The Siege of Salwarpe

by Veronica Heley

  There were other messages, too, in that letter from Aylmer, messages from a man very much in love with his promised wife. Ursula had found it difficult to write back in the same vein.

  She could barely remember now what Aylmer looked like. He was a big man, she knew, and in every way worthy of her love. As for Benedict … she moved uneasily within the shelter of her cloak … well, she would have to be careful, that was all.

  It was only natural that she should admire Benedict, at the moment. At such close quarters admiration might well breed something stronger, and when she saw him again—especially if she remembered to contrast his awkwardness with Reynold’s grace—why, there was nothing to worry about! Nothing at all!

  Her grandfather had known that she was in danger of losing her head over Benedict. He hadn’t said anything. Much better not to put it into words, when a few days’ absence and the exercise of common sense might serve to scotch this ill-timed fancy of hers.

  I wish I were not going back to Salwarpe, she thought. No, I don’t. I couldn’t be happy anywhere else at the moment. But I won’t be happy when I do get back, will I? Not if he’s going to go on looking at me in that intense way. His eyes are strange, so beautiful … and his hands are beautiful, too … though I doubt he has ever thought of any part of himself as being beautiful, and would laugh if I said so.

  I will laugh at him. Yes, I will. I will laugh and laugh, privately, just to myself. This folly of mine cannot withstand laughter. Every time he limps across my sight, I will say “Hoppity-hop!” to myself, and laugh … so!

  She gritted her teeth. ‘I can do it,’ she whispered. ‘I can! I can!’

  A hoarse cry from Dickon brought her to her knees. The sun was sinking behind the hill on which the castle stood. The battlements were black against the yellow sky, and over the rippling waters crept an evening mist.

  A pinpoint of light showed at the foot of the cliff, which was otherwise featureless, deep in shadow. The light must have been a lanthorn at the foot of the cliff, showing where they must aim to take the boats in … and unload in the dark … it was going to be a terrible task, unloading the precious sacks of flour and humping them up the cliff, but she would think about how to do that when she got there.

  Dickon was pointing to where a small brown fishing-boat was bearing down on them.

  ‘Peasmarsh, come out to greet us! And since he’s swept past that raft that’s moored in the middle of the channel, it must be safe to go in.’

  One of Ursula’s problems had been to persuade the local fishermen that it would be safe to venture into waters patrolled by Hugo’s men. She had had to offer extra money to persuade them to come this far and she knew they would turn tail and run for safety even now, if Hugo’s men contested their passage.

  Now John Peasmarsh was being hauled aboard and his boat pushing off once more. John looked thin and tired, but was smiling.

  ‘Lady, you are more than welcome. I am told we eat the last of our own flour this evening. Tell your boatman to make straight for the light at the foot of the cliff, and we’ll do the rest.’

  Dickon’s dog barked once, twice, and then growled.

  ‘Ah, that’ll be Hugo’s boats,’ said John, rubbing his hands and peering into the mist. ‘One … yes, two of ’em, manned by fools as don’t know nothing of our ways. Yes, lady: tell your helmsman to fear nothing. He’s to go straight in.’

  The owner of the boat was unhappy. ‘I’m not a-taking my boat anywhere, if Hugo’s men are out.’

  ‘Don’t fret about them none,’ said John, his smile widening into a grin. ‘They be taken care of. Dost think we been sitting on our hands this last week?’ He chuckled. ‘Na, Hugo doesn’t get the better of us that easy.’

  ‘I assure you it is quite safe,’ said Ursula, hoping her voice would not betray her fear. With some reluctance the captain of the boat hailed the rest of the fleet and relayed John’s orders.

  Ursula pulled John down beside her. She did not want to broadcast any bad news he might have to give her, and there could hardly be any good news to tell … could there? ‘Tell me, John. What news?’

  John slapped his knee. ‘The Lame One—there’s a bit of Old Nicholas for ye! My gran swears he’s the devil incarnate! Got me out of jail, and my dad with me. The old man will be out here soon, you’ll see. A-raring to go is father, sharpening his knives and tightening his belt and swearing fit to bring the parson down on us! Hugo thinks we’m all dead and buried, ye see. Tell your helmsman to take the port side of the raft … that’s it. No need to get too close, seeing as it’s a trifle dangerous at the moment …’

  ‘Hola!’ The shout echoed over the waters from Hugo’s leading boat. ‘Drop anchor, or we’ll make you sorry for it!’

