think anyone had noticed them slip through the shadowed choir. He raised his right leg and kicked his heel against the lock. The noise was huge, a drum bang echoing in the church, and the door shook violently, but did not open. He kicked again, harder, then a third time and was rewarded by a splintering noise as the lock's tongue tore out the old wood of the frame. Tread carefully,“ he warned her, and he led her down the stairs into the darkness of the bone house. He groped his way to the eastern end, where the arched niche was only half full of bones, and he threw his belongings to the back of the pile, then hoisted Genevieve up. Go to the back,” he told her, and start digging.'
He knew he could not climb up himself without spilling dozens of ribs and thigh bones and arm bones, and so he went along the cellar and pulled down stacks of bones. Skulls bounced and rolled, arms and legs clattered, and when the cellar was a mess of scattered skeletons he went back to Genevieve, scrambled up and
helped her delve down into the old bones closest to the wall. They made a hole there, pulling the rib cages and pelvises and shoulder blades apart, scrabbling ever deeper until at last they had made a deep, dark hiding place among the dead.
And there, in the blackness, cradled by the bones, they waited. And heard the broken door squeal on its hinges. Saw the small flickering light of a lantern cast grotesque shadows on the arched ceiling.
And heard the mailed footsteps of the men who had come to find them, to take them, and to kill them.
Sir Henri Courtois was ordered to take thirty-three crossbowmen and forty-two men-at-arms to Castillon d'Arbizon where he was to lay siege to the castle. Sir Henri accepted the orders glumly. I can lay siege. he told Joscelyn, but I can't capture the castle. Not with that small force.'
The English managed it. Joscelyn said acidly.
Your uncle's garrison was sleeping. Sir Henri said, but Sir Guillaume d'Evecque will not be so obliging. He's got a reputation, a good one.' Sir Henri knew who commanded at Castillon d'Arbizon because Robbie had told him, and had also told him how many men were under Sir Guillaume's command.
Joscelyn jabbed a finger into the older man's chest. I do not want one more archer raiding my territory. Stop them. And give the bastards this. He handed Sir Henri a sealed parchment. It gives them two days to leave the castle. Joscelyn explained airily, and if they agree to its terms, you can let them go.“ Sir Henri took the parchment, but paused before putting it in his pouch. And the ransom?” he asked.
Joscelyn glared at him, but honour decreed that Sir Guillaume should receive a third of the money that had ransomed the new Count and Sir Henri's question was therefore a proper one and so Joscelyn answered it, but curtly. The ransom's there. he said, nodding at the parchment, all there.'
It's here?' Sir Henri asked, astonished, for the message plainly contained no coins.
Just go!' Joscelyn snapped.
Sir Henri left the same day that Guy Vexille took his own men to Astarac. Joscelyn was glad to see the back of the Harlequin, for Vexille was an uncomfortable presence even though his men-at arms were a welcome addition to the Count's forces. Vexille had brought forty-eight soldiers, all well mounted, well armoured and well armed, and he had surprised Joscelyn by not demanding a single ecu as payment. I have my own funds,“ he had said coldly. Forty-eight men-at-arms?” Joscelyn wondered aloud. That takes money.'
They were a heretic family, my lord,' his uncle's old chaplain had maintained, as if that explained the Harlequin's wealth, but Vexille had come equipped with a letter from Louis Bessieres, Cardinal Archbishop of Livorno, and that proved he was no heretic. Not that Joscelyn would have cared if Vexille worshipped wooden idols every night and sacrificed weeping virgins at each dawn. He was far more worried by the fact that the Vexilles had once been the lords of Astarac. He confronted Vexille with that, unable to hide his fear that the black-dressed knight had come to reclaim his ancestral lands.
The Harlequin had merely looked bored. Astarac has been in your lordship's fief for a hundred years,“ he said,” so how could I hold that honour?'
Then why are you here?' Joscelyn demanded.
I fight for the Church now,“ Vexille said, and my task is to hunt a fugitive who must be taken to justice. And when he is found, my lord, we shall leave your domain.” He turned because a sword had just been drawn, the sound of the blade scraping on the scabbard's throat unnaturally loud in the great hall. Robbie Douglas had just entered the room. He now pointed the drawn weapon at Vexille. You were in Scotland. he said threateningly.
