By Right of Arms by Robyn Carr
“Nonsense, Father, you do Hyatt wrong. He has tried hard to support your word, your Church. You ask too much of him, I fear, for he will not indulge you the way Giles did. And we are all the better for it, I think.”
“You would think so, madame, for your heathen ways match his.”
“I will not let you spoil the day, Father. Partake of this feast in good spirit and say a prayer over the labors of these good people, or go back to your cell and eat your dry bread alone.”
“You could change his mind.”
“I doubt it, Father, for we are too much in agreement.”
“He has forbidden me to journey to Avignon.”
“Forbidden? But …”
Aurélie looked at the red-faced priest with something of confusion. Hyatt had not mentioned that he had finally delivered an answer to Father Algernon’s request, and it was above all a very strange answer.
“I’m sorry, Father, I do not understand. ’Tis like Sir Hyatt to refuse to put the Church’s needs above those of the people, but I don’t see why he would forbid you to travel to the Pope’s see. Are you certain you understood him?”
“He was easy to understand. He would not permit me to go unless I told him the business I traveled to complete, and he said I might not travel with pilgrims, but would take knights of his colors with me.”
“And that was not to your liking?”
“A cleric’s business is not a knight’s. My conference in Avignon is none of his business, and I will not travel through France with an English escort.”
Aurélie frowned. “Hyatt must fear that you plot against him.”
“Priests do not plot. The faith and the souls of our people are our concerns. He does nothing to lend spiritual help to this place.”
“Look around you, Father. What do you see? The people are fed, happy, and protected for the first time since I came here. You decry my lord’s faith, yet he has done better by this place than you and Giles ever did together. If you wish to go to Avignon, go on his terms and be brought safely back. If you will not abide by Sir Hyatt’s request, then he is right to refuse you.”
“I am his priest!”
“He is your host! I am sorry you have not gone to your papal see. You should venture down the road but a league and see what these knights of Hyatt have seen. You would return to this humble keep and give thanks for a score of days and nights for your life, your Church, and any tolerance from this lord.”
“You lie,” he growled.
She smiled with rare superiority. “Nay, Father, ’tis truth. Edward had but a few with the wisdom to rule and not just devastate the land. Ask Percival; his town was leveled to ash; babies and women who begged for mercy were slain.” She gestured impatiently toward the one she named. Percival had one arm casually draped over his wife’s shoulders while with a free hand he lifted a mug to his laughing lips. “If we sin because we live, Father, then we shall sin for a long, long time.”
“You heathen wench, you conspire with him to lies. You try to make me believe that ’tis worse borne through other lords, when I know otherwise. I have been cut off by your English swine. In other French burgs overtaken, the priests are revered and obeyed.”
“You old fool,” Aurélie angrily snapped. “Go back to your prayers and pray for truth. Hyatt has saved your life. Anywhere else you’d have been lucky if only turned away from your chapel in rags … and on the road you would surely be killed if not stoutly guarded.” She dismissed him with an impatient wave of her hand. “Life with Giles spoiled you and made you greedy. May your soul yet be saved, O faithless monk.”
She whirled away from him, angry to the depth of her bones. In her mind there was nothing worse than a bad priest. Algernon cared not for souls, but for the money he could earn in pretending to save them. She had seen and heard of evil priests before and knew that Algernon was not the worst, but she wished they had a sincere cleric.
She fumed so with anger at his disloyalty, his selfishness, that rather than partaking of the feast, she climbed the high tower again. When Hyatt turned angry eyes her way, her flushed cheeks stayed his chastisement. “Leave me be, husband,” she said hotly. “I have just had a few unkind words with a fat priest and I am ill disposed to be reprimanded by you.” She let out her breath in a huff. “Ungrateful churl!”
Hyatt chuckled at her anger and lifted to his lips the thick, brown-roasted drumstick from a healthy hen. He chewed thoughtfully and gestured with the bony point of the meat toward the forest. A rug was spread on the ground by the edge of the trees and on it rested a keg, a pile of food, a mound of bread. Hyatt said nothing, but watched. The small troop who had delivered the goods was just making their way over the bridge and inside the wall. The creaking of the wheels that turned the crank and raised the bridge finally stopped.
