Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  Talon excused himself, got up and hastily went back to his room, donned an over jerkin, then walked to the archers and bade them good morning. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “Not yet, young master. We did not know who to ask,” Gareth said, standing up politely.

  “Come with me,” Talon said. He led them to the table where Sir Hughes and the others sat. “Father, I want you to meet some men from Pays de Gaul whom I have grown to respect,” Talon said. ”You met them last night, but you were not thinking of them then.” He introduced the men by name to Sir Hughes.

  Philip concurred with Talon when Hughes looked at him with a question in his eyes. “They know how to fight. They helped us ward off the pirates. Now they cling to Talon as though he is their leader. I hope he can afford to pay them,” he said cheerfully.

  Hughes smiled but glanced sharply at Talon while doing so, as though already re-evaluating him. He then bade the men to go to the cooks and get breakfast. Food was beginning to arrive on their table so there was almost no talking while hungry men ate the plentiful meal of eggs, meat, and bread with slices of cheese.

  To Talon, unused to the produce of cows, the cheese was rank and tasted of the back end of the cow, but the milk he decided was good. And while the bread was coarse, it tasted delicious; its crusty outside was particularly enjoyable having only just been baked. He was still wary of the meat, but despite that he liked the reddish meat that Max told him was smoked ham.

  Philip asked the question that was on his and Talon’s minds. “Brother, we came through the village just across the fields last night and there was not a good feeling to it. No greetings, all the people were inside with doors shut and bolted. I wouldn’t mind betting but that they watched us go by. This is the first time we have encountered this in all the journey since Ayga Mortes. What's happening there?”

  Hughes hesitated but then shrugged and seemed to make up his mind to talk about it. “There is fear about in the land, Philip. I have an enemy who is causing me trouble, and we have had raids from marauders. I can't prove anything, but I am sure it's this man. He is Marguerite’s cousin.”

  “What's the reason for the enmity, Hughes? Why should a man, especially the cousin of your wife, have a grudge against you?” Philip asked with a surprised glance at Talon.

  “You will recall that we received a letter from the secretary of the Count of Carcassonne, telling Marguerite that her father and brother had died of the plague. This made us the inheritors of a very large estate, along with this village.”

  Hughes took a long draught of milk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It was true enough that the estate belonged to Marguerite’s father and, as her husband, I am therefore the male inheritor of the estate. We came back because we had had enough of the heat and the fighting that took you, Talon. Your mother just wanted to come home.

  “However, when we arrived it was to find there was a dispute from her cousin who owns lands north, some ten miles away. He is laying claim to the land and the estate; he can't claim it legally as there is not enough proof on his side. After several years of agitated talking to and fro and nothing being resolved, he has stopped talking, but I suspect that he is responsible for our dead cattle, stolen sheep, and the death of several of my villagers.”

  Philip glowered. “We spent time on the road here with a Marcel and his sister, Petrona. They are his whelps?”

  “Yes, that's right, they are, and I have no grudge against them, but it changes not the fact that there have been killings, and I suspect my wife’s cousin, Guillabert.”

  “That is an accusation of murder, brother. Have you proof?”

  Hughes shifted on the bench and frowned, his normally open face revealing both frustration and anger. “None, Philip, there is never a witness to be found; those who could be are usually dead, nor will anyone speak out.”

  “Not even the priest? Philip exclaimed.

  “He is but a simple soul who is afraid of the dark. He would rather tell the poor peasants to repent their sins than help me, an outsider, investigate. I find it somewhat curious that he has not complained to the bishop on my behalf, though.” Sir Hughes snorted contemptuously.

  Talon was reminded of Jean and how fearful he had been. Yet that man had martyred himself to save Talon’s life.

  “Is there no place where this can be resolved for you, Father? No court of law to decide this issue?”

  Philip and Hughes stared at him. “There is the man-against-man combat to settle the dispute if we resort to ancient law. Or the court of the Count that is convened on occasion in Albi for matters of this kind,” Sir Hughes told him reluctantly.

