The second wave of incendiaries to hit the beleaguered inhabitants of Dax had the same appalling consequences as the first, and screams and cries rang out from behind the walls the moment they hit their targets. There was very little sympathy from our side. The Duke’s army was ruthless; its men had done this many times before, and there was no room in their hearts for compassion.
The Duke, now satisfied with his night’s work, called a halt to the attacks, thanked his men and rode off to eat dinner in his tent.
As I made to leave, William Marshal stopped me. He had a mischievous look on his face.
‘Ranulf, how good are you and your men with a grappling iron?’
I realized immediately what was afoot. I swallowed hard; I was about to be given a dangerous mission – one it would be impossible to refuse, if I was to continue in the service of the Duke.
‘As good as anyone, and better than most.’ It was the only answer I could give.
‘Excellent. Get a grapple from the sappers. The walls of the city are very long, the garrison is thin; their eyes won’t be everywhere, and it is a dark night. Take your men with you to cover your back. I’d like a report on the situation inside the city by first light in the morning.’
I knew it was a test of my resolve and my ability, but otherwise of little value. I put myself in William Marshal and the Duke’s position. They had been asked to accept me as an equal; this was one way in which I could prove myself.
I collected an iron grapple from the sappers and gathered together Godric and my men. As Modig wrapped blackened linen around the grapple to deaden its sound, Godric and I daubed our faces in mud. He then tied back his blond locks and covered them with a dark cloth.
We waited until the dead of night and crossed the Adour in a small boat, leaving Penda, Modig and Rodor on the bank to guard the boat. The city walls were only a few yards away. While Leax waited for us at the bottom, Godric picked a spot by guessing where the sentries might stand and then hurled the grapple over the wall. It found a secure position and we sat and waited for a few minutes to be sure that no one had seen or heard it land. The defenders did not seem to be patrolling the walls so, with our hearts in our mouths, we began the ascent. I went first. It was a difficult climb and I had to stop twice and brace myself against the wall to rest my aching arms. When I reached the top, I discovered how good Godric’s guesswork had been.
To my left, his back illuminated by the fires still smouldering in the city below, was a sentry about twenty yards away. He was standing motionless, peering out into the darkness. To my right, another sentry casually paced backwards and forwards, perhaps slightly further away, his eyes looking down at his feet rather than towards the enemy.
I pushed the rope into a corner to hide it, beckoned Godric to haul himself up and crouched down into the shadow of the walkway, so as not to be caught in the glare from below. Godric came up quickly and joined me in my crouching position. With sentries either side of us, it was impossible to reach a tower to find a stairway down into the city, so we had no option other than to use our rope and grapple to descend.
As Godric carefully pulled up the rope we had used for our climb, I looked out across the city to get an impression of its layout. There was plenty of movement below us. Smouldering thatch was being pulled off buildings and I could see bodies being loaded into carts. Clouds of dense smoke wafted over us from time to time, carrying the acrid smells of charred timber and immolated bodies.
As it would have been impossible to detach our rope once we were on the ground, Godric needed to stay on the wall and pull the rope up after me. Fortunately, there were piles of stones, quivers of arrows and plenty of the detritus of battle on the ramparts for him to hide behind. We anchored the rope, I pulled up the hood of my tunic and then lowered myself down quickly.
Adopting as nonchalant a pose as I could muster, I wandered around, trying to be as unremarkable as possible. I spent about fifteen minutes in the city. Most of the time, it was quiet – except in the areas where fires were being damped down. The dead had been laid in piles; I counted more than thirty, and I’m sure many more were lying injured inside the infirmaries. It was difficult to assess the number of men in the garrison but, from the size of its building, I guessed about a hundred. Assuming that the Count of Bigorre had brought a similar number, our original estimate of around two hundred defenders appeared to have been accurate.
The populace did not seem downcast or rebellious, although they were hardly overjoyed at what had happened to them. There was no sign of the noble families, nor of any of the senior captains of the garrison. I assumed they were all safely in their beds, in the palace at the heart of the city, which had its own high walls and guards.
