pity. Sir Guillaume had dreamed of taking the Count prisoner for a second time, and then he would have doubled Joscelyn's ransom, doubled it again and then doubled it a third time. Bastard, Sir Guillaume thought, and a crossbow bolt slammed high into his shield, banging the top edge against Sir Guillaume's helmet. He crouched lower, grabbed the last man's ankle and pulled, and the man stirred and tried to fight back so Sir Guillaume hammered the shield's pointed lower edge into the man's groin and the man gasped, then stopped struggling.
It was Robbie. Once Sir Guillaume had him in the courtyard and was safe from the crossbowmen in the town, he could see that Robbie had not been wounded. Instead he had been stunned, probably by an arrow that had struck the lower edge of his helmet and left a fierce dent in the thick rim, which had thumped onto Robbie's skull and hurled him back. One inch lower and there would have been a dead Scotsman. As it was there was a very confused Scotsman who twitched in search of his sword as he real ized where he was.
Where's my money,' Sir Guillaume growled, threatening Robbie with the Scotsman's own sword.
Oh, Jesus. Robbie groaned.
He's no damned use to you. If you want mercy, son, ask me. Ask them!“ Sir Guillaume pointed at the archers and men-at-arms who were stripping the dead and injured of their weapons, armour and clothes. Cross-eyed Jake was grinning because one of the enemy dead had been wearing a ruby ring. Jake had sawn off the finger and now held the jewel aloft in triumph. Sam, the proud new owner of a fine coat of German-made mail, came to look at Robbie. He spat to show his opinion of the Scotsman. Robbie, tears in his eyes because of his humiliation, looked at the dead men, their undershirts laced with blood. Forty attackers had crossed the square outside the castle and over half of them were dead. He looked up at Sir Guillaume. I'm your prisoner,” he said, and he wondered how he was supposed to pay one ransom to Lord Outhwaite in England and another to Sir Guillaume. You're bloody not my prisoner. Sir Guillaume said in crude English, then he changed back to French. I heard the shout outside. No prisoners. And you might remember that when we do take prisoners, we don't get ransoms. We just get pieces of parchment. Is that what honour means in Scotland?'
Robbie looked up into the savage, one-eyed face and shrugged. Just kill me. he said wearily. Kill me and go to hell. Your friend wouldn't like that. Sir Guillaume said and saw the puzzlement on Robbie's face. Your friend Thomas. he explained. He likes you. He wouldn't want you dead. Got a soft spot for you, he has, because he's a goddamned fool. So I'll let you live. Get on your feet.“ Sir Guillaume prodded Robbie up. Now go to Joscelyn and tell that spavined bastard that he can pay us what you owe us and then we'll leave. Got that? He pays the money, then you watch us ride away.”
Robbie wanted to ask for the sword that belonged to his uncle and concealed a precious relic of Saint Andrew in its hilt, but he knew he would be refused and so, still dazed, he went back to the arch, followed by the jeers of the archers. Sir Guillaume bellowed at the crossbowmen in the town that the man coming out was one of their own. Perhaps they'll shoot you anyway. he said to Robbie, then shoved him out into the dusk.
None of the crossbowmen shot at Robbie who, with an aching head and a throbbing groin, stumbled down the street. The survivors of the attack were gathered by the still smoking gun; some of them had arrows in their arms or legs. Joscelyn was there, bare-headed; his hair had been flattened by the helmet's liner and his round face was slick with sweat and red with anger. He had been among the last to crowd into the gateway, had seen the chaos in front and had then been knocked over by an arrow strike on his breastplate. He had been astonished by the force of the blow, like being kicked by a horse, and the plate had a bright gouge in it. He had struggled up only to be hit by a second arrow which, like the first, had failed to pierce the thick plate, but he was knocked back again, and then the panic of the survivors had enveloped him and he had stumbled away with them. They let you go?“ he greeted Robbie who he saw had a dark bruise on his forehead. They sent me with a message, lord. Robbie said. If they receive their money,” he went on, they will leave without more fighting.“ It's your money!” Joscelyn snarled. So you pay them. Do you have it?'
No, lord.'
Then we damned well kill them. We damned well kill them all!“ Joscelyn turned on signor Gioberti. How long will it take you to bring down the whole archway?”