  “Would it not be a good thing to have done and resolve it there, then, Father?”

  “It would if I knew for sure that your mother was the true inheritor and had the documents to prove it to the world.” Sir Hughes looked at Talon. “Talon, it is a complicated situation. I came with good faith to Marguerite’s inheritance, but we have not found papers to confirm it was her father’s land. She is adamant that there were clear papers to this estate but we have not found them as yet, and it's not for lack of hunting, including in the town of Albi. Hence, I am reluctant to go to court without them. All the same, I am sure of it, why else would the Count’s secretary himself inform me that indeed she is the only inheritor of this land? That's what brought us back after all. Nevertheless, there are no deeds to be found.”

  Talon understood now the dilemma his father faced. To rush to court could in fact place him in a precarious position and, if the judgment went against him, leave him landless. However, the current situation was not a very tenable one, either.

  Hughes obviously didn’t want to dwell upon the discussion any longer and stood up. “We can go hunting today if you wish, Philip, Talon. I can take you to some good forests where we might start a deer for the feast tonight.”

  Everyone became interested and began discussing the chance for a successful hunt. Talon gave scant attention to the conversation, resolving to have a discussion with his mother when the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps she could shed some more light upon the situation.

  Talon noticed his younger brother playing in the courtyard with another boy. They were playing with wooden swords and shouting fierce battle cries at one another as they attacked each other recklessly. He smiled at the sight. It did not seem too long ago that he had done the same with another boy in another place. He recalled how he had played at knights with the other young boys of the same age who were the offspring of the men-at-arms.

  Then, too, they had emulated their elders by charging ferociously at one another with sticks shouting shrill war cries, the one being always the Saracen, the other the legendary Templars. He decided that he wanted to spend some time with his brother when he got the chance. In the meantime there was a hunt to take part in and in spite of himself he was excited at the thought.

  Turning to his father he asked, “Father, may Gareth and his men come with us? If it is forests we are to hunt in, then these men tell me they know that kind of thing well. Are we to go on horses?”

  “Yes, Talon, they may,” Sir Hughes said. He looked at the wiry men. “Can they keep up with horses?”

  “Gareth!” Talon called out.

  Gareth got up from the table he was sharing with his companions and came over with cream still on his chin. He wiped at it with the back of his hand. “M’lord?” he asked politely.

  Talon smiled at him. “My father wants to take us on a hunt, Gareth. Do you want to come? My father asked if you could keep up with horses in the woods.”

  Gareth grinned his broken-toothed smile. “Yes, we would like to come, sirs; and yes, we can keep up with horses in the forest.” He turned to his men and called to them in their language. They laughed with excitement and nodded vigorously, their faces beaming.

  Sir Hughes shrugged. “Then it's settled. We leave in an hour.” He said to Talon, “I think you are now their leader, Talon. We shall have to get you kn
ighted as soon as we are able. We can't have a common squire leading men all over the place. It isn’t proper.”

  “And calling you ‘m’lord’! It isn’t proper!” Philip laughed.

  Max grinned at Talon and winked. Talon punched his uncle on the shoulder lightly and laughed away his embarrassment.

  “I would say he has already earned his spurs, Sir Hughes. It was Talon who defeated the pirates with his cunning and with the help of those men over there.” Max indicated the Welshmen with his thumb.

  Sir Hughes looked at Philip. “Yes, I heard last night. Is that really so, brother?”

  “Indeed, it is. And Max is right, he's a born leader of men. Takes after his father!” Philip clapped Talon on the shoulder, further embarrassing him.

  “I think there is much to tell that has not yet been told, my boy,” Sir Hughes said, staring at his son thoughtfully. “Now let us prepare to hunt for the feast tonight.”

  Talon made his way to the well where he hauled a leather bucket out, dipped his head into the water and scrubbed the sleep and dust of several days’ travel off his face. He was just standing up to start on his torso when he felt a nudge and a linen cloth was handed to him. Dashing the water out of his eyes he turned to see Aicelina standing there. He muttered an apology, and stepped back from her. He caught a faint scent of herbs and then he could see her better. She was dressed in a light-brown woolen dress with green sleeves that came down to her bare feet. The wide sleeves turned back to reveal slim, nut-brown arms carrying a stack of cloths.

