Tristan stood atop the inner curtain wall as the French amassed while great wooden siege machines rolling into view. They quickly set about assembling the wooden perriers and mangonels – the stone throwing machines – and construction started on what was to be a siege tower. Yet, even as the siege began, he could summon no fear. Tumultuous green eyes plagued him and he wondered if he would ever see them again. Some inexplicable part of him could always sense her and he could not shake the feeling that he had left her to some peril.
The sound of stones pounding against the outer curtain wall tore him from his thoughts. Dangerously accurate crossbowmen fired at the operators of the war machines but there were many thousands of French men and they were easily replaced. However, while the stone attacks on the walls did but minor damage, the undermining of the barbican began. Protected by a ‘cat’ – a large wooden shelter covered in hides - the workers swiftly began work. The Kentish chalk would be easily penetrated and it would be but a matter of time before they collapsed the wooden palisades and stormed the barbican.
Now it would be a waiting game.
***
Madeline had also observed the beginning of the siege and knew it was now time to act. Days of being sequestered away had led to this and now her courage seemed to desert her. He would be angry with her, she realised. How had she considered this idea such a fine one? After several days of watching him from a distance her longing to be by his side had only compounded, but now she felt foolish.
With a start, she realised he was moving towards her with brisk strides. Panicking, she attempted to turn but slammed into the chest of another man. Clumsily she turned once more to realise he was practically upon her. Dropping her head, she went to hurry past but a hand grabbed her arm.
“Wait!”
Reluctantly, she glanced up as Tristan looked at her in confusion.
Knowing she had little choice but to reveal herself, she whipped off her helmet, her fiery hair spilling from its confines.
“Madeline! What in the devil…?”
Swallowing, she stared up at him, all courage now unquestionably gone. His armour amplified the pure strength of him and up close he was more daunting than ever. What truly struck her was the weariness and remoteness reflected in his eyes. Was it the strain of battle or had she been the cause of such a look?
“How did you get in here?”
“I…I’ve been here for a while.” She gulped, “I wish to stay by your side, Tristan. I wish to join you in this battle.”
“What is your meaning? Madeline, this is no game, we are at war. I have no time for your manipulations.”
“I have no intent to neither play games nor manipulate. I am aware of the dangers, which is why I will not leave your side.”
Tristan frowned at her. Sounds of chainmail clattered around them as soldier’s barged past. Taking her elbow, he marched her to one of the small chambers, scowling at her with blatant annoyance.
Pushing her against the wall, he glowered at her. “Speak plainly, my lady, what are you doing here?”
Madeleine opened her mouth to speak but he held a finger up.
“And speak the truth. No more cold words with little meaning, I am weary of them.”
Seeing the mistrust in the bright azure of his eyes, she noted the apathy of his expression, and with a pang of regret realised it was likely her doing. She vowed she would do all she could to erase such a look. It would be no easy feat, opening her heart to him; for she had lived too long trying to conceal all that made her a woman.
All that made her vulnerable.
“I know not if I have wrought too much damage,” she gulped as her heart pulsated nervously against her chest, “but I will stay by your side to whatever end, regardless of your love for me…because I love you, with all my heart.”
His eyes widened slightly but his face remained impassive, the mistrust still simmering behind his shuttered expression. “And you tell me this now? On the verge of battle, you would reveal your heart? Did you think you could charm me into letting you fight with sweet words?
Heart sinking, she became certain she was behind the remote look in his eyes. She had hurt him more than she had known.
“I expect not your forgiveness; I know I have been the cause of suffering. But if you allow me I will do all I can to atone for my callousness, in the hope that one day you will forgive me.” She grinned unexpectedly at her words. “Do you see, Tristan? I feel hope once more.”
He considered her for some time, opening his mouth as if to say something. She reached for him, laying a tentative hand upon his chest and he jumped from under her touch. Swiftly turning away, he stormed out of the arched doorway.
Closing her eyes briefly, she took a calming breath, trying to ease the painful constriction in her chest. She knew he would not forgive her easily but she had hoped he would at least take her words for what they were.
The truth.
Gulping back the tears that threatened to consume her, she determined that she would do as she set out to. She would stay by his side until the bitter end, no matter the outcome. If she could not prove her love through words then she would prove it through actions.
***
Tristan stormed out of the door, heedlessly pushing past the armoured men in the hall. She loved him!
Did she?
Doubt still plagued him as his heart drummed relentlessly in his chest. He paused, indecision tearing at him. He had been sure she loved him - before she had even said it. Their love making had only proved as much, but she had been unable to see past her blind pride. She had hurt him grievously with her rejection and she had hurt him in her absence. Admittedly, she had known naught of the grief she had caused with her disappearance but even on her return she had managed to break him all over again.
And now she wanted to fight? What kind of reckless woman deliberately conceals herself to take part in a war?
Madeline, of course.
