One or two men smiled, but Aylmer still looked at Benedict, who continued to study the map. He limped over, considering it first from this side and then from that.
‘How did you say the place was garrisoned? What officers have you, accustomed to siege work?’
‘The garrison is made up of stout-hearted men,’ said Lady Editha, ‘And my father was a notable warrior in his day.’
‘I have heard tales of him. How old is he?’
Lady Editha flushed. ‘He is not in his first youth, of course.’
‘Age?’ Benedict looked at Aylmer.
Aylmer shrugged. ‘His spirit is stouter than his frame. I doubt he fills out his armour very well nowadays, but equally I doubt not that he still wears it on occasion.’
‘Experience of siege work?’
‘None.’
‘What officers has he, accustomed to siege tactics?’
‘None that I know of.’
‘That is not true!’ cried the Lady Editha. ‘There is our sergeant of arms, a most worthy man, who was twice in Gascony in the war, and many others. …’
‘Sir Henry has not been on any campaigns, nor sent any men to war since his son died in the last Crusade,’ said Aylmer. ‘He had not the heart for it, since so many of his best men, and so much of his wealth, was lost on the path to the Holy Land. He has commuted his knight service for money since then. If he has any men in the garrison now who have seen service, they must be men past their first youth.’
‘What matters that?’ said Reynold.
‘It is the crux of the matter,’ said Benedict. ‘Sir Henry has no officers accustomed to siege work, and no experience of it himself. If we can solve that problem, we can save Salwarpe.’
He looked at the blank faces around him. ‘Surely it is quite plain what we must do? Salwarpe is well provisioned, and has a stout-hearted commander. Hugo cannot storm the walls, if the garrison be but half as true as their lord. Therefore at first he will be content to wait, denying access, hoping to starve the garrison out, or frighten them into submission.
‘Soon, though, he will learn that the Ladies of Salwarpe have gone for help, and that Aylmer will give that help. He will hear of our gathering today. He will learn that we cannot mount an expedition to relieve Salwarpe until after the harvest, and so he will do one of two things. Either he will retire, and pretend he never wanted Salwarpe in the first place …’
‘I doubt if he will do that,’ said Aylmer. ‘So near to success … and he a headstrong and determined man.’
‘Then he will attack the castle first by land, and then by the river route. Let us not underestimate him. He will have learned all about that “secret” channel by now. He is no fool. More, he is experienced in siege warfare, which the lord of Salwarpe is not. Therefore I say to you that unless Sir Henry is able to recruit officers who are also experienced in siegework, then Salwarpe will fall.’
‘Shame!’ cried Lady Editha.
‘I agree, Benedict,’ said Aylmer. ‘But how do you propose to get your relief force into Salwarpe, and where will you recruit them?’
Benedict smiled. ‘Be sure we will not approach through the town. We must go secretly by night over the marshes, using the hidden channel from the river. And we must climb the hill by the ropes to the postern gate.’
‘Have you gone mad?’ cried Reynold. ‘How could we transport even twenty men by such a route without rousing the enemy? And where, pray, would we obtain boats for so many …’
‘One experienced officer,’ said Benedict. ‘That is all that is needed. A skiff, a guide for the hidden channel; these things can be hired at Spereshot, which lies between us and Salwarpe. Spereshot is on a tributary of the same river that circles Salwarpe, is it not? So I shall go to Spereshot, hire a boat and a guide, and take to the river by night. I shall not need my squire. He is getting on in years, and I doubt he could manage the climb up the cliff.’
‘One man!’ Lady Editha was outraged. ‘I ask for help, my lord, and you give me one man!’
‘This is not a situation in which numbers count,’ said Benedict. ‘Siege warfare demands a certain endurance, a certain knowledge of tactics, and patience. That is all. You see, I only have to show your father what to do, and then sit it out till Michaelmas, when my lord brings up his force.’
