‘When Idonia came to join my houshold from the convent, there were many young men anxious for her favours, and of these she liked Benedict and Reynold best. Now Reynold’s marriage was already in the process of being arranged by his family—he was a squire in my household at the time. If Idonia had shown a clear preference for Reynold at the time, we might perhaps have rearranged matters … but she decided to take Benedict. And knowing both young men well, I thought she would be best off with Benedict. So the betrothal took place. They both seemed well pleased; Benedict could not take his eyes off her, in fact.
‘Then everything went wrong. There was a bad storm one night. It rained so hard that day and the next that we could barely crawl about. On the third day we went to inspect what damage had been done … floods everywhere … crops beaten down … cattle drowned. There is a wall below the castle, holding back the road. A spring had broken out behind the wall, and it was bulging outwards. As we returned, the wall came down on us. … stonework, earth, water. … flinging clear across the road. Benedict caught me up and threw me forward, but was trapped by one leg himself. Where I had been standing. …’ He swallowed. ‘I would have been killed, for sure.
‘It was thought at first that Benedict’s leg must be amputated, but with careful nursing it was saved. Only it did not set straight. And while he was in pain, unable to rise from his bed, Reynold flirted with Idonia.
‘Some women are not good at nursing the sick. She would not sit with Benedict or try to help him. She began to speak carelessly to him, and then hurtfully. She would whisper with Reynold, glance at Benedict, toss her head and say something designed to make him feel badly. If he had not loved her so much, he would not have cared. But he did love her, and he did care.’
‘Why did you let them go through with the marriage?’
‘You cannot break the bonds of betrothal for a whim. Reynold was formally betrothed to someone else by that time. Idonia was young, and once removed from Reynold’s side, safe in Benedict’s hands. … for I knew him to be trustworthy and kind … I thought—we all thought—that the marriage would turn out well enough. She agreed she might as well marry Benedict, since she could not have Reynold.’
‘But he failed her in bed?’
‘I am not sure. She said so. He became a grim and silent man, overnight. She. … she was found in Reynold’s arms within a week of the marriage. My wife told Benedict to give Idonia a good whipping. My wife was the mildest of women, who could hardly bear to chastise a puppy, but she refused to have Idonia about the castle any longer. She was very fond of Benedict, you see. She blamed Idonia for everything. I warned Reynold to be more careful. I told him it would be as well if he accompanied me to France that year, to give Benedict and Idonia a chance.’
‘Then Idonia was not running away to be with Reynold?’
‘Most unlikely. Although. … well, it was not Reynold who accompanied me to France, but Benedict. Reynold went off to a tournament here, a tournament there, winning laurels everywhere. It was Benedict who came with me to France. And I was with him when the news came that Idonia had caught a chill and died.’
‘I must ask this. Was he surprised?’
‘Surprised? He was stunned. He could neither speak nor hear. He just sat there. I could not get him to speak of her then, or since. It is my belief that he loves her as deeply now as he did then.’
‘And you would send this man into Salwarpe with Reynold on equal terms?’
‘No.’ He led Ursula to where a marble bench had been strewn with bright cushions, and seated her. ‘I asked them both to join me here in the garden at noon to discuss the matter. And here they come.’
Reynold was striding towards them, plucking at his belt, his lower lip jutting. His eyes were everywhere, but each time they passed over Ursula his lips formed a smile which seemed to say, ‘I would say such things, if I were alone with you …’
Benedict arrived at their bench, without their having seen him approach. One moment he was not there, and the next he was standing with folded arms, and his crooked leg thrust forward, his eyes on the gravel at his feet.
‘Reynold and Benedict. Well met.’
‘It is not to be borne!’ cried Reynold, frowning and smiling at one and the same time. ‘I have slept on it, as you bade me do, and I say it is not to be borne that I should serve under Benedict! Of what use is a cripple in an assault? What experience has he of the tournament? Would he be able to withstand more than one pass with the lance? It is absurd even to think of it!’
