By Right of Arms (9 page)

Aurélie had not seen Hyatt with her own people. Under Giles, Aurélie had been the only discipline. The Sire de Pourvre, too distracted by scholarly discussions and prayers, had left all management chores to her. The change for her people as they accustomed themselves to the harsh commands of a new lord must have terrorized them. “Is Hyatt cruel to them, Perrine?”

The old woman shivered slightly. “I do not know,” Perrine whispered.

“You have watched him; you have warned me. Does he strike? Threaten? Rage?”

Perrine’s eyes were filled with a frightened glitter, her voice soft. “Nay, madame. None of those.” And again she trembled.

Aurélie sighed impatiently. The swaggering knight had struck terror into them all with his steamy glance, his clenched jaw.

He was crafty. He had meted out his punishment once, and in that single action all were filled with awe. She had thought him barbaric and ruthless; now she realized his intelligence. He had saved himself the work of fifty lashings with one swift slice of his sword.

“Come. I will see to Baptiste first.”

The girl was more frightened than anything. In the week that Aurélie had neglected her people, the large bruise on Baptiste’s face had dulled to a greenish hue and only the redness of tears marked her eyes. “He must have beaten you badly,” she confirmed.

“I don’t know why he hurt me, lady. I did not fight him.”

“He had no cause. Can you come about your service to me now?”

“I am afraid of them, lady. I do not want to see the English knights … especially that one.”

“He cannot hurt you further, lass,” Aurélie assured her. “And no other will dare touch you, for Sir Hyatt has ordered them to be decent with the women. If you are able, you should find some solace in duty, for these English will remain. You cannot hide away here for long without going mad.” She shrugged and smiled, for though she had only seen to one of her own, she already felt better for having some purpose. “It is easier to work, Baptiste, than to silently grieve. I did not find my part as a conquered woman an easy one to assume.”

“Have the English hurt you, madame? Were you beaten?”

“Nay, Sir Hyatt has been cautious in his treatment of me, for Lord Lavergne is in residence.”

“But he
wed
you. Did he—”

Aurélie’s cheeks took on a darker shade of rose. She found herself almost wishing she herself had a bruise that would show. “Nay, he was civil. Now come, you need not worry about me. And this misery of yours will pass.”

“Their master, Sir Hyatt, has told me to bring my troubles to his ear alone and they would be set aright. Does he plan some trickery?”

A half-smile tugged at the corners of Aurélie’s lips. He was a difficult man to understand. Sworn, fighting knights were seldom soft and the gentle were unable to fight. Yet Hyatt could maim and kill without conscience and in the next breath, give tender counsel to a wronged girl of Baptiste’s delicacy.

“I don’t know, lass,” she said honestly. “I have seen both his fury and his fairness. Keep safe; come to me with your worries and I shall help you.”

“Do you accept this knight, lady?”

“It is only my wish to prevent any further death, and I cannot change their victory. Now, you must find your former strength, for you are needed.” As Aurélie walked to the chamber door to leave, she stopped short, realizing she had echoed Hyatt’s command to her.

Hyatt was not in the common room below, but Sir Girvin stood as she came down the stairs. There were only a few knights present, and none were lounging. Squires hammered the dents from their masters’ armor before the hearth and fully fettered knights sharpened and polished their battle gear.

She approached Girvin. “The wall is held on your behalf; do these men never cease in their labors?”

“Not when the occupation is new, madame,” he returned. “A soldier’s greatest error comes when he thinks the battle swiftly done. These men of Hyatt’s are always wary of comfort. They are a ready lot.”

She smiled slyly. “You worry that King John will send troops?”

“He is well occupied by the Black Prince, lady.” Girvin returned her smile. “And I do not think De la Noye will be among his first attempts. We are deep in Guienne and he would have to pass through too much of Edward’s land. We encountered little resistance in coming here. Aquitaine is secure.”

She felt her heart plummet. King John would not rescue them. It was hard to decipher relief from disappointment.

She would dance at a festival celebrating Hyatt’s comeuppance, yet more fighting only meant more death, and she knew Hyatt would fight to the death of them all. Over and over, the message that it was finished assaulted her. The instinct to resist them would not die away. She bristled at the mere sight of the tall knight Sir Girvin; she despised his self-confidence, his control. It would help to see him frightened, if only for a moment. “You do not wear your mail or armor. Perhaps you will be caught unaware by some French troop.”

