Winter Song (23 page)

Just as Alys told herself that, firmly repressing a dreadful
urge to weep aloud, her hand struck the narrower shaft of a distaff. It rocked
precariously because she had hit the side, but she grasped it before it fell.
Made incautious by relief, she grabbed it in both hands and lifted. At that
point Alys’s luck gave out. Her elbow hit another distaff placed neatly close
by, and that one struck still another. Feeling what she had done, Alys grabbed
wildly for the falling distaff. Naturally she missed, merely lending impetus to
the fall. Both went over with a dull clatter, while the one she had lifted
dropped to the floor again with a thud.

Both men stopped and turned in the direction of the sound.
They could not know who was hiding in the dark but, though neither was clever,
both realized it must be a “new” person. They promptly converged toward the
noise. Alys gasped with fear. She could not manage both. Her instinct was to
run away, but there was nowhere to go except behind the loom, and there she
would be trapped and unable to swing her weapon, such as it was. Desperately
she tried to lift the distaff, only to discover the foot had caught under
something and would not rise.

On the floor below, chaos also reigned. The last eight men
had waited a few minutes until they believed the four ahead of them would have
passed up beyond the entrance to the main hall. Then they went as quickly as
they could, watching for the faint glow of the banked fire and night candles
that usually marked the entry to the hall. It did not occur to them that these
would not be visible. As long as they had ruled the keep, the door had always
hung open.

It was pure accident that they did not end on the
battlements above the building proper, because the dark and their anxiety
disoriented them. The first man did not realize he had reached the main floor
landing, but, in feeling for the next step, he staggered sideways, uttering a
low cry and windmilling his arms. Instead of helping, this unbalanced him
further, and he tilted more, so terrified that he would fall off the edge of
the stairs and down the shaft of the tower that his breath caught in his throat
and he could not scream. The man behind had also stepped onto the landing
because all had kept close after their whispered conference. He grasped for his
companion, not out of concern for him but because he had heard him cry out and
wished to stifle any more noise before it gave warning.

His support prevented the first man from falling heavily
against the door, but his outflung hand did touch it. The realization that
there was something besides empty darkness beyond him restored his rationality,
and he reached out to touch again, partly to reassure himself but also to
confirm that it was wood he had felt. Assured, he turned to mutter at the men
crowding up behind him, “They have closed the door.”

“Is it barred?” came a fearful whisper.

“What will we do?” another whimpered.

“How did Ernaldus get out if it is barred from within?” a
third cried.

He was urgently hushed, although it was not likely his voice
would pierce the four-inch-thick planks that made up the door. The question,
however, was most reasonable. The men, if they gave Ernaldus a thought,
believed him to be skulking in the dark below, expecting them to do his dirty
work for him. It never occurred to them that he was already gone.

“Perhaps he closed it so that none should hear him on the
stairs,” a hopeful voice suggested softly.

Encouraged by this logical answer to the preceding question,
the first man lifted the latch and pushed. He barely repressed a cry of joy
when the door opened, but his rejoicing was somewhat premature. The door swung
barely halfway before it came in contact with an obstruction.

Because the man who opened the door wished to minimize the
screech of the hinges, not knowing they had been well greased, he had moved it
slowly. Thus, the edge nudged Aelfric gently, rather than striking him with
force. He grunted softly and, being deeply asleep, rolled away from the
pressure and toward his wife. In dangerous circumstances such a thing would
never have happened, for Aelfric was a good soldier and a conscientious man.
However, he slept in the doorway because it was Lord Raymond’s order. By now,
Aelfric knew there was no danger from the castle servants. Moreover, being
newly married, he had taken full advantage of his wife’s presence. In fact, he
had taken more than ordinary advantage. Usually Edith slept turn-about with
Bertha in the chamber across from Alys’s, but Bertha’s husband had gone with Raymond.
Thus, Edith had been available to her husband for an extra night.

Now, when Aelfric rolled over virtually atop her, Edith was
much surprised and somewhat annoyed. She had done her duty, and enjoyed it, but
she had to be awake early. She pushed Aelfric away irritably, murmuring, “Get
off me, you ox. Enough is enough.”

The sharp shove and Edith’s voice half woke Aelfric, who
tried to roll back to his original position. Naturally, he hit the door, which
moved ponderously away from him and pushed against the man who was coming in.
This was not the first man. He had heard Aelfric’s initial grunt. Realizing a
man was sleeping near the door, he had leapt through immediately, angling away so
that he would not step on Aelfric. The second man, hard on his heels, had not
realized at first that the door had stopped half-open because there was a human
obstruction behind it. He assumed the first man had opened it no wider out of
caution and was careful not to push it farther. He, too, came through quickly,
wishing to avoid being pushed from behind. As he entered, however, he heard
Edith’s murmured remark and moved instinctively away from the sound so that he
did not step on Aelfric, either.

It was the third man the door swung against. Since neither
of the men who had gone before had bothered to warn him that there was someone
on the other side, they being solely intent on their own escape, he shoved the
door away with considerable force. This time it hit Aelfric hard, and as he was
already half-awake, he shouted and began to struggle out of his blankets and
grope for the sword that lay by his side. However, the weapon had been pushed
under the pallet by the first nudge of the door and was not immediately
available to his hand.

On his knees, still tangled in his covers, Aelfric tried to
push the door closed with one hand while searching desperately for his sword
with the other. His shout and Edith’s scream of fear wakened Alys’s other
men-at-arms, who were sleeping closer to the hearth for the warmth the banked
fire offered. However, the yells also warned the freed prisoners. Since their
only path of escape was through the hall, they were made desperate by
discovery. The remaining five men surged forward, crowding against the door and
knocking Aelfric backward. Edith screamed even louder.