Vexille looked the young man up and down and seemed unworried by the blade. I have visited many countries,' he said coldly,
including Scotland.'
You killed my brother.'
No!“ Joscelyn placed himself between the two men. You swore my oath, Robbie.”
I swore an oath to kill that bastard!“ Robbie said. No,” Joscelyn said again, and he took Robbie's blade in his hand and forced it down. In truth Joscelyn would not have been upset if Robbie had died, but if Guy Vexille was killed his black-cloaked men-at-arms might take vengeance on Joscelyn and his men. You can kill him when he's finished here. That is a promise.' Vexille smiled at the promise. He and his men left next morning, and Joscelyn was pleased to be rid of them. It was not just Guy Vexille he found chilling, but also his companions, especially the one who did not carry a lance or shield. His name was Charles, a man of startling ugliness, who looked as though he had been plucked from some dark gutter, brushed down, given a knife and released to spread fear. Charles led his own smaller band of a dozen men-at-arms who all rode with Vexille when he went south to Astarac.
So Sir Henri had gone to rid the county of the impudent English garrison at Castillon d'Arbizon and Vexille was hunting his heretic in Astarac, which left Joscelyn free to enjoy his inheritance in Berat. Robbie Douglas was one of his many companions, and for the next few days they simply enjoyed themselves. There was money to be spent on clothes, weapons, horses, wine, women, anything that caught Joscelyn's fancy, but some things could not be purchased in Berat itself and so a craftsman was summoned to the castle. The man's usual job was making plaster saints that were sold to churches, convents, and monasteries, but his task in the castle was to make casts of Joscelyn's body. He wrapped the Count's arms in greased muslin, coated them with plaster, then did the same for Joscelyn's legs and trunk. A tailor had also been summoned and he made measurements of the Count's body that were noted down by a clerk. So many inches from shoulder to hip bone, from hip bone to knee, from shoulder to elbow, and when the measurements were taken they were copied onto a parchment and sealed in a great box in which the plaster casts were packed in sawdust, and the box was dispatched under the guard of four men-at-arms to Milan where Antonio Givani, the finest armourer in Christendom, was commanded to make a complete set of plate armour. Let it be a masterpiece,“ Joscelyn dictated the letter to a clerk, the envy of all other knights,” and he sent a generous payment in genoins with a promise of many more if the armour arrived before spring.
r
He had paid Robbie his ransom in the same coins, but on the night that the men-at-arms left for Turin, Robbie was foolish enough to admire a set of ivory dice that Joscelyn had purchased in the town. You like them?“ Joscelyn asked. I'll roll you for them. Highest number keeps the dice.”
Robbie shook his head. I've sworn an oath to keep from gambling. he explained.
Joscelyn thought that the funniest thing he had heard in months. Women make oaths,“ he said, and monks have to, but warriors only make oaths of brotherhood for battle.”
Robbie blushed. I promised a priest. he said.
Oh, sweet Jesus!“ Joscelyn leaned back in his chair. You can't face risk, is that it? Is that why the Scots lose to the English?” Robbie's temper flared, but he had the sense to curb it and said nothing. Risk. Joscelyn said airily, is the soldier's fate. If a man can't abide risk he can't be a soldier.'
I'm a soldier. Robbie said flatly.
Then prove it, my friend. Joscelyn said, rolling the dice across the table.
So Robbie played and lost. And lost the next night. And the next. And on the fourth night he gambled the money that was supposed to be sent to England to purchase his ransom and he lost that too, and next day Joscelyn heard that the Italian gunners, whom his uncle had summoned from Youlouse, had come to the castle with their machine and Joscelyn paid them their fee out of the money he had won from Robbie. How soon can you go to Castillon d'Arbizon?“ he demanded of the Italians. Tomorrow, sire?”
The thing is ready?' Joscelyn asked, walking round the wagon on which the gun, shaped like a flask with a narrow neck and a bulbous body, was lashed.
It's ready. the Italian, whose name was Gioberti, confirmed. You have powder?'
Gioberti gestured at the second wagon, loaded perilously high with kegs.
And missiles? Balls?'