Aylmer held up his hand and Reynold came to a halt. ‘Benedict has already offered to resign, and I have refused to let him do so. It is true he has little experience of tournaments, but his experience of siege warfare and of life in the field is extensive. Moreover he is not a man to be baited easily, as you may have observed. If you find it impossible to serve with him, may I suggest that you consider following his lead and …’
‘Allow the Ladies of Salwarpe to point the finger at me as a coward? Never! I will fight for them to the last!’
‘Then will you not look on this as a holy cause? Will you not take Benedict by the hand, and let bygones be bygones, that you may both serve me in this matter?’
‘If he will acknowledge me as commander of the garrison,’ said Reynold, ‘Then I am willing to take him with me.’
Benedict lifted his head from contemplation of the ground long enough to say, ‘Surely the Lord of Salwarpe is commander of the garrison, and we but his lieutenants?’
‘Oh, in theory; yes,’ said Reynold. ‘But in practice …’
‘He is advanced in years, of course,’ said Benedict. ‘But in his prime he saw much service in France. I heard legends of his prowess when I was a boy. Legends such as that are worth a hundred mercenaries. I say that not only is he commander of the garrison now, but that he must remain so.’
‘We will see to that when we get there,’ said Reynold.
‘Enough!’ cried Aylmer. ‘Either you compose your differences, or neither of you shall go!’
There was silence, full of unspoken objections. Aylmer took a hasty turn around the bench. ‘It was in my mind,’ he said, ‘That we could ride to my hunting-lodge in the forest this afternoon. Any news from Salwarpe or Spereshot must pass through the forest along the road which skirts the lodge, so that you would be half a day nearer your objective. We can send a messenger through to Spereshot from there, requesting that a boat and guide be made ready for you on the morrow. We could also glean news of Hugo’s activities, being so much closer to Salwarpe. Is it agreed?’
‘Yes,’ said Benedict, looking askance at Reynold.
‘Only if it is understood I am in command,’ said Reynold.
Ursula jumped to her feet. ‘I will settle this business for you if I may, Aylmer? I have your posy of flowers here. Reynold and Benedict shall each choose one. Whichever chooses my favourite shall wear my gage and be set in authority over the other. Is it agreed?’
Reynold laughed aloud. ‘Of course. And I choose the rose, the rose of love for the Lady of Love.’
Benedict frowned. He looked long and hard at Ursula, and then at the flowers she carried. He said. ‘Honeysuckle. That is her colour.’
‘Yes,’ said Ursula. ‘You have chosen wisely, Benedict. It is the honeysuckle, and you shall have overall command, under my grandfather.’
Before Reynold could object, she handed him the rose and closed his fingers over it. If he chose to interpret her gesture as a promise, then that was his affair. She was promising nothing, but she could still his mounting anger with a smile. He took his defeat gracefully. He even bowed to her, before turning and leaving the garden. When she looked round to give Benedict his flower, he also had disappeared.
‘That was well done,’ said Aylmer. ‘Now, tell me—which of the flowers is really your favourite?’
‘The rose,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘Naturally. But as you said from the beginning, Benedict is the best man for a siege. Also he seems to und
erstand about grandfather, which is more than Reynold does. Now, may I come with you to the hunting-lodge, to see them off?’
CHAPTER FOUR
The sky began to cloud over during their canter through the forest and, as they drew up in the courtyard of the hunting-lodge, they were spattered with rain. Servants had been sent ahead of them, so that a fire was already warming the hall, and appetising aromas came from the kitchen at the rear.
Lady Editha dismounted somewhat stiffly, but was as eager as Ursula to enquire if there were any news. No, said the verdurer who lived there. Men had been set to watch the road from Spereshot, but no-one had ridden down from the north that day.
Aylmer took Ursula up into a solar above and behind the hall, and pointed out of a window to a gap in the trees. ‘Can you see the jumble of hills beyond the forest’s edge? There lies Spereshot, and beyond it …’
‘The river and the marsh. I know my way from Spereshot, for we often ride that way when we hunt, and to see our neighbours.’
