De Cotaine cupped his hands to his mouth and called up to her.
“I see you there, my lady. I talk under a flag of truce and will make no move on the castle at present.”
She peered down uncertainly. The tall, floridly handsome form seemed to waver in the flickering cold sunlight behind him. He appeared supremely confident that he would be perfectly safe, as he had when he had breezed into the hall at Devizes. Gisela’s hatred blazed into sudden flame and was so sharp she thought she would be physically sick at sight of him.
He called again. “Can you hear me, Lady de Treville?”
“I hear you,” she replied tonelessly. Deliberately she kept herself icy calm lest she betray the anger and fear that was choking her.
“My quarrel, you will accept, is between you and me, no one else. Alain de Treville has never offered me either threat or insult. You, and you alone, are responsible for the humiliation I suffered in Devizes Castle.”
“What of it?” she demanded coldly.
“I say you lied, my lady, that you have no hard evidence of any perfidious act of mine.”
“You are a traitor, my lord,” she flashed back at him. “Your very presence at Devizes Castle in the presence of Count Henry of Anjou is proof of that, when your fealty is sworn to King Stephen.”
He shrugged his huge shoulders dismissively. “What of that? Many have changed sides in this war. Your husband was also present and his oaths of loyalty to King Stephen are well known.”
“What is it you wish to say to me?” she asked. Her legs were trembling as she leaned against the cold stone of the buttress for support.
“I want you, Lady de Treville, none other. Perhaps we can come to an understanding.” Even from this distance she saw his black-bearded lips part in a grin of derision. “Who knows? I am prepared to withdraw without one blow to your husband’s castle walls if you will walk from the gatehouse of your own will, alone.”
Gisela heard Sir Clement give a great gasp of horror behind her and, for a moment, she turned from her view of the greenwood to face him, her own lips parting in sheer shock.
Sir Clement put out a hand and touched hers consolingly.
“Defy the man, my lady. You have nothing to fear. We can keep you safe.” He moved forward and leaned over the battlements.
“You lack honour, Sir Mauger,” he shouted. “How can you believe that we would consent to tamely surrender our lady into your hands?”
“I rely on the decision of your lady herself and believe that she is sufficiently spirited as to insist on obedience to her will should she so decide to surrender herself.”
“You must be mad, sir,” Gisela said contemptuously. “Why should I do anything so rash? Allestone walls are strong. Should you do your worst, you can only dent them. In the meantime we can do you harm, Sir Mauger. You will lose many men in the attempt.”
“As will you, too, lady,” he said jovially, “and I believe you are anxious to save lives rather than endanger them.”
Her tongue seemed cloven to the roof of her mouth so that she could not immediately answer. He was right. If by surrendering herself she could save Allestone for Alain, without loss of life, would not that be an honourable and logical thing to do?
Sir Clement was placing a firm hand upon her shoulder. “Do not think of it, my lady. Every one of my men would be willing to lay down his life for you.”
Yes, she thought, but why should they? De Cotaine spoke true. His quarrel was with her alone. Her foolish desire for vengeance might well have cost Alain his life. How could she lose his castle too, if she could save it by one simple act of courage?
De Cotaine was speaking again, his voice even more confident.
“The walls of Allestone are indeed almost impregnable—almost, not quite. Your husband would tell you, my lady, that castle walls fall at last, either to direct attack or when the doors are opened because hunger forces the issue. I understand Lord Alain is unlikely to attack. I understand he was unfortunately detained in Devizes.” He gave a loud jeering laugh. “However your men declare their allegiance to you now, there will be mutterings when the true pangs of hunger bite.”
She could believe that. Worse, they could run short of clean water. There was no well within the keep. Alain had been in the process of having another dug within the cellars and should the outer bailey fall…
De Cotaine resumed his harangue. “Your walls are thick, as you say, but human flesh is frail, Lady de Treville, and I believe you to be a humane woman. Will you save yourself at the expense of our hostages?”