A man came into view from out of the trees. He looked around very cautiously. Another appeared. A third. A group converged on the mound of food. Two hefted the barrel of ale while the others lifted their share, and finally the cloth was closed over what was left and the whole lot disappeared in an instant. All that could be seen finally was a man astride a dark stallion, who stood looking at De la Noye. A better eye, Aurélie suspected, would show a wistful look of longing on Sir Verel’s face. And then he gave the stallion heel and turned into the trees.
She touched Hyatt’s face. “Why do some fail to see your goodness?” she asked, thinking of Algernon.
“Because,” he said with a shrug, still chewing, “I am not good to all. Some, like Verel, Algernon, even Guillaume, will have to abide on less because of me. That is the way of it. Not all can willingly accept their lessened share. If it were I, I would accept no less than I had before.” Hyatt looked up at her and smiled. “You, my lady, have less than before. I took your command from you. Are you angry still?”
“Nay, Hyatt. I have more than ever before. And I thank you.”
* * *
The feasting was five days past. Hyatt had sent a train of wagons with goods to trade with vineyard monks on the following morning, though many people were bleary-eyed from celebrating. Twenty-five soldiers were required to guard the entourage, but fortunately it would not take them long to empty their wagons and return with cases of wine. A group of nuns were housed overnight and given the gift of a heavily laden wagon of vegetables to carry on the remainder of their journey.
Hyatt had proven to be more generous with the pilgrims than Aurélie had expected, but then, he had not said he would spurn them. And truly, Giles had given too much to them, whereas Hyatt had been generous, but fair. Even if their winter proved to be the worst ever, the people of De la Noye would have enough.
Aurélie awoke at dawn and impulsively kissed Hyatt’s bare chest, waking him. His arm was instantly around her. “Had I known the delights of waking up with a woman at my side, I would have tried it before.”
“You mock me,” she said, pushing against him. “You have slept with hundreds of women; I know it.”
He chuckled. “A time or two I slept, but deeply, from the help of too much drink. But I never slumbered at a lady’s side by will, until the wedding night.”
“Not so!”
“True, Aurélie. More than true. I have been afraid of women. They are all soft and pliant, and while their victims sleep, their claws come out.” He pulled her closer. “Or, so I thought.”
“You fear me, sir knight?”
His voice trailed off as a fierce knocking at the door interrupted him. He cast a glance over his shoulder. “And so the day begins. Is it yet dawn?” He sighed. “Cover yourself, my love. I do not wish to kill anyone over you today.”
Aurélie did as she was instructed and Hyatt called out to the intruder to enter. Girvin stood in the frame of the door, sheepishly looking inside. His business was more important to him than decorum, and he entered despite the state of undress within, closing the door behind him.
“Sir Hyatt, I beg your pardon, but Guillaume is not about our camp. Something is amiss.?
Hyatt’s spine straightened and Aurélie sat up straighter, clutching the covers over her naked bosom.
“What is it you fear?” Hyatt asked.
Girvin shrugged. “We had a plan; if some troop ventured near our camp, Guillaume was to leave a lance stuck in the ground, standing upright. There was no sign, and nothing there was disturbed. And he would not leave the cave to venture closer to knights or travelers.”
“Perhaps Verel …”
“Nay, again. Verel would do ill to any of us, but not to Guillaume. I do not know what has become of him, but the wood is deep … and dangerous. Will you give me ten men?”
“To search?”
“Aye, Hyatt.”
“But we have sent twenty-five out, and with ten more …”
“ ’Tis important, Hyatt. ’Tis Guillaume!”
The sound of his voice, the devotion mixed with command, was an order that the highest lord would not dare dismiss. Aurélie reached out a hand and touched her husband’s back. He looked over his shoulder and in her eyes there was a sentimental gleam, a plea. The two warriors were as brothers. Hyatt looked back at Girvin. “Who knows the wood as well as you and Sir Guillaume?”
