A Summer Siege (Medieval Romance)

by Samantha Holt

  “There is naught to keep me here, Madeline.” Viewing her sadly, he bundled up the rest of his garments and made to move past her, but she stood frozen in the doorway. “Madeline, let me by, I have little time to prepare.”

  “So you will die for the sakes of duty?”

  He looked at her grimly and Madeline shuddered. “I bear the burden of battle just as any other man. ‘Tis an honour to fight for my country.”

  She stared at him, unable to move, to release him, yet knowing she had to. Cold fear fisted itself painfully at her heart at the thought of something happening to him, but how could she persuade him to stay? She could offer him naught, not even friendship, for it would always be a painful reminder of what could have been.

  “You are leaving me once more then?”

  Tristan’s eyes flared in anger. “I am not leaving you! I do not have you! Hells teeth, think you that I do not wish I had not left you? Think you I have not lived every day since regretting that decision, punishing myself for it? I will always repent my actions that day for I had a duty to you too, but I cannot spend the rest of my days waiting for your forgiveness.”

  Jolted by his ire, she backed through the doorway. Pausing, she looked to the floor, unable to bear the cold fury in his gaze. “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I do not wish to cause such anguish. Pray forgive me.”

  Madeline turned and fled, tears spilling freely down her cheeks, to seek solace in her chamber unable to spend another moment in his presence. She stayed there from night until morning, not even leaving for food. To watch him leave once more was more than her heart could bear.

  Chapter 8

  A cloud of fog sat across the village that morning as the soldiers thundered past on their way to Dover. Tristan led the group of just over fifty men-at-arms though the thin mist, their colourful tabards breaking through the cloudy swirls. The journey to Dover would take them just under two days if they rode hard.

  And they would. For Dover Castle was on the brink of siege. With the support of rebel barons, Prince Louis held London and much of the South. Dover was to be England’s last stand. Seen as the key to England, it sat between the French prince and a successful invasion.

  Looking back at the battled hardened men, he knew they would fight hard to hold the keep. Although an experienced warrior himself, he took no pleasure in killing and detested those who did. A man had to kill to defend those he love, a sad necessity of these times, but while he was a skilled fighter, it was with a sense of duty that he did so, not with a love of violence. He looked forward to returning to Woodchurch and resuming his duties.

  But he wasn’t returning. His gut churned with regret.

  Damp air clung to his skin, as miserable as his mood. Tristan had not seen Madeline again after their confrontation for she had remained in her chambers. Trying to remind himself that he was glad, he could not help but hope for one last glance - just one last look at her to sustain him for the trials ahead.

  In truth, he should be glad he did not for he was sure his resolution would have buckled and he would have gone crawling back, praying and hoping that one day she may deign to forgive him. His resentment towards her burnt bright, troubling him, for he was not prone to bitterness but her refusal to allow them a chance at happiness ate away at him.

  And yet his love for her was just as potent as ever.

  With a brief glance to the small manor house sitting below the hill, he spurred on his horse. Mayhap his love would be forgotten in the spilling of French blood.

  ***

  Alice finally coaxed Madeline downstairs at noon, tempting her with some food. Her stomach growled, in spite of the constant feeling of nausea that had swept over since she had heard the clatter of hooves early that morning.

  Sitting in the small hall, the room seemed colder than usual and, as she looked at the empty bench opposite, she realised it was due to Tristan’s absence. His jovial smile and large golden form always had the effect of warming the barren room. It was as if all joy had been swept from her and all her previous fears seemed trivial now that he was gone.

  Pottering around, Alice seemed to take little notice of her mistress’ melancholy mood until she came to clear away her trencher. Patting Madeline’s hand, she sat down unceremoniously next to her and Madeline looked at her with curiosity, knowing it was likely she was going to receive some words of wisdom. Alice’s wisdom was useful sometimes and mildly puzzling the rest of the time.

  “I had hoped we’d be celebrating a wedding when ye returned.”

