooking pots, spare saddles and bridles and all the other impedimenta of an army on the march. The bakers worked night and day producing twice baked bread. Spare horses were brought in and the farriers were busy shoeing those that needed it and checking the shoes on the rest. The yard rang with the sound of metal on metal and the rasp of steel on stone as rivets were tightened on armour and swords were sharpened. Knights who held their land in fee from Alessandro arrived with the levies of men they owed and by nightfall there was scarcely room for all of them to lay out their pallets on the floor of the hall.

  Ranulph was kept too busy to think of his own affairs. He was at Alessandro's heels, making notes, compiling lists, writing messages. It was not until evening that he had a chance to speak to the count as he paused long enough to gnaw a chicken leg and swallow a cup of wine.

  'Sir, I have to go.'

  'Go, where?'

  'Back to the city. I promised Leofric that I would return as soon as the fighting started again.'

  Alessandro looked at him for a moment, as if he had forgotten that Ranulph was not permanently attached to his household. Then he said, 'Of course. You must keep your promise. But it is too late to start for the city today. Besides, I need you here. If ever I required a secretary, it is now.' Then, seeing that Ranulph was hesitating, he went on, 'Don't worry. It will be two days at least before the Guiscard can reach Rome. You can ride with us tomorrow. Your friends will still be waiting for you.'

  It made sense, and Ranulph had no wish to leave before he had to. He nodded. 'Yes, of course.'

  Alessandro smiled. 'Good. Now, you have the list we made of the equipment to go on the third wagon? Go and check that it has been loaded.'

  On the way across the yard he met Vincente, whose face was glowing with excitement. />
  'The count has given permission for me and Lorenzo to fight alongside him. The others wanted to, but he said they were too young. They can come, but when the battle starts they have to stay to guard the tents.' His eyes shone. 'I shall ride at the count's right hand, to guard his unshielded side.'

  He hurried away and Ranulph looked after him with the taste of bile in his mouth and a pain somewhere in the region of his heart. That boy – he always thought of Vincente as a boy, though they were much of an age – had never experienced a battle. He could not be trusted with Alessandro's life. The thought formed itself in his mind. That should be my place!

  Next morning a long cavalcade passed out of the gates of Monteferato. Alessandro rode at its head, astride his cream-coloured palfrey, with Vincente behind him leading his black destrier. The war horse was too important to be used simply as a means of transport. He would be kept fresh for the coming battle. Lorenzo rode at Vincente's side and the other squires followed. Behind them came the knights, with their attendants; then the men-at-arms on foot and finally the creaking wagons loaded with supplies. Ranulph had held back, unsure of his place, until Alessandro looked around and called for him. Now he rode at the count's right hand, half a horse's length behind him. He could feel Vincente's resentful look, boring into his shoulder blades.

  In spite of his privileged position, Ranulph felt a growing sense of anxiety and frustration as the journey proceeded. The cavalcade could only move slowly, restricted by the foot soldiers and the lumbering wagons, and he was painfully aware that if he was alone he could reach the city in half the time. He imagined Leofric and Hildred and the others watching the road for him, wondering if he was going to break his promise.