Falconburg Divided (The Falconburg Series Book 1)

by Sarah Waldock

  He took her chin in his hand and turned it up to face him.

  “It is over, girl,” he said firmly. “There is no more need to consider that wizard again; he is no more threat to us.”

  She smiled up at him tremulously and nodded.

  “That command I promise to try my best to obey; and hope that I be able to,” she said. “And I suppose that when we have broken our fast – as now I feel able to, from your good comfort to me – it will be time for you to beat me black and blue at sword practice for mine otherwise creative endeavours at obedience.”

  He laughed.

  “Aye, you bad girl,” he agreed.

  Annis might yet call Gyrfalon ‘lord’ but he still felt the need to dominate her in sword practice, and pressed her hard. Not that Annis had expected anything else; and she looked upon it as a relatively gentle punishment for following him and disobeying the spirit of his command if not the letter. She decided to try her ruse and fall to one knee ere she was totally exhausted; but Gyrfalon was wise to the trick and effortlessly parried the final upward stroke, disarming her that her sword clattered away from a numbed hand ere he leaped on her to pin her to the ground again.

  And he was on his feet again almost immediately, wringing a little cry of surprise and almost disappointment from Annis.

  He regarded her thoughtfully; and pulled her almost roughly to her feet.

  “Go and wash and change, girl; and I’ll show you a different lesson in warcraft. Put on other breeches, and dress warm.”

  “What will you teach me my lord?” she asked eagerly.

  He gave a grim smile.

  “Aye, you drink it all in, don’t you?” he said “How did I ever manage to call you whey faced? You’re no such thing you little white flame! If, as I suspect, your father arrives soon with his forces, I wish to double check that all my defences are secure. We’ll ride the outer bailey with a view as to how to attack. You can point out any weak points – if there are any.”

  “A bit like searching out your virtues – if you have any,” said Annis brightly.

  “Precisely,” his eye glinted appreciatively at her pert answer, and he ruffled her hair.

  The black, forbidding keep and bailey had taken on a familiarity that made it almost homely; it was the view Annis saw every time she returned from Mass. A deep ditch crossed by the drawbridge was steep-sided, and rose to a stone glacis beneath the massive walls that had an angle sufficient that the dead angle was reduced. Lest any manage to cross the moat, machicolations ran along the battlements for the deployment of boiling oil or hot pitch or any such offensive rain; and the turrets set at intervals were cantilevered to some extent by corbelling and contained arrow slits covering every part of the wall and reducing the dead angle to nothing. The embrasures atop the walls were deep and well contrived, sloping inward like the arrow notches themselves. The gatehouse itself might be a weak point; as it had been when Gyrfalon had stormed the castle. But it contained two portcullises and murder holes above as well as arrow slits within; that Gyrfalon’s men had traversed so quickly that the defenders had not time to make use of their well-devised defences. And immediately within the walls a wall meant that an attacker was forced to turn left or right in a narrow passage, making him vulnerable. This last was newly constructed, Annis thought.

  “The funnelling wall is yours, is it not, my lord?” she asked.

  Gyrfalon nodded.

  “Whilst it be unlikely that the gate be breached since my men ought to be well aware of how I did it, I believe in taking no chances,” he said.

  “And those on the gatehouse roof ready to fire down on the confused mass of men trapped there, and a barrel of pitch at each end of the passage to broach and fire in such an event I suppose?” she asked “That will frighten horses and slow men.”

  “I’d not thought of barrels of pitch … yes, it takes fewer men to defend than otherwise … and a trough that it flow into to make a wall of flame. Bloodthirsty, aren’t you?” he teased.

  She shrugged.

  “I don’t have to like the idea of burning men; but it does make sense; and puts our men at less risk. That’s what war is about isn’t it, and siege warfare particularly, minimising risk to one’s own men and making the game not worth the candle for the opposition?”

  He grinned to himself at her choice of the word ‘our’.

  “So, do you see any weakness?” Gyrfalon asked Annis as they rode from one end of the walls to the other.

  She shook her head.

  “Not in the structure. The only possible weakness lies in our men. They are, many of them, untried in real battle, being used mostly to skirmishes; though I have to say they’re less of a rabble than they were even a few weeks ago. A siege, methinks, is a battle of nerves as much as anything else, on both sides; and it depends in their belief in themselves, and that depends partly on their belief in you, my lord. I think that they believe in you enough not to break; but I’m not sure.”

  He gave a malevolent chuckle.

  “Perchance I should threaten then that you will deal with them if they fail me,” he said. “They know you for a ruthless one, my vixen.”

  Annis flushed.

  And it were mostly in pleasure that he claimed her as his vixen.

  “Ruthless? Yes I suppose I can be,” she said, and sighed ruefully. “And that began because I felt there should be object lesson over that rapist. A woman hath a less objective view of the same you see. But on a serious note, my lord, methinks that encouragement would be more helpful than threats. Reminding them that we have plenty of food – thanks in great part to their efforts – and a strong castle.”

  He snorted.

  “You encourage them then; I’ll threaten. Between us we should strike the right balance.”

  She laughed.

