would swing the log back and forth until the metal-tipped point battered down the doors.
Wooden shielding had been affixed over the frame to repel our flaming missiles and crossbowmen from harming the men below it. And I was sure the wood was green and coated in mud so it wouldn’t catch fire easily, at least not before they had broken through the gates.
As I watched the attack unfold, I was angry at myself for allowing Sir Hugh to dupe me so easily. I should have known he would never agree to leave without a fight. He had only sought to buy time until his reinforcements arrived and he could attack in force. But as Sir Thomas once told me, battle is no time to dwell on one’s mistakes. I had to regain my focus and figure a way to counter this move.
Down below, next to my small siege engines, the kettles of lard over the fires were bubbling. Robard, Jean- Luc and the crossbowmen held the battlement and pushed back the scaling ladders, but the men-at-arms below were not at all interested in climbing the ladders; they were only buying time and making us waste precious bolts until the battering ram could be rolled into place.
“Jean-Luc!” I shouted. “Hold your fire! Save your bolts for the men pushing the battering ram!” Celia stood at the southwest corner shouting orders.
“Celia, come with me, please. Hurry!” She left Martine in charge and we made our way down to the courtyard.
We reached the fires below a few seconds later. “I need you to tell everyone manning a siege engine to get the lard as hot as possible and hoist those kettles up on the parapet over the main gate. We’ll need ropes and timbers! Get them to hurry!” Frantic shouting came from the battlement above us, and there was more noise outside as the battering ram slowly made its way toward the gate.
Celia repeated my orders to her men, and they went about their tasks diligently and in a hurry. More firewood was carried from the bailey, and the fires beneath the kettles were stoked again. Several men ran forward carrying timbers on their backs and shoulders that they handed up to those manning the battlement. In short order they had lashed together a small windlass that would work perfectly for our needs.
“Robard! How much farther until they reach the gate?” I shouted up to him.
“Not far! One hundred paces, I’d say. If you have something in mind, you better be quick!”
Everything was in place. I grabbed the rope hanging from the windlass and tied it carefully about the handle of the big iron kettle. When it was secure, the men above us hoisted the kettle slowly upward toward the battlement. One of the villagers on the ground held a long pole that he kept locked against the side of the kettle to keep it from tipping.
“Hurry!” Maryam shouted from her spot on the wall. “They’re almost here!”
The kettle rose a few more feet, and then we all heard and felt a thundering boom against the main gate. The noise was deafening and the walls shook, but the door held. A few seconds later another boom sounded against the door. We were almost in place now as the men above moved the kettle onto the battlement. A small pile of torches had been brought out of the keep, and grabbing one, I laid it to the flame in the fire. When it caught, I raced up the ladder. Running forward, I peered over the wall and saw the ram right beneath us.
The ram thundered against the door again. The door still held. Shouting out orders to the men, we lifted the kettle onto the top of the wall right above the main gate.
“Wait until they roll it forward again!” I shouted over the din.
Down below, we watched as the men pushing the ram backed up, then came forward slowly, then came faster as they strained toward the door. When the iron point was a few feet from the door, I gave the command: “Loose!” I shouted, and the kettle was tipped forward and the hot grease went splashing down on the ram. Some of it splashed over the wooden shielding and onto the men nearby, who screamed and ran away. Carefully measuring the distance, I tossed the torch, which landed on the topmost wooden shield.
At first nothing happened. Then with a loud whoosh, the grease caught and the forward-most part of the ram burst into flames. Several of the men hiding under the shielding lost their nerve at the sight of the fire and ran from their cover.
“Now!” shouted Robard, and the crossbowmen mowed the running men down like wheat before a scythe. Their screams and cries rose up to us in the darkness.
“Get the next kettle ready!” I shouted. “They’ll regroup and the ram will be back!”
As I feared, the wood on the shield covering the battering ram had been coated in mud. As the flames died, I could hear orders being shouted and see men moving toward the ram as it was reinforced.
The attacks came on through the night, but we managed to hold them off until daybreak. The ram was burned and scorched but still operable, and Celia had informed me we’d soon run out of barrels of lard. As the sun poked over the horizon, the fighting halted as the men on the field rested before their next assault.
The four of us met on the wall to take stock of the situation. Far off, near the tree line, I could see Sir Hugh on horseback, watching and directing the activity on the field.
“He won’t give up as long as I’m here,” I said.
My friends said nothing.
“Celia, can you spare us some ropes?” She didn’t look at me for a long time, but simply stared out at the forces arrayed against her. Finally she nodded.
“Oh no. Tristan, I saved you from bandits, you went through a shipwreck and a siege, and now you have a wish to plummet to your death? No wonder the monks who raised you only let you work the garden! If you’d done anything else, I’m sure you would have found a thousand ways to injure yourself and others!” Robard blurted.
I ignored Robard’s jibe. “I think it’s time for us to leave,” I said.
23
Light from the east fluttered into the valley surrounding us. The Templars outside the gates were now silent, but I knew another attack would commence before long. I stood at the rear wall of Montsegur with Maryam, Celia and Robard. Angel moved nervously around my feet. Staring down the sheer rock wall, my stomach tightened and I wanted to reconsider my plan. But I couldn’t waver. I looked at the crossbowmen on the battlement opposite where we stood. They all sat slumped with their backs to the wall, resting and waiting to fight again. Sir Hugh would starve us out if necessary. I needed to get him to chase me instead so Celia’s people could return to their homes. But then, as I stood looking down the cliff face, my head swimming, I thought that a few more weeks bottled up inside a fortress might not be so bad.
“Tristan, are you sure this is the only way?” Celia asked.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“Ha!” said Robard to no one in particular. For approximately the twelfth time, he was checking and rechecking the rope we had looped around a parapet and lowered over the side.
“Of course he’s sure,” Maryam chimed in. “He has a
It was easy to ignore barbs, busy as I was trying to memorize Celia’s face. Her eyes were tired, but they still drew me in. I hated to leave Montsegur. To leave her.
Taking her hand, I gave her a small piece of parchment. With ink and quill I had found inside the keep, I had written a brief note to Sir Hugh.
“If you can withstand another assault to buy us some time, I would be grateful,” I said fearfully, worried at the cost her people would pay to give us a head start. “Then I would have you ask to speak to Sir Hugh under a flag of truce. Don’t venture outside until his forces withdraw from the wall, and make sure you meet him in range of the crossbows. Jean-Luc will know what to do. Give Sir Hugh this note and tell him I’m gone. Tell him you’ll allow two of his men, but not him, to search the castle to confirm it. When he realizes we’re already gone, he should be itching to get away from here and come after us.”
Celia nodded, taking the note from me and secreting it in her tunic.
“What does the note say?” Robard asked.
“Nothing much. I just told him farewell, leave these good folk alone, and he’ll never catch me,” I said.
“That should work,” Maryam said.
“Good note. I need to learn how to write one of these days,” Robard commented as he pulled again and