I had seen enough, and stealthily made my way back to Godric. I had been lucky that no one had stopped me or spoken to me, but I knew there would be a limit to my good fortune. Godric saw me coming and threw down the rope. As it hit the ground in front of me, providence deserted me. One of the sentries saw Godric come out of the shadows, and he raised the alarm.
Chaos ensued. Rather than attempt the climb in full view of sentries above and defenders below, I made for the tower to my left. Godric saw my choice and headed in the same direction. He dealt with the eagle-eyed sentry who had spotted the rope by heaving him over the wall, and I dealt with another sentry on the steps of the tower. The poor boy was unlucky; I had heard his footsteps coming towards me and he ran straight on to the point of my blade.
When I reached the top of the tower, Godric was waiting. He had already secured the grapple and thrown the rope over the outside of the wall. As sentries closed in on our position, he insisted that I went first and he followed close behind. Arrows started to fly past us and at least one came very close, hitting the wall next to my face and bouncing on to my shoulder. It did not penetrate my hauberk, but the shock of the impact almost cost me my grip on the rope. Our men had seen that we had been discovered and were shooting as many arrows as they could at the top of the ramparts to try to cover our escape.
I had just reached the bottom, with Godric about ten feet above me, when the rope was cut at the top. Godric hit the ground with a thud, but was not injured. Leax was hiding nearby in the undergrowth and he shouted to us to run, just as a hail of stones and rocks came tumbling out of the sky in our direction. Fortunately, darkness was our saviour and we ran to the Adour. Deciding that if all of us were to jump into the boat, we would make too big a target, I shouted to everyone to split up and swim for it. We plunged into the freezing water almost as one, and the splash gave our attackers something to aim at.
The city walls were now full of men, and arrows cut through the air all around us. They made sounds like men spitting as they hit the water and plunged into the depths.
It was a swim of over fifty yards, but the temperature made it seem much further. I was fortunate in that I had spent many hours in the sea around my home in Heysham, but I had no idea how well the others could swim, especially in such cold water.
In fact, only Penda, the biggest of us, struggled in the last few yards, but we were able to help him reach the bank safely. Only when we had run beyond the far bank of the river did the volleys of arrows subside. As we approached the thermal springs, our run turned into a gallop. We discarded our clothes on the move and plunged into the warm waters.
We had all made it back unscathed, but we had been lucky. I thanked Godric and the men. They knew that we had all been tested and were relieved that we had come through it successfully. But, like me, they resented the risks involved for no obvious value. There were still a few hours left before dawn, so we went back to our tents to get some sleep.
I slept well; I think I deserved it.
Despite my annoyance, I reported my findings to William Marshal the next morning in a calm and collected tone. He listened intently until I had finished, then smiled approvingly.
‘Well done, Ranulf; it was not an easy assignment. But at least we have accurate information abo
ut what is happening inside the city.’
‘Yes, but not much more than we had before – and involving unnecessary risks to me and my men. The assignment did not make military sense. I am happy to be tested in battle, but futile excursions like the one we carried out last night could have lost you two or more quality soldiers for no real reward.’
Marshal did not answer, but he acknowledged my caustic response by putting a hand on my shoulder and nodding approvingly.
That day saw a change of tactics from Duke Richard. From first light to dusk he ordered that volley after volley of stones and rocks be hurled at Dax. Some rounds were aimed at the tops of the walls, while others were sent high into the air with a trajectory that would see them strike the Viscount’s palace and other prominent buildings. His archers and arbalests were given a routine whereby, at regular but unpredictable intervals, their arrows and quarrels were launched at the city. The archers aimed high to hit targets beyond the walls, while the arbalests concentrated on the defenders manning them.
The Duke had a huge arsenal of arrows of many different kinds in reserve. But even so, the fletchers had to work furiously to keep pace.
