B00B9BL6TI EBOK (26 page)

The knocks and shouting from downstairs intensified. She moved swiftly to Edric and gave him a fierce kiss. ‘I know you will. Stand here and whatever happens,
whatever happens
, don’t come downstairs. If anyone except me tries to come up, you defend yourselves as best you can, do you understand?’

Tears were in his eyes now, but he nodded bravely and held his knife in front of him. She cast one final glance at the three of them and descended to the kitchen.

Once she had reached the blocked door, she shouted to Mistress Guildersleeve. ‘What is it? What do you want?’

The voice came again, desperate. ‘Alys, there’s going to be trouble. You must come. Open the door!’

Gervase’s voice was added to his mother’s. ‘Quickly! We think we’ve found a way to safety. You can open up, we’re alone.’

It was against her better judgement, but the prospect of safety was too much. She moved the barricades aside and opened the door. After the last few hours it was a strange relief to have them in the house, to not be alone. Gervase was obviously ready for an incursion, for he had an axe in his hand, as well as a knife at his belt.

Mistress Guildersleeve was already pulling at her arm. ‘Alys, come! The fighting is heading this way. I and some other women are going to take to the river, they won’t reach us out on the water. We’ll leave the men to defend our homes.’

Alys did not see the connection. Her mind was full of confused questions. The river? What sort of safety is that? Surely it would be more dangerous out there?

But Mistress Guildersleeve was adamant, half dragging her towards the door. ‘You don’t understand. Once one side or the other has won, there will be looting, and no woman will be safe. All those soldiers, crazed with blood and ale and lust, do you understand?’

Alys belatedly realised what she was talking about. Violation was a relatively commonplace event in the town; women and girls out on their own in strange places, especially after dark, were never safe, and since the town had been full of soldiers it had been worse. A victorious host full of drunken soldiers didn’t bear thinking about. But the river?

She tried to use reason. ‘But Mistress, we have no idea how to get a boat, or how to control one. And surely we’re safer in here than out in the open? How will we reach the river? And the regent’s forces are here to rescue us, surely they won’t let the city come to any harm if they win?’

But her neighbour was beyond reason. ‘Come, you must come!’

Gervase’s face had changed at her last words. Perhaps he had seen sense and would be more level-headed. He spoke. ‘Mother, you go now, with whatever belongings you can carry. I’ll stay here and try to help Alys and the children.’

She seemed torn, but in the end the thought of her own personal safety was obviously too much. She kissed her son and was gone.

Once she had left, Gervase swiftly shut the back door and moved a bench across it.

She looked at him. He would help. He would see them safe. She opened her mouth to speak of her relief.

Before she could utter a word, he spoke calmly. ‘So, you know it is the regent who is here.’

She gasped at her own stupidity. She had discovered that from Edwin. But surely it was a reasonable guess for anyone to have made? Could she cover up? And besides, Gervase was a townsman too … oh dear Lord. She looked at him closely.

He spoke again, still calm. ‘It was you. After all this time, all this effort, I find that it was you who told them.’

In a huge surge, everything became clear to her, and she staggered from the shock. She whispered. ‘It was you.’

Amazingly, he still seemed composed. ‘Oh yes, it was me. For weeks I’ve been paid to see what the townsmen were up to, to find out what their pathetic little plans were. We followed your father but could find out nothing – after his head was crushed he couldn’t say a word. I took your snivelling brother and beat him to a pulp, but he wouldn’t say anything. Dear God, we cut one of his fingers off but the brat fainted from the pain, and there was no time to wait for him to come round. I couldn’t find out, and they were growing more anxious for an answer!’ He strode across the room, agitated now, almost talking to himself. ‘I couldn’t let him go in case he told anyone, so we had to kill him. I left him here as a warning, but I thought it was for Aldred, not for you. If I’d only known it was
you
 …’

He moved towards her, hardly recognisable as the man she thought she had known, and she backed away, trying not to be sick. Behind him, the door started to inch open, the bench being pushed forward. She tried not to look in case it distracted him, but he was too wrapped up in his own diatribe to notice.

He continued. ‘And now, and now – ’ suddenly he snapped and spewed forth a searing rage. ‘And now I find it was
you
! You betrayed me and told that spy about the gate! All the time it was you, you snivelling little girl! Pretending to care only for your miserable children while you were working for the castle!’

He raised his axe and leapt at her, but in the space of a heartbeat the door was flung open and a figure lunged through to throw itself at Gervase. The two men fell to the floor and rolled, snarling, each stabbing and gouging at the other.

It was Aldred. What in the Lord’s name was he doing here? She didn’t understand. Neither would she ever get the chance to find out, for as she watched, Gervase managed to free his arm and strike Aldred on the side of the head with his axe. Alys screamed. Aldred fell limp, and Gervase got to his feet and stood over him. With composed brutality, he raised the axe once more and brought it thumping down into the other’s neck. Blood fountained everywhere and Alys hid behind her hands, trying to shut out the horror.

He turned to her, splattered in gore, and smiled like a demon from hell. With cold fear she knew she was going to die, and sought to prepare herself. But another figure had appeared in the doorway, and with huge disbelief she recognised it as Edwin. He’d come back!

She had no time to speak, for Gervase had whirled to face the new adversary. ‘You! I should have finished you off last night while I had the chance!’

