Defiant Unto Death (60 page)

‘He didn't know that at the time. Godfrey de Harcourt fought his own family for the world to see, but we reconciled. It was war,' Blanche de Harcourt said, seeing the dullness in her friend's eyes. Christiana was slipping away into that dark place of loss and grieving where no love can reach. ‘Once he learnt the truth did you expect him to tell you? He's just killed the man who was the very reason your father sent you to us for protection. Thomas has closed the circle that was your destiny. Keep his name alive, Christiana. Have more of his children,' she urged gently.

Christiana shook her head.

‘Listen to me,' Blanche said brusquely, desperately wanting to make Christiana realize what she was going to lose. ‘He can command you! He has guardianship over his children. If you challenge him he can take them. He could have beaten you and cast you out when he learnt what happened on the barge.'

‘He won't do that because of his affection for me. I know him.'

‘Then you don't deserve him,' Blanche told her.

‘I know,' Christiana answered, tears stinging her eyes. ‘Will you offer me and the children sanctuary and your protection?'

Blackstone went among the men, sending the physicians where they were most needed, only then allowing one of the Cistercian monks to dress his own wound and remove Christiana's piece of linen. The wide-eyed soaring bird on the token of affection now looked to be panicked, drowning in his bloodstains. Henry rode alongside his father, seeing the slaughtered men being dragged into the pit, entrails and severed limbs hooked with poleaxes and spears and tossed in after them. His father watched for his reaction but the boy remained stoic.

It took three days for the weather to clear, during which time Christiana did not speak to or see Blackstone. The plunder was divided and each company given its share. Every man knew what every other had received. Blackstone offered release from his service to any man who desired it. Thirty or so men decided to return to France, most of them with the women they had seized along the way. The core of Blanche de Harcourt's retinue who had survived the battle – 173 men-at-arms – would escort her back to her fiefdom of Aumale in Normandy, her rightful place of inheritance.

Blackstone and Christiana stood in the forest; beyond them, scattered groups of men and women loaded pack horses, and armour and weapons were stacked aboard wagons. In the bright, clear light of the meadow, where Montferrat's banner flew from the castle ramparts, Killbere and the company commanders organized their men into formation. The killing had reduced their ranks to several hundred, but they were expert, well-disciplined fighters, worth more than twice that number of untried men.

‘The country of the Lombards is not my home, Thomas,' Christiana told him. ‘You'll have an itinerant life of war now; I want my children to find a refuge and a home. If you will release us, Blanche will take us back.'

Blackstone sought the words that might embrace her, but the struggle seemed uneven. ‘I'll soon have wealth, and be paid as a
condottiere
by Florence – such a contract is generous. The hard fighting is over. A home with land and servants awaits us. I stand ready to do anything that will keep you and the children with me,' he said.

‘You can't stop fighting,' she answered.

‘It's what I do,' he said.

‘You command men; you do not have to fight.'

‘That day will come soon enough – until then, I earn their respect.'

‘And risk losing mine.'

‘I always thought I had that in equal measure to your love,' he said quietly, reaching for her hand, feeling her small fingers beneath his own. He sensed she might be drawn back to him. ‘That river we once crossed was so dangerous, but we clung to each other and we reached the shore. This is just another river, Christiana. Hold tight and trust me again.'

‘I cannot. I need time for this torment to abandon me. We will be safe and I'll pray for your well-being, Thomas. I beg you, do not force me against my will. Let us hope our time will come again.'

She raised her face to his, and kissed his cheek. ‘Goodbye, Thomas.'

The horsemen gathered on the trampled, bloodstained meadow. Blackstone rode at the head of his men, as did Blanche de Harcourt at hers.

Each went forward to bid the other farewell.

‘I'll keep her with me; perhaps she will find some respite,' Blanche de Harcourt told him.

‘Send me word,' Blackstone answered.

He looked across to Henry who sat on a courser a pace behind the Countess, with Guillaume's dagger – which he himself had retrieved – tucked into his belt. Blackstone tied the dead squire's sword and scabbard to the saddle's pommel. ‘Remember, son, never relinquish a sword taken in battle. Sir Gilbert told me that.'

‘I didn't earn it, Father,' the boy answered.

‘Every man here saw you earn it with your courage, as once did Guillaume Bourdin. He was the bravest man I have known and fought always at my side. It carries honour with it. That's why it is given to you.'

He reached for the boy's hand and held it fast for a moment. ‘I want you at my side. You would soon be my squire.'

He saw the boy's conflict. ‘Father, who will care for Agnes and Mother if I am not with them? When they release me, I will find you – I promise … my lord.' He turned his horse away to find his place at Christiana and Agnes's side.

‘I'll place him with a good family, close to my own, and he'll be given the finest of skills, Thomas. And when he's of age, then I'll send him to you,' said Blanche.

Less than an hour earlier he had held Agnes for the last time, feeling her tender body against his own, telling her a story about a great journey that must be undertaken, of how he had to travel to find out tales of goblins, faeries and monsters, and places where angels lived in the mountains.

‘And then you'll come home and tell me?' she asked.

‘I promise,' he told her, feeling the sadness of all that had gone before and the desperate pain of what he was about to lose. There was little left except the brotherhood of his men and that sustained him. ‘On my honour,' he whispered.

She traced his scar and kissed him.

There were no words left to say. He turned his horse towards the mountains with his men following his banner carrying the device of the gauntlet grasping the sword.

The Marquis de Montferrat claimed the fortress as his own and sent word to Pope Innocent that no routier would pass unless a tribute was paid, half of which would be given to the papal coffers. Girolami, wounded in the battle for the castle by an unknown archer, was treated by a physician and sent back to his master Galeazzo Visconti with the news that the powerful Milanese lord had lost control of the western approach into his territory – and that the man who had inflicted this defeat was the Englishman, Sir Thomas Blackstone.

