Green Jasper

by K. M. Grant

  “Tell the sergeant to lock her upstairs in a room with no windows,” he said to one of the serving girls who was watching, agog, all that was going on. “She’ll soon come to her senses.”

  Will listened in helpless agony to Ellie’s struggles as she was dragged away, but when he could hear nothing more, he fell on to his knees and scoured the ground until he found her necklace. He crushed it so hard against his hand that the stones bit into his palm, then with one stride he reached Gethin, yanked him to his feet, and shook him. His anger made him vicious. “What were you doing that made them come and take Ellie away?” he menaced through gritted teeth.

  Gethin tried to answer, but Will threw him backward, and he landed on Old Nurse. “Master Will,” she begged, “it will help nobody if you turn into a monster.” Her reproof hit home. When Will spoke to Gethin again, his tone, although curt, was more civil. “You know what that man did to my horse?” he asked. “What is he going to do with Ellie?”

  Gethin stayed near Old Nurse. “Earl William,” he said, searching for the right words and hoping against hope to find them, “I am not a brave man, but that horse, well, he deserved better. And as for your Miss Eleanor …” Gethin hesitated. How could he explain, without causing offense, why the thought of her skeleton lying in a stinking cellar was too much for him? “The second key was in the stable,” he said finally. “I thought maybe the constable had forgotten. He has never used it. But he hadn’t forgotten, and the sergeant came in when I had it in my hand. I don’t even know what I was going to do with it.” With that his flow came to an end, and a dull, repetitive thud told him that Will was beating his knuckles against the wall.

  Old Nurse felt her way over. “Now, Master Will,” she said. “Come on, dearie. Don’t rage. Think. The time for rage will be later. Don’t let that man get his hands on my Ellie. Off with you. Get up that tunnel and get her out of here.”

  Will heard her, but his mind leaped from one dreadful image involving Ellie to another involving Old Nurse. “Do you know what they might do to you if I manage to spirit Ellie away, Old Nurse? Do you?” he demanded.

  “Ssssssh! Quiet!” Old Nurse exclaimed, shivering only slightly. “Now get away with you, Master William. We’ve been through all this. I’ll survive. You see if I don’t.” She hugged him, then urged him on. Will turned to Gethin. “Are you with me? Because if you are not, I’ll have to kill you.”

  It took Gethin no time to choose. “With you,” he said, and an excitement entirely new to him coursed through his veins. “I’m with you. But I’ve never heard of any tunnel.”

  “No need to hear anymore,” Will replied. “Just bend down and follow me.” A minute later both men had disappeared.

  Old Nurse sat heavily and allowed the dark to close in on her. It would take her some time to die, but she was a patient woman, used to waiting. She fingered the knife that Will had given her. If her suffering became intolerable, she knew what to do with it.

  14

  Gavin traveled to the tower with twenty men and five carts of siege machinery. Marie’s prayers and Marissa’s exhortations to hurry rang in his ears long after Hartslove was lost to sight. Alan was left behind to finish the work on the castle’s defenses. Gavin had chosen to ride Dargent, who was a little bruised after his tumble down the drawbridge but willing nevertheless.

  Hosanna strode out strongly for Kamil, occasionally tossing his head to shake the last of the water from his ears. Despite Marissa’s best attempts, a few bedraggled weeds still clung to his mane, and Kamil pulled them out as they went along. Some of the time the young Saracen daydreamed that he was not in England but somewhere far away with just Hosanna and a hawk for company. It might be possible. Will could die. But even as Kamil hoped, his conscience was uneasy. It was wrong to wish a man dead so that you could have his horse. If Hosanna was his at the end of this venture, he must be won honorably. Will could not die for lack of any action on Kamil’s part, for that could never be forgiven. He glanced over at Gavin. With Richard’s seal at his belt, it was clear that the count of Hartslove did not need to dream. In his mind’s eye de Scabious was already finished, and what was more, he seemed certain that when confronted with proof that Richard lived, John would not want to jeopardize his own future for a fat constable and a girl he barely knew.