‘You make it sound easy,’ said Aylmer. ‘Yet I am reluctant to give my consent to your plan. I, too, have sat out a siege in my time. I know what it is like to sit there and be attacked, day after day, night after night, without sufficient sleep … counting off the hours till dawn, and then counting off more hours of daylight. … knowing that help cannot reach you for so many days, and that your stock of weapons is running out … not easy, Benedict! I agree that your solution is a good one, and possibly the only one. That you should offer to go to Salwarpe yourself is no more than I would have expected of you, and yet …’
‘You know that I prefer to keep myself occupied,’ said Benedict.
Aylmer put his hands on Benedict’s shoulders. Being a tall man, he looked down into Benedict’s face.
‘I owe you so much already,’ said Aylmer. ‘I am not sure that I ought to permit this.’
‘You cannot prevent me,’ said Benedict. His eyes seemed to flash silver, and then he turned away, ashamed, perhaps, at having displayed his affection for Aylmer so openly.
‘No, I cannot prevent your going,’ said Aylmer. ‘But I can ensure that you get a good night’s sleep now and then while you are in Salwarpe. You must take a second officer with you, to share the command.’
The grizzled knight nodded. ‘I will go, my lord.’
‘I have more experience of such work than you,’ said another.
‘We will throw dice for the place,’ said Aylmer. ‘He who throws the highest number will go with Benedict, and share the command with him.’
Reynold laughed. ‘Then I shall go, for I always win. Always.’
His eyes were warm as they rested on Ursula.
Reynold won.
CHAPTER THREE
Ursula woke early, braided her hair in a single plait and slipped it into the silken tube which kept it neat during the day. She was lacing up her old woollen gown before her aunt was properly awake.
‘Ursula, you are never going out like that!’
‘Why not, aunt? I cannot be comfortable in that borrowed silk …’
‘Child, remember your new position …’
‘Oh, but I do. I suppose when I am married I shall have to wear stiff silks every day … heigho! … but although I have been duly betrothed with bell, book and candle, I am still a maid and for today I shall wear what I like.’
‘You should be considering what my lord likes.’
Ursula held out the skirts of her gown. It was not torn, nor even dirty. The colour became her, being neither peach nor pink nor honey, but something between the three. The cloth had been bought of a passing merchant last Michaelmas, and because it almost matched her hair, and because the wool was so fine, she wore it nearly all the time.
‘My lord did not seem to dislike me in this gown, when we rode in from Salwarpe, even though we had but two of our men at our back. I do not think he cares so much for appearances as you seem to think.’
‘Not all of his men are as happy about this match as is my lord Aylmer.’
‘Now what are you hinting at? Are we not to be wed within the week, and is my lord not sending help to Salwarpe?’
‘I would be happier if it were any other man he were sending.’
‘Which man? Reynold?’
‘No, no. Not he. Sir Reynold is a proper man, and courteous to the ladies. No, I was referring to the favourite, Benedict. Did you not know that Aylmer planned to make Benedict his heir, till he saw you at the tourney? It would not be wonderful if the cripple disliked you, and had some dark plan to thwart your marriage, would it?’
‘Did Reynold tell you that? I do not believe it. Benedict does not resent me because I am to marry Aylmer, but because
I am a woman. Aylmer said so and, after all, he ought to know. Benedict was warm in his congratulations to Aylmer on his forthcoming marriage. No, no! You are mistaken, I am sure.’
‘I think not. Sir Reynold told me the man was very deep. He rid himself of his wife, you know …’
‘I do not understand you and, what is more, I do not want to hear any more!’ She tugged at her plait and frowned. ‘I do not like the man—his manners are appalling—but he seems to have the knack of inspiring loyalty in the servants here, which is a good sign, surely!’
‘In servants who expected him to succeed Aylmer? Why, of course they jump to obey him. His own servants were too loyal for their own good, too. I warn you, Ursula, they will take orders from him rather than from you, if you are not careful. His wife, the Lady Idonia—may God have mercy on her soul—offended him, and was found lying in a ditch at dawn, with a fever … whereof she shortly died. And she not nineteen years of age!’ The Lady Editha gave a nod, as if to say that that cinched the matter.
‘And did he put her in the ditch? And if so, why did she not climb out? And did he give her a fever? And how, pray, can you give anyone a fever?’
