by Tony Roberts
Casca grunted; he wasn’t going to remind the merchant it was Casca who made the approaches. What the hell difference did it make? All the way back to their lodgings Casca was informed about the prices of goods and the like, most of which went in one ear and out the other.
Aveline didn’t look too impressed that afternoon to be accompanied by Casca, but Roland didn’t seem to notice. He was pleased to get his daughter out from under his feet and do some serious accounting. Casca gently pushed her out into the street. “Come on, Lady Aveline, any more figures about the cost of transportation and my head will explode.”
“I don’t need you pushing me around,” she snapped, a red flush on her cheeks.
“Look, lady,” Casca said, facing her in the street, fed up with her behavior. “I’m here to make sure you aren’t attacked in any way. There’s a lot of ugly unclean and ill-mannered soldiers in town, and a pretty young woman like you unaccompanied is fair game to them. So I’m your protection. You might not like me but I don’t give a rat’s ass about that. I’m being paid to do a job, so if you haven’t anything intelligent or proper to say then keep your mouth shut. I’ve had enough of your rudeness. You’re not too old to go over my knee.”
Aveline stood there, her mouth open in shock. Her father or mother – when she had been alive – had never spoken to her in that way. “Why… why…you insolent…”
“Be quiet!” Casca snapped, glaring at her. “Or I’ll teach you respect.”
Aveline snapped her mouth shut and picked up her tresses and swung round. She stamped off, Casca following shaking his head. She tried to keep well ahead but the soldier wasn’t about to let that happen. He strode quickly so he was alongside her in a flash, and Aveline slowed, looking the other way. Casca smiled to himself and kept pace. They came to the market square, bustling with people, and soon the girl was lost in the more interesting aspect of finding something to buy.
She spotted some length of bright blue cloth on a stall and leaned over to inspect it, Casca a few feet behind. Someone moved in quickly from the right and a small blade appeared in his hand, moving to the leather thong that held Aveline’s purse to her wrist. Casca moved.
The wrist of the cutpurse was seized and he was pulled up high, the wrist well above his head. Casca glared down at him. “Stealing from a lady? How brave!”
The weasel-like man protested he was innocent, but the small knife in his hand said otherwise. Casca squeezed the wrist and the blade clattered to the stone flagged ground. The onlookers watched in fascination. Casca grabbed the thief by the throat and picked him off his feet. “I see you again I’ll cut your balls off. Now go!”
He released the thin-faced individual and he scuttled away, rubbing his throat and wrist. Aveline was holding her purse and staring at Casca. The warrior shrugged and resumed his watching position. The other people went back to what they had been doing.
Casca wasn’t really interested in what Aveline was doing but a job was a job, so he made sure the seller wasn’t cheating on her. He was trying to sell the cloth for a higher price than Aveline wanted, so Casca drew out his sword and began wiping it slowly, in full view of the trader, staring at him intently. The trader swallowed and quickly agreed the young lady had indeed been correct in her assessment of the price which was a fair one.
Everyone was pleased with the transaction; Aveline because she had her cloth, Casca because he’d stopped her being ripped off, and the trader as he still had his head. On the way back they came across Roger and two of his associates. Casca groaned and called to Aveline. “Hold on, Lady, I sense trouble from these three.”
Aveline frowned and stopped while Casca stepped slightly in front of her. Roger had seen the two and came forward, his right hand clutching his sword hilt. His cronies followed, smiles on their faces. “So, what have we here? A little girl and her mighty protector? I think not. We’ll have to relieve you of that cloth; it looks good enough to keep us in beer and food for a week!”
“Stay away from her you ugly lump of shit,” Casca snarled.
“Oh, sweet on the girl are we?” Roger laughed. “I’ll cut your testicles off and that’ll end all that!” His two comrades laughed again.
Casca grinned mirthlessly and stepped forward. “Want to try me, you talentless turds?”