When the Duke was in command of his army he was meticulous in his planning and relentless in its execution. Even though his infantry and cavalry were redundant, he insisted that they all help the siege engineers, quartermasters and anybody else who needed extra hands. Even his knights would readily remove their armour and help load the ammunition carts, or trim arrow shafts for the fletchers.
Richard and his Grand Quintet were everywhere – cajoling, encouraging, scolding – while Godric and I looked on in admiration.
I turned to Godric, and noted the appreciation in his eyes.
‘The Duke is impressive, is he not?’
‘He is, sire. He will make a fine general one day.’
Godric was right; Richard just needed experience in major battles. And he needed to create a body of infantry as good as the cavalry of men like William Marshal and Robert Thornham. If he succeeded, the world would be at his feet.
‘Do you think we can help him?’
‘Yes, sire, as long as he listens to you. That foolish mission last night must have earned you some standing with the Duke. But he is wild, and that is going to be difficult to control.’
‘You’re right, he’s well named. He’s a beast, and I suspect no cage will be strong enough to hold him, but that is our mission. I am glad I have you with me.’
‘And I’m glad to be here, sire, and so are the men. Without this assignment, we would be patrolling the wilds of Wales, or chasing mad Irishmen across the Bogs of Allen.’
‘But now you’re chasing mad Gascons?’
‘Yes, but this is only the beginning; I think there will be better places than Wales and Ireland, and greater challenges than crazy Celts.’
Father Alun had joined us, unbeknownst to Godric.
‘Don’t be too unkind to the Celts; they have their faults, just like the English. And remember, the Normans think we’re all savages.’
‘Sorry, Father Alun, it’s just that I’ve probably seen the worst of them in battle.’
‘No need to apologize. There’s good and bad in all men – in fact, the Duke is a case in point. We need to find a way to bring out the best in him, without sacrificing his warrior spirit.’
He was right. But my job was to help the Duke enhance his ability as a soldier; improving his moral virtue was Father Alun’s realm.
‘Do you have a plan, Father?’
‘Perhaps the beginning of one.’
He glanced towards the industrious young firebrand, and I saw an appraising look flash across his face.
‘Are you going to tell us?’
‘No, not yet; I have to send a messenger, and call in a couple of favours.’
He then walked away with a mischievous grin on his face. As usual, Father Alun had given half an answer to a question, but had posed many more.
As dusk fell, Dax’s ordeal by fire resumed. The Duke ordered two murderous incendiary attacks before retiring for the night. Oblivious to the screams and mayhem within the city, he rode back to his tent with the air of a man who had had a successful day’s hunting. As he passed, he called out to me.
‘Sir Ranulf, join me for some food and wine.’
The Duke was wont to relax with a host of young women, and was much inclined to enjoy to excess his food and wine. His invitation was not a test like scaling the walls of Dax. It was, nevertheless, another step along the path of acceptance. And so, despite my misgivings at the prospect of matching his prodigious appetites, I had little choice but to agree.
‘Thank you, sire; I would be honoured to join you.’
The evening was hardly a chore. All five of Duke Richard’s lieutenants were there and at least a dozen young girls, several of whom I had not seen before. After the food was cleared away, the Duke’s chosen concubine set the tone for the rest of the night by removing her chemise.
Mercadier was too drunk to be interested in girls and staggered off into the night. Blondel seemed content to woo rather than bed his girls and sang the chansons of the troubadours to two who sprawled at his feet. Baldwin of Bethune and Robert Thornham, too exhausted from the exertions of the day to tarry further with nocturnal toils, dragged themselves to their beds, which left me with a more than acceptable bevy of concubines to choose from. When it came to it, the choice was easy. She had been staring at me all evening and I at her. I was at the bottom of the pecking order among the Duke’s guests, so I had been praying that none of the others would take a shine to her.
Her name was Negu, which meant ‘winter’. Although she was dark of skin, with eyes as black as pitch, there was nothing else wintry about her. She was vivacious, with a fine sense of humour, and could certainly bring the fecundity of spring to my demeanour and fill my heart with the warmth of summer.
