by Frank Payton
The last crust of bread was swallowed, and the wine cups drained. The men were fetched in from their posts and ready mounted for our next foray. We set off, guided by Father Pietro, and with the two Scaccis in my leading group. They bestrode fine horses, and their war gear was good. Lorenzo’s crossbow and a quiver of bolts was slung at his back. Both had mail shirts over padded leather aketons, some leg armour and an open-faced bascinet. They both carried plain, useful-looking swords.
The countryside became less cultivated, and was given over to woods and thickets of scrubby bushes. The land tilted up into rolling hills, and our path wound through narrow valleys which I did not like overmuch.
“We are ducks on the water here, Sir John,” said Jack, who rode alongside me. “I have an itch between my shoulder blades. It usually means that eyes are watching.”
“I know,” I replied. “I feel the same. Pass the word back for the men to keep a watch on both sides.”
We rode on and, towards mid-morning by the sun, found ourselves on the brow of a saddle between two hills. Below us lay a green and pleasant valley. To one side lay an ancient stone-walled enclosure about a number of low, red-roofed buildings, centered with a squat-towered church. Nothing moved save the wind in the grasses. High and far off, a large bird hung black against the cloud-strewn sky.
“There it lies, Sir John: the Convent of the Holy Mother,” said Father Pietro. “It has not changed since my visit twenty years ago, so far as I can tell. What will you do now?”
For answer I turned to Giles. “Where is Tom Nurley? I want him up here with me.”
The word went back down the line of horsemen. I looked back and soon saw the burly archer riding towards me. He drew up alongside me and touched the rim of his helmet in salute.
“You wants me, Sir John? What be I to do?”
“I need your eyes again, Tom. Go forward a little and tell me what you see over by yon convent buildings.”
That said, I withdrew the whole company back below the brow of the hills. Following Tom’s example, Giles and I took off our helmets and went forward again, throwing ourselves down amongst the grasses and shrubs to lessen the chance of being seen. Tom had disappeared. There was no movement from the convent buildings.
“It is a good fortress,” whispered Giles. “Open ground all around, and many walls.”
“We’ll wait here for Tom’s return,” I said. “He may tell of something which we cannot see from here.”
I had counted thrice to five hundred before Tom slid in beside us, breathless from the exertion of crawling back up the slope. “Steep hill, that, Sir John,” he gasped.
“Rest easy a while,” I said. “Then you can tell us what you’ve seen.”
“I’m well enough, I thank you. There could be a way in from the back.” He pointed away to our right. “Send some men over there under cover of the hills, and they might be able to get in from the other side.”
“Whilst we show our strength at the main entrance. Yes, we will do that,” I decided, and the three of us rejoined the company. I gave Ludovico and Jack the details of the plan, and left it to Jack to choose the men for the group to circle round to the rear of the convent. They were about a dozen, and just as they were about to leave, a thought came to me.
“Wait, Jack. I’ll lead this group, and the one I replace can pose as me. That way, I will be one of the first into the convent.”
He called to one of the men. “Here, Rob: you can act the knight for a while. Don’t get above your proper station, though.”
The man Rob grinned sheepishly as we exchanged surcoats and shields. He then took up my place while I joined the men-at arms. We were already carrying ropes and grappling hooks for scaling walls, so I had no worry on that score. I stripped Boy of his caparison, and Huw folded it away in its leather case strapped behind his own saddle. He went with the main party, carrying my pennon as was usual, to keep up the pretence.
“Keep a good watch on the hillside behind the convent,” I told Jack and Giles. “When we’re in place, we’ll raise a signal. Then you go forward to the main gate and demand entrance in my name.”
“Have no fear, Sir John, we’ll play our part,” growled Jack. Giles made some jesting answer, such as I had come to expect from him, but I knew I could rely upon him.
I mounted Rob’s horse—a sorry looking nag compared with Boy, but strong withal—and joined Marco and the chosen men. We rode off in single file to seek some way around the hillside. We were lucky, as the hills there had a gentler slope on the sides hidden from the valley, and we were able to make good progress. After a scrambling ride of a mile or more over rough, tussocky grass, I judged us to be at the back of the ridge overlooking the convent.