Roger’s mouth went down and he began drawing out his sword. Casca had been waiting for it and moved quickly. He’d been in dozens of street brawls in his thousand years, and was no stranger to the ugly, brutal life on the streets. Hit first or be hit, that was his motto. His right fist blurred and came up under the Norman soldier’s jaw, sending it snapping back. Casca’s grunt and Roger’s gasp of pain were as one, and the soldier’s knees buckled and he fell backwards against his two compatriots.
Casca’s sword was out and waiting before the two others could free themselves from the mass of boneless flesh that Roger resembled. “Who’s first to kiss death?”
The two men lunged forward. Aveline screamed and backed off, against the wall of a building. Casca attacked. He blocked the first man’s chop and slammed his left hand into the soldier’s face, sending him staggering back. As he did that, the second man came in, blade swinging. The Eternal Mercenary twisted sideways, using the experience of centuries of practicing against swinging rock-filled leather bags or for real, and the blow sliced through thin air just past Casca’s left shoulder.
Casca’s counter blow sent the shaft of steel viciously up from waist height, punching through the chain mail links and piercing through flesh and bone. The man gave out a strangled cry and Casca jerked the blade free, allowing the Norman to sink to the ground into a fetal position. The first man snarled and came at Casca again, sword whirling left to right, but Casca waited.
The blade struck, Casca deflected it aside and whipped a counter blow back so fast that the Norman never saw it coming. Suddenly he was standing in the street, a stupefied look on his face, blood pouring out of his neck and mouth, and he slowly collapsed face down onto the now wet mud.
Casca stepped up to the two fallen men and kicked them. The one he’d stabbed first groaned faintly, but the other never reacted. Roger lay there, totally unconscious. Casca’s blow had been right on the mark. Casca growled and kicked him. “I should kill you for burning my farm and killing my people, but I’m no murderer.” He then turned round.
Aveline was staring at him with wide shocked eyes. “Is that true?” she breathed. “About the farm?”
“Yes,” Casca said softly. He saw some people coming down the road from the market place and quickly ushered the girl into a side road and walked her rapidly along it and then left into another street. “I didn’t want anyone asking awkward questions. That fool who lives will make things difficult enough with Lesalles. I understand he’s someone important here. But he’s the man responsible for burning my farm down and killing my people. I want his blood.”
Aveline pulled herself away from Casca and faced him. “You must know something. Something about Lesalles; there’s been an arrangement with him.”
Casca stood facing her. He had a feeling something bad was coming. “What arrangement?”
Aveline held her cloth tightly. “What has been arranged is my marriage to him. We’re to be wed later this year.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Roland predictably exploded. “Of all the stupid things to do, you kill my daughter’s future husband’s retainers! You realize I will have to let you go?”
“They made the moves. I was escorting your daughter back here and they tried to steal her cloth.”
“But killing them? Did you have to do that?” Roland shook his head and put it in his hands. “Oh, sweet Jesus, what am I going to say to Lesalles? He’ll be furious; he’s not the sort of man to take any bad news!”
“Tough. That man was responsible for the destruction of my farm and the deaths of….”
“I don’t care! I do care about Aveline’s future husband and my deal with him! You’ve put that in doubt!”
Aveline pursed her lips tightly. “It seems you men forget that a woman can help change a man’s mind. I shall speak to him and tell him we were attacked. His men insulted my honor, and Casca here defended me.” She turned to Casca. “You would best keep quiet about the farm. Lesalles won’t be so open to my suggestion if he knows you’re after his life.”
“And Roger, this man-at-arms?” Roland asked, throwing his arms wide. “He’ll know there’s something between Casca and Lesalles!”
“Leave that to me,” Aveline said, throwing her hair back. She came closer to Casca. “But I want a promise from you not to do anything to Lesalles; as his betrothed I would view any attack on him as one on me!”
Casca stood fuming. His need to get even with what happened at the farm competed with wishing to remain with Aveline. Libido competed with anger. His face reddened and he turned away. How was he to satisfy the woman but at the same time not make any promise he would break in the future? He threw his shield into the corner of the room. He turned back. “Very well; as long as I’m in the pay of your father or you, I won’t touch that man.”
