It was Roisea who comprehended best. She dropped lightly from her mare and looked up at him sympathetically, but without speaking.
‘You lot ready?’ the ferryman called out sourly. ‘I don’t want to be waiting here all day.’
Baldwin helped his horse down the bank and into the boat, then stood soothing the worried beast while the others brought their own down, and then, as the ferry edged into the water, he watched the bank behind them gradually fade away. It seemed to him then that his old life was being left behind in some way, and there was no possibility of his ever finding it again. It was a deeply sad feeling.
It was the beginning of the end, Sir Laurence Ashby told himself. From here on the tower’s battlements, he could see the mass of men appear. They arrived like dark ink flowing over a page – men on horses in the centre, while at the edges were bowmen and men-at-arms. All wandered closer in their centaignes while their Captains rode about, agreeing the dispositions of the host.
There was one figure whom Sir Laurence noted in particular: a big man on his destrier, with armour that shone even in this grey light. He sat on his horse staring fixedly at the castle and city, and Sir Laurence saw him pointing at specific locations. They were the places he himself would have chosen for placement of artillery. That must surely be Sir Roger Mortimer.
‘So they’ve arrived at last,’ Earl Hugh said, coming to join him. ‘They have taken their time.’
Sir Stephen then emerged through the little door, peering about the landscape with interest. ‘They have chosen their places with skill.’
‘Don’t forget Mortimer was here only ten years ago. He knows all the weaker points of the castle and city,’ Sir Laurence said glooomily.
‘Ah, of course. So he will try to attack from the same positions as before.’
‘The city can withstand the assault better now,’ Sir Laurence said. ‘He destroyed much of the walls, and they have been rebuilt since.’
‘What quality is the rebuilding?’ Sir Stephen asked.
‘Not first quality, perhaps, but good,’ Sir Laurence said defensively. The Coroner’s words sounded like a criticism, and that wounded his pride. ‘The city is strong enough to withstand a serious enemy for some weeks; the castle is stronger still.’
He ran though the items in his stores. Food was good, while water was better, for with all this rain, the cisterns would be full. He had store of brimstone, charcoal and saltpetre, and barrels of pitch to be heated. When the enemy tried to storm the place, they would find themselves meeting with stronger resistance than they could have expected.
‘The garrison is ready?’ Sir Stephen asked languidly.
‘They’ll serve,’ Sir Laurence responded.
‘I hope so,’ Earl Hugh said.
Sir Laurence could see in his face that same determination mingled with despair. It made him sorry for the old man, but he had no time to worry about him. The Earl would have to resolve his concerns some other way.
‘Do not worry, my lord Earl,’ Sir Stephen said. ‘They look terrible in such an order, but they will have the devil’s own task if they want to break in here. You will be safe for a while.’
‘A while, yes,’ the Earl said.
‘And then,’ Sir Stephen continued, ‘we shall have to hope that they will be happy to accept our terms for surrender.’
Sir Laurence gaped at him. ‘
‘Sir Laurence, we need to be realistic. Look at all those men out there. Do you think the Queen wants them all to be here, tied up in front of our city? No. So what we must do is decide when we can give up the castle on the most advantageous terms. Because if we do not, if we say that we shall fight to the last man, we will be crushed and every man within the castle executed. So, no. We shall have to surrender. It’s simply a matter of how long it will take.’
Earl Hugh leaned back and eyed Sir Stephen. ‘We will
‘I shall not fail in my duty, my lord Earl,’ Sir Stephen said with a deep bow.
‘Good. I would not wish to have so noble a knight held in the dungeon for sedition,’ Earl Hugh responded, his teeth gritted.
Sir Stephen’s smile was wiped from his face. ‘Do you seek to threaten me, my lord? I would not allow any man to call me coward or traitor.’
‘I said nothing about your courage, Sir Stephen,’ the Earl noted.
Sir Laurence saw how Sir Stephen squared up to the Earl, who was himself standing more firmly, his legs fixed as though they had been planted in the stone slabs of the floor. His eyes were unblinking beneath his heavy brows.
‘They have artillery, my lord, Sir Stephen – look!’ he said quickly.
The tension dissipated as the two walked, one either side of Sir Laurence, to gaze out over the fields.
There were several slow-moving ox wagons, the great beasts lowing and plodding on under the constant urging of their drivers. On the back were the immense timbers that would be raised to make the siege engines.
‘That is that, then,’ said the Earl. ‘They will begin to fire tomorrow, I expect.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
As the rain lessened and they could see ahead more clearly, Sir Ralph tried to urge his party into a slightly faster gait. It was not easy. The two friars were unused to riding, and their inability to maintain their balance on slippery leather made the going all the more laboured.
Sir Ralph was reluctant to take an exposed route, because of the ever-present risk of being apprehended by a Hainaulter. While Sir Ralph had a letter given him by the Queen which gave him safe-conduct, he did not wish to put it to the test with an armed group of men, who might decide to try their blades on human flesh and search the contents of his purse rather than listen to him explain what the words meant.
But if for preference he would have taken them along a riverbed, the fact was that the streams were all filled with water, and it was too dangerous.
‘Bernard, you ride on a little before us,’ he said. Alexander and Pagan could ride to the rear of the cavalcade, and with Bernard spying out the way ahead, all should be well. ‘Keep your eyes open for any dangers.’
He didn’t know this part of the country very well. There were bridges up to the north, if he followed the line of the River Severn, but they were leagues away. It was for that reason that he had decided to come here, back to the ferry which had brought them from Chepstow. That was at least a direct route, and it should take them further away from the Queen and her men. With luck, they would not meet any of her mercenaries.
Then Bernard lifted a hand urgently, and Sir Ralph threw a look all about them.
They were riding around a small wood, thick with brambles and thorns. It would be difficult to ride in there, for the horses would balk. To their right was a large pasture, with nowhere to conceal themselves. If they were attacked there was only one option – to retreat.
He hurried forward, gazing at Bernard questioningly.
‘Men. Look!’
There was a fire. Smoke rose and trailed into the sky from a hollow up ahead, and as he stared, Sir Ralph saw a head appear over the edge. A lean man, dark-haired, climbed up and stared at them without flinching or
