Nandor (The Nandor Tales Book 2)

by Martin Owton

  “I am glad to be home,” said Edith, keeping her gaze on Tancred. “It has been a hard and unpleasant time. We followed Celaine’s trail to Keshan, but she was gone before we got there. My Lord Maldwyn ordered me home then and went with Aron further into the north in pursuit of her. I’ve had no further news of them since they left.” She looked down then, trying to convey sadness and conceal the anger that surged through her.

  “That is hard news, but at least you are returned safely to us,” said Tancred. “And now life must move on.”

  She raised her eyes to simper at him, her clenched fists concealed in the folds of her gown.

  “Now that I’m Earl,” continued Tancred. “It is my duty to make a good marriage for you.”

  Edith stiffened; she knew what was coming.

  “Lord Baldwin and I spoke of this many times. It was his wish that we should marry, and I will respect that wish.”

  Edith almost choked at the lie, but managed to sigh “Oh Tancred” in a sufficiently convincing manner. Lady Alice said nothing but her face was as grim as a gravestone. Tancred smiled at them, his expression an unsettling mixture of triumph and lust.

  “I shall summon the priest,” he said. “Choose your wedding gown, my Lady. Something suitably modest. If you need anything further you have only to ask.”

  He bowed to both of them and left the room followed by his guards.

  As soon as the door closed Edith spat out a curse.

  “I agree,” said Lady Alice. “You’ll get your chance, just not yet. As far as I know there isn’t a priest of Martis in Nandor, the old one died at midwinter.”

  “He might come to me tonight.”

  “I doubt it. He has only to wait a few days and he can have his way with no scandal attached.”

  “I could go to him.”

  “Perhaps, if the door guards let you. But then you can’t keep it quiet.”

  Edith sat down on her stool boiling with frustration, her plans in ruins. Aron had been right; she had guessed wrong about how Tancred would react.

  ***

  “We have to be there ready in case she succeeds,” said Aron putting aside Edith’s letter after he had read it through twice.

  “You’re right,” said Maldwyn. “I could put her over my knee and spank her.”

  “I’ll hold her while you do it. In the meantime I’ll get the men together. It’s going to be a long night.”

  It was a long night, cold and intermittently wet. They concealed themselves in a ditch a hundred paces or so from the castle gate under dark cloaks and waited. For a while Aron and Maldwyn talked, discussing how best to assault the castle.

  “There are ladders in Esmont’s barn,” said Maldwyn. “They’re certainly long enough to reach the top of the wall. I think I’d climb a ladder faster than a rope.”

  “If they’re long enough then yes,” said Aron. “We’ll go in tomorrow night if nothing happens tonight.”

  After they finished talking Maldwyn dozed but Aron could not sleep. Wrapped in his cloak he watched the dark mass that was the castle gatehouse. With clouds covering the sky he could only just make out the keep and walls. No sentry would be able to see more looking down from the wall, and the wind gusting up the valley would cover all but the loudest noise.

  Tomorrow night they would test that, but his mind dwelt on what was happening in the castle tonight. Something had gone wrong with Edith’s plan and, in the depths of the night, every possibility seemed worse than the last. Knowing Edith she would have taken some absurd risk to get within striking distance of Tancred, and now was surely paying the price. He prayed that his fears were exaggerated and she would be alive and well when they reached her. He pulled his cloak tighter around him as the wind delivered another rain squall and tried to think about how to deal with Tancred.

  ***

  Edith passed the evening with her mother in the chamber telling her everything that had happened in Keshan and the north. The guard outside the door told her she could not leave by Lord Tancred’s orders. She had more than half expected an invitation to supper from Tancred, but their supper was brought by Glynis along with the news that one of the maids would be warming Tancred’s bed that night. Glynis’s disapproval nearly froze the soup and Edith’s disappointment robbed her of her appetite.

  “Eat your supper,” said Lady Alice. “They’ll come tomorrow night and the best we can do is keep quiet, shut the dogs in and make sure some wine finds its way to the guardroom.”

  “There must be something more we can do.”