Hostages? Gisela almost fainted at the horror of the suggestion. She staggered back against Sir Clement when she saw the tight little circle of men behind de Cotaine part and a little group of villagers were thrust forward towards the bailey wall. At a hasty count she thought there were a dozen, all old and frail, two holding tightly to the arms of children.
Bile rose in her throat again as de Cotaine seized one of the children by the shoulder, a girl of about eight years, and held her defenceless young body hard against him. She cried out as his cruel mailed fingers bit into the soft flesh of her shoulder and arm; the old woman who was trying to protect her struggled with one of de Cotaine’s mercenaries, who dealt her a harsh buffet that sent her sprawling on the ice-rutted ground.
“I see you are aware of the situation.” De Cotaine’s voice was hardly raised now but seemed to carry easily enough through the chill air. “There are always some stupid ones who will not fly for shelter.” His tongue clucked in derisive mock sympathy. “They have not eaten, Lady de Treville, since our siege began, and will not, while I wait for you to leave Allestone.
“Indeed,” his falsely jovial tone hardened as he added, “I will leave you with this thought. Each morning when the sun is fully up, I will kill one of them, starting perhaps with this young one?”
“Sweet Merciful Virgin!” Gisela was almost limp now against Sir Clement’s body. As if from a distance she could hear him shout his own replied horror and scorn for the villainy of the threatened proceedings and Mauger de Cotaine’s loud jeering laughter.
“Come, my lady.” Sir Clement drew her gently from the battlements. “There is nothing more to be said. Come to the safety of the hall.”
Alain de Treville rode into Oakham early on the third day after receiving the news of Gisela’s peril. He and Rainald de Tourel had ridden through the night with just four men as escort, de Tourel’s company following more slowly. The shire reeve at the castle was woken hurriedly and received Lord Alain still wearing his bedgown.
Alain made no apologies for disturbing him at such an early hour and demanded to know if the shire reeve was aware of events at Allestone.
The man nodded. He was a tall, spare individual whose long, angular features wore, permanently, an almost lugubrious expression but whose worth Alain knew well. He was sure that Geoffrey de Marchmont would do all he could to assist Gisela once he was in possession of the full facts.
“A young serf, Sigurd, I think he called himself, reached us yesterday. I have sent out summons to all nearby castles and manors and am hoping to receive news of impending support companies to arrive today.”
Alain sank down near the fire at the shire reeve’s invitation. He looked near total exhaustion but satisfied by the shire reeve’s response. He drained a tankard of small ale and indicated his companion.
“You will know the reputation of my friend, Sir Rainald de Tourel. He has provided me with a company of men who should reach us here by nightfall at the latest.”
The shire reeve had been instructing his servants to provide refreshment for his two guests. He came to join them now by the fire.
“I have men stationed in the woods near Allestone, guided by this serf of yours. Last night one returned with news that Mauger de Cotaine had taken hostages from the surrounding villages and had issued an ultimatum to your lady. My men could not catch precisely what was said but the gist was obvious. I can only hope that Lady de Treville does no
thing rash before we can get help to her.” He frowned doubtfully. “Of course, we cannot prevent de Cotaine disposing of his hostages in time.”
Alain said heavily, “Knowing my wife’s mettle, we cannot wait for that, Sir Geoffrey. If she thinks she can save those poor souls she will surrender herself, if not the castle. Can my man, Sigurd, be recalled? If he was able to get out of Allestone, which I find astounding, someone, presumably, can get in.”
De Tourel looked pleased as food was set before him. “I take it you will go yourself, Alain, and leave me to command the company?”
“Of course.”
The shire reeve pursed his lips. “Would it not be wiser for you to head the relieving force, my Lord de Treville? You know your own castle and its weaknessess and strengths better than any of us.”
“True, but not, it seems, as well as Sigurd does and, in the meantime, my wife could recklessly allow de Cotaine to lure her into his clutches from a misguided sense of duty—I say misguided for that devil will kill his hostages in any case.”
