The Sword and The Swan (32 page)

"Now what, at such an hour, do you find to smile about, Soke?"

Rannulf looked up into Northampton's worried face. "If a man sees a path to victory, even an uncertain and dangerous path, is that not reason enough to smile?"

The old man rubbed his gnarled, aching hands together, and John ran in to give him a stool to sit on and kiss him in greeting. Northampton stroked his son's cheek and patted his shoulder, and Rannulf stood up suddenly, his throat constricted with grief and remorse. He had forgotten that his squire was as like to die as he was. John's father had come to bid his son farewell.

"I will go out and stretch my legs," he said huskily.

"No, Rannulf, I have come to speak to you. What I have to say to John can be briefly said, and they are words that all men may hear. Bear yourself like a man, my son."

"I will not fail you, father, nor my lord either."

"No, I do not think you will. Go, child, my talk with Soke concerns no one but himself."

Northampton passed a hand over his face, and Rannulf waited his convenience with averted eyes. He would have no more to say to Geoffrey, but he would not care to have any man see him after he had spoken.

"I think Stephen is mad," the old man muttered wearily after a moment.

Respecting the anguish which had called forth the words, Rannulf held his peace. Actually, he did not agree, even though he had little expectation of enjoying the victory he hoped his men would win. It was better to die thus than to live tearing at your own gut or, like Northampton, so crippled that you needed to watch your sons go out to fight when you could not go yourself.

As if he had read Rannulf's mind, Northampton shook his head. "No, not for trying to take Wallingford. There is sense enough in this action, but . . . Perhaps I do great wrong to speak to you of this now. Indeed, I have thought about it most of the day and my mind is still not clear. Nonetheless, we have known each other long, Rannulf, and fostered each other's sons. Do you know—did you realize that Stephen intended from the first to prod you into taking this desperate work in hand?"

"I suppose I knew . . . yes. Why he should think he needed to prod me into it, I cannot tell. Mayhap the poison Eustace instilled into his ears regarding me has seeped at last into his brain. It makes no difference. I was fittest for the task, and it must be done."

"It is not you alone. He looks askance at us all from time to time and no longer really trusts any man. Then he repents and flutters like a leaf in the wind again. That is why I said I think he is mad. He has spent this day first crying out that you offered to take the bridge only with intent to fail and then he weeps aloud for fear you will be lost to us."

"I cannot see that he is much changed from what he was." Rannulf shrugged "Except for his suspicion. So long as he does not permit his madness to interfere with his military action, it is of no account. I think he is still unsettled by Maud's death." He sighed. "We could use her steadying hand just now."

"Well, you have been warned, although I do not know to what purpose. Even if he shows himself to be mad as a hornet—what can we do? I came to speak of another matter also. Where will you place yourself tomorrow?"

Rannulf looked surprised and offended. "At the head of my men. What sort of a question is that? What would you have me do, shout for them to charge while I remain safe behind their wall of shields?"

"No, I thought you would lead them. It has ever been your way. Therefore must I come to my next question. What would you have me do with Geoffrey?"

"Geoffrey?" Now, even in the dim firelight, Northampton could see that Rannulf had gone white. "That is a cruel question, Simon, heartless even in the light of the pain you bear. Shall I make my son less than a man by bidding you hide him in safety, or shall I bid you send him where the fighting is fiercest to prove his valor and take his death?"

"Rannulf, control yourself. I know the purpose of fostering as well as you do." The old man shook his head reprovingly. "That is not what I meant, as you would understand quickly enough if you allowed your head to work instead of your bowels. This day I have kept him so busied that he had no time to seek you out nor question what your part in the assault would be. What I wish to know is whether I should send him elsewhere tomorrow—not to protect him, my forces will not be engaged unless you are successful and we can move forward over the bridge. But if he remains here, I cannot keep him from seeing what takes place."

The question had been cleverly phrased, but Rannulf understood what Northampton was really asking. Did he or did he not want Geoffrey to watch him die? He started to tell Northampton to send the boy away, then checked himself, for there were other matters to consider than his desire to protect his son from such an experience.

