Knight Assassin

by James Boschert

  The evening was soon lively and noisy as relieved men drank too much wine and celebrated their deliverance. All concentrated on eating and drinking while recounting their deeds of the day and night before. The deeds of the men who had defended the walls were talked about with pride by all there. Many a toast was shouted toward the high table.

  Talon had not spoken to Petrona since he had carried her into the hall the day before, so he was curious as to how she would behave given that the victory was against her blood kin. She was silent for the most part, and only ate a few morsels of meat and bread. She retired with Aicelina as the evening advanced, who made the excuse that she had to put Guillaume to bed.

  Talon and Bartholomew, as if by mutual consent, skirted the issue of Aicelina for the time being and concentrated on Petrona.

  After some thought, Bartholomew said, “There are few options open to her in this day and age, Talon. However, she is actually well off with a guardian such as your father who would always deal fairly with her, even to ensuring that she had a good dowry when she married.”

  “Neither I nor my father could ever countenance that she would have the lands and castle of her father after all that had happened, Bartholomew.”

  “That I can quite understand, Talon. I agree with you, too. It is a harsh decision, but I can see clearly what it is founded upon. There is the de Gilles’ survival to consider. But for some good fortune, and a lot of help from God, this family would not be here today if Guillabert had had his way. I think we can persuade the Count to allow the land and castle to pass into Sir Hughes’ hands. All the Count really cares about is his taxes and tithes. Who would have been better to provide this kind of stability and hence the better tithes, your father or Guillabert?”

  “I see what you mean. Will you help us to prepare the letter to the Count?”

  “Of course. Now I have something I want to tell you. Aicelina and I are to be betrothed. Your father gave permission this afternoon and your mother approves. I am now asking for your blessing as you are my friend... no, you are my brother. Not only that, you saved my life and I wish to thank you.”

  Talon pretended surprise. “Why, Bartholomew, I believe life as a student has made you a man who is quick to make decisions. You barely know her.”

  Bartholomew leaned toward Talon, his voice slurred with the wine. “From the very moment I saw her, I fell in love. Do you know what I am saying? It was like a bolt of lightning and it struck me right here.” He thumped his chest.

  Talon nodded silently. “Yes, I do know of what you speak.” He paused. “Will you be kind to her? Promise you will treat her well.”

  Bartholomew drew himself up and looked directly at Talon. “I swear to you that I shall defend her with my life, and cherish her as no other can. I could see immediately that she is a rare woman. I also knew that if I did not make haste, someone like you would take her and I would be the loser.”

  Talon grinned at Bartholomew. “No fear of that, my man. She is like a sister to me.” He called over to Max and Gareth next to them. “Drink, my friends, this is a night to celebrate our victory, but also the betrothal of Bartholomew here to Aicelina.”

  That was it, the news was out and there had to be toasts from all and sundry.

  Bartholomew stood up holding his leather goblet in the air toward Sir Hughes and Lady Marguerite and shouted over the noise in the hall. “I give you the finest knight and lady in this land. May God bless them and give them long life. I also give praise to their kin, Talon, my brother, and to Aicelina, to whom I have proposed. May God bless them with his everlasting kindness.”

  The crowd roared and every man and woman in the hall shouted their thanks to their good fortune and wished Bartholomew well. It was a long night.

  The next day everyone had a hangover, including Talon, and he was glad to note his father also had a thick head. All the same, Sir Hughes behaved as though a great weight had been taken off his shoulders.

  At breakfast the group of archers, men-at-arms, Max, and Talon sat nursing their heads in company with Sir Hughes. Later, Talon threw cold water over his head and brought himself back into a better state in preparation for the day to come.

  Talon was soon to discover that even if they were very happy to have survived the battle there was the winter to survive as well. His experiences in the mountains of the Alborz gave him a good understanding of the urgency that now took everyone’s attention.

