Hangman Blind

by Cassandra Clark

  As it was, William’s agreement to discuss the finer details was obtained with difficulty. Clearly he was as obstinate as his brother-in-law. The afternoon was already drawing in with mist and November chill before they achieved anything. Ulf had worn a path between the drawbridge and Roger’s encampment, just like the one Roger had worn as he paced between his war cabinet and the victualling tent. But at last William agreed to talk. When the men heard this they began to kick out their campfires and gather up their equipment ready to get back inside their barracks and put their feet up.

  ‘It may be a trap,’ warned Ulf. ‘We should only enter fully armed.’

  ‘I would never dream of doing anything else.’ Roger commanded his attendants to lift his hauberk from its wooden stand on one of the carts. They heaved it over and helped him struggle into it. Then he pulled on his surcoat emblazoned with the de Hutton coat of arms and finally, buckling on his scabbard, he ran his sword up and down inside it, making it rattle, clearly keen to put it to use.

  Ulf wore a gambeson and Hildegard inspected that too. ‘Is that all you’re going to wear? I don’t call that “fully armed”. It won’t be any protection if you get into a skirmish.’ She picked at the neck where the quilting that held the wool padding in place was coming loose. ‘I could get the point of a small dagger in there. Then where would you be?’

  ‘You can fire an arrow at this, close range, and not break skin,’ he protested.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  He grinned. ‘You’re getting like my mother.’ Even so, he went to the cart and dragged his hauberk down. She could understand his reluctance to don chain mail when there was no obvious need. But who could tell how many men were lying in wait within the castle?

  Soon everyone was ready but there was no sign that the drawbridge was going to be let down and the portcullis hadn’t moved at all. They milled about on the edge of the moat and cast impatient glances to the other side.

  Hildegard wondered what kind of game William was playing. Why the delay? His agreement to parley had made it simple. Maybe now he had begun to suspect that once Roger was inside his own castle nothing would make him give an inch. Rumour said that William gloried in bloodshed and maybe that meant he was as simple as barbarous men often were. But now, perhaps, he was having second thoughts about Roger’s agreement to his terms. Whatever the case, the defences remained in place.

  They made their way down through the meadow and came to an expectant halt beneath the walls. In the hiatus that followed, it suddenly occurred to Hildegard that Ralph was still missing. Sibilla had looked quite shaken as she went through the possible fate that had delayed him. But she had bitten off the words when she had exclaimed that second ‘what if—?’, as if the thought was too horrible to say out loud. What if–? Her expression clearly betrayed what she feared: what if Roger had ordered his men to ambush his brother in the forest and deal him a traitor’s fate? He had been in a fury when he discovered the trick his brother was trying to pull. Hildecard glanced across at Roger. He was banging his mailed fists together with impatience.

  ‘Command him to open up, and fast,’ she heard him growl.

  Ulf did as he was asked, but nothing happened.

  ‘If he’s harming her,’ snarled Roger, ‘I’ll deal with him personally.’ He stepped forward and shouted up, making his voice roll around the high, dank walls like thunder. It brought William’s face to one of the loopholes at the top of the barbican.

  ‘I can’t get the damned mechanism to work,’ he yelled down.

  ‘He’s locked himself in,’ said one of the men-at-arms. There were guffaws as this comment passed round the men. Roger, of course, couldn’t suppress a smile. He stabbed the point of his sword into the ground and looked round for ideas.

  ‘Ask him to let the gatekeeper and his men have a go. It’s their job,’ suggested Hildegard.

  ‘He’s probably killed them all,’ somebody suggested. There were a few sniggers of amusement but in a more minor key as this likelihood sank in.

  Ulf shouted up to William to release the gatekeeper at once. William disappeared again.

  Just then, there was a flurry of activity on the fringes of the crowd and two figures appeared from out of the darkening woods. One of them was sitting side-saddle on a large black horse while the other trailed along on foot leading a disconsolate-looking grey mare. The rider was Lady Avice, the one on foot, Sir Ralph. When he came closer Hildegard could see that his riding boots were worn through, his cloak was flung over the saddle of the mare, as if it were too hot to wear it, his shirt was undone, and his hair awry.