She thought of their recent wild ride from Salwarpe, pausing in Spereshot only long enough to gasp out the news to the lord of the manor and his wife, and collect a carrier pigeon or two, before they fled on and on, down the forest track to Aylmer and safety … in constant fear of pursuit. …
She brushed her hand across her eyes and smiled at Aylmer.
He said, ‘I will go send a messenger to Spereshot.’
She was grateful that he left her alone. Now that she was so much closer to home, her impatience mounted. She had had an important role to play at Aylmer’s castle, but she had nothing to do now but wait, and smile … and smile … and tell Aylmer how grateful she was for what he was doing.
The business of hanging around waiting for someone else to do something was intolerable.
She was too restless to sit still for long, but wandered to and fro, up and down the stairs, pausing every now and then to peer through the lightly falling rain. … up the road to Spereshot. So near, and yet so far away.
Back at the castle, all had been in a bustle, preparing for her wedding. In three days’ time she was to be wed to Aylmer, and there would be another feast, with music and jugglers and acrobats and who knew what else? And meantime her grandfather would be sitting out a siege.
Time did not seem to move in the hunting-lodge. Salwarpe might be in another world. There was a placid air over the ancient half-timbered building, which communicated itself to everyone except Ursula. Even Lady Editha was content to sit back and do nothing. She was an excellent horsewoman and loved to hunt. Now she sat and yawned and talked to Reynold of stags and dogs. Presently Aylmer came to sit and play at chess with Reynold.
Benedict had vanished. Ursula found him in a byre, fashioning a harness which would carry a basket of pigeons on his back. He looked up from his task long enough to stare at her and then was busy again. One of the verdurer’s children was holding some tools for Benedict and another, smaller one had curled up with a kitten and was fast asleep on Benedict’s cloak.
Ursula struck one hand on the other and closed her eyes. She told herself that she must be patient. News would come sooner or later, and none the sooner for her chafing.
As it happened, she was not even looking out of the window when a horseman came riding down the forest road. The man was mud-spattered, and gasping with fatigue. He dragged his saddlebag off his horse and threw it on the table before Aylmer, scattering the chess pieces.
‘You are bid … desist!’ he said. ‘My master sends you warning! Desist or it will be the worse for you!’
‘Your master, fellow? Are you not a man from Spereshot?’
‘Spereshot?’ The man grimaced. ‘Spereshot is aflame, my lord. Barns and all. Men dangle from the trees, and pigeons … roast.’
Reynold pulled on the thong that fastened the neck of the saddlebag, and upended it. Out tumbled a carrier pigeon, the shaft of an arrow through its body. It was dead. The cylinder on its leg was empty.
Lady Editha’s rings scattered on the floor, but Ursula put her hands to her breast and pressed them there.
Reynold sprang to his feet, dagger in hand. Benedict, who as usual had come from nowhere, laid his hand on the messenger’s arm and shouldered Reynold aside.
‘Tell us what you know,’ said Benedict.
‘I know nothing,’ said the man, his face glistening with fear. ‘I saw nothing. I was thrashing corn in the barn when they came on us, and my master … Oh, God! I think he got away, though he was badly hurt, I know. But the mistress, and her little ones … he took them. Hugo de Frett. He took them away with him, and they were screaming …’ He put his hands over his ears, and closed his eyes. Then he resumed. ‘We were made to line up outside the barn, and he fired it with his own hand. Two of our men he strung up above the flames, alive. The manor house was already burning, and the other outbuildings. It was like hell. There was a man in your livery there, and he was writhing on the ground … but soon he lay still. He was luckier than some, for he died quickly. Hugo asked who could ride a good horse, and I said I could, and he said he would spare my cottage, if I rode to you with the pigeon before sunset … as you see …’
Benedict put his arm under the messenger’s shoulders. The man sagged and fell. Now they saw that he was bleeding from a wound on his back.
Benedict caught him up. The man was still trying to talk. He said, ‘My little girl. …!’ He caught his breath on a sob.
