enemies enough, that I know, but this must be an army battering the walls.”
“The army of your liege lady the empress,” said Cadfael ruefully. “And stronger than commonly, since she was accompanied home into Gloucester by several of her earls and barons. Yves, when he was loosed, rode for Gloucester to rouse her to come and rescue you, and come she most surely has, but not for your sake. The lad told her Philip was here in person. She has vowed, too publicly to withdraw even if she wished, and I doubt she does, to take his castle and his body, and hang him from his own towers, and before his own men. No, she won’t withdraw. She is determined to take, humiliate and hang him. And I am equally resolute,” said Cadfael roundly, “that she shall not, though how it’s to be prevented is more than I yet know.”
“She cannot do it,” said Olivier, aghast. “It would be wicked folly. Surely she knows it? Such an act would have every able man in the land, if he had laid down his weapons, rushing to pick them up again and get into the field. The worst of us, on either side, would hesitate to kill a man he had bested and captured. How do you know this is truth, that she has so sworn?”
“I know it from Yves, who was there to hear it, and is in no doubt at all. She is in earnest. Of all men she hates Philip for what she holds to be his treason, “
“It was treason,” said Olivier, but more temperately than Cadfael had expected.
“By all the rules, so it was. But also it was more than simply treason, however extreme the act. Before long,” said Cadfael heavily, “some of the greatest among us, on both sides of the argument, and yes, the best, will be accused of treason on the same grounds. They may not turn to fight upon the other side, but to leave their swords in the sheath and decline to continue killing will just as surely be denounced as treachery. Whatever his crime may be called, she wants him in her grasp, and means to be his death. And I am determined she shall not have him.”
Olivier thought for a moment, gnawing his knuckles and frowning. Then he said: “It would be well, for her more than any, that someone should prevent.” He turned the intensity of his troubled stare upon Cadfael. “You have not told me all. There is something more. How far has this attack gone? They have not broken through?” The use of ‘they’ might simply have been because he was enforcedly out of this battle, instead of fighting for his chosen cause with the rest, but it seemed to set him at an even greater distance from the besiegers. Cadfael had almost heard the partisan ‘we’ springing to mind to confront the ‘they’.
“Not yet. They have breached one tower, but have not got in, or had not when I came down to you,” he amended scrupulously. “Philip refused surrender, but he knows what she intends to do with him…”
“How does he know?” demanded Olivier alertly.
“He knows because I told him. Yves brought the message at his own risk. At no risk to me I delivered it. But I think he knew. He said then that if God, by chance, should choose to forestall the empress, he must take thought for the men of his garrison. He has done so. He has handed over the charge of La Musarderie to his deputy Camville, and given him leave, no, orders!, to get the best terms he can for the garrison, and surrender the castle. And tomorrow that will be done.”
“But he would not…” began Olivier, and cried out abruptly: “You said he is not dead!”
“No, he is not dead, But he is badly hurt. I don’t say he will die of his wounds, though he may. I do say he will not die of his wounds in time to escape being dragged aloft, whatever his condition, in the empress’s noose, once she gets into La Musarderie. He has consented in his own shameful death to procure the release of his men. She cares nothing for any of them, if she has Philip. She’ll keep the castle and the arms, and let the men depart alive.”
“He has consented to this?” asked Olivier, low-voiced.
“He has ordered it.”
“And his condition? His injuries?”
“He has badly broken ribs, and I fear some lacerations inside from the broken bones. And head injuries. They tossed in a crate of lumps of iron, broken lance-heads, cinder from the furnaces. He was close when it struck and burst. A bad head wound from a piece of a lance, and maybe foul at that. He came to his senses long enough to make his dispositions, and that he did clearly, and will be obeyed. When they enter, tomorrow, he will be her prisoner. Her only prisoner, for if FitzGilbert agrees to terms he’ll keep his word.”
“And it is bad? He cannot ride? He cannot even stand and walk? But what use,” said Olivier helplessly, “even if he could? Having bought their freedom he would not make off and leave the price unpaid. Never of his own will. I know him! But a man so sick, and at her mercy… She would not!” said Olivier strenuously, and looked along his shoulder at Cadfael’s face, and ended dubiously: “Would she?”
“He struck her to the heart, where her pride is. Yes, I fear she would. But when I left him to come to you, Philip was again out of his senses, and I think may well remain so for many hours, even days. The head wound is his danger.”
“You think we might move him, and he not know? But they are all round us, no easy way out. I do not know this castle well. Is there a postern that might serve? And then, it would need a cart. There are those in the village that I do know,” said Olivier, “but they may be no friends to Philip. But at the mill by Winstone I’m known, and they have carts. Now, while the night is black, is there anywhere a man could get out? For if they get their truce, by morning they’ll cease their close watch. Something might yet be done.”
“There’s a clear way out where they’ve breached the tower,” said Cadfael, “I saw sky through it. But they’re still outside there with the ram, and only held outside by force of arms. If a man of the garrison tried to slip out there, it would be one way of dying quickly. Even if they draw off, he could hardly go along with them.”
“But I can!” Olivier was on his feet, glowing. “Why not? I’m one of them. I’m known to have kept my fealty. I have her badge on my sword-belt, and her colours on my surcoat and my cloak. There may be some there who know me.” He crossed to the chest, and swept the covering cloak from sword and scabbard and light chainmail coat, the links ringing.
“You see? All my harness, everything that came with me when I was dragged out of Faringdon, and the lions of Anjou, that the old king gave to Geoffrey when he married his daughter to him, clear to be seen, marking me for hers. He would not so much as displace the least of another man’s possessions, though he might kill the man. In chainmail and armed, and in the dark, who’s to pick me out from any of the other besiegers outside the walls? If I’m challenged I can openly answer that I’ve broken out in the turmoil. If not, I can keep my own counsel, and make for the mill. Reinold will help me to the loan of a cart. But it would be daylight before I could get it here,” he checked, frowning. “How can we account for it then?”
“If you are in earnest,” said Cadfael, carried away in this gale, “something might be attempted. Once there’s truce, there can be movement in and out, and traffic with the village. For all I know, there may be local men within