  “Maybe, but we must be careful not to alert them. That would be worse than doing nothing. Now tell me, have you resolved your differences with Aron?”

  Edith looked at her open-mouthed, stunned at the question.

  “I’m neither blind nor deaf, Edith. I know things were vexed between you when you left. He is too good a man to let slip away. Don’t lose him, you’ll regret it forever.”

  “I’ve forgiven him,” Edith said, surprised at how easily it came out. “It took a demon to make me realise it, but I love him.”

  “Yes, I know you do, and I’m glad you recognise it now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Aron sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes.

  “I have news,” said Maldwyn.

  “What news?” As far as he could tell it was late afternoon. They had left their fruitless vigil and returned to Esmont’s farm as the first light of dawn paled the sky, taken breakfast then gone to bed.

  “The shepherds say there’s rain coming in tonight, and Tancred has sent for a priest of Martis.”

  “That’s interesting,” said Aron. “I wonder what he wants with a priest.”

  “There isn’t one nearby. The town priest died over the winter. I don’t know where the nearest one would be. Maybe as far as Sarazan.”

  “So Tancred wouldn’t know the priest when he arrives.”

  “No. Most likely not.”

  “That gives me an idea.”

  “Dressing up as a priest to get into castle?”

  “Why not? Paint on the tattoos.” Even as Aron said it he thought it would be a lot of work.

  “Tancred’s going to recognise you.”

  “Even with the head shaved?”

  “Even with the head shaved. Tancred’s not blind. And the tattoos will wash off in the rain.”

  “Bad idea then.”

  “You’ll be better off up the ladder.”

  “You think so? I’ll remind you of that when you’re halfway up the ladder tonight.”

  ***

  The shepherds were right and the rain arrived before nightfall driven along by a chill north-westerly wind.

  A night to keep most sentries inside in the dry, thought Aron.

  They left the farm in the deep of the night, dressed in black, their faces darkened with soot. Maldwyn led the way followed by Aron and Thomi carrying the longest ladder from Esmont’s barn. The shuttered lantern Maldwyn carried providing just enough light for them to find their footing on the rutted track that led to the town and the castle.

  Now would be a very bad time to turn an ankle, thought Aron as the wind blew the rain into his face.

  They left Thomi and the other guardsmen to keep watch on the main gate and made their way carefully around the castle through Lady Alice’s garden to the back wall. Looking up it was impossible to tell if a sentry patrolled the walkway, Aron could barely make out where wooden wall ended and sky began.

  “Time to roll the dice,” he said to Maldwyn.

  They raised up the ladder and were relieved to find it reached the top of the wall. They wedged the foot with large stones from Lady Alice’s rockery and, satisfied it would hold, Aron pulled woollen socks over his boots and began the climb. He paused just below the top of the wall straining to hear whether any sentry patrolled the walkway. Hearing nothing above the wind and rain, he took a deep breath and pulled himself over the parapet onto the walkway.

  It was deserted. Aron released the br
eath and eased his sword from the gated scabbard. He signalled to Maldwyn to join him then looked around the courtyard below them. Faint yellow light shone at the edges of the canvas covering the doorway at the foot of the corner watchtower and from the guardroom window across the courtyard.

  Maldwyn pulled himself over the wall and together they crept along the walkway and down the stair into the watchtower. They were halfway down when they heard a very feminine giggle. Aron froze; this changed things. They had planned for Aron to kill the sentry quickly and quietly. It would be more difficult with the girl there. They needed to silence her quickly but without harming her; Aron didn’t kill women. Aron pushed Maldwyn back up the stair for a brief whispered discussion.

  “I’ll take the guardsman. You take the girl. Keep her quiet. Pray that she recognises you.” Aron sheathed his sword and drew a knife from his belt. “Let’s go.”

  They moved cautiously back down the stairs and then flew the last few steps and burst into the small chamber. Aron ran straight into the maid, a tall solidly-built girl naked to the waist, and both of them hit the floor. She shrieked in alarm, Maldwyn stumbled over Aron and the guardsman took the chance to scuttle out of the doorway.