  The harvest was brought in despite the small rain squalls that came sweeping in from the west. Hay was stacked with the help of every man, woman, and child in the village and the fort. The village children and older girls plied the hedges and hedgerows, looking for berries of many kinds that Talon was not familiar with. There were raspberries, blackberries, and gooseberries, and others in a succulent array that his mother took charge of and made into preserves in earthenware jars.

  Sir Hughes’ responsibilities now also extended to the village near to the old castle of Guillabert. He spent long hours in the saddle with Talon in attendance while the other men, including the Welshmen, were pressed into helping with the cutting and stacking of the hay and the corn. The slaughter of the excess animals commenced and the terrified squeals of pigs going to their slaughter filled the air.

  News of another, more somber kind, arrived a week after the battle. A farmer came across the bodies of some soldiers lying just inside the woods near the road to Albi. He came rushing into the fort breathless from running and blurted out the bad news. Sir Hughes and Talon, accompanied by Max and Gareth, immediately set out to see what had happened. They discovered that the men were indeed those of the Count of Carcassonne and had clearly been ambushed while on their way to help with the siege. A grim Sir Hughes ordered the men to be buried back on the land near the fort and sent a messenger to the Count informing him of the discovery. It was a sober group of men that rode back that day.

  Bartholomew wrote a letter describing the circumstances of the fight and the outcome, making it clear that Guillabert and his men had provoked the war.

  Before long the wild geese were flying overhead, honking as they sought warmer climes. The geese in the yard with their wings clipped honked back and tried in vain to take off while the ducks huddled in the barns out of the rain.

  Then the sky cleared, the first real frost came and the ground became hard while the fields in the morning were white with hoar. Men rubbed their hands together and huddled under their cloaks in the early hours of dawn as they gathered to go out and complete the preparations for winter.

  With the onset of the colder weather, Gareth and Talon talked seriously about their parting. They would not discuss these things in front of others. Instead they would go off hunting and while out in the forests they would talk.

  “We should be on our way home before the end of autumn, Talon, or we will not be in Wales before the snows come.”

  “Then you should be going any day now. It is colder and I expect that long before Christmas we will have some snow even here in Languedoc.”

  “There will be much more snow in Britain and we still have to find a boat willing to cross the troubled seas to get there. It will be difficult in a few weeks if we do not go.”

  “Then you must leave, my friend, and God go with you. Without you and your companions we would not be having this conversation. I am more than grateful to you and deeply in your debt.”

  Gareth put a calloused hand on his shoulder. “Talon, my friend, we have been brothers at arms and we have prevailed. I would that one day perhaps if the Good Lord is kind to you that you come to visit us in our home in Wales. We shall speak of you in our Halls and make your name known to our people.”

  Talon resolved to make good on his payment to these men and send them on their way as soon as possible. He brought them all together in the privacy of one of the hay barns. It was raining gently outside and becoming colder by the day. The Welshmen stood around him with drops of water on their cloaks and glistening in their hoods and beards w
aiting for him to speak.

  Talon drew out a small bag of gold from his belt and gave it to Gareth. “These are your wages, Gareth.”

  Gareth felt the weight of the bag and his eyes widened in the gloom of the barn. He opened the bag and poured some of the contents into his hand. The other men clustered around. They all exclaimed at the stream of gold. Gareth lifted his head and stared at Talon. “Talon, m-m-m’lord. This is far and away above any wages we have earned.”

  The others were muttering in Welch and staring at him as though they did not believe what they were seeing.

  Talon held up his hand. “Listen, my friends. We have become brothers, it is true, but this is small payment for what you have helped me and my family do. Besides, you went to the Holy Land to get rich, did you not? You just had to take bit of a detour to do so,” he said with a grin.

  That broke the awkward silence. The men chuckled and then Gareth put the strange gold coins back into the bag and said simply. “You honor us, Talon, and we shall not forget.” He stepped over to Talon and embraced him hard with tears in his eyes. “Aye, Bach. We are rich men. This will buy us all much land and cattle when we come home to our people.”