  Madeline stared at the table, tracing the wood grain with her fingers. “Oh? Between who?”

  “Don’t ye play ignorant with me,” Alice wagged a finger at her, “I am no fool. We all knew the master were heartbroken over ye and ‘twas clear as day that ye still loved him.”

  “I do not -” she trailed off as Alice raised a brow at her. The woman knew her far too well to be deceived. Her voice cracked, “It matters not how I feel. I am not wifely material and Tristan deserves better.”

  “Think you that’s not for him to decide?”

  Madeline considered her words, mayhap Alice was right but there was still the matter of trust. She couldn’t let herself be that vulnerable again. “I cannot, Alice.” Her throat clogged with unspent tears. “For all that is holy, I cannot be under a man’s power again.”

  “He is not your father.”

  “Think you I don’t know that?!”

  “Ye think that ye will not hurt if ye do not marry him. If he were to marry someone else and have babes would it not hurt ye? If he does not return from this battle, will it not torment ye for eternity that ye did not declare yer love?”

  “Oh, Alice, do not speak so.” The thought wrenched painfully at her heart. Alice spoke true but doubts still lingered. “But how can I marry a man so honour-bound?”

  “Is that not one of the traits ye love?”

  “Aye…” Madeline admitted grudgingly, “Though I dare not hope he truly loves me. He speaks from the guilt of a broken vow, I am sure.”

  “Milady, you are a clever woman, so how be it that ye are behaving like a daft mule? Ye need only look in his eyes to see his love for ye. ‘Tis not honour that kept him by yer side.”

  Sitting in silence, Madeline thought over all the moments she had shared with Tristan. Indeed, he had insisted what he felt was naught to do with his guilt. But how could she know for sure? She feared he would one day decide that it was not love keeping him at her side, but duty. And if she gave him all her heart, where would that leave her? She could not bear the thought of him not loving her as she did him.

  Sensing her indecision, Alice wrapped her scraggy fingers around hers. “Ye need to decide what the greater risk is. Bury yer love and pray it does not plague ye for the rest of ye days or open ye heart to him and hope.”

  Madeline looked up at her with a start. An unfamiliar sensation burned within her. A warm, glowing feeling bursting from her heart.

  “Hope?”

  “Aye, hope. Love is not without its risks but ‘twould be far worse to live without it. ‘Specially when ye have the love of a man such as Sir Tristan.” Alice grinned mischievously at her.

  Madeline chewed at her lip. “But he is gone…”

  “Ye could go after him…”

  “I know not if he will even forgive me. I have been so heartless.”

  “He will, I know it. Go to him, milady.”

  She frowned, wondering if Alice was being too optimistic. “He will send me back.”

  “Ha, ‘tis not the Lady Madeline I know! Make sure he can’t. Ride to him and show him that ye love him.”

  Laughing at Alice’s determined expression, she felt that same determination fill her. She loved him, and if naught else she would tell him so. He had spent all this time condemning his actions and she had done naught to renounce his self-condemnation, instead only fuelling his belief that he had failed her. Aye, the pain of those days would probably always sit with her but look at what the
time had given her. She was strong and independent and would always remain so. Tristan would never take that from her, he was too noble a man to do so.

  Suddenly those years apart, the skills she had learnt all meant something. She would go to Dover Castle. She would fight – by Tristan’s side, if he would allow her – and defend everything she loved. Tristan and England.

  “Aye, I will. ‘Twill take some cunning on my behalf, but I swear he will not be able to send me away.”

  “Then make haste, milady!”

  ***

  Thomas looked lost without his master. He tended to Cariad with the same care and attention as he did Tristan’s destrier and she smiled at the sight of the small boy’s hands upon her large horse. Madeline viewed him with pity as she realised he probably felt as she did and lamented the loss of Tristan almost as much as she. Thomas was a determined young lad and no doubt wanted to fight but as a page there was no place for him in battle.

  “Thomas?”

  He looked up at her before giving her a formal but awkward bow. “My lady.”

