around, stopping it just inches short of the High Counsel’s neck.
Shock registered in Father Renard’s eyes and he reared back in his saddle, struggling to maintain his balance. He finally regained his seat, staring at Sir Hugh, his eyes wide. Then he glanced down at the gleaming blade and the color drained from his face.
“What are you doing?” he sputtered. “This was not our agreement!”
Sir Hugh flicked his wrist and his sword nicked the flesh on the Father’s neck. A small rivulet of blood trickled down, running beneath the collar of his tunic.
“I’m altering the terms! I care not what you want or who you think you are,” Sir Hugh snarled. “Do you understand me? Swear fealty to me
The High Counsel’s eyes rolled and darted. He looked at Celia, then me, but he had nowhere to go. The confident, even arrogant man who had confronted us on the beach was gone. The mad knight who held the sword to his neck was more than his match. He had made a terrible miscalculation and now had no way out.
“Sir Hugh! Please, there is no need for violence. . I was only. .,” the High Counsel sputtered.
“I disagree!” Sir Hugh shouted. “I feel a very great need for violence! So, priest, what will it be? Swear to me!” He moved his sword again, and the High Counsel squeaked as the point cut deeper into his flesh.
Father Renard waved his arms, and behind him a group of his men broke ranks and started toward the parley. One of the High Counsel’s men spurred his horse and lowered his lance as if to charge. “Brothers!” Sir Hugh shouted, and as he did, three Templars mounted several yards behind him spun their steeds and rode to intercept the charging knight.
“What is going on?” Robard whispered. His right hand held an arrow loosely nocked in the string of his bow, and made to raise it and take aim.
“Hold, Robard,” I said quietly. “We may need to run for the gate. We’ll need those arrows then.”
The High Counsel’s knight was no match for the superior horsemanship of the Templars. Without even lowering lances, they steered the High Counsel’s man away and drove him back toward the lines. No help was coming for Father Renard.
Sir Hugh sat up in his saddle and pushed his sword deeper into Father Renard’s neck. If he moved or his horse spooked, the High Counsel would likely die. He breathed heavily, and despite the cold air and wind, sweat rolled from his forehead and down his neck, where it mixed with the blood that now flowed steadily from his wound. Sir Hugh was not wearing his helmet, and his long hair and scraggly beard flew about in the breeze. The effect made him look completely insane. He was a lost soul. Completely mad.
“Now.
Celia and Maryam had spent the last few seconds backing cautiously toward the gate. They were both poised and ready to run at the slightest provocation. I slowly moved my hand to my sword, taking firm hold of the hilt. “Steady now,” I whispered. I feared if we broke and ran, Sir Hugh and his men might ride us down. He was just crazy enough to take on a battlement full of crossbowmen.
Something had changed in him since Tyre. When pressed in battle or confronted by an enemy who was his equal, he was an unrepentant coward. As a bully he knew no peer. But here he had taken on someone who could decide to fight back. He had the advantage in numbers certainly. But he was desperate now. If the High Counsel did not yield, Sir Hugh may attempt to strike us all down, and I realized what a mistake I had made in agreeing to meet outside the walls of Montsegur. The next move belonged to Father Renard.
“Yes. Of course. Forgive me.” The High Counsel stumbled over his words.
“What was that?” Sir Hugh said. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you!”
“I said I was mistaken. You are clearly in charge. What is it you wish to do, sire?”
The sword went in again, and the High Counsel winced. His head leaned toward his shoulder as if he could squeeze the sword away. Sir Hugh moved and twisted the point to further torment the man.
“Did I not ask you to
“I swear! I swear all my men and loyalty to you, Sir Hugh! In the name of God, without question!” For good measure he made the sign of the cross. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath, but it came out of my lungs in a rush. I gave a prayer of thanks to God for making Father Renard a coward also.
With blinding speed, Sir Hugh withdrew his sword and smiled his serpent’s smile. “Excellent!” he said, returning the sword to its sheath.
“Are you mad, Sir Hugh?” I asked. He had just displayed his insanity quite clearly for everyone to see, but I could think of nothing else to say.
“Let me shoot him!” Robard pleaded under his breath.
“You’d better not miss, archer!” Sir Hugh sneered. Apparently he had ears like a hare. He gave rein to his stallion and it pranced back and forth. “I’ll ride you down and kill you before you pull another arrow.”
“Get out of here, Sir Hugh,” I sneered. “Leave now.”
Father Renard sat despondently on his horse, hand clutched at his bleeding neck. When he wiped away the blood, the cut showed, and it crudely resembled a Templar cross. He would wear a scar there for the rest of his days. His face was crestfallen. Beaten and humiliated by Sir Hugh, he finally stared at me. And for yet one more time, I saw myself looking into the eyes of an enemy. A gaze filled with the purest form of hatred. I was to blame for his misfortune.
“Hear this, Templar! Leave no doubt in your tiny little brain,” Sir Hugh shouted. “You have one hour. Then you surrender yourself at this very spot. If you do not yield, you will be overrun and I will give no quarter.” He didn’t wait for us to answer but galloped back toward his men.
The Father remained behind. He tried to stare me down, but I did not waver.
“I warned you,” he rasped. “I explained to you what would happen if you deceived me! Make ready, Princess. Pray you die in battle, Templar, for if I meet you on the field, you will know no mercy!”
“I think you’ll have to ask Sir Hugh’s permission first,” I said. “He seems to think my death belongs to him alone.”
“Make light all you wish, heretic! You will not live past this day! I
He turned then, but Robard called to him. “Father!” He stopped and turned his horse to face us again.
“Your neck is bleeding,” Robard said.
Robard gave him a jaunty little salute and Father Renard whipped his horse and rode back to his lines. He made a point of steering his stallion away from Sir Hugh, who stood conferring with some of the Templar Knights.
Beads of sweat rolled down my brow as I realized we had only an hour to ready ourselves for an assault by several hundred experienced fighters. Already in the tree line below the open plain, I could hear the sound of axes. I was sure trees were being cut and scaling ladders were under construction, possibly for a catapult or some other type of siege engine.
“Come on. Let’s go,” I said.
We returned to the fortress and discussed our options.
“What do we do now?” Maryam asked. “We’re severely outnumbered.”
“We’ve been besieged before. Montsegur has never fallen,” Celia replied confidently.
“Celia, with all due respect, I do not think this will be like other sieges,” I said. She shrugged in reply.
“Agreed,” Robard cut in. “Can Jean-Luc show me to the armory?”
“Yes, of course.” She motioned to Jean-Luc, who led Robard away.
“I would suggest you tell your subjects to make ready,” I told her.
Celia’s eyes sparked in anger. “They are not my subjects!” Her quick turn of mood gave Maryam leave to trail after Robard and Jean-Luc, and we were left alone.
“I did not mean to make you angry. But the High Counsel did call you Princess.”
“As you once said, Templar, it is a long and not very exciting story.”
“I have time,” I retorted, though I most certainly did not.
She let out a heavy sigh. “My father was once a duke. Loyal to King Philip. He was one of the nobles who fought with Philip to unite the kingdom. But when he embraced Catharism, his titles and most of his lands were stripped from him by the church, with Philip’s tacit approval. Technically, I am. . or was. . nobly born. Not anymore. Although if the High Counsel had had his way. .” She let the words trail off.
“Way with what? Had his way with what?” Impatience clouded my words.