‘By ill-treatment, they say. She was a great beauty, rich and of noble family. She had many suitors, of course, but she was one of my lord Aylmer’s wards, and he decided to marry her off to his favourite, Benedict. At one point the Lady Idonia said she wished to marry someone else, but since she was already betrothed to the cripple she was persuaded to go through with the match.’
‘I don’t understand how a woman can change her mind about marrying a man so quickly. Is a contract of betrothal not as binding, almost, as marriage?’
‘Ah, but they say Benedict treated his wife badly from the very beginning. Who can wonder at her disliking to be tied to such an ugly, awkward creature? I am sure I do not wonder at it. He may be all very well on the battlefield, but in bed …’ She shrugged. ‘Unable to perform, I believe.’
‘If that were true, she could have obtained an annulment.’
‘I believe she wanted one, but he would not agree. He went away to the wars, and left her all alone in a poor sort of manor-house, with servants to watch her every movement. If he was so fond of her, why didn’t he leave her here with Aylmer’s wife? Would that not have been more suitable? Eh? Answer me that! But, no! He has to pack her off to an isolated estate of his, far from her friends. I am sure it would have been nothing to wonder at if the poor girl had committed suicide …’
‘Make up your mind, aunt. Suicide or murder?’
‘I am not saying it was either. All I say is that the girl was found one morning at the edge of the moat, in mysterious circumstances; and that she had a fever, and died.’
‘What are these mysterious circumstances?’
‘It was said that she was trying to run away at the time, and fell into the moat, and got wet. Hence the fever. They do say she had been writing in secret to someone, had been intending to meet him … had talked much of him. You may be quite sure those servants knew more about her death than they let on.’
‘Well, you may be quite sure I will not be found floating in the moat one morning. It sounds to me that your Lady Idonia was no better than she ought to have been. You would say that she had a lover, within a year of her marriage? How could she break her marriage vows so quickly, even if the man did repel her? Ugly though he is, cripple though he may be, yet surely she need not have created a scandal.’
‘Oh, that sort of man has no scruples, you know. They say he was very pleased to hear of his wife’s death, which to my mind proves the case against him. She was rich, and he inherited everything, you see. I can’t help remembering the Lady Idonia, when I think how you now stand between him and Aylmer’s inheritance.’
‘Well, he will be gone by nightfall, and we will see no more of him.’
The previous evening they had sent off a carrier pigeon, carrying a message of hope to Salwarpe. Ursula followed the pigeon’s swoop in her mind as it winged its way first across the forest, and then over the low-lying hills around Spereshot, before it descended at last onto the roof of its cote. From Spereshot another pigeon would relay the message to Salwarpe. Even now her grandfather might be taking the message from the cylinder attached to the pigeon’s leg, and unrolling the fine paper within.
Benedict had wanted to work out a cipher for the message, but Aylmer and Lady Editha had been so anxious to reassure Sir Henry without delay, that the message had been sent in clear. Now Ursula was full of doubts. Suppose Hugo’s men had been on the look-out for a pigeon, and shot it down, before it got to Salwarpe? Hugo would be able to read the message, then. He would learn that Aylmer would not be able to bring any force of men to Salwarpe until Michaelmas. He would also learn that Benedict was going to try to get into Salwarpe by the river route.
Ursula tossed her head. It was not like her to be so pessimistic. She would go to look for the chapel, and kneel before the Rood, and say a prayer.
‘Please, God! Don’t let Salwarpe be taken, and make me a good wife to my lord, and don’t let Benedict hate me. …’
Or something like that. She wasn’t accustomed to making up prayers, and wasn’t sure she had much faith in them when she did. But she did intend to be a good wife to Aylmer.
This train of thought reminded her that Aylmer had promised to show her the garden of the castle that morning, so she sped down the stairs in search of him.
He was there, waiting for her, by the gate into the garden. High brick walls surrounded a quiet green place. There were espaliered fruit-trees round the walls, heavy with fruit and the hum of bees. Down the centre of the garden ran a shallow canal, and over the water were low arched bridges. It was a pleasant place, drowsy with the heavy scent of late roses, honeysuckle and lilies.