“He would dare to kill Lady de Treville?” the shire reeve expostulated.
“I believe he will. He hates her with an insatiable passion, holds her responsible for his inevitable disgrace and knows he has little to lose now and he has a score to settle,” Alain said grimly. He ground his teeth in helpless frustration. He was so near to Gisela now, yet too far away to prevent her from sacrificing herself. He thought of her fair beauty at the mercy of Mauger de Cotaine and choked on his own despairing fury. Somehow he had to reach his heart’s love in time, yet how, with de Cotaine’s men entirely surrounding his castle?
Sigurd was brought into the hall just before noon. He had obviously been running and his young face looked strained and tired, but lit up at sight of Lord Alain. He ran to the chair near the hearth and knelt down.
“My lord, thank God you are here. We feared…” He looked away hastily and Alain bent and pulled him to his feet.
“Your mistress was well and unharmed when you left the castle? I take it you did leave Allestone, or did you never enter with the others?”
“Oh, no, my lord, I went in. I needed to settle Winfrith and her father as well as my lady and my mother.”
“Ah.” Lord Alain leaned back in his chair. “So you do know a way in?”
Sigurd looked alarmed and hesitated, then nodded his shaggy brown head.
“Aye, my lord. An old archer showed me a tunnel under the keep and outer bailey right under the south wall. He used to use it, as I did, to visit a girl…” His voice trailed off. “He’s too old and too weighty to manage it now. We thought it would have filled up over time, but I cleared some of the fallen soil, shored it up with some abandoned timber planking left by the builders and used it to go out sometimes…”
“Yes, so you can get back in, with me?”
Sigurd looked even more alarmed. “I don’t know, my lord. It wasn’t easy to escape the vigilance of the besiegers and I’m used to the woods. They’ll be even more watchful now that—” he swallowed hard “—Lord Mauger has issued his threat…” He looked doubtfully at Lord Alain. “Even if we can reach the entrance to the tunnel safely, you are much bigger than me, my lord. I don’t know if you could get through. The tunnel’s very narrow…”
“I’ll make it if you show me the way. You need not make the attempt again. That would be tempting fate.”
“Oh, no, my lord, if you go, I go. I need to reach my mother and—Winfrith.”
“Best wait for nightfall,” de Tourel growled.
“No, my lords,” Sigurd put in quickly. “Lord Mauger determines to kill one of his hostages in sight of the castle defenders today. I reckon Lady Gisela will be so upset…”
“Then, man, we must go at once.” Alain drained his ale cup and pointed to the remaining food on the trestle. “Eat and drink, Sigurd. Sir Geoffrey will not object. Wait for me here while I make some preparations.” He turned to de Tourel. “Marchmont can give you details of the lie of the land. If you come through Allestone wood with an advance company, as quietly as possible, you can come on the besiegers from behind.
“I hope, by then, Marchmont’s summons will have put iron into some of the local knights’ backbones and they will supply you with fresh men as reinforcements. At last we have Stephen’s authority to take this man and try him. That should be sufficient incentive to obtain their support. They’ve been complaining long enough about his activities. Now my one fear is for Gisela. She will not wait for help to reach her if she fears for the hostages.”
Sigurd tucked into the good food and it seemed only moments before Lord Alain was back, dressed for action in a villein’s borrowed brown fustian tunic and hood over brown chausses. He had darkened his face with soot from the chimney.
Sigurd nodded his approval. He, too, was dressed similarly and his youthful face, habitually weathered by his outdoor life, was still brown after the late suns of autumn and unlikely to show up well against the brown earth floor and undergrowth of Allestone wood.
Alain paused only to clasp hands with Sir Geoffrey and Rainald, who assured him that he would make preparations for the attack on the besiegers while waiting for his men to join him.
“God go with you,” he murmured fervently. “I shall pray that you reach your lady in time and that we can swiftly deal with this devil in human form.”
Lord Alain took Sigurd up behind him and rode his hack until they reached the outskirts of the wood; then he allowed the beast to wander free. One of the men would find the animal and return him either to Allestone Castle or Oakham.