  ‘Mercenaries!’ John Peasmarsh spat over the side. ‘Hugo’s got a crowd of mercenaries there. Not so many of his own people with him, because of its being harvest time. So he hires these ruffians, who don’t give a damn for God or Devil, and he brings them here with promises of plunder and I know not what. But I’ll tell ye one thing—they know damn all about handling boats!’

  As if to refute John’s statement, Hugo’s leading boat now shot forward and managed to manouevre itself between the first of the relief ships and the cliff face.

  ‘We’re going to board you!’ cried the voice of authority from Hugo’s boat. ‘Stand by! We want to see what cargo you bring us!’

  Ursula felt for her knife, but John cackled with mirth. He pointed towards the castle.

  Two pale shapes had detached themselves from the foot of the cliff and were floating over the water towards them. Their flapping sails were white and so were the faces and forms of those who manned the boats … even the boats themselves showed white in the gloom.

  ‘’Tis the ghost-ships, surely!’ shouted John. He nudged Dickon. ‘Go on, man! Shout that ’tis the ghost ships coming to haunt Hugo and his men!’

  ‘Ghost-ships!’ screamed Ursula, understanding at last what was required of her. ‘Help! They are come to drown us!’

  Hugo’s men ceased rowing, to crane round in their seats. Their sails flapped in the calm water at the base of the cliff. They began to take up the cry … ‘But he’s dead. … And that one, too! And the boat—surely it is a ghost-ship!’

  John seized the helmsman’s arm. ‘Straighten her up, man. Go on, keep well to port of the raft, and slip through that gap there … and then straight on to the light.’

  ‘But the ghosts. …’ The man jibbered with fear.

  ‘No ghosts, you fool! Only my father and some more of the Salwarpe fisherfolk, all pale with flour and whitewash. Only, ye see, Hugo and his men thought as us lot were all dead with the fever. …’ And he chuckled again.

  Ursula looked. ‘Will the others follow?’ They seemed to her to be hanging back.

  ‘They will in a minute. …’

  Hugo’s leading boat was rocking as the crew left their posts to look at the “ghost-ships”. Some shouted that it was indeed a crew of ghosts, come to exact vengeance, and others shouted to their fellows not to be fools.

  ‘Take it gently,’ said John to the helmsman. ‘Or let Dickon take over. We can slip quietly past those fools, while they’re aruging amongst themselves.’

  ‘Halt!’ cried the voice of authority from Hugo’s first boat. … but even as he cried out the prow of Ursula’s boat slid past him.

  ‘Dowse our lanthorn!’ hissed John. ‘And make for the signal lamp at the foot of the cliff.’

  Dickon fell on the lanthorn and dowsed it. Their crew were open-mouthed, one or two were praying.

  A streak of light came from nowhere and vanished.

  Someone in Hugo’s leading boat was shouting his men down, bidding them get back to their oars, ordering those who had weapons to make themselves ready.

  ‘They’ve drifted nicely,’ said John.

  There was a terrifying blast of sound and air, which buffeted Ursula and rocked their boat.

  And then. …

&nbs
p; ‘Fire!’

  The shriek came from Hugo’s second boat, which had drifted up against the harmless-seeming raft, anchored in mid-channel. The raft burst apart, scattering fiery embers, throwing them into the air. … some of the embers fell harmlessly into the water, but the rest fell into the boats that Hugo’s men manned.

  ‘Hold her steady,’ said John, as if he had noticed nothing unusual. ‘And now, sharp to starboard.’

  Screams came from the two enemy boats. Ursula looked back. The second boat in the convoy was following her in, and behind her the third … and yes, they were all coming in, now that they saw Hugo’s men were otherwise occupied.

  The “ghost” ships were circling the burning boats, disposing of the men who floundered overboard. None would be left alive to tell the tale. Hugo would look for the return of his boats and their crews in vain.

  ‘Look, mistress!’

