disfigured by Thomas's cousin, leaving the Norman with only his right eye, a scarred left cheek and a streak of white where the sword had cut into his beard. He looked fearsome, and so he was in battle, but he was also a generous man. He looked now at Genevieve who rode her grey mare a few yards to the side of the path. She was in her silver armour, her long legs in pale grey cloth and brown boots. You should have burned her/ he said cheerfully. You still think that?' Thomas asked.
No/ Sir Guillaume admitted. I like her. If Genny's a beghard then let's have more of them. But you know what you should do with Robbie?'
Fight him?'
Christ's bones, no!“ Sir Guillaume was shocked that Thomas should even suggest such a thing. Send him home. What's his ransom?”
Three thousand florins.'
Christ in his bucket, that's cheap enough! You must have that much coin in the chests, so give it to him and send him packing. He can buy his freedom and go and rot in Scotland.“ I like him,” Thomas said, and that was true. Robbie was a friend and Thomas hoped that their old closeness could be restored. You might like him/ Sir Guillaume retorted tartly, but you don't sleep with him, and when it comes to a choice, Thomas, men always choose the one who warms their bed. It may not give you a longer life, but it will certainly be a happier one/ He laughed, then turned to search the lower ground for any enemy. There was none. It appeared that the Count of Berat was ignoring the English garrison that had so suddenly taken a part of his territory, but Sir Guillaume, who was older in war than Thomas, suspected that was only because the Count was marshalling his forces. He'll attack when he's ready/ the Norman said. And have you noticed that the coredors are taking an interest in us?'
I have/ Thomas said. On every raid he had been aware of the ragged bandits watching his men. They did not come close, certainly not within bowshot, but they were there and he expected to see them in these hills very soon.
Not like bandits to challenge soldiers/ Sir Guillaume said. They haven't challenged us yet/
They're not watching us for amusement/ Sir Guillaume added drily.
I suspect/ Thomas replied, that there's a price on our heads. They want money. And they'll get brave one day. I hope so/ He patted the new bow, which was bolstered in a long leather tube sewn to his saddle.
By midmorning the raiders were crossing a succession of wide fertile valleys separated by high rocky hills that ran north and south. From the summit of the hills Thomas could see dozens of villages, but once they descended and were among the trees again, he could see none. They saw two castles from the heights, both small, both with flags flying from their towers, but both were too far away to distinguish the badge on the flags, which Thomas assumed would be that of the Count of Berat. The valleys all had rivers running north, but they had no trouble crossing them for the bridges or fords were not guarded. The roads, like the hills and valleys, went north and south and so the lords of these rich lands did not guard against folk travelling east or west. Their castles stood sentinel over the valley entrances where the garrisons could skim taxes from the merchants on the roads.
Is that Astraac?“ Sir Guillaume asked when they crossed yet another ridge. He was staring down at a village with a small castle. Astarac's castle is ruined,” Genevieve answered. It's a tower and some walls on a crag, nothing like that.'
You've been there?' Thomas asked.
My father and I always went for the olive fair.“ Olive fair?”
On the feast of Saint Jude/ she said. Hundreds of folk came. We made good money.'
And they sold olives?'
Jars and jars of the first pressing,“ she said, and in the evening they soaked young pigs with the oil and people tried to catch them. There was bull-fighting and dancing.” She laughed at the memory, then spurred on. She rode well, straight-backed and with her heels down, while Thomas, like most of his archers, rode a horse with all the grace of a sack of wheat.
It was just past midday when they rode down into Astarac's valley. The coredors had seen them by now and a score of the ragged bandits were dogging their footsteps, but not daring to come close. Thomas ignored them, staring instead at the black outline of the broken castle that stood on its rocky knoll a half-mile south of a small village. Farther north, in the distance, he could see a monastery, probably Cistercian for its church had no tower. He looked back at the castle and knew his family had once held it, that his ancestors had ruled these lands, that his badge had flown from that broken tower, and he thought he ought to feel some strong emotion, but instead there was only a vague disappointment. The land meant nothing to him, and how could something
as precious as the Grail belong to that pathetic pile of shattered stone?
Robbie rode back. Genevieve moved aside and he ignored her. Doesn't look like much,' Robbie said, his silver crucifix shining in the autumn sun.
It doesn't/ Thomas agreed.
Robbie twisted in his saddle, making the leather creak. Let me take a dozen men-at-arms to the monastery,“ he suggested. They might have full storerooms.”
Take a half-dozen archers with you as well,“ Thomas suggested, and the rest of us will ransack the village.” Robbie nodded, then looked back at the distant coredors. Those bastards won't dare attack.'
I doubt it,“ Thomas agreed, but my suspicion is that there's a price on our heads. So keep your men together.” Robbie nodded and, still without even glancing at Genevieve, spurred away. Thomas ordered six of his archers to go with the Scotsman, then he and Sir Guillaume rode down to the village where, as soon as the inhabitants saw the approaching soldiers, a great fire was lit to spew a plume of dirty smoke into the cloudless sky. A warning/ Sir Guillaume said. That'll happen every
where we go now.'
A warning?'
The Count of Berat has woken up/ Sir Guillaume said. Everyone will be ordered to light a beacon when they see us. It warns the other villagers, tells them to hide their livestock and lock away their daughters. And the smoke will be seen in Berat. It tells them where we are.'
We're a long damn way from Berat.'
They won't ride today. They'll never catch us/ Sir Guillaume agreed.
The purpose of the visit, so far as Thomas's men was concerned, was to plunder. In the end, they believed, such depredations would bring out the forces of Berat and so they would have a chance to fight a proper battle in which, if God or the devil favoured them, they would take some valuable prisoners and so make themselves even richer, but for now they simply stole or destroyed. Robbie rode to the monastery, Sir Guillaume led the other men into the village while Thomas and Genevieve turned south and climbed the rough path to the ruined castle.
It was ours once, Thomas was thinking. It was here that his ancestors had lived, yet still he could feel nothing. He did not think of himself as a Gascon, let alone a Frenchman. He was English, yet still he gazed at the ruined walls and tried to imagine when the castle was whole and his family had been its masters. He and Genevieve picketed their horses at the broken gate, then stepped over fallen stone into the old courtyard. The curtain wall was almost entirely gone, its stones carried away to make houses or barns. The biggest remnant was the tower keep, but even that was half shattered, its southern side open to the wind. A hearth showed halfway up the northern wall and there were great stones jutting from the inner flank to show where the joists supporting the floors had once been. A broken stair wound up the eastern side, leading to nothing.
Beside the tower, sharing the highest part of the rock crag, were the remnants of a chapel. Its floor was flagstones and on one of them was Thomas's badge. He put his bow down and crouched by the stone, trying to feel some sense of belonging. One day,“ Genevieve was standing on the broken southern wall, staring south down the valley, you'll tell me why you're here.”
To raid,' Thomas said shortly.
She took off her helmet and shook out her hair, which she wore loose, like a young girl. The blonde strands lifted in the wind as she smiled. Do you take me for a fool, Thomas?“ No,” he said warily.
You travel a long way,“ she said, from England, and you come to a little town called Castillon d'Arbizon, and then you ride here. There were a dozen places we could have raided on the way, but it is here we come. And here there is the same badge as the one you carry on your bow.”
There are many badges/ Thomas said, and they often resemble each other.'
She shook her head dismissively. What is that badge?' A yale/ he said. A yale was a beast invented by the heralds, all teeth, claws, scales and threat. Thomas's badge, the one pinned to his bow, showed the yale holding a
