Marriage Under Siege (23 page)

'Do I believe what I see?
This should not be happening!' Honoria stood once more on her battlements at
Brampton Percy.

Her attention was fixed on
the horizon to the east, where the main route from Hereford crossed the road
from Ludlow into Radnorshire. A thick cloud of dust rose, almost obliterating
the distant hills, and the watchers caught occasional flashes of light as sun
glanced off metal. Within an hour they knew that the mirage would crystallise
into the minute forms of men on horseback. An invading force.

'But we should be safe,'
Honoria continued in disbelief. 'Waller's army should have kept them occupied
with the fate of Gloucester. Lady
Scudamore's
news
was wrong!'

'A sizeable force, my lady.'
Foxton narrowed his eyes to see the full extent.

'They must have come past
Wigmore. What happened at Wigmore?' Honoria turned to Mary, eyes wide and dark
with fear. She had been back at Brampton Percy for three days, during which
time the destruction of Wigmore should have moved on apace. The leaden weight
that suddenly seemed to have settled in her chest hampered her breathing. 'The
castle will be so weak by now. What has happened to my lord? And Captain
Priam?' For the first time since their acquaintance, Mary saw a flash of pure
panic in the compressed lips and stark cheekbones.

'I doubt they took the time
to subdue it.' Mary tried to comfort her. 'I expect you are the main target
here.'

'But perhaps they took the
castle. Perhaps they hold Francis prisoner.' Honoria pressed her fingers
against her lips, her voice sinking to a whisper, as the horror painted by her
imagination simmered to a fierce heat.

Mary shook her head,
finding further comfort beyond her powers. She took Honoria's cold hand in hers
and held on when she felt it tremble.

They turned back to the
panorama of approaching force. There was no doubt that a major siege was
intended.

'It will be some hours
before it is in place, Master Foxton.' Honoria fought hard to regain control,
refused to allow useless tears, pinning a calm demeanour back in place. She had
her duties to consider as chatelaine of the castle and now regretted her public
display of emotion. 'Let us use the time profitably.'

And they did. Villagers who
wished to take refuge were ushered into the castle and found accommodation for
themselves, their children and what possessions they could carry. Mistress
Morgan set her maids to scurrying.

The small herd of sheep and
cattle were rounded up and fenced into an enclosure in the park. Some were
brought into the castle confines, uncooperative and loudly complaining, to
provide milk and a fresh supply of meat. Supplies would be stretched, but they
would make the best of it.

Doctor Wright began to
prepare his meagre medical supplies in case of attack. Linen was shredded for
bandages.

The Reverend Stanley Gower
refused the invitation of sanctuary. He would remain in his church. No Royalist
army would attack the house of God. Honoria nodded in acceptance and gave him
no time to change his mind. No one saw his absence as a loss.

Everyone prayed that, with
Divine and Parliamentarian intervention, the siege would be short lived.

By noon, Honoria was back
on watch, aware now that Sergeant Drew had posted their totally inadequate
garrison at strategic points around the battlements. She found herself still
struggling against disbelief, but the need for action had helped to quell the
panic and give her frantic mind another direction. The whole area to the south
and east of the castle was now covered with troops of horse, whilst foot
soldiers were steadily arriving, still stretching into the distance. The air
rang with hoofbeats, shouted orders and the general melee of an army on the
move.

'How many have they sent
against us?'

'Two or three troops of
horse. A few hundred foot soldiers.' Sergeant Drew eyed the force, quickly
estimating. 'Certainly more than five hundred. They are determined to take the
castle, my lady.'

Where are you, Francis? What can I do against such a force?

'I wish my lord Mansell
were here.'

'Never fear, my lady. We
will keep them back. The Bramptons will not lose Brampton Percy, even if the
King himself demands it. I see no heavy ordnance brought against us.'

Honoria smiled her thanks
at his stalwart attempts to bolster her spirits.

'What will you do?' Mary
had joined her again after a nerve- shattering hour locating possessions and
lost children.

'Absolutely nothing. I
shall simply refuse them entry. If they want the castle, they will have to
starve us out.' Honoria suddenly realised that it was an easy decision to make.
Her heart beat calmed a little. If...when Francis returned, he would not find
it in Royalist hands.

By one o'clock the troops
were in position, the cavalry dismounted, the foot soldiers at ease, everyone waiting
the next play in the game. If not so worrying, it would have been a fine sight
indeed. Honoria had never before seen an army in its full pride and glittering
swagger. Banners streamed, horses stamped and tossed their heads, and sun
glinted on polished metal. She fervently hoped that she would never see
another.

Before the drawbridge, a
small group gathered, still mounted. An official deputation.

'It is not Sir William
Croft.'

'No. Nor is it my lord
Herbert or the Marquis of Hertford. I see the Scudamore escutcheon, and there
is Henry Lingen. But who is the commander?'

Mary shook her head. 'You
know the Herefordshire lords better than I.'

As once before, a trumpeter
accompanied by an official herald, both in full heraldic splendour of fur and
livery, rode forward from the accompanying group. The trumpet blast sounded
loud and shrill and the herald unrolled his scroll. Honoria recognised the form
of words that carried in sonorous tones through the air to reach them on the
battlements. There were no surprises.

Lady Mansell was requested,
with all due respect for her sex and dignity, in the absence of her lord, to
surrender the castle of Brampton Percy in the name of His Majesty, King Charles
I, and the Governor of Hereford.

Thank God. No mention here of Francis's capture—or
worse. So Wigmore must still stand.

'Sergeant Drew.' Honoria
turned to the young man at her side. 'You have a carrying voice. Will you make
answer for me?'

