The de Montfort Histories - The Dove and the Devil (11 page)

Chapter Seven

Northern France

1200 AD - Spring 1201 AD

The de Montforts

It was already several months into the new century. Preparations for the
forthcoming Crusade had been gathering momentum on the domains of the de Montfort
family and, indeed, on the estates of all those who had vowed to relieve the
city of Jerusalem. Mounting a Crusade was a huge task!

Once the religious fervour of the gathering at Thibaut’s chateau had
waned a little, there remained the pedestrian matters of provisioning and
arming several thousand men. Simon could expect to take with him several of his
nobles who held their land in fief to him, several Crusader knights who might
or might not belong to a religious order, foot sergeants and sergeants of
military orders, together with hundreds, if not thousands, of Crusader
crossbowmen. Some of those in his train would belong to the religious military
orders whose members had taken vows of poverty, chastity and obedience in one
or other of the religious rules. The largest groups of these would be members
of the ferocious fighting order known as the Knights Templar. They followed a
religious rule and were answerable only to the Grand Prior of their order. As
well as knights mounted on huge war horses, armed with swords, lances and
shields, there would be foot soldiers armed with swords and shields, and men
armed only with religious zeal, convinced they were unassailable because they
were fighting a Christian cause!

The cost of provisioning an army raised on the de Montfort estates was
largely born by Simon, although other knights and barons were expected to
provide their own men and armour. Many people—both men and
women—unable or unwilling to go on the Crusade themselves made large
donations in order to buy themselves certain advantages in the church and other
freedoms from local taxes. They had learned the hard way, from other Crusades,
that travelling to the Holy Land, even for the purpose of a pilgrimage with no
fighting involved, could easily lead to disaster; on other Crusades many people
had succumbed to disease and attacks by bandits en route.

The organizers had decided that, if possible, this army would go by land
to Venice and from there take ship to accomplish their great mission. To this
end, a party of six men, including Villehardouin, Thibaut’s marshall, would set
off for Venice to organize transport by sea to retake the Holy Land from the
infidels, as the Turks were called. The thirty thousand soldiers, whom the
leaders of the Crusade confidently expected would turn up, would embark from
that Venetian port and attack to the north from Egypt.

There was much travel back and forth between Montfort and Champagne, the
location of Thibaut’s main estates. Since Thibaut was the leader of the
Crusade, Simon would travel under his banners, along with all the men from his
own estates. Geoffrey de Joinville, Simon’s friend, and Gauthier of Brienne,
who Geoffrey had beaten at the tournament, would also travel under Thibaut’s
banner. It would be a large and brave army that would finally set out.

Amaury had spent the last few months in a daze of excitement. He had
practised for hours with his short sword and a small lance. He could now wear
his armour without feeling tired, and his riding had improved immeasurably. His
father’s squire had spent many hours with the boy, who was already strides
ahead of several of the older pages in fighting skills. Not that there would be
any real opportunity for him to use what he had learned, the boy realised. He
had been given a larger palfrey to ride, and his own palfrey had been given to
Guy, largely to assuage the little boy’s tears each time he thought of the
imminent departure of his father and older brother. The little boy had been
comforted by his father, who explained that by the time they returned, he would
have become a good horseman if he practised enough, and would be old enough to
become a page himself.

The sun was hot and the sky a brassy blue peculiar to the northern part
of France, not far from the French capital of Paris. The two young brothers
were in the castle yard practising with their small swords against a stout
wooden stake. The object was to make lunges against the post to improve their
stamina and Amaury’s muscles, which, as he was wont to point out frequently to
anyone who would listen, were beginning to develop. He spent hours every day
with the other pages and squires—so much so, in fact, that his mother had
begun to complain that she never saw him anymore. She and Guy had become much
more attached since the decision had been taken for Amaury to go with his
father, and the two of them, mother and son, could often be found in the castle
mews where the falcons and hawks were kept. Even at his tender age, Guy
possessed a certain gentleness about him, to which the hunting birds responded
well, and he seemed to have no fear of the vicious-looking talons of the birds
of prey.

“Ouch!” Amaury exclaimed, holding his stomach. “You didn’t need to hit
me that hard.” He glared at his opponent, who stood laughing at him.

“You must move faster, master Amaury, if you are not to be injured in a
real battle.”

His opponent was one of the older squires who had joined the two
youngsters. He came from a family less noble than the de Montforts and he had
inveigled himself into the service of Simon, whose reputation as a fighter was
well known throughout France. He was one of many whose only way of making a
living for himself would be as a valued soldier in Simon’s retinue. He was glad
to be here in Montfort and did not mind passing the time by helping to train
Amaury.

Amaury fought back tears. His stomach really hurt and he wished he had
put on his hauberk, as his mother had suggested. “I will go inside now,” he
growled, largely to cover up his discomfort. “I will join you later,” he said
in the grand manner he had adopted since the time he had been told he could go
on the Crusade. “You can stay here,” he said to Guy, who had been watching his
brother and the squire exchanging blows,
and
scurrying into the castle he went to find his mother.

“What have you done?” Alicia’s voice was all concern. “Let me see.” She
pulled the boy towards her where she could see the bruise, which was already
beginning to turn purple.

“It’s nothing really, Maman.” Amaury’s lip trembled slightly as he spoke.

“You’re probably right, but I think you should let me put some Leopard’s
Bane on it, just to make sure.”

Alicia could have wept—not at the hurt her child had sustained,
for he would sustain more hurt than this in his life, but at his valiant effort
to pretend it hadn’t hurt him. She was grateful for this small chance to mother
him again, and went to the chest in which she kept all her herbs for treating
day-to-day illnesses and wounds.