“You, Sir Hyatt.”
He looked again at Aurélie.
“Go, my lord. Take ten men and find my seneschal. We have need of his wisdom; his talent. Please.”
“Find my squire and have my gear and horse readied. The wood has some two-legged dangers and we will be forced to travel as knights would. The scavengers are crude, but desperate.”
Girvin stood for a moment longer, his cheeks darkening with what could have been a blush. “Thank you, my lord. My lady.” And then he was gone.
Hyatt gathered his clothes and gear quickly. “I shall leave you Trevor and Maximilian. They can command archers and pikemen in my absence. I will give them orders.”
“And I have Delmar and others.” She shrugged. “They have not forgotten so soon. And they would hold the wall.”
“Do not be afraid, Aurélie.”
“Hyatt, I am not. I have had you as my very own, and you have had me. If fate is cruel to us now, we will have the strength to carry on in memory, if nothing else. Nay, my liege, I am not afraid. Nor will you be. Hyatt, let us be strong, not fearful. Go with God. Come back swiftly.”
“I shall be quick.”
“Be careful. Be strong.”
* * *
It was a great strain on all of De la Noye to have the best gone together. Girvin, Guillaume, and Hyatt were all away. Trevor could barely take the time for a meal, and Aurélie suspected by the look in his eyes that he did not sleep. The residents were all flinching at the slightest sound, the merest movement in the trees. Hyatt and Girvin had been out three days. The watch was tired.
A group of monks had passed the castle and a fully armed group of knights rode destriers out to their entourage, judged them to be safe, and the gates were opened to let them enter. A lucky charm must have accompanied this pilgrimage, for they carried loaded carts of jugged wine and were eager to trade it for lodging, fresh bread, vegetables, and a bit of roasted meat. It was an abbot and his friars, and they were a worldly bunch from the Dominican order, of which Father Algernon did not approve. But Aurélie both welcomed them and enjoyed their company, for they were not so devout and sang songs, laughed, and made no crippling demands for offerings.
When Hyatt was gone four days and Abbot Charlisle was about to ready the brothers for travel, Aurélie stood with them in the inner courtyard. The abbot’s carts were loaded with crated chickens, fresh food, cloth, and barrels of good ale. Beside the carts were cases of the abbot’s wine. “My husband will be pleased, monseigneur. Will you not stay a day longer and make his acquaintance?”
“Nay, child, we’ll be along our way, for our journey has only just begun.”
“But my priest is not yet come.”
“I shall bless the travelers, madame. Your priest is of another order and does not approve of us.”
Aurélie knew it was true, but it galled her that Algernon was so superior. He had no right; he had fallen far from the Divine. “That’s preposterous, Father. Wait, and I shall get him.”
She made to turn away when a call came from the gatehouse. “My lady. Flagellants. Almost a hundred.”
Aurélie sighed. She did not like to face these pilgrims. They were too much like her late husband—peculiar, obsessed. They beat themselves as they traveled. They did not come to trade but to show their penance and collect coins. This lot would not be satisfied with lodging and food. They would request silver.
“Where?” she asked with a shout.
“Far out. More than five leagues.”
“Let them come closer. We can meet them with a troop before we escort the abbot out.”
She lifted her skirts then to make a fast trip to the chapel. An ill feeling had surrounded her because of the priest, for she did not know how to deal with him. He was not satisfied with his plenty; he could only be satisfied to rule through a puppet lord. He had had so much power when Giles was alive. Aurélie was often betwixt them, fighting religion with reason, an impossible battle that she frequently lost.
“Father Algernon,” she said upon entering the chapel.
He turned from the altar and looked at her.
“The Abbot Charlisle is prepared to leave. Do you not give him a blessing and wish him a safe journey?”
“He is capable of that, my lady.”
“But you are the priest of the burg. ’Tis your obligation.”
He shook his head. “He is not of my order. He worships worldly goods and fleshly pleasures.”
Aurélie shook her head in frustration. “Oh, Father, will you not? You are to be above jealousy, above judgment. Come be our priest; be the Word again, I beg you.”
