By Right of Arms (39 page)

Verel’s face became red and he took a third swipe at Hyatt, but Hyatt jumped back on one foot and the other rose high in a kick that landed under Verel’s chin, forcing him off the ground and back onto the earth in a heap. He lay stunned, his sword lying next to his hand, looking up at Hyatt.

“The Scots,” Hyatt said with a shrug. “If you are not weighted down with armor, save your life first, worry about a chivalrous contest later. Now, sir knight, your weapon lays at hand. Get it.”

Verel rose a bit shakily, wondering why Hyatt had not killed him. He quickly concluded that it must be the sure knowledge that the others would fall on him and slay him instantly. But a good warrior would die willingly if he took but one with him.

Again, they circled each other. Again, Hyatt twisted his knife in his hand. Verel noticed the flashing of the silver and when he looked in that direction, Hyatt struck. But he held the knife against the younger knight’s chest while he held Verel’s wrist with his other hand, preventing the sword from reaching him.

“Never let your opponent distract you so easily. Watch his arm, not his weapon, lest he entrance you with ease.”

He shoved Verel backward hard, causing the younger man to fall on the turf again. Verel rose, blood lust in his eyes. They circled each other another time, and this time Verel kept himself alert and would not be tricked. He waited until they had rounded each other twice and let Hyatt make the first move. Hyatt’s stout knife whirred past Verel’s belly and Verel moved quickly, deftly, bending his knees and thrusting his sword hard forward. Hyatt jumped, dropped and rolled, but not quickly enough. The sword caught his thigh and when he was again on his feet, a gash swelled with bright red blood and the pain throbbed in his leg. He knew the contest had best be short.

“Good point, Sir Verel,” Hyatt said with a smile. He readied himself for combat anew, a smile on his face. “The pity is, now that you’ve drawn blood, we best be done. I can’t parley any longer. Remember that. When your opponent draws blood or batters your head, it’s time to be done, lest you lose too much blood or good sense to finish. Come lad, give your best, and quickly, or the fight won’t be fair.”

“What care I for a fair fight, Hyatt? So long as you die!” Verel made to stab at Hyatt, again hasty and hot-tempered, and Hyatt deftly knocked the sword from his hand, sending it flying. He grabbed a wrist, twisted Verel’s arm behind his back, and positioned the blade of the hunting knife under the young man’s throat. He looked around the dozen men who looked on.

“Well, lads? One landed knight for a leader?”

None approached him. They obviously valued Sir Verel greatly. Pulling Verel with him, Hyatt backed away from the group, out of their circle, until he had reached the tethered horses.

“Kill me quickly, you black-hearted bastard,” Verel snarled.

“Why? These men need you. I shall warn my own not to travel in this forest unarmed, for I would not sacrifice even one to you, but you need not die, Sir Verel.”

“I would rather die than be beaten by
you!”

“Why so? Is a good knight never bested? You show your inexperience and youth, Verel. A good knight learns from each contest, bettering himself. Don’t be a fool. Don’t accept death as an honorable venture. Once dead, you will never again raise a blade to defend what is right.”

“I despise you,” the young man uttered, pain drawing each word.

Hyatt sighed, backing toward the horses. “Such unnecessary passion will only slow you down. Take ease; clear your head. You are a good fighter, Verel, but I have been a scavenger in the forests of England much longer than you. For me, it was a challenge to learn to fight by courtly rules, but for you the reverse will be true. You must learn to fight as scavengers do, if you are to live like this. ’Tis a pity, if you are satisfied with such.”

Hyatt threw him to the ground and Verel lay face-down in the grass. In a single motion Hyatt had the tethered reins in hand and was astride the stallion that had been taken from De la Noye.

“If you change your mind, Sir Verel, you may present yourself at your old home. Perhaps you will be allowed to earn a position with a decent troop of soldiers.”

That said, Hyatt gave the stallion a firm heel and whirled away from the camp. He bent low over the horse’s mane, tucked his legs in tight, and rode like the wind through the trees, under low branches, down narrow paths. The steed’s hooves were swift and graceful and not once did the beast stumble or falter. It was a good horse Verel had gotten off with.