Who was he trying to fool? He spun around. If there was a chance, even the remotest chance that she loved him, then he would take it. Hell fire, he was already miserable without her – it couldn’t get much worse!
She stood in the same spot he had left her but with her back to him. He could not help but smile with admiration at his petite scarlet warrior. Her surcoat and shirt was shapeless, the belt at her waist providing the only definition, and her sword must have belonged to a man as it nearly dragged on the ground, but still lust stirred within him.
Her shoulders shook slightly and he realised she was crying. His proud warrior woman was crying!
“Madeline,” he called quietly.
Turning with a small cry, she faced him, her cheeks wet with tears.
Three broad steps took him to her and he swept her into his arms. She cried out again and clung to him, wrapping her legs around him as he hefted her into his hold. Sobs wracked her as he pinned her to him, pressing a desperate kiss to her lips.
He kissed at her sodden cheeks, at her forehead, her nose, and finally claimed her mouth once more, her sweet heat opening to him as he thrust his tongue against hers.
“I love you, Madeline,” he muttered between kisses. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she choked, tears still falling freely.
Gradually her sobs subsided and elation surged through him as he grasped gratefully at her slender frame.
The shouts of men in the bailey broke their stolen moment and he placed her down slowly.
Cupping her heated cheeks, he looked at her gravely. “I do not wish to be parted from you again, my love, but you cannot stay, the danger is too great.”
“Have I not already proved myself? The danger is no greater for me than ‘tis for you.”
“Nay, Madeline. For all your courage there is no place for you in battle.”
She wrapped her hand around the outside of his, her slender hand barely encircling his larger one. Nuzzling into his palm, she looked up at him, her eyes glistening but filled with determ
ination.
“My place is by your side. Besides, there is nowhere for me to go now.”
He groaned, “God’s teeth, you are the most infuriating woman. How will I live with myself if you should come to harm?”
“And how can I live with myself if I walk away from you now? If this should end badly I could not regret that it ended by your side.”
“Do not say such a thing.” His gut twisted at the thought of aught happening to her.
“‘Tis the truth.”
Emotions warred within him, how could he let her go now he truly had her heart? But he could not place Madeline in peril to satisfy his selfishness. Never before had he experienced such a longing to satisfy his own needs. In truth, he did not even know how he could get her out of the castle unscathed for the French surrounded the castle on all sides.
As he looked upon her determined stance, he realised it would be no easy task to persuade her otherwise. It had taken her this long to finally admit to her love for him, to cast aside her prejudices. How could he shake her from this foolish notion of going to battle with him?
With a sigh of resignation, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. She folded herself into the crook of his arm and for a moment he enjoyed the protective feeling that came over him, understanding how much trust it must have taken her to even perform so small an act.
“So can I stay?”
With a roll of his eyes, Tristan sighed; he must be out of his wits. “I yield, my lady. You may stay but I beg of you, stay out of trouble. We will have to announce your presence to De Burgh, you are hard to miss and I do not wish you to raise his ire.”
She grinned. “You did not notice me.”
“Lord only knows how, for you have be the most beautiful soldier I have ever laid eyes upon!”
Madeline laughed at this and Tristan marvelled at the sound. If they lived through this he would endeavour to make her laugh every day.
***
The Great Hall was a bright, colourful room – often used as a throne room when the king visited. A large embrasure at the back of the room led to a great window, in front of which the thrones would normally sit. Twin fireplaces sat to the left of the room and blue and red tapestries covered much of the walls.
Its usual luxury had been sacrificed for the current occupants. The trestle tables that would normally sit adorned with embroidered white linen and silver tableware had been packed away to make room for the men-at-arms. Those that were not needed on the walls sat sprawled on the rushes or sleeping pallets, with little to do besides wait
Hubert De Burgh, one of the most influential men in England, stood talking with a knight in the centre of the room. He was a strapping man and although he had more years under his belt than to come, they did not seem to have done him any harm. His red, blue and white surcoat stretched across broad shoulders and he had a practical air about him. His dismissed the knight and turned to greet the pair, looking at Madeline with puzzlement.
A light brown moustache sat upon his top lip, extending outwards and curling around his mouth. His hair was mostly grey with flecks of the same brown scattered throughout. His steely eyes flickered with recognition when he set his gaze upon Tristan.
He nodded in greeting and flicked a surprised look to Madeline. “Dumont.”
“My lord.”
He strode towards them. “Is all well?”
“Aye, my lord. May I introduce Lady Madeline of Woodchurch?”
“Lady Madeline.” He bowed his head. “While your presence would almost certainly give us all more reason to fight, I must ask how you came to be in my keep? We are not currently prepared to receive guests as you have undoubtedly noticed.”
“I have not come as a guest, my lord. I wish to offer my aid.”
De Burgh scowled. “I’ll not have any useless mouths.”
“I can fight, my lord.”
He regarded her coolly before turning to Tristan. “Can you vouch for this?”
“I can, my lord.”
“I am skilled with both bow and sword, my lord,” Madeline interjected.