  Something was happening to the dark cliff face above her. A light was travelling down it in broad, sweeping zigzags. And as the light came down, it left duplicates of itself at every stage, revealing …

  ‘There’s a stairway up the cliff!’

  ‘That’s not all,’ said John, with grim satisfaction. ‘Look!’

  Lights were now flickering along the base of the cliff, lighting up every detail of willow and scrub, and even … Glory be! Even out into the water!

  A small but sturdy jetty had been built at the base of the cliff and even now men were running along it with more lighted torches, hands outstretched to catch the ropes which Dickon was ready to throw up.

  Among these men moved a man in black and silver, a man at whose bidding chaos turned to order, a man who took her outstretched hands in his, and drew her up onto the jetty and safety.

  And she looked into his eyes, and knew herself lost.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hugo’s men pulled and pushed a large trebuchet up from the town at dawn the following morning, and by noon the odd stone was being hurled up the slope towards the castle. None did any damage, for Hugo’s men seemed to be having difficulty in adjusting their cumbersome machine to the correct range.

  Benedict made his rounds. He paused to talk with Reynold for a few minutes, but did not go up onto the gatehouse as usual. Reynold was looking careworn. He had given up his room in the keep to the latest band of refugees that had been brought in from the town overnight, and was now sleeping in one of the gatehouse towers.

  The castle was filling up. Benedict’s stratagem was working better than he could ever have hoped. Not only did refugees leave the creek beyond the town by boat each night, but it was reported that many families living near the mill and on the arable lands had sought refuge in the forest, for fear of the contagion. Some of Hugo’s men had also reported sick; it was not known whether this was as a result of their eating some contaminated fish, or to drinking water from the stream that rose in the dell. Either way, dysentery had struck Hugo’s host, and this could only be good news for the garrison.

  All this should have pleased Ursula, but she did not look happy when she sought out her grandfather in his chamber. There he sat, being pomaded and curled against what the day might bring.

  ‘Grandfather, I must speak with you. I cannot get anyone to tell me what my duties are now to be. The townsfolk have organised themselves into groups, taking orders only from the Peasmarsh men. The womenfolk occupy themselves with the children and the cooking. There are seemingly no orders for me to give in the kitchens, since the women there tell me they know just what is to be done. They say I am to take a rest. But I cannot!’

  She was close to tears. She did not want to cry. What was there to cry about? She said in a fierce voice, ‘No-one seems to need me any more.’

  ‘He finds it hard to delegate authority,’ said Sir Henry, waving away his mirror with a satisfied nod. ‘But he is learning. Yes, I will wear my armour today. Ursula, he said you were looking tired, and so you are. Why don’t you take a rest? There will be plenty for you to do later, you know.’

  ‘Why didn’t he tell me himself?’ She brushed something from her cheek—surely not a tear? ‘He must realise I want to do everything possible for Salwarpe.’

  ‘You have played your part for the moment, my dear. It would be as well now if you found something to do, out of his way.’

  If she were wise, she would accept his advice, and say nothing more.

  ‘Why?’ she said. ‘Why should I keep out of his way?’

  ‘Because he is a very busy man,’ said Sir Henry, holding himself rigid as he was laced into his corset. ‘If you were to distract him …’

  ‘You talk as if I were some foolish young girl, wanting him to flirt with me when he should be attending to his duties.’

  ‘And are you not? Leave him alone, Ursula. You are strong. You will recover your equilibrium as soon as this is over. As for him, he has not yet realised that his feeling for you is any different from the love he bore Aylmer’s first wife, Joan. It would be best, perhaps, if he did not make any discoveries in that direction. If he did, his love for Aylmer and his love for you might tear him apart.’

  ‘So you think he does not love me? No, I dare say he does not. Why should he, indeed? Especially when I hardly see him. Oh, I am being so wicked!’ She hid her face in her hands. Then, when Sir Henry would have put his arms round her, she jumped to her feet and ran away.

  Benedict was conferring with some workmen when Reynold came up, demanding speech in private with him. Reynold was wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Benedict was about to put Reynold off, when he saw that his old rival was a bad colour.

  ‘The t-trebuchet,’ said Reynold, stammering. ‘They got the range.’