The likelihood that Geoffrey would actually see the strokes or the arrow that felled him would be small, and from that point of view it would be little worse than hearing of his death and suspecting that he had been sent away to spare his witnessing it. More important was the danger that Geoffrey would be so grieved that he would throw his own life away seeking revenge. That, however, Northampton should be able to prevent and might be true whether or not he saw the battle.

"Let him stay," Rannulf said at last. "It will be well for him to be here to rally the vassals—if any remain to be rallied." He paused to steady his voice and continued, "I cannot believe that Stephen, mad or not, has become such a monster that he would send a child to be slaughtered. Yet, if that be the case and my men are beaten back, it will be Geoffrey's duty to try to finish what I could not." Rannulf bit his lip. "Oh, God, until this moment I have not feared my death in this venture."

"You need not fear it for that reason. Stephen will be more like to call you back than to send Geoffrey forth. In any case, I am not mad, and I am still Geoffrey's master. If the boy can lead your vassals in such a way as will profit him, well and good. The sooner they learn to respect him the better. He will lead no lost causes at any man's bidding, even at the king's, while under vow to serve me. Content yourself. Well, I have said my say. If there is time on the morrow, send John to me that I may bless him."

The old man stood up, looking past Rannulf into the darkness. "What joy it is to be a father in these times! If your son does not turn against you, looking sidelong toward your enemy, then you must send him forth to die without knowing whether the cause be worthwhile."

Rannulf stood, too, grieved for Northampton, but so relieved by the knowledge that Geoffrey would be safe that he could not truly offer sympathy or even comprehend the implications of what had been said to him. When the torch that lighted his visitor back to his own quarters grew faint, Rannulf moved eagerly to the smaller tent to his right.

"Andre, summon my vassals, and do you come also. Tomorrow there will be more to our labor than to charge straight ahead and bear down those who oppose us. We will have need of much planning if even a tithe of us are to escape with our lives."

Andre leapt to obey with alacrity. Nothing could please him better than a bitter battle in which he might win his lord's favor. No hopeless battle either, as rumor had predicted, or the earl would scarcely look so well pleased. Lord Soke might say grave words, might look heavy-eyed still, but he now had a spring to his step and an eager note to his harsh voice. There would be much blood spilled, but there must be good hope of victory.

CHAPTER 15

No sun affronted sleepy eyes when John of Northampton presented his lord with a brimming goblet in the dawning of the day. Rannulf drank, but this morning only to warm himself, for a gray mist hung over the field, damping the clothes laid ready and chilling the body. He was rested and at peace; all that needed doing was done. Each of his vassals and each band of foot soldiers knew what part he had to play and, though each understood how high the bridge would cost in blood and life, each seemed to be imbued with Rannulf's conviction that it could and would be taken.

From Geoffrey, whom he had awakened in the night, he had received a promise that Richard would be cared for and Catherine protected until she decided what she wished to do with her life. Rannulf had been sorry to waken the fear he saw in his son's eyes, but it was well to prepare him and, if by any chance his life were spared, it would merely deepen Geoffrey's conviction of his invulnerability.

His last visit had been to a priest. It had been long since Rannulf had confessed himself, and he was surprised at the lightening of his heart when he had at last, after much prompting, poured out not only the sins he recognized as sins but the doubts and fears that tormented him. For those too, he had been absolved, and he had returned to his bed to sleep very peacefully until John's touch brought him awake.

Now he looked out on the shrouded figures of his men with mingled satisfaction and mild regret. For his military purposes, the weather was ideal—he had counted on some mist, of course, but was being blessed with an unexpected density.

There were minor drawbacks. Boats would doubtless go astray, men slip in the greasy wet, and anyone who needed to use his eyes at a distance, like the fishers on the crossbars of the bridge, would be hampered. Still, the fog—if it continued as thick as it was at the moment—would hinder the defenders far more than the attackers.