“We’ll halt here,” I said, and dismounted. “We shall have to go on foot now, so hobble the horses, and bring the ropes and hooks.”
Whilst the men bustled to do this, Marco accompanied me to the top of the ridge. We peered over cautiously and saw the convent almost directly below.
“It’s not too steep a slope, Sir John,” said Marco. “We could scramble down easily. I used to do this when I was a boy in the mountains.”
I laughed at his youthful eagerness. “There no hills like this where I hail from, but I think I could do likewise. What can we see? Is there anyone about down there?”
At first there seemed to be no life at all. Then, from a building in the outer courtyard came a figure leading a horse and carrying what looked to be a saddle over one arm. Another man appeared and stood watching whilst the groom, or whoever he was, prepared the horse for riding. The watcher mounted and walked the horse in our direction, preceded by the groom. They disappeared from my view, but as I looked I realised that they were heading for a door which I could then see set in the courtyard wall, leading to the outside. I knew then that the horseman was going to emerge from that doorway, and if he could get out, we could get in.
Marco had seized on the same thing, and stood up.
“I’ll give the signal,” he said, and waved his white shield in the direction of our main party.
I called softly to the waiting men-at-arms, “Follow me, but quietly, and quickly.”
We threw ourselves over the top, and slid, scrambled, and all but fell down the slope. Marco, being the youngest and most agile, was the first down. He ran, fast as he could, across the open ground, followed by the rest of us. We were nearly all in place along the wall as the door opened and the rider trotted his mount under the arch. A mail-clad arm reached up, pulled him out of the saddle, and a swift blow to the head laid him unconscious upon the ground. The groom was seized and also knocked senseless. Another man-at-arms caught the horse, a fine beast which neighed once and trembled with fright, quieting it with a few soothing words. The gateway was ours, and the convent lay open to us.
“Inside, and close the door,” I ordered. “There will be people here who will wonder what is happening. Bring that horse inside and stable it again.”
We fastened the double doors and began to look about us.
“Which way now, Sir John?” asked Marco.
“To the church. It’s the strongest building here, and my Lady will be there, I’ll warrant.”
We ran towards the ancient stone church, but before we reached the shelter of the doorway a roar of voices fell upon our ears, and suddenly we were assailed on all sides and fighting for our very lives. So much for Orlando’s five companions, I thought, as I dashed a shield aside and darted my sword-point at the open helmet before me. Its wearer jerked his head back. I lowered the point and thrust him through the throat. He melted away away before me, but immediately I was engaged by another with a mace. Fending off the hammer blows with my shield, I backed away, drawing him forward. I feigned to slip over, and he raised the mace high above to strike me down. As the blow fell I rolled aside and thrust upwards at his overbalanced body. The sword-point entered his body just above the buckle of his belt, at the join of his brigandine, and he was spitted like a rabbit. I
wrenched the weapon from his writhing form and looked for my next opponent.
Away to my left Marco fought furiously with a tall man-at-arms, but as I watched the sword was struck from his hand. I lunged toward him, shouting in horror, but he drew a long dagger from his belt, and, ducking behind his shield, he closed with the man. I saw his arm sweep upward. The keen point entered the man’s throat despite the protection of the camail. He screamed as blood gushed out over his armour, and casting his weapons aside, reeled out of the melee. Three of our men were down, but still lived, I thought.
“Keep together! Close ranks!” I yelled, my voice booming from my helmet. “Who has a horn?”
“I have, Sir John,” panted a figure beside me.
“Then sound it! Sound it, man!” I gasped. “Maybe the others will hear.”
The deep rallying call of the horn rang out, spurring our men to fight on, harder still. A short moment, and seemingly far away came an answering call, the call of the hunter when the quarry is sighted in the faraway forests of England.