“Ah, you beg, my lady. How I’ve waited.”
She stiffened. “You may disapprove of the abbot, but flagellants approach. Do you wish to have them admitted? Will you bless their number?”
“How many?” he asked with acute interest.
“A goodly number. One hundred.”
“Yea, my lady, you must admit them straightaway. They do penance for God. For all of us.”
“Will you come?”
“In time, my lady,” he said, his voice strangely nervous. Aurélie saw that his hands trembled. “Let them in and I shall come.”
Her mind tumbled. Father Algernon had been acting too oddly. It could not be ignored. He did not believe Hyatt’s rule was good; he believed that outside the gates of De la Noye priests prospered under the English siege.
“Father,” she said, stepping nearer. “Father Algernon, you have not left De la Noye for a day or night since Hyatt has come. We escaped much death. Do you know it? Did you ask Percival what his village suffered?”
“ ’Twas not necessary. Hyatt gave him shelter, so he spoke for Hyatt. I understand the give-and-take of such politics.”
“Do you know of Sir Hollis?” she asked. He stiffened visibly; his eyes wandered upward. “The priest from Château Innesse was castrated and left to bleed to death in the street. Ask one of Hyatt’s men. They witnessed the rape of the château. Hollis laid it to ashes. Sir Ryland is his friend.”
Father Algernon’s eyes drifted back to her face. She heard the sound of the horn that signaled that the gate would be opened. “You have listened to idle tales meant only to make you believe you have a good leader here. ’Tis a familiar trick. The priest of the château has a larger church than before.”
“My God,” she whispered. “The flagellants! One hundred!”
It was all suddenly clear. The castle and wall could not be impregnated unless the bridge was down. Ryland would have seen how strong they were, how ready. But the discontented priest who hungered for power, for money, would believe Ryland. And Algernon had assured himself that pilgrims would he admitted. In addition he had asked to be relieved for a journey of his own—to be away from De la Noye when the flagell
“My God, you utter fool!” She whirled away from him, bolting out of the church and running down the length of the gardens, the street, toward the courtyard. The creaking of the bridge screamed inside her skull. She heard it hit the opposite side and the horses of the escorts, ten mailed knights … only ten as they rode out. She knew as she had never known anything that the cowardly Hollis meant to get into her walls by a monk’s costume.
She flew past the inner gate, screaming. “Secure the gate! Raise the bridge! It is a trick! My God, a trick! ’Tis Hollis! Raise the bridge! Close the gate! Secure the portcullis! Your arms! Your arms! Men! Arm the wall!”
Chapter Seventeen
Sir Trevor was at the portcullis gate and stared at Aurélie with wide, disbelieving eyes as she ran into the outer bailey. Maximilian, older and more experienced, needed no further prompting. He manned the bridge and gate and jabbed the squire at his side to sound the horn. Ten knights only just on the other side of the moat looked back in confusion, for the horn and subsequent raising of the bridge made the attack alarm.
Abbot Charlisle ran through the portcullis behind Aurélie. “Madame, madame, these monks …”
“Our priest, abbot, has sold us to the enemy. These are English raiders, murderers, who mean to enter by a cleric’s costume. They are not here about a Christian war, but bent on killing us all.” She turned away briskly. “Delmar, form a group of archers to lend aid. We are sorely in need of men. Percival, gather any of yours who can string a bow, throw a spear, carry arrows to the bowmen. Maximilian, sound the horn for the pikemen. Full armaments, all from the wall … no destriers. It is a trick to get inside.” She looked back at the abbot. “If your faith prevents you from saving our lives by aiding our fight, at least bind my priest. He is the cause of this.”
The abbot whirled away and Aurélie went straightaway to the wall. She requested a hand up, but was rebuffed immediately. Her cheeks heightened to a fiery red and her eyes blazed. “My lord is gone and the wall is mine!” And while the knight who would prevent her from climbing to the platform stood in awe of her, she pushed him aside and made the familiar climb without assistance.