Part 15 (1/2)

Come!” Genevieve urged him. Come!”

But Thomas, instead of running with her, dashed back into the clearing. He scooped up the empty grail box, looked for his bag of money, plucked up a sheaf of his arrows, then heard Genevieve's cry of warning as hooves came towards him and he swerved to one side, doubled back, then ran into the trees. The pursuing rider, confused by Thomas's quick evasions, spurred forward again, then veered away as Thomas ducked under a low branch. Other coredors were fleeing to the caves, but Thomas ignored that refuge and struck south beside the crag. He led Genevieve by the hand while Philin carried Galdric on his shoulders. A handful of the braver hors.e.m.e.n made a brief effort to follow, but some of the surviving coredors had their crossbows and the bolts thumping out of the dark persuaded the riders to be content with their small victory. They had killed a score of bandits, captured as many more and, what was better, taken a dozen of their women. And in doing it they had lost only one man. They took the arrow from his throat, draped his body on his horse and, with their captives tied by strips of cloth, went back northwards.

While Thomas ran. He still had his mail coat, his bow, a bag of arrows and an empty box, but everything else was lost. And he was running in the dark.

To nowhere.

Failure was hard, and Guy Vexille knew he had failed. He had sent riders into the woods to beat any fugitives out to the open ground and instead they had become tangled in a b.l.o.o.d.y, one-sided brawl with coredors that had left one of his men dead. The body was taken down to Astarac where, early next morning, Guy Vexille buried the man. It was raining. The rain had begun at midnight, a steady downpour that flooded the grave, which had been sc.r.a.ped between the olive trees. The bodies of the captured coredors, all of them beheaded the previous night, were lying abandoned at the edge of the olive grove, but Vexille was determined his own man should have a grave. The body had been stripped of everything except his s.h.i.+rt and now the man was rolled into the shallow hole where his head flopped back into the rainwater to expose the wound in his neck. Why wasn't he wearing his gorget?” Vexille asked one of the men who had attacked the coredors. A gorget was a piece of plate covering the throat and Vexille remembered that the dead man had been proud of the piece of armour that he had scavenged from some forgotten battlefield.

He was.”

A lucky sword thrust then?” Vexille asked. He was curious. All knowledge was useful, and few sc.r.a.ps of knowledge so useful as those that helped a man live in the chaos of battle. It wasn't a sword. the man said, he got an arrow.” Crossbow?”

Long arrow,” the man said, went straight through the gorget. Must have hit plumb.” The man made the sign of the cross, praying that he would not suffer a similar fate. The archer got away,” he went on. Ran into the woods.”

And that was when Vexille realized Thomas must have been among the coredors. It was possible that one of the bandits had been using a hunting bow, but not likely. He demanded to know where the arrow was, but it had been thrown away, no one knew where, so in the morning mist Vexille led his men up to the ridge and then south to the clearing where the bodies still lay. Rain pelted down, dripping from the horses” trappers and finding its way beneath men's armour so that the metal and leather chafed chilled skins. Vexille's men grumbled, but Vexille himself seemed oblivious of the weather. Once at the clearing he looked at the scatter of corpses, then saw what he was looking for. A squat, bearded man had an arrow in his eye and Vexille dismounted to look at the shaft, which proved to be a long ash arrow fledged with goose feathers. Vexille pulled it free, tugging it from the dead man's brains. It had a long, needle like head, and that suggested it was English, then he looked at the fledging. Did you know,” he said to his men, that the English only use feathers from one wing of a goose?” He stroked the damp feathers, which were held in place by twine and by glue that had a greenish tinge. Either the right wing,” he said, or the left, doesn't matter, but you don't mix feathers from both wings on one arrow.” He suddenly snapped the arrow in a surge of frustration. G.o.dd.a.m.n it! It was an English arrow and that meant Thomas had been here, so d.a.m.ned close, and now was gone. But where?

One of his men proposed riding westwards to rake the valley of the Gers, but Vexille snarled at the suggestion. He's no fool. He'll be miles away by now. Miles.” Or perhaps he was just yards away, watching from among the trees or from the rocky heights of the crag, and Vexille stared into the woods and tried to put himself into Thomas's place. Would he run back to England? But why would he ever have come here in the first place? Thomas had been excommunicated, thrown out from his companions, sent into the wilderness, but instead of fleeing home to England he had come east to Astarac. But there was nothing in Astarac now. It had been harrowed, so where would Thomas go? Guy Vexille looked into the caves, but they were empty. Thomas was gone. Vexille returned to the monastery. It was time to leave and he went there to gather the rest of his men. Charles Bessieres had also a.s.sembled his few soldiers who were mounted on horses heavy with plunder. And where are you going?” Vexille asked him. Wherever you go, my lord,” Bessieres said with sarcastic courtesy, to help you find the Englishman. So where do we look?” He asked the question caustically, knowing that Guy Vexille had no ready answer.