And the hunters came: Jack, Giles, Ludovico and the rest, helter-skelter around the side of the church. They flung themselves upon our opponents, who quailed before their onslaught. They fought on bravely for a space, but the odds were too great, and they began to throw down their weapons and cry “Quarter!” Father Pietro strode between the ranks and struck up the swords with his iron-shod staff, else my men would have killed all. So it ended.
*****
The defeated men who still lived were led off and secured in an empty stable building, whence they could not escape to do us more harm. The dead were stripped of anything of value or use, and laid out for for later burial. Only one of our men had been slain, Hal Waltham, and later he was buried. As was the custom, his weapons, armour and any other effects were shared out amongst his former comrades.
As we now held the upper hand, I exchanged shield and surcoat with Rob, and stood forth in my true colours. The problem then remained of the whereabouts of Proserpina and her captors, especially Orlando Scacci.
“Search about,” I ordered. “We must ferret out all the people of this place, and find my Lady Proserpina. Leave no door unopened, no nook or corner unexplored. But ‘ware treachery, and go in pairs. Let us get to it.”
We all scattered and began the search. I entered the church with Ludovico, Marco and Father Pietro behind me.
“It is as I told you,” said the priest. “This place is built over an ancient temple. See the columns which support the roof; they are far older than the remainder of the building.”
“Where is the Abbess and her flock?” I said, looking about me. “This place is empty.”
The church was barely furnished, the altar plain and covered only with a green cloth. Upon it stood a carved wooden crucifix, and next to it an ornate figure of Our Lady, the Mother of Christ. Some undecorated vessels of silver, an ewer and three platters, were placed before the figure. Behind the altar screen was deep shadow. Within this darkness a figure moved and slowly emerged into the dim green light: a woman, aged almost beyond life itself, it seemed to me. Her eyes were black against the pallor of her face. When she spoke her voice was cracked and thin, but had a strange strength.
“What do you in this holy place, armed with sharp swords? Do you come to the Mother for guidance, or to destroy? We have been here many ages, we who serve her.”
Father Pietro broke in, “Do you then serve the Mother of Christ?”
“We serve The Mother, of The Christ, if you will.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The Mother of all men, from time so old you cannot know it. She has had many names, but she is The Great Mother.” The thin voice died away.
I moved forward until I towered over her. The black eyes stared up at me unflinchingly. Her breath in my nostrils was old and rank, laden with strange herbs.
“I seek a young woman, brought here against her will by evil men. We are betrothed, she and I.”
The thin lips twitched in what might once have been a smile. “One such came here with her betrothed, of her own free will. She is beyond you now. Now go hence! Leave this sacred place.”
“Where is she?” I thundered. “Where? Tell me, or die!” I raised my sword, but she remained unmoved.
“No! This is not the way, Sir John.” Father Pietro forced himself between us. “You cannot kill this woman. She is not at fault.”
I lowered my sword. “Very well, let us hear what she will tell you.” I sheathed the sword, the sudden rage leaving me.
“I know you, priest,” came the thin cracked voice. “You were here once before, long years ago. You were young then.”
“Aye, so I was. Then for the sake of that previous peaceful meeting, please tell where the Lady Proserpina di Lucanti has been hidden away. Further, where is Orlando Scacci, who took the lady away from her brother and family? Come, for the sake of Christ’s Mother, I beg it of you.”
“Orlando Scacci you can have, and any such as still cleave to him,” said the Abbess. “The fool! He sought to force a marriage upon the lady, and so lay claim to all that is hers by law. But she is now of the sisterhood, of her free will. The lady is lost to you. She shall not leave this place. “
“What do you mean?” I asked, scarce believing my ears. “Has she taken the vows of a nun?”
“This is wrong,” said Father Pietro. “You cannot take her into the convent so. She knows not what she does. I know what you have done!”
The Abbess snapped her mouth shut, and her eyes widened.
He turned to me and spoke in a low voice. “I’ll wager the lady Proserpina has been given some potion to turn her mind. This the work of that devil Scacci. He must have given a large sum of money to the convent, to persuade the Abbess, only to be cheated of the prize he thought to take for himself. We must find her and Scacci, and get her to your healer, who may be able to rid her of this curse.”