  “Good morning, cousin,” she said in a low but clear voice. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Good morning, Aicelina. I did, indeed. I trust you did, too?” He regarded her in the bright morning light. She was a good-looking girl, he decided, and well formed. Her dress could not hide her figure entirely. Her dark blue eyes were direct and coolly regarded him. Her auburn hair was swept back and pinned with a wood comb under the veil that covered her hair at the back, that left her smooth, well-formed features clear.

  She stood silently under the scrutiny, but her eyes widened as they were drawn to the scars on his chest. She said nothing, however; instead, she dipped her head and walked past him to one of the huts against the walls. He paused for a second, watching her as she moved away. Then he shook his head and made for the hall, and beyond to the dark alcove, which was now his sleeping room.

  He pulled on his shirt that was to his mind now quite dirty from the days of riding it had taken to get to the fort. Once he was fully dressed, he collected his bow and went to tell his mother that the bath would have to wait until he came back from the hunt, then outside to attend to Jabbar and prepare for the hunt. His ears caught the ring of a hammer striking an anvil and somehow this sound made a connection with his past. He resolved to make the acquaintance of the blacksmith later.

  Within the hour they were riding out of the front gates. Talon had been given a heavy javelin-like spear with a long, iron shaft and a small, wicked-looking head that his father told him was for killing boar. Had Talon ever see a boar? He shook his head. “Well, then, stay close, if we find one we will hunt it.” was the terse answer from his father.

  His father and six retainers, including a heavy-set man with a hard face, whom Sir Hughes introduced as the chief huntsman named Domerc, led the way out through the gates. Talon and Philip followed with the Welshmen trotting alongside their stirrups. Feeling the excitement, Talon leaned down and patted Jabber on the neck. His horse pranced acknowledgement, happy that they were out and about.

  The troop moved across the green swath that surrounded the fort, now dotted with grazing cattle, then down the village street which was much more alive than the previous night. They disturbed chickens and goats that ran in all directions while grubby children stared at the assembly as it went by. They came to some tracks that led north toward some dense-looking woods.

  There's no pleasures can compare

  Wi' the hunting o' the hare,

  In the morning, in the morning,

  In fine and pleasant weather.

  Somersetshire Hunting song

  Chapter 4

  The Hunt

  The hunting party included four large hunting hounds. They were very excited at the prospect of the outing and started grunting and yelping as the men and horses made their way out through the gates.

  Talon was familiar with hounds from his youth, but these were huge, gray, brindled, and fierce-looking. Their massive jaws looked capable of crushing a man’s forearm. He was glad they belonged to his father. Domerc the huntsman led the way, with Sir Hughes alongside. The rest of the horsemen comprising Philip, Talon, Max, and four other house retainers on horses who followed behind. The Welshmen brought up the rear on foot with several other men from the village who wanted to come for the sport and to beat the woods for game.

  The hunt was to be for deer but, as Sir Hughes put it, “If a boar runs onto my spear, so be it.”

  Talon had asked about game earlier and Sir Hughes told him that this far south there were no bears except up in the highlands farther to the north. But there could still be found good-sized boar and of course the deer were plentiful. Talon had asked about lions and received a puzzled look. He settled comfortably in the saddle and set out to enjoy the day. It was a warm morning of mid-summer with a cool breeze coming in from the west. The ride promised to be enjoyable and Jabbar was keen to fly along the wooded trails they soon found themselves negotiating.

  Very quickly they were among the tall trees and the canopy closed overhead. The thud of the horses’ hooves became muted on the thick carpet of old leaves and loamy soil. The hounds were staying well up in Domerc’s charge, who held them with an iron hand, calling them sharply to heel whenever they began to drift off. He carried a long leather whip that he cracked regularly or lashed at them to keep the huge animals in place. The hounds were clearly cowed by the man and his whip.