  “Thomas, I need your help.”

  “Of course, my lady. My lord said I was to aid you with whatever you needed.”

  She smiled at his heartfelt words. “Aye, well, I am about to ask a great favour of you, Thomas, and I am doubtful your lord would have intended for you to aid me in such a manner.”

  A frown came across his pale forehead. “My lady?”

  “I wish you to take me to Dover Castle.”

  His eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. “Nay, my lady, I am to keep you safe. Sir Tristan said I must!”

  “Well then, you must keep me safe on my journey to Dover.”

  “But, my lady-”

  “Do not forget I am your mistress,” she told him sternly.

  Thomas’ face dropped. “Aye, my lady.”

  Madeline smiled, feeling sorry for him. “You will not get into trouble, all blame shall lay with me, I promise. Your lord knows well of my stubbornness and will not punish you for my actions.”

  His teeth nibbled at his bottom lip as he considered her. She could tell he didn’t believe her but she knew Tristan would not be angry with the boy for doing as she asked. More likely she would bear the brunt of any anger but she was willing to risk his fury if it meant she could tell him she loved him.

  “Good. Now ready the horses and gather your things. Ask Alice for some food, ‘twill be a two day journey at least.”

  Thomas nodded and scampered away. Anticipation began to fill Madeline and she found herself longing to set her eyes upon Tristan. Still, she knew she would have to bide her time. If she was to prove her love for him she would have to remain patient, which would no doubt prove to be a most difficult feat in his presence. Nevertheless, in spite of the knowledge of the challenge ahead, she could already feel the heavy shroud of doubt lifting. Hope had once again taken root inside her heart.

  ***

  Their journey took a little over two days in the end. Thomas was not as strong a rider as Madeline, having spent less time in the saddle as she, and Cariad was still ailing so she had settled upon one of the other horses who lacked Cariad’s fleet of foot.

  They slept by the roadside at night, taking turns to keep a watch out, particularly for French soldiers. It was rumoured that a local man, William of Cassingham, was leading a rebellion against French troops in the area, skirmishing them with his archers, and the roads remained peaceful, mayhap due to his efforts.

  The Kentish countryside quickly eased Madeline’s nerves, a feeling of comfort that she had yet to experience since her return settled upon her. The familiarity of the lush greens and rolling hills contrasted directly with the sharp, breath-taking scenery of North Wales. While she conceded the beauty of the land surrounding her aunt’s home was unparalleled, this was the first time she had taken note of her surroundings and it offered her a joy that she had considered destroyed by her father’s treatment of her.

  It was a joy that Tristan had somehow replenished. Without her realising, his time and attention had drawn out that childlike part of her that took pleasure in such simple things. Whilst others had written her off as forever changed, he had seen that dormant capacity to love and had worked hard to coax it from her.

  They approached Dover over the cliffs, the scent of sea saturating the air. A sharp breeze countered the warmth of the sun and beneath them the sea rolled into the white cliffs, the wave’s collision with the rocks just distinguishable underneath the bluster of the wind.

  Approaching the castle from the north, they avoided the French, who were billeted in the town. A wooden palisade barbican was in the last stages of completion and surrounded the North gate – likely a last minute addition in the hopes of buying time. The large wooden posts encircled the gate creating a third line of defence. Their best hope of survival was for them to hold out for as long as possible until Prince Louis ran out of supplies or men. It would be unlikely the French would remain during winter, their encampment not suited to the harsh English weather, so if the keep could remain secure until then they may have their victory.

  Dover castle was one of the most impressive in England, a prime example of fortifications at their best. Madeline had never seen it before and it was truly a sight to behold. Towering over the landscape atop the huge chalk cliffs, the square stone keep dominated the landscape. The surrounding curtain walls were no less intimidating - with towers positioned to cover all angles - every fragment of it was designed to protect the occupants from invasion.