Vexille said nothing. The rain still fell steadily, turning the roads into quagmires. On the northern road, that led eventually to Youlouse, a group of travellers had appeared. They were all on foot, thirty or forty of them, and it was apparent that they were coming to seek shelter and help from the monastery. They looked like fugitives for they were pus.h.i.+ng four handcarts loaded with chests and bundles. Three old people, too weak to struggle through the cloying mud, were riding on the carts. Some of Bessieres's men, hoping for more easy plunder, were spurring towards them and Guy Vexille headed them off. The folk, seeing Vexille's lacquered armour and the prancing yale on his s.h.i.+eld, knelt in the mud. Where are you going?” Vexille demanded.

To the monastery, lord,” one of the men said, hauling off his hat and bowing his head.

And where are you from?”

The man said they were from the valley of the Garonne, two days” journey to the east, and further questioning elicited that they were four craftsmen and their families: a carpenter, a saddler, a wheelwright and a mason, all from the same town.

Is there trouble there?” Vexille wanted to know. He doubted it would concern him, for Thomas would surely not have travelled eastwards, but anything strange was of interest to him. There is a plague, lord,” the man said. People are dying.” There's always plague. Vexille said dismissively.

Not like this, lord. the man said humbly. He claimed that hundreds, maybe thousands, were dying and these families, at the very first onslaught of the contagion, had decided to flee. Others were doing the same, the man said, but most had gone north to Youlouse while these four families, all friends, had decided to look to the southern hills for their safety.

You should have stayed. Vexille said, and taken refuge in a church.”

The church is filled with the dead, lord. the man said, and Vexille turned away in impatience. Some disease in the Garonne was not his business, and if common folk panicked, that was nothing unusual. He snarled at Charles Bessieres's men to leave the fugitives alone, and Bessieres snapped back, saying that they were wasting their time. Your Englishman's gone. he sneered. Vexille heard the sneer, but ignored it. Instead, he paused a moment, then gave Charles Bessieres the courtesy of taking him seriously. You're right. he said, but gone where?” Bessieres was taken aback by the mild tone. He leaned on his saddle pommel and stared at the monastery as he thought about the question. He was here. he said eventually, he went, so presumably he found what he wanted?”

Vexille shook his head. He ran from us, that's why he went.” So why didn't we see him?” Bessieres asked belligerently. The rain dripped from the broad metal brim of his sallet, a piece of armour he had adopted to keep his head dry. But he's gone, and taken whatever he found with him. And where would you go if you were him?”

Home.

Long way. Bessieres said. And his woman's wounded. If I was him I'd find friends and find them fast.”

Vexille stared at the grim Charles Bessieres and wondered why he was being so unusually helpful. Friends,” Vexille repeated. Castillon d'Arbizon,” Charles Bessieres spelled it out. They threw him out!” Vexille protested.

That was then,” Bessieres said, but what choices does he have now?” In truth Charles Bessieres had no idea whether Thomas would go to Castillon d'Arbizon, but it was the most obvious solution, and Charles had decided he needed to find the Englishman fast. Only then, when he was certain that no true Grail had been discovered, could he reveal the fake chalice. But if he hasn't gone to his friends,” he added, he's certainly going west towards the other English garrisons.”

Then we'll cut him off,” Vexille said. He was not convinced that Thomas would go to Castillon d'Arbizon, but his cousin would surely go west, and now Vexille had a new worry, one put there by Bessieres, that Thomas had found what he sought. The Grail could be lost and the scent was cold, but the hunt must go on.

They all rode west.

In the dark the rain came like vengeance from heaven. A down pour that thrashed on the trees and dripped to the floor of the wood and soaked the fugitives and lowered their already low spirits. In one brief pa.s.sage of unexpected violence the coredors had been broken apart, their leader killed and their winter encampment ruined. Now, in the utter blackness of the autumn night, they were lost, unprotected and frightened.

Thomas and Genevieve were among them. Genevieve spent much of the night doubled over, trying to contain the pain of her left shoulder that had been exacerbated when the coredors tried and failed to strip her of the mail s.h.i.+rt, but when the first thin, damp light showed a path through the trees she stood and followed Thomas as he went westwards. At least a score of the coredors followed, including Philin, who was still carrying his son on his shoulders. Where are you going?” Philin asked Thomas. Castillon d'Arbizon. Thomas said. And where are you going?” Philin ignored the question, walking in silence for a few paces, then he frowned. I'm sorry,” he said.

What for?”

I was going to cut your fingers off.”

Didn't have much choice, did you?”

I could have fought Destral.”

Thomas shook his head. You can't fight men like that. They love fighting, feed on it. He'd have slaughtered you and I'd still have lost my fingers.”

I'm sorry, though.”

They had worked their way across the highest part of the ridge and now could see the grey rain slas.h.i.+ng all across the valley ahead, and across the next ridge and further valley. Thomas wanted to look at the landscape ahead before they descended the slope and so he ordered them all to rest, and Philin put his son down. Thomas turned to the tall man. What did your boy say to you when he offered you the knife?”

Philin frowned as if he did not want to answer, then shrugged. He told me to cut off your fingers.”