  ‘I’m utterly sick and tired,’ he complained as soon as Sibilla rushed up to him. ‘She’s lamed my horse for me. And I’ve had to walk nearly all the way. He threw a bitter glance at Avice.

  Sibilla folded him in her arms. ‘My poor warrior!’ she exclaimed, before giving an embarrassed glance to see whether anybody had overheard. One or two hid smiles behind their mailed fists. Taking Ralph by the elbow, Sibilla walked with him for a couple of paces, and announced in a voice that everyone could hear: ‘You’ll be shocked and overjoyed to learn that your dear brother Roger is not dead after all.’

  Ralph gave a hunted glance right and left but, even if he had wanted to attempt an escape, he would have had less chance than a sprung rabbit. At that point Roger burst magnificently from the midst of his retainers. ‘So, brother, greetings!’ He extended one magnanimous fist. After he and Ralph had touched gauntlets he hissed, ‘Were you serious?’

  ‘Were you?’ replied Ralph with commendable spirit. ‘You’re no more dead than I am.’

  ‘You reprobate,’ Roger said. ‘I’ll deal with you later. Meanwhile, there’s another problem to be solved.’ He gestured towards the battlements. ‘William has locked himself in my castle with my wife and we can’t prise him out. I’ve tried every blessed trick I can think of.’

  ‘I can prise him out.’ It was Lady Avice. She beckoned to a couple of men to help her down from Ralph’s charger. She shook out her skirts as soon as her feet touched the ground and came over to them all. ‘I’ll go in and have words with him.’ There was no way of guessing whether this was a threat or a promise. Her expression was neutral. She shaded her eyes and gazed up at the castle as if able to see through its walls.

  On her finger a ring flashed and her cross, larger and more costly than any Hildegard would consider wearing, swung between her breasts as she turned. Roger’s glance was caught by it and he shrugged and growled, ‘He’s your man. Go ahead. Bring him to heel.’

  ‘What can she do?’ murmured Philippa. Hildegard was staring hard at the ring.

  ‘I don’t know but I fear what William might do to her,’ she replied.

  Just then there was a sudden yell from one of the men. They all turned to see the portcullis beginning to inch open. The men cheered. It took a good time for the defences to be opened, first portcullis number one, then the drawbridge, then portcullis number two, and finally the porter’s small gate set within the great oak doors, although these last remained as firmly closed as before.

  The men drew their swords and arranged themselves in formation. Then, with Lord Roger at their head, followed by Ulf and Sir Ralph jostling for second place, they tramped across the wooden bridge. When they were massed on the other side William’s voice rang out.

  ‘Stop right there! I’m not going to parley with a host. Send a deputation. But not you, Roger. You’re too slippery. Just stay out of it. You can send your steward instead.’

  ‘Oh, thanks very much,’ muttered Ulf.

  ‘Of course I’m damn well coming in. It’s my wife we’re discussing here,’ Roger roared back.

  ‘Take it or leave it.’

  ‘Let me go in.’ Avice, who had crossed over with the women, pushed her way from the back. ‘William! I’m here! Parley with me.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’ Hildegard forced a path through the ranks of men. Avice gave her a glance when she reached her side but,
when she saw the determination on the nun’s face, she gave a thin smile.

  ‘Suit yourself, sister. I won’t waste time offering advice to the contrary as I know it won’t be taken.’

  The porter’s gate was opened. Only wide enough for one person at a time to enter, anyone of normal height had to bend double. When Hildegard squeezed through after Avice she turned when she felt someone right behind her. ‘I’m in this as well,’ said Ulf.

  ‘That’s enough of you!’ shouted William. He didn’t sound at all cowed. ‘I’m not holding a leet court in here.’ But Ralph had slipped through before the one guard standing there could stop him. It was one of Roger’s trusties on the gate and, with his hands bound with kitchen twine, he gave a shrug as if to say it was literally out of his hands.