Gioberti thought for a second. He was a small man, nearly fifty, with a deeply lined face. A week, lord. he estimated. One of his bolts had hit the side of the arch and ripped out a barrowload of stones, suggesting that the castle was in ill repair. Maybe ten days. he amended his answer, and in another ten days I can bring down half the curtain wall.'
We'll crush them in ruins. Joscelyn snarled, then slaughter the damned lot.“ He turned on his squire. Is my supper ready?” Yes, lord.
Joscelyn ate alone. He had thought he would eat in the castle's hall this night and listen to the screams of the archers having their fingers cut off, but fate had decreed otherwise. So now he would take his time, reduce the castle to rubble, then have his revenge. And next morning Guy Vexille and Charles Bessieres came to Castillon d'Arbizon with over fifty men. It seemed that Vexille had failed to find his heretic but, for reasons Joscelyn neither cared about nor understood, he believed the man and his beghard woman would be coming to the besieged castle.
You catch them. Joscelyn said, and the man's yours. But the woman's mine.'
She belongs to the Church,' Vexille said.
Mine first,“ Joscelyn insisted, the Church can play with her next and the devil can have her afterwards.”
The gun fired and the castle gateway trembled.
Thomas and his companions spent a wet night under the trees. In the morning three of the coredors had vanished with their women, but fourteen men were left with eight women, six children and, most usefully, seven crossbows. They were all old bows with goat leg levers to draw the string, which meant they were less powerful than the steel-shafted bows that used cranked handles to draw the cord, but in a fight the old sort were quick to reload and lethal enough at short distances.
The horsemen had gone from the valley. It took Thomas most of the morning to satisfy himself of that, but eventually he saw a pig-herder bringing his animals towards the woods and, shortly after that, the road leading south beside the stream was suddenly busy with folk who looked like fugitives for they were carrying huge loads and pushing handcarts piled with goods. He guessed the horsemen had got bored waiting for him and had attacked a nearby town or village instead, but the sight of the people reassured him that no soldiers were close and so they went on westwards. The next day, as they took a high southern route that kept them away from the valleys and roads, he heard the gun in the distance. At first he thought it was a strange kind of thunder, an abrupt clap with no fading rumble, but there were no dark clouds in the west, and then it sounded again, and at midday a third time and he realized it was a cannon. He had seen cannons before, but they were uncommon, and he feared what the strange device might do to his friends in the castle. If they were still his friends. He hurried, tending north now towards Castillon d'Arbizon, but forced to take care each time he came to an open valley or a place where horsemen might lie in ambush. He shot a roe deer that evening and they each had a morsel of the uncooked liver for they dared not light a fire. At dusk, when he carried the roe back to their encampment, he had seen the smoke to the north-west and known it came from the cannon, and that meant he was very close, so close that he stayed on guard till the heart of the night, then woke Philin and made him serve as a sentry.
It was raining in the morning. The coredors were miserable and hungry and Thomas tried to cheer them by promising them that warmth and food were not far off. But the enemy were also nearby and he went cautiously. He dared not leave his bow strung, for the rain would weaken the string. He felt naked without an arrow on the cord. The sound of the gun, firing every three or four hours, grew louder, and by the early afternoon Thomas could hear the distinct crash of the missiles striking stone. But then, as he breasted a rise and the rain at last ended, he saw that the Earl of Northampton's flag still hung drab and damp on the keep's high staff and that gave him encouragement. It did not denote safety, but it promised an English garrison to fight at his side. They were close now, perilously close. The rain might have stopped, but the ground was slippery and Thomas fell twice as he scrambled down the steep wooded slope which led to the river that curled about the castle's crag. He planned to approach the castle as he had escaped it, by crossing the weir beside the mill, but as he reached the foot of the slope, where the trees grew close to the mill pond, he saw his fears had been justified and that the enemy had anticipated him for a crossbowman was standing in the mill's doorway. The man, wearing a chain mail coat, was beneath a small thatched porch that hid him from any archers on the castle battlements though, when Thomas looked up the hill, he saw no archers there. The besiegers doubtless had crossbows in the town and would shoot at any man who exposed himself. Kill him.' Genevieve was crouching beside Thomas and had seen the lone crossbowman across the river.
