The messengers took different routes but the first man to arrive in Roselynde was the one who had taken the most direct land route. He had valuable additional information also, because he had been fortunate enough to spot and avoid Saer’s army. Thus, when he was brought into Adam’s presence, he was able to tell his master that it was Kemp that was the target of the attack, as well as the fact that Sir Robert was taken—dead or alive he did not know.
Adam rose to his feet, his eyes glittering with hard gold and green sparks. Ian and Geoffrey rose with him. Alinor’s face went white as whey, and Joanna bit her lip.
“Ian…” Alinor cried softly.
“Robert is my friend and the son of my friend. I have known him since a child. It was by my word that he was given the governance of Telsey keep,” Ian said quietly, but the steel could be heard very clearly under the gentle voice.
Alinor made no further protest. She knew that nothing she could say or do would stop her husband from going to Kemp. Geoffrey limped over to place his hand on his wife’s shoulder, but his eyes were on his mother-by-marriage.
“This cannot be Louis,” he remarked, offering subtle comfort by assuring Alinor that Ian was not about to fling himself against a greatly superior force. “A really large army would not have passed Telsey by when it could be swallowed in a day or two and its stores taken. Nor would Louis have been in such great haste to pass without hindrance that he would leave the dead un-buried.”
“I think I know who it is,” Adam said, and reminded them of Saer’s attack on Telsey. “He seeks revenge on me and knows that Kemp is the heart of my lands.”
“How strong do you judge him to be?” Ian asked.
“He attacked Telsey in the summer and, had I not come, he had men enough to take that place. We beat him soundly, but he fled so fast when Sir Hugh and Sir William arrived that his losses were not great. If he has been planning this since then and hiring and training men, using the resources of Neville’s lands for that purpose, he will surely be strong enough to take Kemp.”
“But not strong enough to withstand our combined forces. However, they will take time to gather,” Geoffrey put in thoughtfully. “Say it is Saer and he has half again or double the force he brought against Telsey. How long do you think Kemp can withstand him?”
“It is well supplied and full-manned. I do not fear force so much,” Adam replied. “Unless a real army comes against it with real mangonels and siege towers and tools for tunneling, Kemp will hold. It is not as strong as Roselynde, but it is not an easy nut to crack, either. What I fear is that Alberic will be tricked in some way. He is a good man, loyal to me to his last breath and not stupid—but all his life he has obeyed orders. It has not been his part to watch for tricks or reason out what men will do.”
Ian nodded. He had besieged Kemp himself once, when it was held by a rebellious castellan, and he knew that what Adam said of its strength was true. “It is for you to decide, Adam. Shall we call what men we can reach at once and start as soon as they arrive, or should we dare a week’s delay? Even so, the men from Ealand, Clyro, and my people from the north will need to follow later.”
“A week certainly cannot matter,” Adam said between his teeth. “Kemp will not fall from weakness or starvation in ten times that time, and, as for falling to trickery, that would be tried first, I think, so that the damage would have been done already, even if we started today.” All the good-natured laughter was gone from his face, leaving it a hard, handsome mask. “If this is Saer, he must die. I warned him to leave me and mine alone. He is the kind, it seems, that does not learn.”
“I agree heartily,” Ian responded. “I will go further and tell you we must take Tarring after we drive him off Kemp. I have heard that Neville’s son is alive, but an idiot. Thus, anyone who takes Tarring can rule all the Neville lands in his name. That would be a very nice profit to us, and it would greatly further the purpose we spoke of the other day. Well, Alinor, what do you say?”
Relieved by the knowledge that her husband would have another week to gain strength, Alinor nodded briskly. “Yes, to take Tarring is wise, if it can be done without great loss. To kill this Saer and leave an idiot prey to any man who desires to seize him would be to leap from the pot to the coals. It is too likely that the poor creature would be taken by someone both greedy and ambitious who would only make more trouble for Adam. Besides, Simon knew old Neville. He was not a bad man. It would be a kindness to see that the son was well cared for and that Neville’s vassals were well led.”
Adam need not have worried about Kemp falling victim to trickery. Sir Robert’s action had not only given the castle warning but had resulted in his own escape. When he roared orders to shoot, the men on the walls had obeyed instinctively. A hail of arrows flew out toward Saer’s fifty men-at-arms. Several were struck, as were several horses, which reared and screamed and lashed out, spreading disorder and confusion.
Meanwhile, the stroke of Sir Robert’s shield had knocked Saer half out of his saddle. More than anything in the world, Sir Robert would have liked to draw his sword and try to kill the man who had insulted him by thinking he would betray his oath of homage. However, duty was more important than the immediate satisfaction of his pride. Sir Robert knew for certain that Adam was not in Kemp, although he had neither confirmed nor denied what Saer had said, hoping that would be further evidence he was not in his overlord’s confidence. It was thus Robert’s plain duty to get himself into Kemp if it was humanly possible, and defend it.