‘Yes,’ said Benedict. ‘We understand. Have faith in God. It is the only way. Come, let me bind your wound.’
‘No, let me do it,’ said Ursula. ‘None of this would have happened, but for us. You are needed to take counsel with my lord. So, let me do what I can.’
She led the messenger away to the kitchen, and bathed his wound and listened while he talked on and on, never ceasing … until finally she made him drink a sleeping-potion, and his eyes closed even as he said, ‘My little girl …’
Ursula arrived back in the solar in time to hear Aylmer say, ‘Then we are all agreed that the attempt must be abandoned for the time being? Ursula, my dear …’
‘Why must the attempt be abandoned?’ she said. ‘Is the matter not more urgent now than before?’
‘Without a guide or a boat—both of which we looked to find in Spereshot—we can go no further. We must send a strong letter of protest to Hugo de Frett, warning him that unless he withdraws, the end of the harvest will see the end of him.’
‘By which time he will have his hands on our estates, and those of our friends in Spereshot, and since possession is nine tenths of the law …’
‘I am not without influence, myself. Be sure the law will deal with him in due course.’
‘How many more men must hang, how many more buildings must burn, before the law catches up with Hugo? Spereshot is not the only place on the river where one can obtain boats …’
‘We realise that. Benedict is going to make his way up river till he can cross it at the next bridge, and hire a boat and guide there. Or if not there—for it is far from here, and the local people may not wish to travel so far from their homes—then he can make his way back to the abbey, which is on the opposite bank of the river from Salwarpe. Surely the abbot will hire us a small boat and a guide.’
‘That would take two days—three—maybe even four. I will guide Benedict and Reynold into Salwarpe. I know where there is a boat to be found on the marshes …’
Aylmer laughed. It was a mistake.
Ursula clenched her hands. ‘Do you think I could not do it?’
‘Why, that is no work for a maid, surely.’
‘I am so recently become a maiden that I hardly know how to act when my people are attacked. Should I sit and weep all day? Should I retire to the chapel, and pray? Or should I strike a blow against my enemy, when his neck is bared before me?’
‘Ursula, you have not considered …’
‘I do not need to consider. It is clear what I must do. I know the tides, and I know the channel. I kno
w the way up the hillside …’
‘My dear, it is out of the question. For one thing, it is clear that your grandfather never received our message saying that Benedict was on the way …’
‘All the more reason for me to give him the message, otherwise he may lose hope and surrender …’
‘He may already have done so. Have you thought of that? An old man, faced with impossible odds …’
‘You do not know him!’ She threw up her head. ‘He would never surrender!’
Aylmer sighed. It was the half angry, determined-to-be-patient sigh of a man sorely tried. ‘A woman cannot understand …’
Ursula went white. ‘To the devil with what you think women can understand! I tell you. …’
‘Listen to me, Ursula!’ It was not often that Aylmer raised his voice, but when he did, his servants quailed. Ursula did not quail, but she did hold her tongue.
‘Listen to me, Ursula,’ he repeated, this time more gently. ‘If your grandfather did not receive our message—which he plainly did not—then even if you did by some outside chance elude Hugo’s men and reach the marshes … even if you did find this boat of which you speak … and ran the hazard of the channel to reach the foot of the cliff … suppose you did all that, how do you suppose you are going to be greeted when you reach the postern gate? There will be no ropes, waiting for you. There will be sentries instead, ready to fire on any movement. …’
‘I. … but Benedict was willing to. …’
‘He wishes to try, but he admits himself that he has small hope of succeeding. And do you think I would allow you to go, where even he is doubtful of success? My dear, be reasonable. Do you not think that all the boats on the river will have been commandeered by now? And a watch mounted on this famous channel of yours? Suppose the three of you were out on the river, and were captured by Hugo’s men? Would not that be a fatal blow to our cause? Would I not have to abandon your grandfather, to ransom you? Would not your grandfather be forced to abandon Salwarpe, for the same reason?’
The Siege of Salwarpe Page 4