  With each day of the journey, Kamil’s face grew more gaunt, while Gavin’s lost its haggard sheen and filled out. His eyes were bright—almost too bright. There was no tremor in his left hand, and when challenges were issued by those intent on blocking their way, he drew his sword cleanly and held it steadily. “I feel as if I’ve been living in hell,” he told Kamil, “and can only now see my way out.”

  They pressed on fast. In every settlement they passed through, Gavin made sure to show Richard’s seal and announce that the king was alive and would return. There was not universal rejoicing. Some who had suffered from Richard’s obsession with holy war jeered, but for the most part, although nobody volunteered to join Gavin’s meager forces, the villagers felt happier after hearing the news.

  However, as the cavalcade got farther north people began to stare at Kamil, and one morning small boys threw stones at him, calling out, “Saracen-man, Saracen-man,” and other words that their mothers forbade them to use at home. Kamil did not respond—except when a pebble hit Hosanna’s rump. The horse grunted, and Kamil’s sword was out in a second. It was enough. The boys vanished.

  When five days later, the evening of de Scabious’s return home, they reached the final split in the road to Hangem, Gavin stopped. “The tower must be at the end of the track leading up to the left,” he said. “This right-hand one looks as though it leads to the village. We’ll go there first. If we show Richard’s seal, the villagers may be willing to help us.”

  The horses picked their way down to the valley floor. As they passed the gallows Gavin’s heart lurched. The corpses, now stinking, were unrecognizable, but they had clearly hung too long to be Will. Gavin ordered them cut down. “The constable has made his point—whatever it was,” he said. “It is enough.”

  As he rode among the houses anxious faces peered out and doors were barred. He halted at the foundations of the church, and Kamil dismounted to stand by his side. “Go round and tell them we come in peace,” Gavin ordered one of his knights. “Tell them that when he returns, Richard will hear their grievances.” He dismounted himself. Although nobody appeared, he sensed a tinderbox atmosphere. It would take more than a seal and the cutting down of some corpses to gain the villagers’ trust.

  When ten minutes had passed, Kamil grew impatient. Spying a woman trudging down the path, half buried under a huge bundle, he leaped back onto Hosanna and was after her. The woman dropped the bundle and began to run away, but Kamil was too quick and used the horse to push her toward Gavin. She looked both terrified and mutinous, but before Gavin could reassure her, a small tornado shot out from behind a sheep hurdle and began to hammer at his ribs. “Get off my mother!” the boy shouted.

  “Elric! Oh, please don’t hurt him!” Morwenna pleaded, trying to grab her son, but Elric pushed her away, utterly humiliated by her intervention. He wriggled around, and the first thing he saw was Hosanna. His jaw dropped.

  “It’s the—,” he began, but Morwenna stopped his mouth. It was not safe to say anything.

  “You have seen this horse before, I think,” Gavin said, following Elric’s eyes.

  “Never,” Elric replied at once, but his face betrayed him.

  “What is your name?”

  “What does it matter to you?” Morwenna interrupted quickly.

  A group of villagers now cautiously began to gather. Gavin waited until a good number stood in front of him, then addressed them. “We come with good news,” he said. “King Richard is alive and will return. Constable de Scabious is a traitor. But we are not come to shed blood. We are come to free his prisoners, one of whom is my brother and the other my betrothed wife. We have no quarrel with you. We have simply come to take them h
ome.”

  The villagers muttered among themselves. Morwenna looked around, and Elric took advantage of the moment to make his escape. “Elric!” Morwenna cried. But he took no notice. Instead, he shyly approached Hosanna, who leaned down, and his forelock tickled Elric’s nose. The boy laughed, and the villagers inched forward. They stared and pointed at Kamil, who glared at them and then drew his sword as Peter rushed forward brandishing a hoe. He had seen Gavin arrive and had run in from the fields, fearful for his wife and son.

  “No, Peter!” cried Morwenna, conscious that Kamil could kill Elric in seconds. “That weapon is of no use. Please.”

  Peter frowned at her.