Although killing Saer would have solved the problem even more effectively, there was really very little chance of succeeding in that because Saer’s men-at-arms would come to his defense as soon as the first shock of surprise was over. Sir Robert struck once more with his shield, this time at the horse. The animal promptly shied and began to run so that Sir Robert was able to spur his own horse into a gallop in the opposite direction. He rode toward the wall and then along it, praying that someone would notice what he was doing and open the small postern gate that let men out to go directly to the dock down a winding road. Even a few minutes’ delay in opening would seal Sir Robert’s fate. Saer already had his horse under control and was shouting furious orders at his men.
It was just the opposite situation that saved Sir Robert. When the main gates were closed, no orders had been given to the men at the small gate, and the sound of Sir Robert’s warning to the men in the watchtowers had not carried around the wall. The postern gate was still open as Sir Robert thundered around toward it. Hearing the horse, the men ran in and began to shut the heavy door. Desperately Sir Robert spurred his horse, pulled his feet from the stirrups, leapt off and charged right through, shouting his name so that the guards would not spit him as he came in.
The maneuver was successful at the small cost of two men bowled over and a sprained ankle sustained by Sir Robert when he flung himself out of the saddle. He did not even notice it as he rushed to help the men close the gate. They were only just in time. Barely had the bars been shot home when Saer and his party came galloping in pursuit. As the riders tore by, not even noticing the postern in their haste, Sir Robert staggered and fell, aware for the first time of the exquisite pain in his ankle, and the guards groped for the pikes they had thrown down to attend to the door.
“De Remy,” Robert gasped, pushing back his helmet so the men could see his face. “Where is Alberic? One of you run for him at once.”
There was another frantic half hour, while messengers were readied to ride to Roselynde and men were sent to warn Kemp town. Sir Robert told Alberic everything he had been able to glean about Saer’s force. Then he had his ankle bound and all settled down to watch and wait. They were outnumbered, of course, but, with the advantage of the protection the keep afforded, their chances of holding out until Adam came were excellent—if the messengers were able to get through. Unfortunately, that hope was denied them. The next morning five gibbets were erected just out of arrowshot of the front gates. On them were hung the piti
ful remains of what had been men before they were tortured to death.
When it was sure that all the castlefolk had seen or at least heard of what had befallen their late comrades, Saer sent a herald to blare out his terms. If the castle yielded at once, all except Sir Robert de Remy would be given quarter and would be free to leave with their possessions, their families, and anything else they desired. No questions would be asked about what was taken from the keep. If, on the other hand, they resisted, all would meet the same end as the messengers, not excepting the women and children—after those had been used by Saer’s army. They did not need to answer at once, the herald added. The terms would stand until the assault began.
Alberic came down from the wall where he had listened to the terms to speak to Sir Robert. There could be no question of his loyalty, nor of the loyalty of any of Adam’s men, because they were well treated and knew it. However, the capture of all the messengers was a deep psychological blow.
No one wished to yield; all were angry at the mistreatment of the men who had been captured. Nonetheless, a seed of hopelessness had been planted in the defenders and that would grow over the following days as they watched the construction of rams, scaling towers and ladders, catapults, and other machines designed to destroy or surmount the walls.
“It would have been better for us had they flung themselves upon us at once,” Alberic said to Sir Robert.
“Of course, but the man is no fool, no matter how foul,” Sir Robert replied. “He knows as well as you the effect of what he does. There is one thing he has overlooked, however, and this you can tell the men. Our lord will come—in no long time, either—and with an army. De Cercy has forgotten that he took me while I was on patrol. When I do not return at my appointed time, John of Kendal will send men out to seek for me. Doubtless they will find those who were killed or the signs of the passing of Saer’s troops. Perhaps they will wait a day, or even two, but after that John will send direct to Roselynde. He knows Adam is not here.”
Alberic’s face brightened. “I had forgot that myself. I will spread the word.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “I will tell them we cannot expect our lord for two weeks or a little over so that they do not grow discouraged with looking for him too soon.”
“That is a good thought. Whether he comes in that time or not does not matter, because we will be engaged before then, and once the fighting starts de Cercy’s offer will be void and the men will be steadied anyway. But we do not need to fear those poor devils’ fates. I know Lord Ian is in Roselynde now, and Lord Geoffrey, too, most likely, because he went with Adam to the new king’s crowning. I think Lord Ian and Lord Geoffrey will come with Adam when they have the news from Telsey that I am missing.”
“Lord Ian and Lord Geoffrey, too?” Alberic began to laugh. “They will squash this cur like a bug if they all come together.”
“Yes,” Sir Robert agreed, “that will be Adam’s intention. He warned de Cercy when he attacked Telsey never again to trouble him or his.”
“Then de Cercy will die,” Alberic said. “I will tell the archers to take care not to shoot him if he should happen to come close to the keep. My lord will be fit to eat alive any man who harms a hair on de Cercy’s head until he can meet him and finish him himself.”
Sir Robert nodded. “The whole shire will be a healthier place when de Cercy is gone.”
Later that day Sir Robert’s words were shown to be all too true. Kemp town was overwhelmed and put to the torch. The men in the keep cursed and fumed, but there was nothing they could do. To attempt to help the townspeople would merely hand the castle, as well as the town, over to Saer. More gibbets appeared, bearing ugly, noisome fruit—but that was a mistake on Saer’s part. To take and loot a town was a reasonable act for a besieging army. Wantonly to kill and torture its citizens after burning and looting inspired more rage than fear in the defenders of Kemp.