  Immediately within was the gatehouse and this was defended in much the same way as the barbican. There was a cunning staircase inside, with very narrow and easily defended doors, so that if Roger and his men had managed to penetrate so far the defenders could retreat to the upper floors and shoot at them through the murder-holes in the vault. Then, even though they might get as far as the inner court, they could still be shot at from all sides.

  William was nowhere to be seen. Nor was there any sign of a squad of men to defend him. Edging forward, eyes darting from one side of the battlements to the other, they moved further in until they were standing in the middle of the bailey. Hildegard knew they were vulnerable in such an open space, aware that at any moment William and his men could come pouring out to hack them to death. She kept an eye on Avice, praying for her safety, should her suspicions about William prove true.

  Ulf, as Roger’s steward, elected himself spokesman. ‘Bring forth the Lady Melisen!’ he demanded to the echoing walls.

  A sound of steel from somewhere high up made them lift their heads. From a window in the solar on the first floor William leaned out. He seemed to have spent most of the afternoon running from one aperture to the next. ‘She’s here but I want proof that Roger will accept my demands.’

  ‘You should have let him come in with us, then,’ replied Ulf. ‘You could have had his promise from his own lips.’

  ‘I’d sooner trust a friar.’

  ‘Your choice. Just show us she’s alive then we can discuss what guarantees you want. Then I’ll go and tell him.’

  William was just launching into an argument when Avice broke free of the group and ran like a hare across the bailey towards the stairs that led up to the private apartments.

  ‘Wait, Avice!’ shouted Hildegard. ‘He desires your death!’ She kilted her skirt and began to run after her. She could hear Ulf pounding along in her wake and possibly Ralph too but she didn’t pause to check. She simply had to get to William before Avice did. The woman would not understand the danger she was in.

  The first floor was reached by a circular staircase in one of the towers. Avice disappeared inside and her footsteps could be heard in a dwindling echo as she ascended. Hildegard followed, taking the stairs two at a time and reaching the top just as Avice pushed the door ahead and ran on into the solar. Hildegard’s blood went cold when she heard her shriek one word, ‘William!’ and a deathly silence follow.

  Breathing hard, she threw herself through the door then came to a skidding halt. Instead of plunging a knife into his wife’s heart, William was simply staring at her as if she were an apparition. Avice, meanwhile, had thrown her arms round his neck and was looking up at him as adoringly as a young maid in the first flush of love, her fingers lacing though his beard as she whispered endearments to him.

  Astounded, Hildegard could only stand and stare. Her suspicions about William’s ill-intentions were wrong after all. He looked confused, not murderous. She stepped forward. ‘Sir William,’ she began in a conciliatory tone, ‘are you now willing to release Lady Melisen from captivity?’

  William lifted his dark head and gave her a startled glance. ‘Never!’ he roared with something of his usual vigour, thrusting Avice to one side.

  Avice was unperturbed. ‘But where are you hiding her, my sweeting?’ she purred, trying to take him in her arms again.

  ‘Melisen is locked in the upper solar and that’s where she’s going to stay until Roger accepts my demands!’ he snarled.

  Before either Avice or Hildegard could remonstrate with him there was a commotion in the doorway. Ulf and Sir Ralph appeared. Ralph drew his sword with an ominous hiss of steel. His face was deathly pale.

  ‘This is your day of reckoning, William. I’ve had enough of you trying to oust me from my position. If Roger is going to bestow lands on anybody it’s going to be me!’ He advanced like a dancer, sword outstretched.

  William gave a vengeful laugh and unsheathed his own massive weapon. ‘So be it, brother-in-law! Your wish is my command! To the death!’

  Then there was the clash of steel on steel as the two men engaged.

  Out of the corner of her eye Hildegard noticed Avice slip from the chamber. With the sound of battle ringing in her ears, Hildegard followed. She was in time to catch sight of the hem of Avice’s grey gown as she turned a corner and when she chased in pursuit she saw her hurrying along the corridor towards the stair that led up to the next floor. The grey shape vanished round the first spiral but by then Hildegard was close behind. She reached the top in time to see Avice turn a key and fling herself through the door into the room beyond.