“My duties lie within the castle, madame. But rest assured, I can quickly find my armor.”

Aurélie looked around impatiently. “I have need of Sir Hyatt. Or my father.”

“Lord Lavergne left the hall early and took a mount with some of his own men. I do not expect his return soon.”

“Where has he gone?”

“His purpose was unclear, but I think he wishes to know the extent of the English occupation in Aquitaine. He will be a long time in finding any French settlement still intact. And Sir Hyatt is occupied elsewhere.”

“He told me to see to my knights. How am I to do that when …”

“I will accompany you, lady. Our captives are held in the bailey.”

“They have no shelter? Do you bother to feed them?”

Girvin frowned, but said nothing. He walked ahead of her, leaving her to follow him into the courtyard, around the large wall to the side of the hall. There, between the outer bailey and the keep, she found a camp. Canvas cloths and tents had been raised to give shelter, and a fire in the center of a large circle of men warmed a side of pork and boiled a large kettle of brewis. Their keeping was decent, but most were tied.

“They are untied in small groups that can be watched,” Girvin said. “We know not which of these can be trusted. Do you come to help?”

She straightened proudly, holding her hands clasped before her. This was the hardest thing she had yet to face. Those knights who had gone with Giles were battle worn. Some wore bandages, but none here seemed badly injured. They had obviously not been released long enough to get any change of clothing and their unshorn locks and stubbled chins told there had been no grooming.

She located Sir Guillaume and met his eyes. “Bring him to me,” she told Girvin, without naming the knight or pointing to him. With only a swift gesture from Girvin, two of Hyatt’s men went to Guillaume, untied his hands, and pointed toward Aurélie.

She looked up at her vassal’s face. She took note that the anger was still simmering, close to the surface in Guillaume’s eyes. Girvin’s close presence beside her must have chafed at her knight as well, for Guillaume would pay no regard to the English knight. She braced herself, for if Guillaume failed her now, she knew not what she would do.

“Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected, my lady.”

“Not hungry, injured, or sick?”

“Nay.”

“Do you serve me still, Sir Guillaume?”

“Yea, madame.”

She took a stabilizing breath. “Do these English bring you word of what occurs in the hall?”

“They do not bait us much, madame. There is little word, but I was told you were unharmed and my lady wife was allowed to bring me food.”

“Sir Guillaume, Lord Lavergne has come and now that it is done, he stands in support of the English siege. He mourns Giles, but he pledges to Sir Hyatt’s rule on my behalf. My options were few, and the conqueror has wedded me with my father’s permission.”

Guillaume’s eyes narrowed. “You are a widow one week.”

“Aye. I know the length of time.”

“Have you cast your lot with—”

She held up a hand to stop him, and slowly pinched her eyes closed. Then slowly she opened them again. She had learned the way to control softly and she hoped Guillaume, who had taught her, had not forgotten. “Take heed, Sir Guillaume. I have been instructed to find those men who will follow my orders and serve the new lord. This I must do on behalf of Sir Hyatt for the safety of these survivors. I could not come here and ask for your release on my own behalf.”

“And what will happen to us, madame? Are we expected to wield arms for the Englishman?”

“Nay, sir knight. You will be freed, but will carry no arms. This I do for you, for the temptation to strike will be strong in all those who have been loyal to Giles. For now, until your honor to your oath is tested, you may serve in other ways. ’Tis too much to ask you to defend Hyatt’s lordship now, but yet you will remain bound if you cannot at least accept his rule.”

“Must these men who are released swear to him?”

Aurélie turned her head and looked up into Girvin’s eyes. The knight did not meet her gaze, but stared straight ahead, leaving the matter to her. With a sigh of resignation, she looked back to Guillaume. “Not yet,” she said softly. “For now it will be enough if you do not fight him. But soon, Guillaume. I know you are too proud for this, my loyal man, but save bloodshed, I pray. Convince these men to take freedom. Do this for me. I cannot bear to see you so restrained. I need you at my side again.”