It took days before news of the battle reached the Pope, and another ten before Father Niccolò Torellini heard of the event. Florence was at war with Milan and fighting men were needed if the Visconti family was ever to be beaten. Father Niccolò thanked God that it had been he who had once absolved the dying Englishman, for it seemed God had now placed him ready to serve. The messenger related how the English knight had buried his squire and cut the stone himself to mark the grave, and then chiselled a memorial into the rock.

This stone marks the resting place of Master Guillaume Bourdin, esquire to the English knight, Sir Thomas Blackstone, cruelly slain in defence of the helpless by Gilles de Marcy, the Savage Priest.

The scaffold that had held the young squire was reinforced so that in seasons to come it would still stand and bear the remains of the man strapped across it, whose shield was bound with wire and hung from his neck. As flesh rotted, the wire would bite onto bone. The etched inscription across the black shield bore witness and warning.

Here hangs the body of this cruel murderer, killed in single combat by Sir Thomas Blackstone. So will all evil perish.

Blackstone led his men away from the valley: Killbere, John Jacob, Meulon and Gaillard with their companies; Elfred and Will Longdon at the head of their mounted archers. The breeze whispered through the valley and rattled the Savage Priest's shield in gentle mockery.

Blackstone did not look back.

~

We hope you enjoyed this book.

The story continues in
Master of War: Gate of the Dead
, released in Spring 2016.

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Historical Notes

David Gilman

About the Master of War series

An invitation from the publisher

When Thomas Blackstone raided north of Bordeaux the attack was inspired by the Gascon Jean de Grailly, the Captal de Buch, who in January 1356 collected a mixed force of Gascons and Englishmen and seized a number of vital castles and then moved on with six hundred men to capture the city of Périgueux. Prince Edward had already begun his great raid into southern France.

I pushed Blackstone further north and created the fictional stronghold which became a spur for the French King to seek retribution and employ the services of Gilles de Marcy, the Savage Priest. During my research I came across Arnaud de Cervole, the son of a minor family who had been stripped of his benefice in the diocese of Périgueux. My character de Marcy was not based on the brigand Cervole – who became universally known as the Archpriest – but the connection was too good to miss, so in a way he kick-started the Savage Priest into life. Arnaud de Cervole fought at Poitiers and then led a mercenary force of two thousand men who threatened Avignon. Eight years later he was murdered by his unpaid Hungarian mercenaries.

It was difficult to accurately place Blackstone in Paris in 1356 as fourteenth-century landmarks have changed so much. I looked for historical records of where the guildsmen practised and read various accounts of the city with the aid of a medieval map of the city. Very few streets were named, but there was at least one broad boulevard that ran north past Les Halles, the marketplace and burial ground. The churches I named in the book exist or existed, and as Paris expanded it did so beyond the original Roman walls.

When Charles of Navarre, the French King's son-in-law, had Charles de Cerda, the Constable of France – and friend of the French King – murdered at L'Aigle in Normandy in 1354, it opened a new chapter in the French conflict. Events that unfolded over the next two years nearly destroyed the French nation. Navarre himself had a legitimate right to the French throne, but his continuing playing of one side against the other made him one of the most distrusted characters to emerge from that time. Edward III was prepared to deal with him and the Duke of Lancaster was given authority to negotiate. Not once but twice, Navarre changed loyalties, and even as Edward was discussing a possible alliance Navarre was already talking to agents of King John II. Yet Edward never quite ended his association with Charles of Navarre. In fact, after the Battle of Poitiers it was rumoured that Edward had helped engineer his escape from being imprisoned by the French monarch. King John II did not lack courage on the battlefield but was a poor leader surrounded by a coterie of advisers – among them Simon Bucy.

Navarre's influence and charm brought many into his circle, including Norman lords – ever hungry for self-determination. This was an attribute they displayed fairly consistently throughout their history, steeped as they were in their legendary Norsemen heritage. Godfrey de Harcourt and other Normans were prepared to swear homage to the Dauphin in an attempt to get him to side with them against his father, but the teenage Prince had been bought off by the King by settling his debts and then King John waited to pounce on those who conspired against him.

Godfrey de Harcourt was a key player in events of that time, as was his nephew – Thomas Blackstone's friend and mentor – Jean de Harcourt. Godfrey, the old lame knight who had helped engineer the invasion of Normandy with Edward III in 1346, was slain in an ambush. Jean de Harcourt was arrested, as I have written, at Rouen, and was taken out and butchered without trial, along with his fellow conspirators – the Lords de Graville and de Mainemares. A common thief and murderer volunteered to be their executioner in exchange for a pardon, which was granted. It was an act of great butchery.

With Prince Edward raiding in the south King John II was under pressure from the southern provinces to go to their aid but he had no army to do so. The Provost of Paris, Étienne Marcel, added insult to injury by agreeing to raise the taxes needed to equip a new army, but only on the understanding that his tax collectors amassed the funds – in a stroke preventing the King from using the money as he liked. Prince Edward had fought and gained ground in the south, and had also bought off local lords such as Jean le Galand, Lord of Limeuil. It was the fifth time that le Galand had changed sides in the past ten years. He had previously betrayed John's father to King Edward and had then made recompense and sworn fealty to the French again. Gaillard de Durfort was another nobleman who had sold his loyalty, spurred by local interests and disagreements that led to conflict with another regional lord. These fiefdoms were as autonomous as they wished to be and would swear allegiance only to a lord of their choosing, usually one who secured them sufficient benefits. It's possible to feel some sympathy for a beleaguered French King as he and others who betrayed him brought even more pressure to bear. It was time for the King to rid himself of the English and the traitors once and for all.