“Here, let me dab a little of this on you. It won’t hurt.”

Amaury winced nevertheless when the cool liquid touched the now enlarged
bruise. She put her arms around him and was surprised to feel his answering
hug. He was still really only a baby, and she seriously questioned the sense of
her husband who had promised to take him on the long ride to Venice. She could
only hope and pray that he would not fall victim to one of the dreaded diseases
en route or fall by the wayside in a bandit attack. She knew in her heart that
with Simon alongside there was little danger of his becoming a victim of such
an attack, but disease was always rife and even the great Simon could not
combat that!

“Go along now. That will soon ease the ache. You don’t want your papa to
find you in here with me on such a good day for practice.” She pushed him
gently away from her and stood up to put away her precious medicines.
 

Once outside, Amaury resumed his bravado and took up his sword with
renewed gusto. He was determined to hit the older squire where it hurt, and
before his opponent knew what was happening, he found himself on the ground
with Amaury’s triumphant face staring down at him.

“Well done, my boy!” Amaury hadn’t heard his father approaching. “It
would have been fairer to give warning before you struck, but nevertheless it
was a mighty blow and one well placed.” As he spoke, Simon bent down to help
the discomfited young squire to his feet.

Amaury fairly glowed at the praise, his bruise all but forgotten. “Did
you see, Papa? He is much bigger than I am, too!” His tone was
self-congratulatory.

Simon looked down at him gravely. “Yes, I saw. It was fortunate you
caught him off guard, but if he had been expecting your blow, things might have
turned out differently. It never does to rush into things without a bit of
thought. Planning—that’s the essence of success in any battle. That, and
courage, although I don’t doubt you’ve plenty of that, my boy!”

Simon and Alicia retired to their private apartment early that evening,
for there was still much to discuss. It seemed they had been discussing for
months and now the fact was almost upon them. They only awaited the message
that would come from Thibaut as soon as the envoys returned from Venice.
Knowing his wife as well as he did, Simon had few qualms about the day-to-day
running of his estates. Their major topic of conversation that evening was
Amaury and how he would manage the journey that would be several hundred miles
long. It would be arduous for the most seasoned campaigner, but as usual Simon
was optimistic. Defeat was not in his nature, and if he thought Amaury would
successfully make the journey, then Amaury would!

“Come, my dear. Enough of this worrying,” He drew her close and patted
her gently rounded belly, for she was just entering her fourth month of
pregnancy. “It seems strange that I shall not be here for the birth of this
one,” he said. “You must send messengers post haste as soon as you are
delivered. I hope for a girl this time, one who looks just like you.” He kissed
her gently.

They were both aware of the dangers that beset a woman in childbirth,
and although the emphasis had been on the dangers the Crusaders would face,
they knew she would have her own demons to overcome. All that Simon could do to
protect her had been done. If he should die in battle, arrangements had been
made to get Amaury home safely. Alicia herself would take control of the
estates until Amaury was old enough to do so.

It was now nearly eight months since Simon had taken the cross that day
at Ecry on the Count of Champagne’s estate. He was not the most patient of men,
and his own preparations had been well in hand for several weeks. He was only
awaiting the message from Thibaut to say that the sea transport for the army
had been arranged and what the final cost would be. He reckoned that his men
were at the peak of their training, their morale was high, their equipment in
good order and nothing could be gained by waiting around. Daily he scanned the
horizon for some sign of messengers, and daily he was disappointed.

At last, almost demented with inaction, he decided that he himself would
ride to Thibaut to find out what progress had been made. He called for
volunteers, of whom there was no shortage and a group consisting of some twenty
men and one young boy, Amaury, who was glad of some diversion, set off.

The journey through the French countryside at this time of year was most
pleasant. The well-trodden tracks were firm, as there had been no rain for
weeks. All around them the harvest was being gathered and it looked set to be a
good one. As they passed through the villages on Simon’s estates, the peasants
acknowledged them cheerfully, for Simon was a fair man—hard in his
dealings but generally just, if he believed a cause to be worthy.

Amaury sat his palfrey
proudly. He tried
to emulate some of the riding styles of the knights who were along with them,
while attempting manfully, but with little success, to ignore the saddle sores
that were beginning to develop on his upper legs. Already he could feel the
blood from them trickling down his inner thighs. He had never before spent this
much time on the back of a horse, and he hoped his legs would not take long to
toughen up.

They took some time on the trip to hunt the wild boars that were so
plentiful in this part of Northern France. They were dangerous creatures,
especially the sows with their young. Amaury, to his chagrin, was kept very
much at the back of the hunt. His father cautioned him to stay still, keep
quiet and, particularly, to stay downwind of the creatures. The boy was sullen.
Some of the young squires only a few years older than he was were allowed to
participate in the hunt. He could see no real reason why he shouldn’t be
allowed, too, so very cautiously and hoping he would not be noticed, he edged
his palfrey around the side of the main hunt and spurred her a little way into
the forest. Off the beaten track, the branches whipped against his face,
momentarily blinding him. For a moment he panicked as he reined in his horse to
wipe away the blood from the scratches.

Sensing that something was watching him, he swivelled around in his
saddle to see a pair of beady little eyes staring at him. The boar was
enormous, his tusks long and pointed. Amaury sat frozen, not knowing or caring
about which direction the wind was blowing. He knew that he was in terrible danger
and that his next move might cost him his life. He could hear the sound of the
hunt in the distance—the hounds were baying with excitement and the
hunting horns echoed hollowly back through the forest. There would be no help
from that direction!