Hyatt heard the three horses behind him for a time, but not for long, for as he neared De la Noye the scavengers gave up the chase. Hyatt paused when he reached the forest’s edge. The sun was setting and the distance from the wood to the gate was long, but he sat in pause, admiring the silhouette of De la Noye at sunset. From the distance the castle seemed to sit in three tiers; the wall surrounding the outer bailey with a massive gate and bridge and seven parapets made the first layer. Within the outer bailey were peasant housing, a huge stable and smith shop, and room for a thousand horsed men-at-arms. Next was the inner wall, with portcullis and iron gate. Beyond that was the rising structure that was the main hall, shaped like the cross of Christ, with four wings and a rising citadel, the donjon, from which Aurélie had viewed the conquering forces.

There was room there for even more than they now housed. Yea, a dynasty. Hard to win … hard to lose.

He thought about Verel for a moment and dismounted, tethering the horse at the forest’s edge. Let one knight from De la Noye ride away from the magnificent castle on a worthy steed, for her sake.

It was dark by the time Hyatt called to the gatekeeper for entrance. He was met as all were met when they came to the wall, by a group of armored knights astride, lest there be any threat or trick at play. His chest swelled with pride at the way they carried out his orders even when he was away.

He spurned their worry at the sight of the blood on his thigh, but accepted a mount to make the hall in shorter time. He left that borrowed horse with a page and took the stairs swiftly for an injured man. Within his chamber Aurélie sat upright, her face colored again with health, her loosed hair brushed to a high sheen, and a tray of food on her lap.

He stood in the doorframe studying her. There were comfort, softness, beauty, and strength in her sweet smile.

“My lord, you have chosen to return to us,” she said brightly.

“And you have chosen health,” he replied.

Her chin slowly fell in a single nod, her eyes glittering with happiness. “Of course,” she said. “I told you it was nothing.”

He approached her quickly, leaning down to kiss her lips. Her arms went instantly around his neck and she answered his kiss with enough energy to convince him that she had fully recovered.

Oblivious to the servants still in the room, Hyatt released her lips and smiled at her. “ ’Tis well. I would not have wished to live without you.”

“Of course, my love,” she whispered. “We must henceforth be cautious not to ask it of each other, for it is not my desire to be without you, either.”

The room slowly emptied of unwelcome spectators and Hyatt and Aurélie were left to say the many things that thus far had not been said. She did not remember she had been ill, and he forgot the wound on his thigh. The most important tending to be done was done to the hearts of lovers.

By the first of September the fruit trees were heavy with their crops, piglets were fat, and chickens were laying. Baby goats born the previous spring were leaving their mothers’ udders, giving village women plentiful goat’s milk to serve their own children. The largest crop of vegetables ever seen at De la Noye were harvested, and fourteen calves had been born.

Lady Aurélie rose from her sickbed, more ravishing than ever before as she began to round most proudly with her first child. But she stood under Hyatt’s watchful eye, for the knight was insistent that she not be weakened by work or pregnancy, and the noble dame was ordered to bed by husband and a bevy of servants each afternoon, whether she protested or not.

Nima was no longer confined to a bedchamber, kept out of sight to wither with age and loneliness. The old woman sat in the main hall, ever near the hearth, watching her great-grandson play on the rushes with his toys, and offering advice on medicines and poultices and philters. Though she was ancient of form and face, her eyes held a new glitter of usefulness, for finally she made some contribution other than covering the evil flaws of her ward.

“Humph,” Hyatt snorted as he entered the hall one afternoon. “I don’t know that this is an improvement,” he said, gesturing toward his son. The boy scampered among Nima, Aurélie, Perrine, and Baptiste. “Now he will be made soft by all the skirts that indulge him. Dolls, balls, and what is this? A pillow that he clutches?”

“You may have him soon enough, milord,” Aurélie said with a smile. “He is too tender for your brutish ways. But if you protest his keepers, you may perhaps ask Sir Girvin to swaddle his bottom and rock him to sleep.”

A snort came from the corner, and Girvin looked up with a scowl on his face. Hyatt glanced about the room and noticed many a weary soldier. The outer bailey was stacked with goods; fruits, hens, sacks of grain, vegetables, barrels of ale, large bolts of cloth from the looms, and every product rendered by the people of De la Noye. After the lord had taken his share and selected the goods for trade, the people would have theirs. There was a great plenty to divide. And the effects of hard work was obvious all around. His men had given assistance, but not in replacement of their knightly duties. Those who guarded the wall by night, harvested by day. Those who guarded the wall, protected the farmers, and rode perimeters of the demesne by day, stacked goods by night. Everyone therein, it seemed, hoped for some bonus.