  “By your command, my lord,” she said and added, “Do we now take boat to go look round the marsh side? I can collect herbs while we do if we go.”

  He stared.

  “It can’t be attacked from that side,” he said.

  “Indeed? Then as an attacker ‘tis where I’d look to effect an entrance. For if ‘tis accounted impossible there be a good chance that ‘twill not be guarded – nor so well defended in stone.”

  He stared; and his good eye narrowed.

  “Very well,” he said, in his dangerously soft tone “And then you shall tell me how such an entrance may be effected.”

  She nodded.

  “If I see one, I shall. It may, as you say, be impossible,” she said without loss of composure. “But it were well to make sure, dear lord, that we not fall into the trap of the conventional belief that you have warned me about.”

  “You quote me back at myself? Thou vixen, thou whelp!” he cried.

  She beamed at him.

  Seated in the boat, Annis stared up at the sheer, artificial cliff that was the wall of the castle. She grunted.

  “Well?” asked Gyrfalon, his composure returned after the brief anger over being flatly contradicted. The girl was right and did her duty to him as her lord as if she actually owed him fealty by her caution.

  “No machicolations. Few arrow slits. The embrasures are wider too. Were I a canny warlord I should float down river at night on rafts, clad in dark clothing. I should lash the rafts together and then moor them to stout poles driven into the mud here, that methinks is what I believe is called a dead angle. The mud is but a few feet deep here right under the walls else we could not be poled along but must needs row. Then I should assemble the sections of scaling ladders I had brought and lead my men – unarmoured for silence – over the walls where doubtless few, if any guards patrol. Those best skilled would silently slit the throats of any sentries, being sure to be stealthy to get those silent kills. Then we should barricade the barrack doors and seize the lord of the castle; and let down the drawbridge for our followers.”

  He stared.

  “And you say you have no training in siege-craft?”

  “None my lord
. But I have imagination and a deal of common sense,” she said.

  He shook his head.

  “Your father is assuredly the biggest fool in Christendom. Had I sired a daughter like you I should treasure her as the best son a man might have. If he thinks he’s getting you back, he can think again.”

  Annis laughed.

  “I think that’s meant as a compliment – in a backhanded way,” she said.

  “It was meant as one – in a backhanded way,” he returned, laughing at her.

  Annis smiled up at him.

  The warlord caught his breath.

  “I – I shall see to having this wall well guarded,” he said, his voice harsh of a sudden. “Your father may be a fool, but he may have competent underlings to whom the same might occur. And I shall have barrels of naphtha positioned to be thrown over to fire any such rafts. And the village geese up on the battlements to give tongue.”

  Annis nodded.

  “Yes; we shall be able to sleep easier knowing that there’s less chance of waking up dead,” she agreed.

  “Foolish child; there be no such chance for you; they want you alive,” he said.

  She regarded him gravely.

  “Perchance that be an even better reason for me to wish for strong defences,” she said. “That I not feel any risk that I might fall into the hands of my father and his allies that will not use me so doucely as have you. It is good to know that you can keep me safe in your protection. Though,” she sighed, “I fear it be at the risk of our men’s lives.”

  “They are soldiers; they know the risks such entails,” he spoke harshly. He did not add that Annis’ gentle healing probably feel that it was worth taking any risk to keep her – however ruthless she might be capable of being!

  The boatman kept his head down and said nothing; but he had plenty to pass on. And that the Lady Annis feared going back to her father beyond the rational fear she ought to feel for Gyrfalon, and to consider that the cruel way the warlord drove her in sword practice was being used doucely meant that they had to fight hard to prevent such a thing befalling her! For Annis was almost universally respected and even now grudgingly loved by the men she had impartially physicked and scolded. She had even treated the ills of those who had at first tried to handle her roughly and it had impressed the rough men. And if they had a gnawing fear of her anger should they transgress, it was mingled with respect that she was no coward!

  When they returned to the castle, Gyrfalon ordered Annis to his chamber and produced a pair of beautifully crafted knives in wrist sheathes.

  “These are balanced to be thrown; and designed to shake from sheath into the hand,” he told her. “Wear them at all times; and I shall teach you how to use them properly. If we are breached you can defend yourself with them as a last resort; or perchance buy time with the surprise of them to get yourself away.”

  Annis was delighted and examined the knives with care!

  “And an we be breached methinks I’d cut mine hair short and wear baggy tunic and cover myself in the grime of the kitchen if anything had happened to you my lord” said Annis “That I might find a time to take my revenge for you; for I make no doubt the castle will not be lost save over your dead body.”

  “Possibly not,” said Gyrfalon.

  “Will you start teaching me now?” asked the girl hopefully.

  “Why not?” he said “Art a glutton for punishment.”

  “I love learning from you,” she said simply.

  Gyrfalon’s own skill with thrown knives was incredible; but Annis had a good eye and did not disgrace herself once she had grasped the basic technique.

  “Enough,” he said at last “You progress; let not weariness spoil that. And I know at least that you do not freeze in danger as many women do – as your killing of Solly prove, even though you had but little training then.”

  She shuddered.

  “His breath stank,” she remarked.

  Gyrfalon laughed.