Aveline smiled. “Good. That’s settled then.”
Roland spluttered. “But-but, what about afterwards? Casca, you must surely promise not to do anything against him ever!”
“I can’t do that,” Casca stared the merchant down. “What happened to my people goes beyond any betrothal. I’m sorry he’s your future husband,” he said to Aveline, “but I made my vow to get even long before I knew the two of you.”
Roland sank down into a chair but Aveline oddly kept on smiling. “I’m happy about that, father. Now please, let’s all go to see Lesalles and clear this misunderstanding up.”
Casca was keen to go; he wanted to meet the man who’d ordered the attack. Roland was more reluctant but he tagged along anyway, more to keep an eye on his daughter and the deal he’d struck with the man than any consideration towards Casca. During the walk Casca asked how it had come about that Aveline and Lesalles had become betrothed. Roland explained they’d met at a banquet a few months back when the trader had come to Caen, hearing of Duke William’s intention to assemble an army for the invasion. Roland wanted to cut into the new trading opportunities that a Norman victory would bring, and he’d learned that Lesalles had funded some of the Duke’s fleet and was to be rewarded with a position of some influence in England. Roland made a deal with Lesalles that if he became a noble he would set up a wool trading deal, offering his daughter as part of the whole package. Aveline had little say in the matter.
When they arrived they were shown in to the inner rooms in the keep. Here were all the symbols of the Duke, and it was clear this was his domain. Casca looked left and right. Here were the knights who formed the Duke’s elite guard and they weren’t people to mess about with. Cutthroats, killers, experienced mercenaries, all were here.
The three entered a large semi-circular chamber through a thick wooden door, guarded by two men. Casca had to surrender his sword to them which he did reluctantly. Beyond sat a man in blue robes and white undershirt, looking at them through clear blue eyes. His hair was brown and cut in the Norman manner, shaved at the back and short at the front and sides. He stood at seeing Aveline and came round the table, and Casca was surprised to see he was wearing a sword. He also looked tough and had the walk of a soldier. Not the type of man who he associated with rent collecting.
“Aveline! How delightful to see you!” he boomed. His face broke into a wide smile, revealing white teeth. One or two gaps were visible but that was nothing unusual. “And Roland.” He embraced the girl and clapped Roland on the arm.
In the room also was Roger, and he swore audibly, staring at Casca. Lesalles looked at his bodyguard and then at Casca. “What is it?” he demanded, his face and voice suddenly hard.
“This is the swine who killed my two comrades earlier today. He’s been asking about you, sir.”
“Is it now?” Lesalles turned back to face Casca. “Is it indeed?” He stepped closer and examined Casca. “You have the look of a soldier. You enjoy killing my men? Why did you do that?”
The air had gone very still and all eyes were on Casca. “They made the moves; I was protecting the woman here.”
“Her name is the Lady Aveline,” Lesalles’ voice dropped below freezing.
“He speaks the truth,” Aveline said softly. All eyes turned on her. She smiled sweetly at her betrothed. “I was returning from buying a really beautiful length of cloth from the market place when he,” and she pointed at Roger, “and two really filthy men accosted me in the street and demanded I hand it over. Casca here protected me. It was over in so short a time I didn’t really have time to draw breath!”
Lesalles slowly turned to face a hunted looking Roger. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Roger.”
“I didn’t know she was your betrothed! I’ve never seen her before today!” Roger edged towards the door fearfully. “If I knew that I’d’ve never tried to take it, honest! You gotta believe me!” He looked panic stricken. Lesalles glowered at the white-faced henchman, then turned to the girl again.
“I shall punish this disrespectful dog. But not now. No harm was done to you, I trust?” Lesalles took Aveline by the arm and led her to a far corner where they began talking in low tones. Roland looked at Casca who shrugged and then contented himself by watching Roger. The henchman was standing close to the door visibly shaking. Casca wondered just what it was about Lesalles that terrified the man so much.