De Burgh eyed her with amusement but conceded, noting the spirit dancing behind her bold green eyes.
“Aye, well you may yet have a chance to prove your skill. Should the castle fall, Prince Louis will have us conquered. There will be no surrender so we look to a long and bloody battle.” He looked at Madeline pointedly. “There will be little mercy should the French prevail.”
Madeline held his gaze confidently, in spite of the unease that was slowly threading its way through her. It was common knowledge that should a castle hold out for longer than considered proper there would be no honourable surrender and the best they could expect would be indiscriminate slaughter.
She could not miss the working of Tristan’s jaw as she considered their future and she did not doubt he was having the same morbid thoughts. Grateful that he had vouched for her, she realised it must have been extraordinarily difficult for him to do so.
“We must pray these stone walls hold,” De Burgh continued.
“‘Twould take a lot to fell these walls surely?” Madeline asked.
“Aye, but it ‘twould not do to underestimate the French. If Louis takes Dover, he takes England. He will not give in so easily. If you will excuse me, I will see you anon.” De Burgh made to leave but paused briefly. “You will not find the accommodations here to your usual standards, I fear, my lady. We are close to a thousand men and there is little room for such numbers.”
“I thank you, my lord, but I have endured worse.”
“Very well.” De Burgh looked at her with interest once more before striding away.
Tristan turned to Madeline with a sigh, “If De Burgh is right, we have a fierce battle ahead of us. Leave now, before ‘tis too late, I beg of you.”
She could see the distress in his eyes and she regretted being the cause of it, but she could not leave. She had just as much to lose as any of these men. More so, when she considered Tristan would be here defending the keep.
“I will not.”
“You have naught to prove, my love.”
Madeline reached for his hand, clasping it tightly before pressing it against her chest. “I know that. ‘Tis not foolish pride that keeps me here, ‘tis you, Tristan.”
Gripping at her hand and closing the gap between them, he stroked at her cheek. “I fear for your fate here. I would rather see you safe than at my side.”
“I will not be swayed.”
“Aye, that much I know, but think on me, Madeline, I could not lose you a second time.”
“And I you. I will not leave your side now. We will prevail together.”
Tristan’s worried expression gave way to a slight smile as he brushed a thumb over her lips, but she could not help notice that the worry remained in his eyes.
“You remind me of a young girl I once knew.”
“Aye, mayhap you still know her.” She leaned up and brushed a kiss across his lips, trying to reassure him.
“Mayhap I do.” Tristan whispered against her mouth.
As he deepened the kiss and brought his fingers twisting into her hair, Madeline realised that while she had thought that young girl was lost to the past, some small part of that child had been resurrected. And it was due to Tristan. The hope that had once burned bright had not been lost; it was simply waiting for Tristan to unlock it. She was grateful, for though she was thankful for what the years had taught her, the icy defence she had wrought around her heart would have slowly crushed her.
Bawdy laughs and jeers broke their embrace and Madeline flushed while Tristan eyed the source of the sounds so severely that most looked away with embarrassment.
Chapter 10
It was with an odd sense of relief that they watched the barbican finally fall. Endless days of waiting, listening to the thud of the war machines hammering into the castle walls, had finally come to this. The barbican had done its job, it had bought them time and the castle would not be lost.
/> Yet.
The sight of smoke pluming from behind the oak beams of the make-shift wall announced the completion of the French mine and the barbican gave way in a cloud of dirt and ash.
Tristan assisted from the curtain wall, his men stationed with crossbows not far from the North tower. Madeline was safely installed in the castle waiting for the casualties of the day. He was grateful she had not insisted on joining him, as arrows hammered around them. Most fell wide and he had little fear for himself but he would not have felt happy about her presence in such conditions. Still the wooden perriers flung their stones, every now and then cracking the top of the wall, sending a great cloud of dust into the air and occasionally taking some poor soul with it.
With assurances that he would not be defending the breach, Madeline had acknowledged that the physicians could use her aid and helped ready one of the chambers for the injured. The Captain of the Gate, De Creon, led the fight, as a horseman assailed the breach carrying a great banner.
The battle raged on, Tristan’s men relentlessly hammering the invaders with their crossbows, but still they kept on coming, vastly outnumbering the English. The smell of scorched wood and the sounds of screams, and rampaging footsteps echoed through the dirt that still hung in the air. Arrows zinged past as crossbow after crossbow was fired at the invaders.
The tide began to turn and it became obvious that they could not hold back the great wave of attackers. The captain was mortally wounded and gradually the soldiers were beaten back until they had to retreat behind the curtain wall.
Bloodied and tired, the survivors sought refuge in the keep and the waiting game began once again. Tristan knew though that the next battle would not be conceded so easily. If the French managed to breach the outer wall, it would only be but a matter of time before they overcame the castle’s defences. Then they would have to pray for mercy.
A Summer Siege (Medieval Romance) Page 11