The Lily and the Lion (48 page)

His head was pounding, his throat raw, and his gut clenched tightly with every blow but his movements were controlled and precise – thrust, parry, strike. All his years of training were at his fingertips. He'd cut his battle teeth at Crécy and been knighted at Poitiers. Be damned if he'd lose his life now in a backstreet alley! The obstruction in front of him crumpled in whistling death throes and he allowed himself the briefest grin of satisfaction.

The pain in Simon's leg was excruciating. His attackers, aware that he was favouring his left, concentrated their efforts on his wounded side. Swinging about, one soldier stumbled on the uneven ground. Simon moved quickly and thrust his blade through the man's chest before pushing the body back towards the second. Beside him Roderick felled another man. Risking his advantage, Simon turned his gaze from the mêlée to seek Catherine.

Deflecting Anaïs' hands, Catherine rolled atop the screeching woman, pinning her to the ground.

‘Get off me or I swear I will kill you!' Her maid kicked out and gave a mighty shove.

‘
In the name of the King, I command you. Hold
.'

Sitting astride a roan stallion, Salisbury appeared like a spectre in the mist. Terrified, Catherine froze, momentarily relaxing her grip. Seizing her chance, Anaïs scrambled to her feet and dashed across the alleyway. ‘Gillet!'

Gillet grunted as the woman slammed into him. ‘God's sake! Anaïs? Get out of here!' He shook her off and twisted to block another blow, only to find his movements restricted as she clung to him. ‘Get away, woman! Will you have us both killed?' He shoved her roughly, brought up his shield and withstood a resounding crash. Instinctively, his arm rose to deliver his return but it carried no further than his shoulder, hampered by her weight.

‘Gillet! I am here, my love.'

He thrust her backwards and for a split second his guard was open. Anaïs tumbled into the dirt, her eyes widening as a sword flashed. Gillet both heard and felt the tearing of cloth, skin and muscle. He knew numbness and then a searing heat as blood soaked his shirt. His legs buckled. Anaïs screamed as he fell.

‘I said
hold
.'

Surrounded by reinforcements, Simon, Roderick and Gillet's counterparts lowered their weapons.

‘Well, well, well. I wasn't expecting to trip over your sorry carcass, Wexford.' Salisbury slid from his mount. He stepped over the inert body of Gillet, tightly held in the arms of a wailing Anaïs. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I was having a friendly chat with this fellow about a horse.' Simon nodded to the body at his feet. ‘Seems he didn't like my offer.'

‘Where is she?' Unsheathing his knife, Salisbury thrust the tip to Simon's chest.

‘I do not know who …'

‘The bitch is hiding right there!' screeched Anaïs, pointing at the barrels.

‘Run, Catherine!' Simon threw up his arm and knocked the blade away from Salisbury, his hand curling around the Earl's throat.

‘Simon!' Catherine stared in horror at the pikestaff blocking her path.

Breaking free of Wexford, Salisbury reached for his sword, but was knocked over by a blow to his face. Both men fell to the ground, but it was Simon who gathered the hilt into his palm and lunged at his attacker. Salisbury cried out and grasped his sleeve. ‘Seize him!
Seize him
.'

Simon was surrounded. To fight on would surely cost him his life.

‘You will pay for that, you bastard,' threatened the Earl, attempting to staunch the blood that oozed freely from his wrist. He struggled to his feet, spittle flying as he pointed to where Mouse, Gabriel and Guiraud were held. ‘Throw those three in a cell.' He spat at Gillet's feet. ‘Bring Albret and the rest inside.'

To the owner of the
Oar and Anchor
, brawls were a regular part of his business. He knew the best way was to ignore them so long as they were not smashing his inn apart. But when a burly commander with soldiers at his back, dragging a barely conscious, bloodied man, burst through his door and demanded a room, he knew to give it his full attention. He directed them to the chambers at the rear and sent a prayer skywards that they would not remain long.

‘And bring me a flagon of your best wine,' bawled Salisbury. ‘You, set a guard around this inn, and you, lock these two in here.'

Anaïs broke free of Roderick and snared Salisbury's arm. ‘You promised me,' she hissed. ‘You promised me Gillet.'

Salisbury sneered and brushed her off as though she were a bothersome insect. ‘So I did. But it is out of my hands now. You should have brought them directly to me as agreed.' At his nod, the guards shoved Roderick into the first room.

‘No, don't! I can help you, I swear,' begged Anaïs as she struggled against the soldier's hold.

Salisbury grinned. ‘Throw her in with the traitors.'

Simon bent over Gillet who had been laid upon the bed in the adjacent room. With Catherine's help he peeled back the doublet and sniffed the wound. ‘No vital organs have been pierced. Uncover that bolster and wrap it into a firm wad. What's wrong, Catherine?'