'Yes, my lady.' Startled,
but proud of his new status, he swallowed visibly. 'What do I say?'

'That Lady Mansell rejects
the invitation to hand over her property.'

'Is that it, my lady?'

'Yes.'

Drew swallowed again
nervously, coughed to clear his throat and leaned from the battlements. The
reply rang out loud and clear.

There was consultation in
the group below. The herald rode forward again and announced the result.

'Lord Vavasour, Commander
in the King's name, requests an audience with Lady Mansell.'

'Reply that I am willing to
consult with his lordship, but I will not open the gate to him or any man.'

Rapid consultation again,
followed by the reply.

'Lord Vavasour considers
that it is not fitting that the parley take place in this fashion.'

'Tell him that I agree. But
I will not open the gates.'

Sergeant Drew did so with
obvious relish in the ringing challenge.

There was more than a
little consternation below.

'What do you suppose they
will do, my lady?'

'I do not think... But
look.' Master Foxton pointed to the foot of the wall below them.

'A rope ladder?' Honoria
found herself laughing, with a touch of hysteria, at the unlikely turn of
events.

'Is Lord Vavasour truly
intending to scale the walls?' Mary leaned precariously out to see more. 'I
doubt he has the figure or the age to attempt it.'

'So who is the sacrificial
lamb to be? Can you see?'

Mary shook her head. The
ladder was produced from one of the baggage wagons and shaken out on to the
ground.

'Do we go along with this,
my lady?' Foxton's eyes also held a gleam of humour.

'I believe that we do. If
you would be so good as to lower ropes, Sergeant Drew, they can attach the
ladder and we can draw it up.'

Within a short time, the
ladder was firmly fixed to the battlements, its length snaking down the wall to
the ditch below, during which time the sacrificial lamb had been selected.

John, Viscount Scudamore,
dismounted, stripped off coat and plumed hat, handed over his sword and
approached the wall. It was impossible to see his features clearly from above,
but his body language spoke volumes.

'Poor man,' Honoria
murmured. 'And all his efforts will be for nothing.'

Young and agile, it was not
an impossible task for him to scale the wall, but he still landed, breathless
and dishevelled, at Honoria's feet. He puffed out his breath at the effort.
Nevertheless he dusted himself down, tweaked the lace at his cuffs and swept
off an imaginary hat in a flamboyant bow. His face was lit by a smile of great
charm and mischief.

'Lady Mansell. Mistress
Hopton, if I am not mistaken. I believe that I am at a distinct disadvantage
here.'

'Sir John. Welcome.'
Honoria responded with a formal curtsy. 'How ridiculous we are. I did not
expect to see you today. Or by this means. You are well, I trust?'

Viscount Scudamore, a
friend of long standing with family links to the Bramptons, ran his hands
through his disordered hair and laughed aloud. 'I have been better. My dignity
has suffered most. And it is all your fault, my lady, for putting me in this
unfortunate position.' He grimaced and flexed his shoulders. 'As the youngest
and the fittest I drew the short straw. Could I beg a mug of ale from you to
make this escapade
worth while
? And then—' his face
became sober '—we must discuss the unpleasant side of this...visit.'

'This parley is to no
purpose, is it?' Tankard in hand, a platter of bread and cheese at his elbow,
Lord John surveyed his reluctant hostess with a serious stare.

'No.'

'I thought not. But
Vavasour is a stickler for protocol and insisted that you should know what you
face before you gave your answer to the formal summons.'

'Sir William Croft and the
Marquis of Hertford have already done your job well.' Honoria leaned across to
replenish his cup. 'If I surrender the castle, I and my dependants are
promised free passage, without harm or punishment. If I do not, then I am a
traitor and will suffer accordingly. Is that not the case?'

'In a nutshell. And your
answer is?'

'No.'

'Can I tell his lordship
anything else?'

'Tell him that I will not
give up the castle. That I will defend it in my husband's name even without my
lord's presence. That I am no traitor to King or country. Will that suffice?'

'You are a brave woman,
Honoria.' Scudamore leaned back and raised his tankard in a toast.

'No. I am afraid.' But
Honoria's gaze was direct and decisive, her voice assured. 'But I think I have
no choice. I cannot betray my lord.'

'No.' Sir John finished the
ale, then leaned on the table and eyed her thoughtfully. 'Do you realise that
it may be to your advantage?'

'What?'

'That you, a member of the
fair and weaker sex, are conducting this siege alone. That Mansell is absent.
They will not wish to press too hard against you. It is a matter of chivalry,
which even in wartime cannot be easily abandoned.'

'Perhaps.' She became aware
of how tightly she had braced her muscles, as a little of the tension eased
from her shoulders. 'If that is so, then I must play that card for all it's
worth.'

'But I have to say—I do not
know how long the tolerance will last.' The warning was clear in
Scudamore's
sympathetic voice. 'And then it could indeed be
a duel to the death.'

Honoria drew in a deep
breath. 'So be it. I value your advice, my lord, but I believe the parley is
now at an end.'

'I will deliver your
message. Many thanks for the food and ale. Without being guilty of treason, can
I say that I am more than sorry for this situation. I would not have this rift
between our families.'

'Nor I.' Honoria
accompanied him back to the battlements. He looked down to where his superiors
waited restlessly, horses fretting at the enforced inactivity. 'They will not
like it.'

'I do not suppose that they
will. But neither do I like having an invading army camped in my park and
gardens!'

Scudamore showed his teeth
in a smile, again swept a magnificent bow and kissed Honoria's hand.

'You have my utmost
admiration. I will report your words most diligently to Lord Vavasour.' Then he
grasped the rope in both hands, leapt to the wall and began to lower himself to
the first rungs of the ladder.