The two guards by the door shifted on their feet and the air in the chamber was heavy; the menace was palpable and Casca was reminded of the atmosphere before a storm. Lesalles ruled by fear, and Roger was due for some grief.
The two came back and Aveline smiled at her father, but ignored Casca. Lesalles released her and faced the scarred mercenary. “You appear to have bested three of my men in a few moments; I would like to use you as one of my guards.” It wasn’t a request, it was spoken like an order. Casca wasn’t sure he liked that.
“I’m on the rolls of Walter Giffard. I’m due to leave for the coast shortly. I’m a soldier, and the campaign against England is more suited to my skills. I’m only filling in as a bodyguard to Aveline and her father to kill time.”
“Lady Aveline,” Lesalles growled fiercely. Casca said nothing and stared at the burly, stocky Norman. The two men sized each other up, noting how their bodies fitted their armor or clothes, how they stood, and how they glared at each other from a distance of an arm’s length.
Lesalles finally sneered and turned away. “Ignorant peasant, you’re welcome to die for the Duke on his campaign.”
Casca smiled thinly. He might have a fair fight with this man, but was confident he could beat him. It was a matter of opportunity and planning. They left soon after and Lesalles watched them from his arrow slit as they walked across the lowered drawbridge and onto the street. He turned to Roger. “You say he’s been asking about me? You wish to perform a service to me to clean the slate?”
“Of course, sir.” Roger eagerly nodded.
“Then take five men tonight and kill that fool. Disguise yourselves so nobody will recognize you. Make sure the girl and her father are safe and unharmed.”
Roger smiled a death head’s leer. “Consider it done, sir.”
CHAPTER SIX
The darkness had fallen and the room flickered with candlelight. Casca sat on the bench honing his sword. It needed a little work, as it had been neglected, and the professional in him always came out at times like this. Lesalles’ chamber had been like a spider’s web. There was something deeply evil about him and Casca resolved to destroy him, one way or another. He was little better than a brigand working legally under the protection of
the Duke, which didn’t do the Duke’s image any good in his eyes.
Lesalles was the kind to go committing all sorts of bad acts and say it was in the name of the Duke if anyone objected. He probably handed over half of his extorted money to Duke William anyway which kept him sweet. He deserved to die.
Both Aveline and Roland had retired to bed a short while ago, and Casca was beginning to feel tired. It had been an interesting day but now things were relaxing and his muscles needed to unwind. He leaned back against the wood planking that lined the walls in the room, and critically looked at the blade in the candlelight. Satisfied, he put the stone down and wiped the blade with his cloth and waved it a few times to make sure it felt right.
Roland’s snores came through the wooden door to his room and Casca reckoned it would be hard to shut them out; it might be difficult to get to sleep. He couldn’t hear anything from the girl’s room, and apart from the sounds of movement outside the room and the snoring there was nothing to be heard.
Casca suddenly gripped his sword and stood up. Movement outside the door? There seemed to be a number of people outside, trying to be silent, but walking along plank flooring and wearing metallic objects – which was what it sounded like faintly coming to him – was impossible. Casca quickly swung a bench round against the door and stepped back, breathing as shallowly as he could.
The door shook under a sudden assault and it split open, breaking along a fault in the wood. The door half opened then stuck against the bench. A sword came into the room followed by a mailed arm gripping it. Casca lunged, slashing down hard. The edge of the blade struck close to the elbow, biting deep into the chainmail. The owner screamed behind the door and the sword he had been holding clattered to the floor. The arm withdrew swiftly, spots of blood coating the door and wall next to it.
The door heaved open and fell into two pieces, and five men came stumbling in, pushing the bench aside. Casca wasted no time. One of the armed men, dressed in a dull brownish colored cloth vestment over a short hauberk, was bending over, having banged his shins on the bench. As the intruders were gathering their wits and checking out the room, Casca’s next attack came in cruelly.