Thomas. .h.i.t Galdric hard across the head, making the boy's head ring and prompting a cry of pain. Thomas slapped him a second time, hard enough to hurt his own hand. Tell him,” Thomas said, to pick fights with people his own size.”

Galdric began crying, Philin said nothing and Thomas looked back to the valley ahead. He could see no hors.e.m.e.n there, no riders on the roads or mailed soldiers patrolling the wet pastures, and so he led the group on downwards. I heard,” Philin spoke nervously, his son back on his shoulders, that the Count of Berat's men are besieging Castillon d'Arbizon?”

I heard the same,” Thomas said curtly.

You think it's safe to go there?”

Probably not,” Thomas said, but there's food in the castle, and warmth and friends.”

You could walk farther west?” Philin suggested. I came here for something,” Thomas said, and I haven't got it.” He had come for his cousin, and Guy Vexille was close; Thomas knew he could not double back on Astarac and face him because Vexille's mounted men-at-arms held all the advantages in open country, but there was a small chance in Castillon d'Arbizon. A chance, at least, if Sir Guillaume was in command and Thomas's friends were the men making up the shrunken garrison. And at least he would be back among archers, and so long as he had them by his side he believed he could offer his cousin a fight to remember. The rain poured on as they crossed the valley of the Gers, and became even harder as they climbed the next ridge through thick chestnuts. Some of the coredors fell behind, but most kept up with Thomas's quick pace. Why are they following me?” Thomas asked Philin. Why are you following me?”

We need food and warmth too,” Philin said. Like a dog that had lost its master he had attached himself to Thomas and Genevieve, and the other coredors were following him, and so Thomas stopped on the ridge's top and stared at them. They were a band of thin, ragged, hungry and beaten men, with a handful of bedraggled women and miserable children. You can come with me,” he said, and waited for Philin to translate, but if we get to Castillon d'Arbizon you become soldiers. Proper soldiers! You'll have to fight. Fight proper. Not skulk in the woods and run away when it gets hard. If we get into the castle you'll have to help defend it, and if you can't face that, then go away now.” He watched them as Philin interpreted. most looked sheepish, but none turned away. They were either brave, Thomas thought, or so hopeless that they could think of no alternative but to follow him. He walked on towards the next valley. Genevieve, her hair plastered to her skull, kept pace with him. How will we get into the castle?” she asked.

Same way I did before. Across the weir and up to the wall.” They won't guard that?”

Thomas shook his head. Too close to the ramparts. If they put men on that slope they'll be picked off by archers. One by b.l.o.o.d.y one.” Which did not mean that the besiegers might not have occupied the mill, but he would face that problem once he reached Castillon d'Arbizon.

And when we're inside?” she asked. What then?” I don't know,” Thomas said honestly.

She touched his hand as if to indicate that she was not criticizing, but merely curious. It seems to me,” she said, that you are like a hunted wolf, and you're going back to your lair. True. Thomas said.

And the huntsmen will know you are there. They will trap you.” Also true. Thomas said.

Then why?” she asked.

He did not answer for a while, then he shrugged and tried to tell her the truth. Because I've been beaten. he said, because they killed Planchard, because I've got nothing to b.l.o.o.d.y lose, because if I'm on those ramparts with a bow then I can kill some of them. And I b.l.o.o.d.y will. I'll kill Joscelyn; I'll kill my cousin.” He slapped the yew shaft, which was unstrung to preserve the cord from the rain. I'll kill them both. I'm an archer, and a b.l.o.o.d.y good one, and I'd rather be that than a fugitive.” And Robbie? You'll kill him?”

Maybe. Thomas said, unwilling to consider the question. So the wolf. she said, will kill the hounds? Then die?” Probably. Thomas said. But I'll be with friends.” That was important. Men he had brought to Gascony were under siege and, if they would take him back, he would stay with them to the end. And you don't have to come. he added to Genevieve. You G.o.dd.a.m.n fool. she said, her anger matching his. When I was going to die, you came. You think I will leave you now? Besides, remember what I saw under the thunder.” Darkness and a point of light. Thomas smiled in grim amus.e.m.e.nt. You think we'll win?” he asked. Maybe. I do know I'm on G.o.d's side now, whatever the Church thinks. My enemies killed Planchard and that means they're doing the devil's work.” They were going downhill, coming towards the end of the trees and the first of the vineyards and Thomas paused to search the landscape ahead. The coredors straggled in behind him, dropping exhausted on the wet forest floor. Seven carried crossbows, the rest had a variety of weapons, or none at all. One woman, red haired and snub-nosed, carried a falchion, a broad-bladed, curved sword, and she looked as if she knew how to use it. Why are we stopping?” Philin asked, though he was grateful for the respite because his son was a heavy burden. To look for the hunters. Thomas said, and he stared a long time at the vineyards, meadows and small woods. A stream glinted between two pastures. There was no one in sight. There were no serfs digging ditches or herding pigs towards the chestnuts and that was worrying. Why would serfs stay home? Only because there were armed men around and Thomas looked for them. There. Genevieve said, pointing, and to the north, by a bend in the glistening stream, Thomas saw a horseman in the shadow of a willow.