  “The Gatehouse. Now!” cried Aron. He climbed to his feet, though his head was ringing, retrieved his knife and ran out into the courtyard after the guardsman whose running footsteps echoed in the courtyard for a moment. Aron could not spot him in the darkness and then the noise was gone.

  Aron and Maldwyn sprinted for the gatehouse, all thought of stealth lost. They had planned to overpower the sentries and wait until just before dawn to open the gate so that their men had light to see by. Now they needed to get them in before Tancred’s men could organise.

  Aron had half-expected the sentries to appear from the guardroom before they reached it, but none came. He paused for a moment at the door then flung it open and strode in sword raised, with Maldwyn behind him.

  The guardsman seated with his back to the door jumped in surprise and, in trying to turn, fell off his chair and sprawled on the floor. Aron stepped over him and his blade caught the second guard who was staring open-mouthed in surprise, his sword slung over the back of his chair. He went down with a shriek, clutching at his wounded shoulder.

  Aron turned and kicked the first man solidly in the head.

  “Get the gate open!” he said.

  The gate was closed by a great wooden locking bar that took both of them to lift. They heaved it clear then Aron ran for the barrack door leaving Maldwyn to drag the gate open. He was barely halfway when the cracked voice of the alarm bell rang out across the courtyard. Yellow light appeared at the windows of the barrack as lanterns were lit. The door opened and guardsmen barrelled out, their boots clattering harshly on the stones of the courtyard. Within a few moments the whole castle would be awake.

  The guardsmen ran for the gate straight at Aron, their figures silhouetted against the lantern light. Aron stood still, aware that they would be unable to see him against the dark mass of the gatehouse. The first man ran straight into the arc of Aron’s blade and fell screaming to the ground without knowing what happened. The second barely had time to react and raise his blade before Aron’s took him in the throat. The rest of the guardsmen stopped and huddled into a rough circle, swords pointing outward.

  “Where are they?” one of them called; his voice shrill with fear. “Get some light out here.”

  Aron stepped back into the deep shadow under the wall as two guardsmen hurried out of the barrack door carrying a lantern each. His task was to delay them and buy time for their band of men under Thomi to enter the castle. He laid his sword against the wall and drew out his sling from a pocket. Working by feel, he fitted a pebble into the pouch and launched it at the huddle of guardsmen. A man cried out in pain; Aron launched another pebble then gathered up his sword and moved on silent feet circling the guardsman beyond the wan light cast by the lanterns.

  The rest of the guardsmen piled out of the barracks and joined their fellows in the courtyard. The huddle broke up into an undisciplined crowd around the lanterns. Aron launched another pebble. There was a clatter, a brief flare of lamp oil and one the lanterns was doused.

  Aron saw his chance in the resulting confusion and dashed in low. Slashing left and right, he disabled two men and pelted back into the shadows, leaving his victims howling. A vague patch of darkness resolved into a wagon parked tight to the wall; he ducked under it listening intently for any sign that Thomi’s men had gained the gate.

  The guardsmen reformed their circle around their wounded, outlined against the light of the remaining lantern. A dozen and a half; still more men than Thomi brings.

  Abruptly one of them cried out and fell followed swiftly by a second. The rest scattered as an arrow smacked into the stones of the courtyard. Edith! Aron had no more time to think on it as two of the men fled from the broken circle to the wall beside the wagon.

  “Where are they?” gasped one. “Can you see them?”

  His answer was Aron’s blade thrust under his ribs as Aron rose up behind him from his hiding place under the wagon. His colleague turned at his death rattle and swung wildly at Aron. Aron used the dying man as a shield to smother the blow then dropped the body and his knife found the second guard’s throat. He groped to recover his sword, watching the movement of the other guards. They had all melted into the shadows and he could locate only a handful.

  He looked up at the keep. When is Tancred going to show himself? The heavy wooden door to the keep remained resolutely closed. In the distance he heard voices and booted feet on stone; finally Thomi and the guardsmen had arrived. The guardsmen in the courtyard heard them too; orders were shouted to form up and dissenting shouts drew attention to the fallen in the yard. Aron waited as they argued and then joined them as they formed up, gambling that no-one would be able to see his face in the dark.