Sir Guillaume looked deeply into her eyes for a long, difficult moment. His eyes slowly shifted to Girvin, and the two acknowledged each other for the first time. “It would have been better for me, lady, had Sir Giles taken me with him on the campaign.” This was said to Aurélie, but Girvin and Guillaume looked hard at each other.

“It would have been a worthy contest,” Girvin said in his impeccable Gascon tongue.

Aurélie knew what had happened between them. Intense hatred trumpeted, but the echo around the words demonstrated a certain mutual respect. She could not help but understand that Girvin had given in this exchange, for it was not necessary for the victor to bestow the merest word to attest to the abilities of the loser.

“You were left with me because in both wisdom and strength you were the best man. I am sorry for us all that Giles lost the battle, but I can do nothing to change that.”

Her voice drew his eyes back to her. Then he slowly turned to speak to the closest bound knight behind him. His voice was too soft for Aurélie to hear, but the man turned startled eyes to stare at her. Her plight was being cautiously explained. The man’s hands were tied in front of him and he looked several times between Lady Aurélie and Sir Guillaume, stunned by disbelief. Finally he swallowed and gave a slow nod.

Sir Girvin stepped toward Guillaume and withdrew the short blade from his belt. He extended it, handle first, to Guillaume. Aurélie watched with some relief as the man was cautiously released. Around the captives’ camp, Hyatt’s men stood back, weapons sheathed, for the release.

Aurélie looked at the faces of sitting, leaning, reclining prisoners. Some were too young to have gone to battle, some too old. There were linen bandages, the blood dried and blackened, that alerted her there would be injuries to tend in the hall following this release. Eyes that held grief, confusion, fear, and shame studied her and the tall knight who escorted her.

She sighted Sir Verel and her throat constricted. The knight had been with Giles for only five years and he was their best. At five and twenty, he was handsome, strong, and proud. After Giles’s father’s death and the subsequent deterioration of their army under Giles’s inadequate leadership, some knights fled De la Noye in search of a stronger troop to serve. But Sir Verel remained and tried to groom a better army. He had worked hard to train and lead able soldiers, though much was against his success. There had been little enthusiasm from Giles, and no money to bolster them. In Verel’s blue eyes there glittered a fierce hatred. A linen cloth stained with blood was wrapped around his upper arm and another at his right thigh. His mouth turned down in a sneer as he stared at her, and she shuddered. Surely Verel would choose his ropes, for here was a stubborn and driven warrior. She tore her eyes away from his and looked again at Girvin.

“Will that do, sir knight?”

Girvin smiled down at her and took her elbow, leading her away. “You deal with the beaten with experience, madame. It appears you have done this before.”

“The terms I offered them meet with your approval?” she asked, carefully suppressing her distaste for what she had done.

“As I said, it is as if you have done it all before.”

“Certainly Sir Giles brought captives here.”

Girvin threw back his head and laughed heartily. “I find that hard to believe. Sir Giles did not appear much of a leader of soldiers, although I did see some worthy in his troop.”

“Do not delude yourself,” she snapped back. “Giles, for himself, was more scholar than soldier, but his men were not lacking. They were a strong, loyal force.”

“Ah, Sir Hyatt has tamed you well. You warn me.”

“Nay, you will not be warned,” she huffed, stomping back to the main hall.

“ ’Tis a pity. To warn me might save a life.”

Aurélie stopped short. Over and over again she found her anger gained her nothing but more trouble. She stood for a moment in thought. Verel.

She sensed that Girvin had halted behind her, in wait. She slowly turned to face him again, and if her pain had been great in dealing with Guillaume, it was even greater in explaining Verel. Tears sparkled in her eyes. “There is one among them,” she began, trying not to sob.

“Who?”

Aurélie faltered and her voice broke. She wiped at her eyes nervously, for it bit her deeply to beg mercy from this man. She wished to lift her chin proudly, but it was impossible for her.

“His name is Sir Verel. He served my husband for only five years, but as a good and strong knight. He often worked the other knights in contests and challenges and has never before lost a battle. He is young, sir knight, and his temper is short, his loyalty deep. Perhaps he is foolish; I do not know. But he does not deserve to die because of this. Give him his freedom. Banish him.”