  One by one the men embraced Talon who called each by name. They shook his hand murmuring their thanks and swearing their loyalty to him as a brother.

  They were to leave within a couple of days before the weather started to get much colder. There was still a long and dangerous path to take before they came to their home.

  Lady, the fates command, and I must go—

  Leaving the pleasant land so dear to me:

  Here my heart suffered many a heavy woe;

  But what is left to love, thus leaving thee?

  Alas, that cruel land beyond the sea.

  Why thus dividing many a faithful heart,

  Never again from pain and sorrow free,

  Never again to meet, when thus they part?

  Thibaut Of Champagne, King Of Navarre

  Chapter 26

  Witchcraft

  Talon had been avoiding Petrona for some time now. He saw her in the hall it was true, but apart from the occasional exchange of greetings they had not had time to spend together. Talon wanted it to stay that way for a while longer but he knew it could not be put off for much longer.

  They met outside the linen house the day after his farewell speech to the Welshmen. After the polite greetings she looked him in the eye. “Talon, I can tell you are avoiding me. Have I offended you that you ignore me and do not pay me any attention?”

  He mumbled something to the effect that he had been busy, but she would have none of it and, linking arms with him, insisted that they walk to the garden as that provided the most privacy. Petrona was still very subdued, quite unlike the girl he had met on the road to Albi the first time. He felt some sympathy for her: her world was now turned on its head and her future uncertain. She sat down and waved a hand toward the bench, indicating that he should be seated, too.

  “I owe my life to you, Talon. Had you not come to my help those brutes would have taken me and then no doubt killed me.”

  Talon nodded. He would not deny this. “But we managed to bring you safely here. You should not dwell on that time. You will be welcomed here and my father and mother will take good care of you from now on.”

  He dreaded the direction this conversation might take but before she could respond there was a disturbance at the gate and men started hurrying toward the entrance to the fort.

  There was a shout from outside and Max and Sir Hughes came out of the Hall. They climbed the stairs to the platform and looked out.

  Talon quickly took Petrona by the hand and led her to the hall. “We should talk again, Petrona,” he said with barely disguised relief. Then he hurried off to the stairs leading up to the platform where his father stood, leaving her staring after him.

  Talon made it to the top just as his father called down to the people below. Talon looked down and saw the priest, Father Eustache, mounted on a fine horse, but what made him start were the men with him. The priest was accompanied by six well-mounted men-at-arms carrying spears, who sported the deceased bishop’s livery—and with them was the long-lost huntsman, Domerc.

  Sir Hughes saw Domerc and called down. “Where have you been, Domerc? Did you not know we had troubles? Have you forgotten that you work for me?”

  Father Eustache called up to him. “Sir Hughes, I wish to talk to you of important matters. Domerc works for the bishop’s office now.”

  “God’s truth, he does? You dog, Domerc. When did this happen that I was not informed?” Sir Hughes called back, beginning to look angry.

  The priest’s whole demeanor changed when he saw Talon. “Sir Hughes, open the gates. I come in the name of the bishop’s office to arrest that man.” He pointed directly at Talon.

  There was a stunned silence. Sir Hughes called down angrily. “Be careful, priest. You come here and expect a welcome when you wish to arrest my son. On what charge?”

  “On the charge of witchcraft,” the priest shouted back. “Open the gates that I can take him back with me to stand trial for witchcraft.”

  Sir Hughes stood still for a moment in stunned disbelief and then visibly collected himself. “Who is the scoundrel who would accuse my son of such a thing?”

  The priest indicated Domerc next to him. “This man.”

  “You, Domerc? You filthy dog! You desert my office and most probably have stolen my revenues for the benefit of Guillabert and then you dare to accuse my son? You shall die for this!” Sir Hughes shouted, by now thoroughly enraged.