  ‘So? It was to be expected. Cheer up, man! The gatehouse walls cannot be breached in a day.’

  ‘Not the gatehouse. They got the first outpost with one of their big stones. All the men were killed, or so badly injured that they could not even crawl back up the hill.’

  Benedict grasped Reynold’s shoulder and turned him away from the nearby workmen. ‘You are not going to be sick. Do you hear? Breathe deeply. That’s it. Turn to face the wall, and then walk towards it. Try to smile. Let no-one see that you are disturbed by this set-back.’

  ‘Set-back?’ Reynold wiped the back of his hand across his mouth again. ‘I should have listened to you. You said …’

  ‘That was in the past. On balance we decided—did we not?—that the outposts were a good thing. We knew men might be lost when they came under attack. We gambled. We lost. Have you withdrawn the other outpost?’

  ‘Yes, I … straight away. You see, the trebuchet was out of bow-shot, so the archers could not even … they shot into the air, knowing they could not reach their target. And then … oh, God!’

  ‘Very well. Did we lose anyone of importance?’

  Reynold’s mouth worked. He could not say the name, but his eyes implored Benedict’s understanding. Benedict stiffened.

  ‘Not Peter Bowman?’ Reynold nodded. ‘Dead, or just injured?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t even know he’d gone down there, till it was all over. They were short of people, and Peter Bowman said he’d make up the number, if everyone else were afraid. … but I don’t know if he’s dead or not.’

  Benedict thought a while. ‘Is the drawbridge now up, and the portcullis down?’ Reynold nodded. ‘So we can’t sally forth to see if he’s alive or dead.’

  ‘I thought of that,’ said Reynold, swallowing. ‘My first thought was to go out myself, to see. But though I looked hard—and got other men with better sight to look—there was no movement from the cart. Only, we could hear someone crying. And then that stopped, too. Some of the men did say they would go and have a look, but in the end I said “No.” I thought they might be killed as well. I thought … I gambled. It was probably the wrong decision to take.’

  ‘No,’ said Benedict. ‘You were right. We can’t afford to lose more good men, and it would only be good men who would volunteer
to go out there, under the nose of the enemy. Well, it’s done now. You will forget about Peter Bowman, Reynold. And that’s an order. Now go back to your post, and see that your men are well fed at the next meal, but don’t drink too much. And Reynold—don’t expose yourself unnecessarily, on the ramparts.’

  ‘No. I suppose you are right. Dickon brought me back my own armour. See? I thought he said he’d brought yours back as well? Didn’t he?’

  ‘I believe he did say something about it. I don’t need it yet. Off with you.’

  Twenty days, and the trebuchet had the range of the left-hand gate-tower. Reynold ordered the mattress to be hung out over the wall, to lessen the impact of the boulders which were being hurled against it. Two elderly men and one child died of dysentery, which had been brought up into the castle with the refugees from the town.

  Eighteen days. At dawn the boats came back from a trip to the town, so heavily laden that it was only by the grace of God and a calm sea that none had sunk. As the men, women and children wearily stumbled out onto the jetty and were helped up the stairs, Benedict looked in vain for one particular face. There could not be many people of importance now left in the town, and surely …

  John Peasmarsh and his father were helping a gaunt creature to his feet. His arms were round their necks, for he could not walk unaided.

  Merle.

  Benedict could hardly believe that this shivering, rake-thin creature was the thick-set man he had left in the town, barely ten days earlier. There were tears in Benedict’s eyes as he helped carry Merle along the jetty, and those tears did him no disservice, for many had accounted Merle as good as dead. The sick man was carried up the stairs in a litter and delivered into the hands of Ursula.

  Seventeen days, and the boats went into the town at night, only to return almost empty. The place was deserted, they said, except for Hugo’s camp, the jail, and the houses in which he had billeted the miners. Cats and dogs still roamed the streets, but doors and shutters hung open, giving access to empty houses. The valuables and the food had been taken out either by the people who fled to the woods, or those who had withdrawn to the castle. The church bell had ceased to toll some days previously when the priest had been taken to the jail. The carpenter was nowhere to be seen; it was thought by some that he had fled to the woods, but others said he had been taken away by Hugo’s men to help make siege machines.