Alys looked at Edwin. He was battered, filthy, and covered in blood. She hoped it wasn’t his. As his glance swept the room and took in Gervase, her, and the body on the floor, she didn’t think she had ever seen anyone look so angry. He couldn’t contain his rage. He cried out incomprehensibly and moved to attack Gervase, dagger drawn.

Dear Lord, he had come back to save her and he was going to be killed. He slashed his dagger wildly, missing Gervase by a long way but managing to avoid the other’s swinging axe.

It was then that the first sounds of splintering came from the front of the house.

She ran through to the shop in time to see the door shivering under the weight of blows. Someone else was trying to get in. How could she stop him? The barricades wouldn’t last for long under such an assault. But then she heard his voice, shouting Edwin’s name over and over, and some instinct inside of her told her that this was a friend. Hands trembling, she tried to drag the things aside as he continued to hammer at the door. Behind her, the fight had spilled in to the shop as the two men swayed together in a grotesque kind of dance. The door finally opened and the man outside shouldered it open far enough to force himself through the gap. It was a knight, fully armoured, sword drawn, drenched in blood and bits of things she didn’t want to think about.

She stopped for the briefest of moments, and so did Edwin, but their pause was almost fatal, as Gervase grabbed her arm, swung her around and sent her crashing into Edwin. He stepped forward with his axe; she was off balance but Edwin had his arm round her, trying to push her behind him and keep his own body between her and the weapon.

The knight roared with rage, kicked the rest of the broken furniture aside and strode forward. He grabbed Gervase and threw him aside in one movement, crying out in a great voice. ‘If you want to fight, fight me!’

Edwin was as surprised as anyone to see Sir Reginald burst into the room, but he would thank God for the rest of his days for the knight’s arrival. He knew he would never have been able to fight off his opponent. But now they were saved; Gervase stood no chance against him. The relief was overwhelming. Firmly he pushed Alys into the corner and placed himself in front of her, dagger at the ready, as he waited for the fight. And fight there would be. Sir Reginald could easily have struck Gervase down from behind with his sword instead of throwing him aside, but of course he would never do such a thing, true knight that he was.

Sir Reginald was angry, there was no doubt about that, but he didn’t let his rage overcome him. Edwin couldn’t see his face properly in the helmet, but he knew the knight was watching both his opponent and the weapon carefully as he circled. He was at a disadvantage, for there would barely be space in the room for him to wield his great sword, but surely, surely he must triumph. He was an armoured warrior. Edwin watched as he struck over and over again, Gervase parrying desperately but managing to deflect most of the blows, which were not at full strength, hampered as the knight was by the lack of space. But he was becoming ever more trapped.

And then it happened. By some means – ever after, Edwin was not sure how – Gervase managed a lucky blow. He brought his axe down hard on the back of Sir Reginald’s broken right hand. The knight gasped. Armoured as he was, he didn’t drop his sword, but the pain which he must have been feeling caused him to pause for that fatal blink of an eye. Gervase grasped his axe in both hands and brought it round in a swingeing arc to hack into Sir Reginald’s chest. Even the best-made mail couldn’t stop such a blow at close quarters, and it sheared through the hauberk, sending links flying, and through the gambeson and flesh, tearing a huge rent in the knight’s body.

Behind him Edwin heard Alys scream, but it was muted, and it seemed to come from far away. He was in a world of his own, unable to hear anything outside his own head. He was barely in control of his limbs. And so he wasn’t really even sure if it was he who struck the blow. In a fog, the air about him thickening, he stepped forward, drew back his dagger, and plunged it into Gervase’s unprotected back.

Everything stopped. The world was ending. He felt the sensation of the blade entering the body, propelled by him, by his hand. He was killing somebody. The blade bit deeper and the man screamed. The steel grated on bone. He was deliberately pushing a weapon into the body of another person. This is what it felt like. The blade could go no deeper. He ripped it out, feeling the flesh tear beneath his hand, and the body fell to the floor.

The world started again. The man was dead. He didn’t know how he’d managed to strike so true, but it had happened. Numb, he dropped the dagger and stared.

He was brought to himself by a movement across the room. Miraculously, Sir Reginald was still alive, lying spread-eagled on the floor and twitching. Edwin staggered over to him and fell to his knees. With shaking hands he unfastened the strap which held on the helmet, and removed it gently from the knight’s head. He wouldn’t live long, that was for certain. The huge wound had torn his body almost in half, and his lifeblood was pouring out on to the floor. Blood ran freely from his mouth, but his eyes still sought to focus.

Edwin was blinded by his tears. He pushed the long hair gently back from the sweating face. ‘Three times. Three times today you’ve saved my life.’

Sir Reginald tried to lift his arm, as though he would thump Edwin on the shoulder, but he couldn’t raise it. He spoke. ‘Brave …’

Edwin tried to reassure him. ‘Yes, you are.’

The knight made a huge effort and spoke through the blood.

‘No … you. Brave and stupid, can’t defend yourself, but you tried. To save …’

Edwin shook his head. ‘No, Sir Reginald. You are. To risk your life for me, for this.’

Sir Reginald coughed, sending more blood spewing from his mouth. ‘A knight … to die in battle – an honour. And in the service of –’ he choked again, breathless, bubbling, life slipping away, ‘a lady. And … a friend.’