‘Nothing, it's just that …' Her glance fell to the bed. ‘Outside Salisbury called him Albret.'

‘I'm not dying,' gasped Gillet as his eyes flickered open. ‘And I can hear you. Tell her, Simon. Céci knows.'

‘Tell me what?'

‘Ah,' said Simon. ‘Catherine, meet Ghillebert d'Albret. The man you know as Gillet de Bellegarde is, in fact, the paternal cousin of Armand d'Albret.' He turned his attention back to Gillet's injuries. ‘You've taken quite a beating tonight, lad. This sword wound will need stitching, and the cut above your eye, but you have been lucky. Any deeper and it would be a very different matter.'

‘Later.' He clutched at Simon's arm. ‘You have to get Catherine out of here. It is imperative!'

Catherine passed the wadding and snatched Gillet's hand as he struggled to sit up. ‘Where is Cécile? Where is my sister?'

‘On the dock …' Gillet grimaced in pain as he clapped the makeshift dressing in place. ‘With Armand. They are due to sail on the next tide.'

‘Then we had better hurry,' said Simon, frowning.

The door flew open and a grey-faced Salisbury stumbled towards them. ‘I have sent word to Prince Edward of my most judicious find. He will be here soon.' Catherine backed away and stepped behind Simon's solid frame. ‘You weren't expecting to see me, were you, conniving little witch? I have been looking forward to this moment for some time, delayed as it was by
your
interference, Wexford.'

‘I make myself readily available to damsels in distress, particularly when they are hounded by sick weasels such as you.'

‘Shut your stinking mouth,' shrieked Salisbury. Beads of perspiration were glistening on his brow. Grappling for the chair, he swooned as blood flowed freely from his wrist. ‘You won't be so cocky when the Black Prince gets here.' He stabbed his finger in Gillet's direction. ‘What pleasure he will experience as your body hangs from the gibbet whilst he weds and beds your slut!' His eyes rolled and he leaned against the table.

‘You are delirious,' growled Gillet, slowly standing.

Salisbury plucked the knife from his scabbard and slashed the air in front of him. ‘Stay back, all of you!'

‘Exactly how many of us do you see?' asked Simon, stepping closer.

Sweating profusely, Salisbury shuddered. The loss of blood was taking its toll. Darkness gathered at the corners of his mind as the curtain slowly engulfed him and he slid to the floor.

‘Monsieur, your wine?' The maid halted at the door, her eyes growing as round as two moons at the sight of Salisbury bleeding onto the rushes, and Gillet's scarlet-sodden shirt.

‘Mademoiselle, please, all is well.' Simon encouraged the young woman to enter, removing the tray from her grip and placing it on the table. ‘The lad here was attacked by English soldiers. We would not like them to discover their leader is now indisposed.' He tapped the side of his nose. Reaching into his doublet, he removed a hefty coin bag. Her gaze shifted from the prostrate Salisbury to Simon's outstretched hand, her mind assessing the advantages of monetary gain.

‘This inn is situated close to the water is it not?'

‘Oui, Monsieur.'

‘The wine barrels, are they floated or carried via a tunnel?'

The girl stared at the generous offering and swallowed hard. Her voice lowered. ‘A tunnel, in the cellar, Monsieur, but it is only accessible from the inside. You can leave this way but not return.' She uncurled her fingers awaiting her reward.

‘Excellent. Give me a moment.' Simon moved to where Gillet was leaning against the bedpost holding his wound. ‘You would do better if I strap it, lad. Lie down.'

‘I'm twenty-five years, Simon.'

The older man pressed his hand to his companion's brow, checking the heat. ‘Are you testing my wits or yours?'

‘Neither.' Gillet grimaced as Simon helped him onto the bed. ‘I just stopped being a lad some time ago.'

Simon chuckled as he repositioned the bloody wadding. ‘I will make it as tight as I can. You've lost a lot of blood. Think you can run?'

Gillet nodded. ‘From here? Try and stop me.'

Inside the hull of the small cog the atmosphere was stifled with the tension of endless waiting. Armand heaved his body from the bale. ‘It is time, Céci. We must put out to sea.'

‘No! Just a little longer, Armand,
please.
'

‘You think I enjoy the idea of abandoning my cousin now? I promised him that I would see you to safety. I gave him my oath.'

A noisy clumping sounded from above. Running steps slapped against the deck as a booming voice assaulted their ears.

‘I am Lord Wexford. I need to see Armand d'Albret immediately. Hurry, man! Hurry!'

‘It's Simon,' gasped Cécile.

Armand sprang to the short wooden ladder and, thrusting the bolt along its groove, flung back the hatch. He nimbly stepped up onto the deck. ‘I am Armand d'Albret.'