The archers of the towers in particular would be virtually blinded and their accuracy reduced almost to nothing. The trouble was, Rannulf thought, looking up into gray nothingness and smiling at his own foolishness, that he had wished to bid the sun farewell.

Very vaguely, muffled by the mist, came the sound of horns. Again they called, more loudly, from the left, and after a while even more faintly than the first calls, the signal for attack came from the right. Warwick had been as good as his word, and Rannulf smiled his grim satisfaction.

The original plan had been to wait until some of the defenders were drawn from the bridge to other parts of the walls. The trouble was that the men of Wallingford knew the value of the bridge as well as their attackers. They might not fall into the snare and—worse—the heavy fog might thin. Rannulf smiled more broadly. They would not wait; they would attack now.

John nudged Sir Andre who stood beside him. "This will be a bloody battle."

"So I learned at the council last night. Were you listening in secret? I thought you had duties elsewhere."

"I do not need to listen, I know my master. Look you how his lordship smiles. I have fought with him before and seen that smile before. He has forgotten even what he fights for. What he desires now is blood and killing. Pray God the bridge does not fall too quickly. If he is not sated, he will lead us on to assault the keep itself."

Rannulf turned toward them, and it was plain he had not heard their talk although they were close behind him. He
was deaf and blind to everything beside his own feeling of release. He could strike out now—not at Catherine, who was blameless of his pain even if her sympathies were rebel—but at enemies who had been thrust upon him so that he could not be said to have sought the battle. When Adelecia had been his wife, he could not have fighting enough, and now, again, the blood raced through his body and pounded in his ears.

"Andre, bid the heralds summon the men to the attack. I do not wish to lose this mist. Bring my horse when you return."

John was right, Andre thought as he set off on his errand. His master's eyes, normally quiet and considering although keen, held leaping points of light that cried aloud of the fever in his brain. Well, the bloodier the better. The fewer men who remained, the greater his importance to his lord would be.

"John," Rannulf continued gaily, "do not let your hot blood tempt you forward. You are to cling at all costs behind my left shoulder. This is no battle in which a wall of vassals will be behind me, for we will fight in narrow space, man upon man, with enemies behind as well as before. Be faithful, for if I believe you there, I will not guard myself. Do not fail me out of eagerness."

"If I can keep pace with you, my lord. Do not outrun me."

Rannulf laughed. "Outride you, I might. Outrun you, I will not, for nigh on twenty years and some little girth burden my legs. Back to back then, John. It will not be the first time."

"Nor the last neither, my lord."

Rannulf looked up into the swirling mist and drew a deep, happy breath. "Mayhap not, after all. Nonetheless, John, I charge you, as you love me, if I fall do not try to revenge me. Win free and go to Geoffrey. He will have great need of you."

A puzzled frown wrinkled the squire's brow. "Of course, I would do that in any case, but will he not be—aie!" John barely leapt aside in time as the newly arrived stallion lashed out. "The devil take your horses, my lord. How many times have I given him favors from my own plate, and thus he greets me."

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The mist was thicker and thicker as they rode toward the river, until man followed man by dim shadows and muffled sound alone. Somewhere to the right there were men's voices, the grating sound of wood drawn over stone, and fitful splashes as boats were launched. Northampton was at work.

Rannulf shook his head. Fog was most welcome, but this was a trifle too much of a good thing. If any of those boats reached the opposite shore anywhere within striking distance of Wallingford, it would be a miracle. Even for his own purposes, the mist was too dense. If he did not know that John rode to his left and Andre to his right, he could not have recognized them. Perhaps it would be well to wait a time after all. Just now a man could not tell friend from foe and was as likely to launch a blow at a comrade-in-arms as at an enemy.

Behind him, a light laugh from one of the younger vassals drew Rannulf's ear. "No doubt," the youthful voice said in reply to some question, "the Lord God favors our cause. This mist will destroy every arbalest they have better than fire or sword. Nonetheless, we are like to need to crawl on our hands and knees to find that accursed bridge."