Aylmer had had a gardener pick a posy of mixed flowers for Ursula. He kissed her hand as he closed her fingers around the flowers, and she was amused to see that her skin was as brown as his.
‘Now you see me in all my morning glory,’ she said, ‘with my hair in a plait and wearing an old gown. Do you still think me beautiful?’
‘Beauty you have in plenty; but you have something more than beauty, and it is that which first attracted me to you. You have the air of one who enjoys life.’
She sobered. ‘And yet now and then it stabs at me, thinking of Salwarpe. How can I be happy …?’ She brushed her sleeve across her cheek. ‘But I will not cry this morning. Are you not doing everything possible?’
‘I wondered if you thought I ought to go to Salwarpe, instead of Benedict.’
‘Oh, no. How could you? That would not be right, indeed it would not. I would have no rest, if you were to go. Besides, who else could muster men to relieve Salwarpe at Michaelmas? Did I sound ungrateful? I did not mean it. Tell me; I was trying to remember … was it you gave me a cup and ball years ago, when I was a child?’
‘Why, yes! Your grandfather and my father were good friends, and before your father died we were often guests at each other’s expense. I thought you would have forgotten that little toy, it was so long ago … soon after I wed Joan …’
He looked pensive and she sought to distract him. She put the posy to her lips and kissed the flowers, smiling at him over their petals.
‘Then you will remember that we do not have as big a garden as this at Salwarpe. In fact, we do not have a proper garden at all—only a sheltered corner in which grandfather likes to sit and hear me tell my lessons. Sometimes he tells me stories there, too. We do not have any lilies there, but strangely enough there is a rose like this one here, and also a bower of honeysuckle. When you gave me these flowers, it was as if you were making me a gift of Salwarpe.’
‘And so it shall be. Your grandfather taught you how to say pretty things. Now will you tell me why you frown?’
She put her hand within his arm, and sighed. ‘Is it so obvious? I try not to worry. I tell myself that you know best, that it is none of my business …’
&nbs
p; ‘. … but …?’
‘… is there not a saying “divide and rule”? I wonder how your lieutenants will fare—how Salwarpe will fare—under a divided command. You told me yourself that Sir Reynold and Sir Benedict were enemies.’
‘Do you think that had not occurred to me? Aye, and kept me awake a large part of the night, too. I would it had been any other man but Reynold to win the place! It was in my mind at first to declare the dice faulty, and select some other man to go with Benedict. Then it came to me that perhaps here was a chance to heal the breach between them, which time alone has failed to do.’
‘Perhaps we might leave it to chance, if this were an unimportant matter, but it is an affair of life and death.’
‘I realise that. There was an easy way out of the difficulty, of course. Knowing Benedict, I guessed he would seek me out early this morning …’
‘To request that Reynold be placed under his command, or removed?’
‘Why, no. You misread his character. No, Benedict offered to resign the mission altogether. He said almost any other of my knights who had had siege experience would do as well as he, and would—being senior to Reynold—automatically take the command.’
‘You accepted?’
‘I refused. There is no other man I would trust in this as I trust Benedict.’
‘I heard a rumour …’ She stopped, biting her lip.
‘Ah. I saw Reynold whispering in your aunt’s ear, and guessed how it would be. You heard that Benedict was jealous of Reynold, on account of Idonia? Well, there is some truth in the story, though not as much as people make out. Benedict took his wife away before there was any actual damage done—except in my eyes and the eyes of my wife, of course.’
‘Do you always take Benedict’s side?’ Her tone was neutral, but she removed her hand from his arm.
He swung her to face him. ‘Ursula, I do not know what tale you have heard, but it is best we have this matter out between us. Benedict’s father was my dearest friend, and when he died I willingly took the boy into my household. His estate was not of any great size but sufficiently well-ordered to make the boy of interest on the marriage market. Idonia was the only surviving daughter of a distant cousin, whose wardship passed to me when the girl was twelve. She had been brought up in a convent. I knew little of her, save that she was beautiful and considered sharp-witted.
The Siege of Salwarpe Page 3