He turned back to the Abbess. “You have wrought evil, Woman, and have betrayed your vows. Mother Church cannot protect you from the retribution these noble men will wreak here.”
The Abbess turned and scurried away, with a speed remarkable for one of her age.
We scattered about the church and began to search for secret doors or hidden ways. Behind the altar and its screen, a narrow stair led down into an undercroft. It was dimly lit by daylight which seeped in by way of slits in the lower walls. There were also oil lamps set at intervals in niches cut into the stones. Here and there lay pieces of carven stone, pieces of ancient figures, they appeared. There were beings half men and half horse, others as of men with bulls’ heads. Stone slabs carved with scenes from ancient battles stood against the walls, or lay broken on the floor. It was a forbidding place, and Ludovico showed his horror at all these things. He crossed himself fervently.
“Abominable! Surely Proserpina cannot be down here. God preserve her soul, and ours as well, in such a place.”
A large iron-banded door in a square arch confronted us. We battered it down, the booming sound echoing hollow along the passage. A stair led upwards from there, a spiral of stone steps.
“This must be the tower,” said Marco, pressing behind me. “See, there are landings, with chambers off them.”
“Up then, and let us see who is here,” I said, springing upwards.
There were few inhabitants of these chambers. Mostly they were women of middle to old age, but with a sprinkling of younger ones. They shrank away from us into the far corners of the chambers. After ensuring that Proserpina was not amongst them, we let them be.
Finally we beat down the door of the topmost chamber. Confronting us were three men-at-arms with drawn swords. Behind them stood Orlando Scacci, and cowering in a corner upon the floor was Proserpina, ill-clad in dark robes, besmirched with dust and grime from the masonry. Her hair hung in rat-tails about her face, which was dirty and streaked with dried tears. I was enraged to see her thus. She stared at us unknowing, her once lovely eyes dull and lifeless. I called to her.
&n
bsp; “Proserpina, my sweeting, it is Giovanni—with Ludovico and Marco, come to take you home."
But it was useless. There was no sign of recognition in those eyes.
We went for the guards then, and beat them down, one by one. One died quickly, the other two choked out their lives bloodily over long moments.
Scacci leaped back, and pulled Proserpina to her feet. Setting her by the sill of the window, he stood before her, sword at the ready, a grim smile on his lips.
“You shall not have her, Inglesi bastard!” he spat. “Attack me, and she goes down to Hell—by way of this window, and this blade.”
I was momentarily taken aback, and hesitated. Scacci laughed—then his eyes widened in horror as a bolt from Lorenzo’s crossbow whickered from behind me and took him in the chest. He wavered, clutching at the short thick arrow with his left hand is if to tug it away. He stumbled and gradually sank to his knees. Blood poured from his mouth, his sword clattered upon the floor, and so he died.
I turned. Lorenzo stood trembling, white with horror at his own act. Rafaello put his arm about his shoulders.
“I could not do it, cousin,” he said. “I could not kill my own brother, evil as he was.”
“No, it was for me, of all the family, to restore our honour,” quavered Lorenzo.
I laid my hand on his shoulder. “I thank you,” I said. “You have acquitted yourselves with honour. Now I must tend to my Lady.”
*****
We left that place of death, of old and evil mysteries and its deluded sisterhood. I would have put the convent to the flame, but Father Pietro stopped me and swore he would bring down the full power of Mother Church upon the Abbess and her flock. As we prepared to leave, the Abbess stood and watched us. I looked down from Boy’s saddle.
“Farewell, old mother. You should get to your knees and pray for forgiveness for your part in this affair. Retribution will follow, in this world if not in the next.”
“Get you gone, Sir Knight,” she wheezed. “Enjoy your Lady whilst you can, for you will have little joy and much sorrow from her. Oh, she will bear you children, but she will not see them full-grown in the time left to her. You will rise in the affairs of men, but you will never see your own land again.”