  The party trotted along at a good pace with the Welshmen keeping up effortlessly. Talon was impressed with their ability to run with almost no interruption in their chatter as they did so.

  Then the hounds abruptly picked up some kind of scent as there was a short-choked howl from one of them which turned into a full-throated baying. It was one of the female hounds. She started to lope off into the deeper woods. Then the others caught it and they too began to bay. Their excitement was infectious. Sir Hughes gave a shout, then turned back to wave at Philip and Talon, beckoning them on impatiently.

  Talon and the Welshmen had dropped back a short distance from his father, but he could still clearly see Domerc lift his hunting horn—made from the horn of a cow—to his lips and blow. The long, low tone carried well in the air. Then Sir Hughes and Domerc were cantering after the hounds that had vanished into the woods. Everyone could clearly hear their baying, however, as the horsemen hastened to follow.

  Talon put Jabbar into a fast canter and turned him in the direction his father and Philip had followed. The chase had begun. He had no idea what the hounds had scented, but it didn’t matter, they were now involved in a chase and the thrill of the hunt took over. Calling to Gareth and his men to follow as quickly as they could, he cantered after the others.

  Although the forest canopy was dense and allowed only limited light to fall onto the ground, the trees were well spaced and this made it easy to move quickly through them on a horse, although low branches still posed a serious hazard to the unwary. Talon kept a keen eye open for the lead riders who were moving very fast in and out of the trees some distance ahead.

  Even when he could not see clearly he could hear them shouting and crashing through the occasional stand of undergrowth. Only one of the horsemen who belonged to Sir Hughes’ entourage was visible. Talon decided to watch him and follow closely, even if it meant the occasional clod of earth flying by from the leading horse’s hooves.

  He glanced back at the Welshmen and to his surprise found them running hard over the hillocks and in and out of the trees, well able t
o keep up with him. They had left the other footmen behind. It was likely that those men would take shortcuts or simply stop and wait for the hunt to come back.

  He had dropped back farther than he’d intended and found it difficult to keep an eye on the rapidly disappearing men in front. He could still hear the hounds baying clearly so he used that as his compass.

  They were now several miles deep into the woods. The undergrowth in places was very thick. Talon avoided it as much as he could, making detours for Jabbar’s sake while trying to keep up the pace.

  It was at one of the denser thickets that Jabbar suddenly swerved sharply to the left and almost unseated the surprised Talon. He spent several seconds regaining his seat and settling Jabbar down. He talked to the nervous horse, trying to understand what had made him shy when he saw that the man in front had fallen and was still lying on the ground. Talon could see no sign of his horse.

  The man was struggling to get up but had difficulty as his arm seemed to be broken. Talon tried to settle Jabbar down but he seemed to be unusually disturbed and reluctant to remain calm. Talon slipped off Jabbar’s back and called to Gareth while watching the man on the ground. He was groaning and sat back holding his arm, a grimace of pain on his face.

  “Gareth, take Jabbar, there is something worrying him and a man is down with a broken arm,” Talon said as Gareth came running up to him.

  Gareth, barely breathing hard from the demanding run, nodded agreement and took the reins. Talon began to stride toward the man who was half lying in a wide, leafy dip in the ground. There was a dense thicket of bushes and small saplings to the right of Talon. As he walked forward he watched the man, but at the same time he was puzzled by the behavior of Jabbar, who was watching the thicket to his right intently, ears pricked forward and his whole body tensed. Talon glanced at the thicket as he walked down the slope toward the man.

  Just as he did, the bushes parted and he saw the reason Jabbar had been so frightened and very likely the reason the man had been tossed off his horse: it was a boar, a huge one, much larger than those he had occasionally seen in the north of Persia while with the Ismaili. From where he stood it seemed massive. It stood slightly above Talon as he made his way down into the dip toward the man. The boar was about twenty yards away and facing the man on the ground, who saw the boar at the same time as Talon and yelled with fear, starting to scramble back from the glowering beast.