  “And were that a good Christian reason to slay him?” he mocked.

  She shook her head.

  “No; but methinks his intentions towards me justified me using extreme force.”

  “Had I thought else I had told you at the time,” he said. “He gave you room to manoeuvre,” he added “What would you do if he had grabbed your throat?” Panther-like he leaped and suited actions to words; but his grip this time was but firm and not so painful as the last time he had so held her; this was an exercise for her ingenuity, no more.

  Annis shifted experimentally.

  “On anyone but you, my lord, I might try to pull on the little fingers that are generally weak; but I fancy it not always work,” she said, trying.

  “I have strong fingers for sword work – and knife throwing” said Gyrfalon.

  “I cannot reach you with a knee to the crotch” Annis admitted candidly, trying. “You have me held too far away. Methinks, though, most people reach futilely for the hands that hold them; the surprise move would be to reach downwards instead and squeeze hard that which be tender and hope to duck the vomit.”

  She felt duly with her hand and a blush suffused her face as she encountered a response to her touch above her target of aim.

  “Squeeze there, and wilt but drive a man on,” said the warlord roughly.

  Annis was trembling but forced herself to feel lower to see if she might so reach. She said, trying to sound lighthearted,

  “Aye my lord, but perchance on many men, those that need to rape, and so be no real man, I’d not encounter such a, er, flattering or, um, lavish a response to impede mine attempted violence. Here a sharp pinch would, methinks be damaging to any man’s ego and equilibrium.”

  “Indeed. You are quite priceless you know little one,” he managed. “Aye, you have the right place to cause most pain. Are you afraid?”

  “No,” she turned her eyes up to look at him; and quickly looked down again.

  “You are trembling.”

  “Am I? I – I do not want to truly hurt you; perchance that is why.”

  “Ah, perchance it is. And suppose,” he released her throat to capture her wrists, “suppose your hands were not free?”

  “Then I must needs kick and bite; or use mine head to try to catch mine opponent on the chin or nose. I wager it dampen the ardour to have a nosebleed or a bloody lip for a tooth stuck in it.”

  He laughed low.

  “Aye, it would; and I note you be kind to my face that you not attempt it. What then if one had got you on your back?” he flung her on the bed and knelt over her.

  Her breath came raggedly; but she managed to look up with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

  “Why, a man must needs be above me in such a situation; and must needs also let go with one hand to loose his nether garments and get at such parts of me as he require; and I think I’d have to do something to put him off his passion, that nutting him be also valid; and biting too.”

  Lightly she set her teeth to his neck below the helm.

  He laughed again.

  “Only dogs bite, my dear; and your hair is designed to hold you like a leash,” he grabbed her thick plait to pull her head back.

  “Why my lord! Unkind of you to call me a bitch!” she returned. He gave a low chuckle.

  Hesitantly her free hand came up to rest against his chest and she pulled against the pressure on her plait to look into his face.

  There was a loud knock at the door.

  Gyrfalon swore and came to his feet away from her, off the bed in one movement.

  “Go neaten yourself,” he ordered harshly. “You look as dishevelled as a peasant girl well swived in a barn!”

  “Speak for yourself,” retorted Annis. “You be as awry as the peasant boy doing the swiving.”

  The knock sounded again and Elissa’s voice called,

  “My lord?”

  Annis slipped round the corner of the chamber to compose herself and the warlord jerked open the door.

  “What?” he demanded
.

  Elissa quailed and glanced behind him, half expecting to see Annis hurt or dead if he be in so bad a temper.

  “My Lord … I, um, wondered if Annis were here … I had thought I saw her return with you, but I have not seen her….”

  Gyrfalon regarded her, and spoke softly, dangerously.

  “It were well for you that the girl is with me. Though if she continue to progress so well with thrown knives she will not need you as a protector, but only as a guard.”

  Annis emerged from around the corner.

  “Ah, my lord, must you needs take it out on poor Elissa because I bit you?” she asked, laughing up at him.

  “You bit him?” queried Elissa, horrified.

  “It be safe enough; he not be like to poison me the way Lord Marfey would,” said Annis. “He was teaching me to fight barehanded. I was losing. I hate losing” said Annis.

  Gyrfalon looked at her quizzically.

  “Now I thought you were seriously considering yielding to me,” he said.

  Colour touched Annis cheeks but she answered steadily enough.

  “Truly my lord, I think I must always yield to you; but if you teach me to fight an hypothetical battle, why then, I hate losing,” she said. “I come Elissa, at your disposal” and she walked out of the room, waiting until she was out of sight around the spiral stair before performing a neat dance step and punching the air.

  Elissa regarded her suspiciously.

  “What is it with you?” she asked sourly.

  “Life is good,” said Annis cryptically. “For I have learned something that I were not sure of.”

  Gyrfalon stared long at the door long after the two women had left. He had not intended to do more than demonstrate potential situations to the girl, suggest ways of breaking holds. It had got out of hand; and it seems as though at times she responded, though her replies were light and facetious. Yet how could that be? He was surely imagining it! She was young, lovely, perfect. And he was marred. It had to be his imagination; unless she had played with him. Women were cruel. She had said so herself.