  “Is this your boy?” asked Gavin.

  Peter spat. “He is my son,” he said. “And if you hurt him, Constable de Scabious and King John will have something to say. Come here, Elric.”

  Elric did not move.

  “Constable de Scabious will have nothing to say in the future,” said Gavin, remaining determinedly polite. “You have not heard. King Richard is not dead, and John’s writ does not run here, so we have come to take the tower and release its prisoners. Will you help us?”

  “Help you?” scoffed Peter. He moved to stand beside Morwenna and turned to the villagers, raising his voice. “We should do nothing to help these people,” he declared.

  “But he has shown us King Richard’s seal,” a man at the back shouted. “He’s telling the truth about that at least.”

  “A seal can be forged,” Peter replied. He looked around. “Where did he get it, do you think?”

  “It was brought from Richard himself by this man.” Gavin pointed to Kamil.

  “A foreigner.” Peter spat again.

  Morwenna took his arm. “Don’t make them angry,” she begged. “One of those prisoners gave himself up to save Elric’s life. Have you forgotten?”

  Peter shook her off. “Elric’s life would never have been in danger if those men had not come here in the first place.” He stood squarely in front of Gavin. “We will not help you. Just leave us alone.”

  “Give us food and firewood, then,” said Gavin, “and we won’t trouble you further. Now we must waste no more time. We go in the name of God and the king.”

  “God and the king,” the Hartslove men echoed.

  Kamil felt small hands tugging at his boot. “Can I go with you?” begged Elric.

  His father’s heavy arm crashed onto his shoulder. “You’re going nowhere,” Peter said. “Now get away from us.” He shook his hoe at Kamil, who shrugged and cantered off.

  The Hartslove knights met the baggage train as they climbed the approach to the tower. Gavin ordered the animal lines to be drawn up out of sight of de Scabious’s archers and the grooms to stay with them at all times. It would not do to lose the warhorses, for there seemed little possibility of finding replacements locally. Then he ordered camp to be pitched, cleverly using the slant of the hill to disguise how few men he had.

  That night, as Gavin and his knights settled down to plan, Kamil slipped off and sat with Hosanna. He watched the red horse for a long time, mulling over his bargain before finally finding some blankets and snatching a few hours’ sleep.

  Oblivious to all this activity, Will and Gethin were climbing to the tapestry room. Will felt utterly finished. He had lost Hosanna. He had left Old Nurse to face her death alone, and there was no guarantee that he could rescue Ellie. As he felt his way along the slimy walls, almost gagging on the rotten air, he felt a dreadful sense of responsibility for their predicament, as if some wrong turning had been taken early on, and this, rather than anything de Scabious had done, had precipitated the collapse of his world. His thoughts were very bleak. Maybe he was being asked to pay for the sins of previous de Granvilles. Or maybe, and here Will faltered in his stride, maybe it was his own jealousy over Gavin and Ellie that had turned God’s thoughts to punishment. He climbed faster. “I’ll hate You forever if You punish Ellie for my sins,” he said aloud, then jumped at the echo of his voice. How petty he sounded. He was glad when he could see the filter of light through the tapestry and stopped to whisper to Gethin to take care of the dust.

  “No more talking now, not even whispering unless what you have to say can’t wait.” They crouched down, trying to make out whether the tapestry room was empty. It was not. De Scabious appeared occasionally, but soldiers milled about all the time and even settled themselves down to sleep in shifts. There was no opportunity for Will and Gethin to try to get to the door. Frustrated, they watched and waited. As the hours wore on, grief spread its deadening blanket over Will, and he found it harder to concentrate. The night slouched past, and long after it had become day, Will was startled by Gethin tapping his shoulder.

  “Somebody behind us,” he mouthed. His breathing was shallow with fear, for he had heard many stories about demons. But this demon turned out to be tiny, and as Gethin seized it, it squeaked.

  Will was exasperated. “Elric! Go back. It’s too dangerous for you here.”

  “But—”

  “Ssssssh!”