  As they passed through the barbican, the North gate loomed over them - two great round towers between which a portcullis stood. Entering the bailey, the path in front of them curved around to the second gate, stone walls causing entering forces to narrow their column. Madeline pitied any enemy who would find themselves within these walls. The heads of crossbowman could be seen bobbing along walls on every side. Anyone stepping foot in here would surely be slaughtered.

  The doors were open to allow workers easy access but the Captain of the gate recognised them as strangers and challenged them. “What say you?”

  Madeline dipped her head, keeping her eyes to the ground. She wore a conical helm which concealed her distinctive hair and a short surcoat and hose completed her disguise. On her travels to Wales she had found a male costume an advantageous tool and almost relished the chance to don her disguise once more. With any luck, she would be mistaken for a young boy as there was no concealing her small frame.

  Thomas cleared his throat. “I bring word for Sir Tristan Dumont from Lord Reginald Dumont.”

  The captain nodded, recognising the name and motioned them through.

  Madeline sighed in relief.

  Moving through the second gate, they finally arrived in front of the Great Tower. The clanging of the blacksmiths frantically making ready for war could be heard and the odour of sweat and animals pervaded the air. Madeline began to doubt the wisdom of her decision. If the constable truly believed this was to be a long siege it was likely all the women and children of the household had left so the stores would not have to feed anyone who couldn’t fight.

  In all likelihood she was the only woman in the castle.

  Crushing a pang of anxiety, she steeled herself. Indeed, she may be the only woman but she would prove herself just as useful as any man.

  ***

  As she settled her horse into the stables, she turned to Thomas, who looked around anxiously. “Be off with you now, lad. You have done your duty.”

  He shook his head vigorously. “I’m to keep you safe, milady. Sir Tristan will not be happy if I leave you here.”

  Madeline settled a hand on his shoulder. “You will make a fine knight one day, Thomas, but a castle under siege is no place for you now.”

  Glancing around she realised it was no place for her either but, with courage on her side, she resolved to continue on with her reckless plan.

  Thomas fidgeted, his eyes wide with the sights and sounds of
the castle. “I should not leave you…”

  “I order you to leave now. Return to Alice and ensure that Woodchurch is well looked after. Lord Reginald will need to be informed of my absence.”

  He nodded with slight relief and mounted his horse. “I will see you soon, milady?”

  She smiled with a certainty that she didn’t feel. “Aye, that you will.”

  As she watched Thomas leave, a feeling of loneliness threatened to consume her. She had little clue as to what she should do now she was in the keep, having never resided in a castle at a time of war. She began to explore the keep, ensuring to remember to remain as concealed as possible lest someone recognise her as a woman.

  The smell of the pungent male musk assaulted her senses and she tried not to gawp at the many hundreds of men crowded into the small spaces. Everywhere she went there were soldiers and she wondered how she would remain undiscovered. Listening carefully to the talk of the men, she soon learnt that the siege was expected to start within a matter of days and she thanked God she had made it in time.

  Madeline’s heart jolted as a flash of golden hair caught her eye. Leaning out of one of the embrasures, she caught site of Tristan. Out on the inner wall, he was talking with a distinguished looking older man. In full armour, his hauberk and leather surcoat had transformed him into a fully-fledged warrior. The open shirted farmer was long gone and she imagined she could view the toughened steel of his blue eyes. He motioned emphatically with one hand as his other clutched to his helm and Madeline itched to join him.

  Cobalt eyes flicked to the embrasure and she darted back, pulse thumping. Realising he could not have seen her from his position, she laughed at her foolishness. For the moment, she would have to stay out of his sight.

  Just until the siege began.

  Then, without the possibility of her leaving, she would announce her presence to him. She just prayed he would forgive her for her deception.

  Chapter 9

  Dover Castle, July 1216

  The siege began as Prince Louis’ forces divided, half remaining in the town and the other half moving up to the hill to the north of the castle. His fleet were sent to sea, enclosing the keep on all sides. The atmosphere within the keep was palpable, having been building to this moment for too long.