  He shook his fist at the priest. “You shall not dare to come into this place to arrest my son on the word of a thief and a deserter.”

  “I have a warrant that carries the bishop’s seal. I have the right to pronounce excommunication upon all in this place should you resist the order, Sir Hughes. Do not defy the power of the Church. You do so at the peril of your soul and put in jeopardy the souls of all within.”

  “Curse you, priest, and damn you to hell, Domerc,” Sir Hughes yelled down at the man. He turned to Talon with an anguished look in his eyes. “I do not know what to do Talon. He carries the ultimate power with him.”

  “I shall go with him. To resist him would be to put you all in real danger that not even the Count can prevent. You could lose all you have gained.” All around him men growled angrily at this but Talon held up his hand. “The priest has no proof and the word of his man Domerc can be easily denounced. Bartholomew”—he turned to Bartholomew who had joined them—“do you not think so?”

  Oddly, Bartholomew looked unsure. “Why would they accuse you of witchcraft, Talon? That part confuses me.” He leaned over the battlements and shouted down. “What is this charge of witchcraft based upon?”

  Domerc leaned back in his saddle and called back.

  “It is I, Domerc, who accuses him. I followed your son to Albi the night the bishop died. I saw him fly over the walls of the town. His wings were black and he spat fire. Later I saw him fly back over the walls and again he was spitting fire. That same night the bishop died, calling out to God in his agony, calling for mercy while dying of the horrible fires of hell. It was he, Talon, the infidel, who placed the curse of the Devil upon the poor soul of the bishop.”

  He crossed himself piously and so did the other men in the priest’s entourage. Some men on the walls did so, too, and there were fearful glances at Talon, who stood as still as stone. His thoughts were in turmoil. They had been followed to the town of Albi the night he had killed the bishop. The only man who knew positively was Gareth but he would not tell a soul. He realized that he was lost, but he determined that it would not take his father down with him.

  “Let the priest in. I shall go with him and stand trial. He has no proof. Domerc is lying.”

  “This charge is very serious,” Bartholomew exclaimed nervously.

  “That is clear, but to have excommunication is worse, as they can confiscate al
l that my father has fought for. I will not have that, Bartholomew.”

  Sir Hughes looked at his son in anguish. “I would rather cut off my right hand than lose you to this vindictive man. The charge of witchcraft is trumped up, but they do not need much proof other than the word of one man to condemn you.”

  “We cannot stop them, but I need talk to Max and the Welshmen before they take me.”

  His father nodded mutely. “Go down and talk to them. I will stall this priest.”

  Talon clasped his father’s arm and then embraced Bartholomew. “Take good care of my parents, Bartholomew, your wisdom and skill will be needed. Give my love to Aicelina.”

  Bartholomew nodded but said, “Do not give up hope. We will have the Count in this and stop the priest.”

  Talon did not think that Bartholomew fully understood. He knew he would be lucky if he made it to Albi alive.

  Max and Gareth followed Talon down the steps and walked with him to the end of the yard. There he turned and said to them, “It is clear that Domerc followed us to Albi, Gareth. That makes me a condemned man.”

  Max was staring at him and Gareth. “What do you mean? He followed you to Albi? I did not know that you went; I thought you went to the abbey.”

  “You were not meant to know, nor anyone else other than my brother, Gareth, here. I slew the bishop because of what I heard in Guillabert’s castle. He promised my father’s land to Guillabert and told them to kill Guillaume. That made him guilty of a great evil. I merely killed him.”

  Max stared at both of them wide-eyed as though re-evaluating Talon. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “We have come through much together. Although you did commit a grievous sin, Talon, I will not allow the priest who was party to his plotting to take you. What do you suggest?”

  “I hear that the Templars do not ask questions of men who come to them wishing to fight in the Holy Land.”

  Max considered this thoughtfully. Then he said, “They are six and well-armed. How can we defeat them on the road?”