  Maldwyn, Thomi and their group of soldiers appeared from the dark mouth of the gate, lit by a pair of lanterns.

  “Charge!” ordered a voice to Aron’s left. The grouped charged, Aron tripped the men to each side of him and stabbed them as they sprawled. By the time he had dealt with them, the two groups were engaged and he couldn’t distinguish friend from foe in the dark. He stepped back until he recognised the tall figure of Maldwyn. He closed with the guardsman fighting Maldwyn, striking him behind the ear with the pommel of his sword. The guardsman collapsed and suddenly Aron and Maldwyn were in a clear space as the reminder of Tancred’s force fled pursued by Thomi’s men.

  “Leave them,” ordered Maldwyn. “We’ll catch them by daylight. I think its time to confront the source of all this strife.”

  Maldwyn took a lantern from a guardsman and held it up. A dozen men lay in the yard, some still moving. He raised the lantern higher so that it illuminated his face and faced the keep; lights now shone out from its dark bulk.

  “Tancred,” he roared. “I know you can hear me. Come down and we’ll settle this. Come and face me you treacherous coward.”

  Aron watched the door, wondering what was happening inside. Was Edith even now fighting Tancred? He gripped the hilt of his sword, but there was nothing he could do. The door was solid oak and the tower’s stonework in good repair.

  “I don’t suppose you have a key for that door, do you?” he asked Maldwyn.

  “No. It locks from the inside,” said Maldwyn.

  “I thought so,” said Aron. “Then there’s no way in.”

  “Short of starving them out, no,” said Maldwyn. Turning back to the tower he roared, “Come out Tancred, you worthless dog.”

  ***

  Edith stared down into the darkened courtyard, an arrow nocked to her bowstring, searching for a target. Tancred’s soldiers had scattered to the shadows abandoning their lanterns and now she could see nothing to shoot at. Still she had felled two of them; a fierce glow of satisfaction ran through her.

  Booted feet clattered in the corridor and then the door was thrown open.
Tancred strode in, a drawn sword in his hands, followed by the sentry who had been guarding their room.

  “What is the meaning of this? Get out this instant!” stormed Lady Alice rising from her chair to confront him.

  “Shut it,” shouted Tancred raising his sword towards her. “You’re coming with me.”

  “Leave her!” said Edith bending her bow and taking sight on Tancred. He was three paces away; she could not miss.

  Tancred turned on her as if he had forgotten she was there. “Set down the bow, cousin.”

  The arrow tore through the chainmail of his hauberk, through the gambeson and deep into his chest. The impact threw him off his feet and he fell with a pitiful cry in an awkward heap on the sheepskin rug. Edith dropped her bow and drew out her long knife. Her mind completely focused she advanced on him.

  “Edith. Sweet cousin. No!” he pleaded, holding up a hand to her, blood bubbling from the corner of his mouth.

  “This is for Celaine,” she said, kicking his hand away. “And Daddy.”

  She stabbed downward putting her full weight into the stroke, driving the blade through the open neck of his hauberk above the collarbone. Blood sprayed across her face. Tancred’s body spasmed once, twice and then slumped in a widening pool of red. Edith looked at the wide-eyed sentry and raised the bloody knife. He turned and fled.

  Edith turned to her mother. “Done. Now we’re rid of him.”

  Lady Alice stared at her wordlessly for several breaths as if she could not believe what she had witnessed then recovered herself.

  “Mara,” she said. “I must see to Mara.”

  ***

  “Come down and face me, Tancred!” Maldwyn challenged again.

  The door opened and someone stepped out. In the gloom they were too far away to be recognisable, but they looked to Aron too small to be Tancred. It wasn’t until they spoke that he realised it was Edith.

  “Tancred’s dead,” she said. “It’s all over.”

  Aron suddenly felt very tired and had to sit down in the courtyard despite the puddles. Edith came down the steps, sat beside him and put her arms around him.