“Is our work done?” Hyatt asked, glancing around the hall. “Everyone seems much at his leisure, and it is not yet noon.”

“Hyatt,” Aurélie said in an admonishing tone. “These men have worked hard. Let them enjoy a meal, at least.”

“Why? Do I take my rest before the work is done?”

“Humph! You should have been given a whip, rather than a broadsword.” Lady Aurélie frowned at her husband, for there was not much left to do.

“Sir Trevor,” Hyatt barked at a young knight who had worked night and day and appeared to be near dozing. “Is there some feast or fair I have not been told about? There seems to be a mood of laziness and frivolity amongst my men.”

The youthful knight blushed and rose wearily, straightening his aching back. “Nay, my liege,” he sighed, moving toward the door slowly.

Aurélie grunted some sour, disapproving remark that Hyatt did not quite hear as the knight reached the door. Girvin muttered, “There will be burying to do when these poor lads die of their labors.”

“You are right, Trevor,” Hyatt said to the young man’s back before the door for the hall was opened. “ ’Tis a feast I have not been told of. Did no one have the courage to suggest to your warlord that we celebrate our good fortune? Am I such a cruel taskmaster as that? Sir Trevor, find a good-sized hog to slaughter. And beef; we need not take so many calves from the castle. There is no time for a hunt, and I think there is too much ale for the wagons Delmar built us. Why not drink a bit and lighten the load?”

Everyone turned wide, surprised eyes toward Hyatt. He stood in the center of the large room in his dark chausses, boots, a linen shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a leather jerkin belted at the waist. He looked more like a farmer than a knight, his hair tousled, a thick blade at his waist, and growth of beard that spoke of more time spent on work than grooming. Aurélie’s eyes sparkled, for she thought him almost more handsome when he wore the effects of hard labor. And Girvin smiled, proud of the young lord he had reared. The others, stunned, sat in silent wonder.

“Very well, if you are not interested …”

“Consider it done, Sir Hyatt,” Trevor said, bolting out of the hall. A dozen men followed, one with his hand ready to draw out his short blade for the slaughter of good meat. Perrine jumped up, clutching her mending, and ran in the direction of the cookrooms to give instruction. Baptiste hoisted up young Derek, making for the stairs. Nima struggled to rise and follow. Soon there was a flurry of activity that could be heard all over the castle and courtyard as the word was passed, and only Hyatt, Girvin, and Aurélie were left in the large room.

Hyatt nodded toward Girvin. “Let’s see what we can do to keep our wall safely tended and yet enjoy the day. Can you divide the men into groups that will relieve each other?”

“Yea, Hyatt,” he said, rising. “And I shall keep fifty, thirty of whom will be sober enough to call a guard and fire an arrow straight.”

Girvin lumbered toward the door and Aurélie rose with a sigh, leaning her head against Hyatt’s chest. “Are we unsafe for even a day of harvest feasting, Hyatt?”

“I am never too sure of our safety, my love, but ’tis their day more than mine. I shall be mostly at the wall, myself.”

“But Hyatt, you deserve to celebrate more than anyone.”

He touched the softness of her cheek with his roughened hand. “I shall,
chérie.
Later, when the others have fallen on their pallets.”

Pleased with him, Aurélie did not interfere with his design for the feasting celebration. She cautiously supervised the preparation of food, most often from a chair. This was the one day she did not indulge in her afternoon rest, but Perrine’s hovering frown warned her that she would not be allowed to overtax herself. “I am treated like an old woman,” she complained.

“You are treated like a woman we would all like to see become old,” she was reassured.

The meat was pitted in the inner bailey rather than the hall so that more of the farmers and villagers could gather together. Huge pots were carried out and placed on large fires, the steam, smoke, and savory smells rising to fill the early fall air. A villager entertained with a gittern and songs were sung. The meat was nearly cooked, the brewis boiled, bread was baked, and huge trays of fruits and vegetables graced the trestle tables that had been brought outside. The sun was lowering in the sky and the feasting would begin when Aurélie went in search of Hyatt.