Sigurd led him quickly through the overgrown tracks of the wood until he stopped some paces ahead with a warning gesture. Alain padded softly to his side and the boy whispered, “I can hear men moving ahead of us, my lord. We must go very carefully now. Keep close behind me.”
Alain listened and detected sounds of booted feet moving restlessly as if someone on watch was stamping his feet to keep warm. Then he heard muttered voices and a bark of a laugh.
He bent close and whispered in Sigurd’s ear, “Are we close to the castle now? You’ve lost me in the depths of these cursed copses.”
“Aye, my lord. We are close to the cleared land now and you must keep low behind the brushwood. In a moment I’ll be able to point out to you the entrance to the tunnel. It did run right into the greenwood till the ground was cleared near Christmastide, but it’s still pretty well hidden by a bush that was left, for some reason—I think, at the time, it was hard to uproot. Lucky for us, as it happens, for it gives a bit of cover.
“I had to wait a while, till the men watching moved away, before I dared creep out, but that was nearly three days ago. Since Lord Mauger gave his threat to my lady, I reckon as ’ow ’is men’ll not dare take their eyes off the castle walls.”
Alain was sure he was right. He grimaced as he thought what Mauger de Cotaine would do to any one of his men who allowed one of his prisoners to escape through negligence.
He gritted his teeth and fingered his dagger thrust through his serviceable leather belt. He had concealed another weapon in his boot top, but even so armed it would not be easy to tackle two or three sentries, especially as warning to others would be instantly shouted. He could not rely on Sigurd to take on an experienced fighting man, would rather not have endangered the boy at all had there not been dire need.
Sigurd was crawling forward, head well down, towards a small rise in the ground ahead of them. Alain dropped to his knees and joined him. He almost gave a gasp of shock as he realised how very near they were to two of Mauger de Cotaine’s men-at-arms. Alain could have reached out and almost touched the man nearest to him on the leg.
Sigurd scrambled back apace and Alain followed. They put their heads very close together.
“My lord, did you note that bush, about a hundred paces to your right?”
“Aye.”
“The entrance to the tunnel is on the far side, hidden by some piled brushwood. It can be approached from t
his side of the wood, but to reach the bush you’ll still have to cross about fifty paces of almost open ground.”
Alain considered. On the face of it the distance was not great, but the two watchful sentries were very near and he would have to spend some time clearing the brushwood and examining the tunnel entrance.
Sigurd said hurriedly, “I can lure the men away, my lord, or at least one, if you can deal with the other.”
Alain turned to him, frowning. What the boy proposed was dangerous to him in the extreme and yet, for Gisela’s sake, he dared not wait to consider any other plan. He needed to get inside the castle before de Cotaine arrived to issue his challenge to her, for Alain knew, with a sinking heart, that she would allow herself to become the man’s victim in order to save the hostages.
He said, huskily, “Sigurd, you understand the risk?”
“Aye, my lord. I owe Lady Gisela and you much. My mother would urge me to do this, I know.”
Alain nodded. “Very well, and God go with you.”
The boy waited no longer to half-rise and scramble some yards away, then, deliberately, he clumsily stumbled over a felled tree trunk and let out a yell. Already Alain had his dagger in his hand and made for the rise.
The first man let out an oath and turned in the direction of the cry. The other muttered something and stared round cautiously. The first guard gestured to his companion to stay on watch and made for the direction of the cry.
Alain could hear him stepping warily through the undergrowth. He thanked the saints the man gave no warning to others of the company nearby. Clearly his intention was to take the newcomer by surprise and haul his prisoner triumphantly before his lord. The second man continued to remain where he was, his eyes narrowed to survey the terrain, alert to the possibility of the nearness of another intruder.
Alain crept up behind him with the silence and agility of a wild, hunting cat and sprang. Before the guard could utter one word or gasp of warning, his throat was cut neatly and he collapsed perfectly silently into the arms of his attacker.
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