Once word had been passed that their master would not remain ignorant of their need and would come, probably accompanied by his powerful stepfather and brother-by-marriage, the men-at-arms regained confidence. Over the next days they watched the construction of the machines of war almost eagerly. They wanted to lock horns with the man who had burned their haunts of pleasure and probably killed their friends and relatives in the town.
Saer pressed ahead with the construction of assault weapons in earnest, but he had depended too much on cleverness. Although the catapults had begun to fling their stones against the walls, they had done little damage by the time a patrolling guard came running to report that the dawn’s light had revealed a small army of men resting in their arms to the southwest. Saer rode out at once to assay the force opposed to him. He was relieved to see that it was not very large. Even if the men of the keep came out to help their supporters, he would still have the stronger army.
His relief was not long-lasting. Before the sun had actually risen, Saer knew that he had been trapped. Other forces lay to the north and to the southeast. The besiegers were besieged, surrounded by their enemies. There was no escape. Saer gave orders to make ready to fight with a sinking heart. No heralds had been sent out from the encircling army to parley. No terms were suggested or offered. Saer at last understood Adam Lemagne’s warning—too late.
Chapter Five
A little more than a week after Saer had found himself surrounded by Adam, Ian, and Geoffrey and had foreseen his death, Gilliane looked out from the walls of Tarring at the same force. Her face was perfectly calm, her voice when she spoke was low and steady. There was now no man or woman in Tarring keep who knew Gilliane well enough to realize that her large, beautiful eyes were quite empty. Gilliane had passed through the ultimate of fear and horror. She had no hope and no expectation. All that remained was a little desire to do something for the castlefolk who had always been respectful and obedient to her, sometimes even kind.
Two days after Adam Lemagne’s mighty arm clove Saer from neck to breastbone, the bloody, disheveled remnant of the force he had led made its way back into Tarring keep. They came at night; they were in such terror of the monster that might be pursuing them that they had traveled only at night, hiding through the day, even after it was plain that Adam and his men were no longer at their heels. Their tale was told to Osbert—there was no one else to tell. At first his one interest was to be sure, absolutely sure, Lemagne was not close behind them. When he was certain of that, he dismissed the men who had brought him the news of his father’s death with a self-satisfied smile.
As soon as they were out the door, Osbert rose and beckoned to the two men who slept in his room and truly were his own. Osbert had tried many before he found these two, and he had perfect confidence in them, in which feeling he was not far wrong at that time. The three were soul mates. It was not only the generous wage Osbert paid that made Pierre and Jean faithful but also the fact that they shared and really enjoyed Osbert’s perverted pleasures. They admired him, too, although they knew him to be a physical coward, which neither of them was. Osbert had what they lacked—an active imagination. It was he who devised the “little games” that brought them delight. Neither of them, for example, would have thought of coupling with a woman tied hand and foot so that she could not struggle while her fingernails were torn out. The convulsions of her inner body added a real thrill to the process. What Osbert ordered now would not be so high a treat as that, but there was always some pleasure to be had in the terror of a helpless victim, and, since this terror would culminate in murder, the satisfaction would be enriched.
On that night Gilliane had slept quietly. Her plea to Sir Richard had not been in vain. He had remained in the keep for several days and had made clear to Osbert what he would think, and what Neville’s other men would think, of any relapse in Gilbert’s condition. That had been enough to keep Osbert from more than sly pinpricks for a few days, and, before he had gathered enough courage to “forget” Sir Richard’s implied threat, another vassal had arrived on a visit, saying he had heard of his lord’s improv
ement and had come to be sure nothing had set back his progress. He had also made clear to Osbert that if anything happened to Gilbert—anything at all—Osbert would be considered at fault. Gilliane needed only to keep herself and Gilbert out of Osbert’s way while he was actually in Tarring to be relatively safe from persecution. Thus, she slept soundly, unaware that the life she knew had come to an end.
She was not wakened by the closure of the door to the chamber. Now that Saer was gone, the maids set to watch her often did her the courtesy of closing her door. If anything, the click of the latch sent Gilliane deeper asleep because of the sense of security and privacy it imparted. She was brought awake by a double terror—by Gilbert’s shriek of fear and by the sensation of being held down and gagged by cruel hands.
Only the night candle was lit, but the room was not dark to Gilliane’s eyes. She did not miss a single move of her crippled husband’s struggle against Osbert and Pierre, who dragged Gilbert from the bed and thrust him, writhing and weeping, out of the window. After his first cry, his mouth had been gagged—as hers had been—but Gilliane heard the thin wail as he fell and the ugly sucking thud when he struck the hard-packed earth and died. Her horror was so great, she did not then feel afraid. In that moment of pity and grief, she would almost have welcomed being thrown out after Gilbert. Fortunately, she was given little time to dwell on what had happened.
Gilliane (Roselynde Chronicles, Book Four) Page 8