We found a discreet corner of the Duke’s tent and I enjoyed a night of passion as intense as any I had experienced before. She said she was seventeen years old and that only a few of the boys in her village had bedded her, but I suspected that she was older and had been the plaything of the well-to-do of Dax for some time. I cared not at all; she was beautiful, I had drunk my fill, and she responded to my most robust endeavours in equal measure. The cock was crowing when my cock wanted to sleep, but she was still eager for more and would not let me rest until I had satisfied her one last time.
When the Duke’s stewards arrived with breakfast, I can only have had a few minutes’ sleep and then had to face the communal mockery as, one by one, the Duke’s men gathered to eat.
Duke Richard led the assault.
‘Well, Ranulf, we didn’t need the cockerel this morning, the shrieks of your girl as you tupped her were enough to wake the dead!’
Then Baldwin of Bethune chimed in.
‘Was somebody keeping count? He was at it all night!’
The consensus was that I had won my pennon in the bedchamber. It was the third ordeal I had had to face since meeting Earl Harold at Wolvesey, but this one had been an ordeal by delight.
I sluiced my head with a pail of water, gave Negu a piece of silver and asked her to come to my tent at the end of the day; I had had my fill of communal fornicating. She seemed delighted – an emotion that may have been contrived, but I hoped it was genuine. I then had to face Godric and the men, who were equally scathing about my public trial in the arts of lovemaking. The most erudite jibe came from Godric.
‘We heard that you unhorsed her with just one blow from your lance, then ran her through with your sword, not once, but several times, just to make sure you’d finished her off!’
Three days later, the Duke heard the dramatic news from Dax just before he was preparing to leave his tent to begin another onslaught on the city.
A breathless messenger appeared and proclaimed, starkly, ‘The Sergeant of the Watch says, “Come at once to the gates of Dax.” You will be very pleased, my Lord.’
When we reached the city walls, the Duke was indeed pleased. With their wives, ladies of the court and various senior knights cowering around them, the Viscount Dax and Count Bigorre were stripped to their underwear, bound hand and foot, and tied to the quayside, right outside the gates of the city.
The Duke immediately ordered that they be released. While they were being untied, the gates of Dax opened and two men marched purposefully across the bridge over the Adour. One was the captain of the garrison and the other was a civilian, one of the city’s most powerful burghers.
It was the burgher who addressed the Duke, not obsequiously, but in a matter-of-fact tone.
‘My Lord, I am Ademus, a son of Dax. We are humbly offering you these men, our lords, Pierre and Centulle, and throwing ourselves upon your mercy. We have suffered enough and know that resistance to your onslaught is futile. It is a grievous thing that we do, for our lord, Pierre, will never forgive us for what we do. But it is either his wrath, or yours; we choose his.’
The Duke was clearly impressed by the candour of Ademus of Dax. He jumped down from his horse and held out his gauntlet. Ademus immediately fell to his knees, grabbed the hand and kissed the Duke’s ring. The captain of the garrison repeated the obeisance.
Duke Richard pulled them both to their feet and embraced them. They were mortified; having been taught to lower their eyes in the presence of a viscount, to be embraced by a royal duke was unprecedented. I looked at Father Alun, who was standing close by; he had a knowing look on his face. I nodded at him, acknowledging the same admiration for young Richard’s bravura.
‘Men of Dax, you have acted wisely and with great courage. This has earned you my respect and the affection of the people of Dax.’
The Duke then grabbed Viscount Pierre and Count Centulle. He made them prostrate themselves before him.
‘You have nothing to fear from these two. With their families and lickspittles in tow, they will be sent to King Henry in Caen, where they will beg for forgiveness. If the King smiles on them, they may return, but only if they acknowledge that, through your actions this day, you have saved them from much greater humiliation by my hand. In the meantime, they will forfeit two-thirds of their treasuries to me. They will be allowed to keep half of the remainder to protect the future of their families, and the other half will be distributed to the good people of Dax.’
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