  Will pulled the boy a short way down the tunnel, almost tripping over a sack. Elric was not pleased to find Gethin with Will, for he did not want to share him. For a moment he wanted to sulk, but his news was so momentous that he couldn’t.

  “Yesterday afternoon,” he whispered, the words tumbling out, “men came to our village. I would have come before, but after they left, my da locked me in the house. He doesn’t trust me anymore. Anyway, when the men came to the village, one said he was your brother and said that King Richard was alive. Oh! And I don’t know how, but another is riding your horse.”

  “My horse?” Will said sharply, trying to take in all that Elric was saying. “And the Hartslove knights? Oh, thank God for them, at least. Now, maybe, there is hope. But, Elric, you are mistaken about Hosanna. He is dead. De Scabious had him …” His voice, to his shame, trembled a little. “The constable had him butchered.”

  “He can’t have,” said Elric, cheerful now that he had Will’s undivided attention. “I saw him.”

  “Did you hear somebody call his name?”

  “Well, no,” Elric admitted. “But it was him. Do you think I’m stupid?”

  He suddenly found his head almost ground into the dirt. Will’s fist was unforgiving. “Don’t say it was Hosanna. It can’t have been.”

  But Elric was unrepentant. “It was,” he insisted, rubbing his face. “Don’t you want him to be alive?”

  “Look,” said Will, “if it really was Hosanna, my brother Gavin would be riding him. Or my squire, Hal, whom you met. Was it either of them?”

  “No,” said Elric, frightened now, but determined not to give in, “it was somebody else. I don’t know who. He looked funny. Then your brother brought all his men up here. They’ve got siege machines and everything, and they’re going to rescue you. I followed them, and I saw your horse again, only he was grazing at the back. He let me touch his star.”

  Will dropped Elric and put both hands on the wall to steady himself. It could be true, what the boy said. The constable could have been lying. Will shut his eyes. He wanted, above everything, to believe that Hosanna was alive, but he would not allow himself to forget that Elric had seen Hosanna only once before.

  The boy waited impatiently. Will’s doubts seemed ridiculous. And anyway, he had something else important to say. “I didn’t come just to tell you about your horse and the knights. Here.” He felt for the sack.

  Gethin felt inside the coarse cloth. “Swords,” he said to Will with delight. “Two sharp swords.”

  “I stole them,” said Elric, thoroughly pleased with himself.

  “Where from?” asked Gethin.

  “From the knights outside the tower.”

  Will rocked backward, nonplussed. “You stole these swords from the Hartslove knights?”

  “They seemed to have plenty, but I knew they wouldn’t give me any if I asked,” said Elric defensively. “And your horse helped me. He was eati
ng near one of the wagons. I slid underneath his stomach. Then he walked to the end of his tethering rope, and I hid right behind him until I could get away without anybody seeing me.”

  Will felt a weight lift from his heart. He would not yet allow himself to rejoice, but he could see it all, the horse grazing, seeming to do nothing but doing so much. Maybe the boy was telling the truth.

  “I know two swords are not going to be much good against all the constable’s soldiers.” Elric held one up for Will, deeply resenting the fact that Gethin was holding the sword he had thought to wield himself. “But it was the best I could do.”

  “They are more than we could have hoped for,” said Will. “And anyway, with Gavin outside the tower, there will be plenty more swords on our side.” He ran his finger over the flat blade, and his confidence began to return.

  “If only my da would tell everybody in the village to help,” sighed Elric. “He’s not a bad man. It’s just that he is frightened of being on the wrong side.”

  “I know,” said Will. “But never mind about the village, Elric. Will you do something else for me? Go to my brother and tell him about the tunnel. He could send men up to meet me and Gethin. Attacking from two sides would give us double the chance of success. You could show them the way. Would you do that?”

  “Why would they believe me? They would think it a trap.” Elric sounded uncertain.

  “Not if you give my brother this,” Will answered, and feeling about in his tunic, he brought out the necklace of green jasper and pressed it into Elric’s hand.

  The boy peered down. “It’s just a girl’s trinket,” he said disdainfully.