  By the time she reached the door herself, Avice was walking towards Melisen with her arms outstretched. Hildegard was puzzled. Then she noticed her fingers and on one of them the ring. It was large, with a jewelled boss that would open and close. Suddenly she remembered where she had seen such a ring before. It was like one that had belonged to Philippa, the one that had gone missing. And at the same moment she recalled what the apothecary had told her about the pope’s poison. One touch, he had said, that’s all it takes.

  These thoughts passed in a flash through her mind. Even so, Avice was almost within reach of Melisen. The girl had been sitting on the sill looking down through the loophole at the little stream that wound round the castle far below and flowed off down the dale. Bedraggled, tear-stained, and half dead through lack of sleep, though still beautiful of course, she now lifted her head. She could have had no idea that an army of men had been encamped in the meadow on the other side of the castle. She must have believed until this very moment that she was quite alone with William.

  She rose to her feet. ‘Avice? You?’ Her glance flew in confusion to Hildegard. ‘Sister?

  Hildegard slipped her knife from inside her sleeve. ‘Don’t take another step, Avice!’ Her hand shook.

  Avice jerked to a stop at once and turned her head. ‘It’s you, is it, nun? I should have guessed you’d follow. Too late now, though!’ She turned back to Melisen. ‘My poor, dear child. What has that brute been doing to you? Come to me!’

  ‘Don’t go near her!’ shouted Hildegard, flinging herself after Avice. Melisen looked startled and drew back. Catching Avice by the shoulders, Hildegard pulled her to a stop and the two women grappled for a moment until Hildegard was able to twist Avice’s arm behind her back and hold her still. ‘I know your game, Avice,’ she said. ‘Don’t move or you’ll regret it!’ The knife gleamed in her right hand.

  Melisen gathered her wits with alacrity and ran over. ‘Will someone explain?’

  Tightening her hold on her struggling captive and panting a little with the exertion, Hildegard said, ‘When William abducted you, Avice feared he had transferred his affections, so she decided to get rid of you. The ring she wears she stole from Philippa. The boss is hollow. It contains a deadly poison. One touch and you’ll breathe your last.’

  ‘Heaven forfend!’ exclaimed Melisen. Then, thinking quickly, she said, ‘I’ll get the ring, Hildegard, and then I’ll bind her wrists.’ So saying, she produced a kerchief, prised the ring from Avice’s grasp without touching it, and let it drop into the cloth. Then she took a long braid of plaited yellow silk from inside one
of her sleeves. Deftly, she tied Avice’s wrists together.

  Avice struggled in a fury but there was nothing she could do against the two of them. ‘You think you’ve won! But you won’t get away with this!’ she hissed into Hildegard’s face. Her own was contorted with rage at being foiled.

  From the lower floor came the continuing clash of steel. Hildegard pushed Avice down on to the window seat where Melisen had been sitting. ‘We’d better hurry or William and Ralph will kill each other—’ she urged, turning to the girl.

  Without waiting for further explanations, Melisen took the key from the lock and when they were in the corridor she turned it on their prisoner despite her shouts of protest. Then she led the way rapidly along the maze of corridors towards the gallery overlooking the hall. She knew the route like the back of her hand. When they arrived they peered over the parapet.

  Ralph had fought William into a corner. His swordsmanship was stylish and swift, a blur of flashing steel. He was, as Roger had observed, well able to take care of himself. Ulf was standing on the sidelines, in rapt admiration.

  William, however, was the bigger man. He was wily too. And he was determined not to be beaten. His lands, his life and his honour – such as it was – depended upon winning. They heard him give a great roar of rage and watched as he threw himself bodily at Ralph, who, taken aback by his brutal technique, faltered, allowing William time to snatch something off a nearby chest. He waved what looked like a fur tippet above his head. ‘Hold!’ he commanded.