The hall was dark, the light of the few night candles and
the dim glow of embers from the hearth swallowed up in the immensity of the
place. Nonetheless, there was enough light for Aelfric to see shadows passing
him. This was not a matter of one servant trying to creep up to the women’s
quarters.

“Ware! Guards! To arms!” Aelfric bellowed, his voice barely
overriding his wife’s shrieks. As he shouted, he rolled over, trying to
struggle to his feet.

The other men, already alerted by his first shout of
surprise, seized their weapons and pushed away their blankets. Since all their
experience told them an invasion would come from the outer door, several rushed
off in that direction. It was far easier to stem an attack at the narrow
passage of the entrance door, where only one or two men at a time could enter.
Here they found the first few men who had come through the stairwell door
desperately trying to lift the bar to escape. One was cut down at once. The
others ran screaming from the threat, their shrieks mingling with those of the
wounded man and Edith.

Meanwhile, Aelfric had managed to shove away his wife, who
had clutched at him in her fear and further impeded his movement, and stand up.
He then slammed the door shut and roared at Edith to find and bring him his
sword or he would murder her quicker than any enemy would. This threat and the
blow he struck her when she tried to cast herself into his arms instead of
doing as he told her finally accomplished his purpose—although it was mainly
because she fell on the weapon when Aelfric knocked her down. Armed, he began
to shout for someone to light torches.

It was a pity that in his excitement Aelfric did not call on
any particular man by name. Each of Alys’s men, busy with pursuing one of the
shadows who were running about seeking weapons or a place to hide, assumed that
one of the other men would set the torches alight. Eventually two swords
clanged together and a fight began. Fortunately, one of the men instinctively
shouted his old battle cry, “Marlowe!” The other, almost at the same moment,
had the presence of mind to cry, “d’Aix.” Both leapt back from contact,
realizing they had attacked a friend in the dark. Others took the hint, and the
hall began to ring with battle shouts as well as screams.

To add to the hopeless confusion, the menservants had also
wakened. Some of them began to scream and cry for mercy in their terror. A few
were sensible enough to creep to the walls and crouch there out of the way, but
others, frightened out of the little wits they had, began to run about. No one,
of course, had thought of pushing the pallets out of the way. Some of these
were accidentally kicked out toward the center of the room, and men began to
trip over them, shouting in alarm.

To Raymond’s pleased surprise, there was an almost immediate
reply to his men’s shouts for admittance. Although he was annoyed when the
guard demanded identification, Raymond recognized the wisdom and necessity.
After all, he had not been expected, and it was a credit to the man’s training
that he would not open the keep to an unseen stranger who called out a name
that might not be his.

After a moment’s thought, Raymond called out in English, “Sir
William is the holder of Marlowe keep, and Lady Elizabeth of Hurley is his
new-wed wife.”

That was sufficient. The likelihood of another English
speaker in the neighborhood of Bordeaux was not great, and one who would know
those facts made the chance of imposture exceedingly small.

“Welcome home, my lord,” the guard cried instantly, and
scurried down from the tower, calling to the man below to let down the
drawbridge while he unbarred the smaller gates.

This took a little time, and then the man ran forward to beg
Raymond’s pardon for delaying him. He had been alarmed by the large party, he
explained, since his lord had left with only five men.

Raymond stopped to assure him that he was more pleased by
his caution than displeased by the delay. Meanwhile, Arnald, having heard the
gate guard’s shouts, had pulled on his clothing and come running out of the hut
where the guards who were not on duty warmed themselves or slept. He asked if
Raymond would come in and sit by the fire while he sent a man to rouse the
keep.

“Rouse them? What need to rouse them?” Raymond asked. “All I
wish is to go to bed.”

“The inner door of the forebuilding will be barred, my lord,”
Arnald explained.

“Against what?” Raymond asked. “Have you had some alarm?”

“No, my lord, but while you were absent from the keep I
thought it better to be overcautious rather than careless.” Arnald looked
worried. “Lady Alys is too used to being among longtime devoted servants to
think of such a thing, and I did not want to make her fearful, so I gave the
order myself.”

Raymond swallowed his irritation at the further delay and
smiled. “It was well done not to frighten your mistress. Never mind. Give me a
torch, and I will go pound on the door myself. When the new men have seen to
their horses, you can bed them down in the old quarters of the men-at-arms. For
this night, they will have to make do with their blankets and straw. We can get
pallets stuffed and move them to the hall tomorrow.”

As he walked to the forebuilding, however, the small
irritation he had felt disappeared. Arnald’s remark about not frightening Alys
rang pleasantly in his mind. For all that she did, she was only a woman, and
the master-at-arms, although he obeyed her, recognized that fact. Somehow the
tacit acknowledgment of Alys’s weakness made Raymond even more eager to be with
her. He hurried up the outer stair and through the passage, drawing his knife
from its sheath so that he could knock on the door with its hilt. As he raised
it, he heard faint cries, but the faintness did not deceive him. On the other
side of the door, men were shouting and screaming. No normal level of voices
could penetrate those planks. Frantically, Raymond pounded on the door, shouted
his name, and called on the men to let him in.

Chapter Eleven

The men who had run to the outer door to prevent attack had
taken little part in the fighting beyond slashing at a frightened servant or a
released prisoner who hoped to find the place unguarded and escape. There were
just enough of these to keep the men-at-arms at their post, but they knew, even
if the fact was not yet clear to some of the others, that whoever was attacking
them did not come from outside the keep. Therefore, when a pounding started at
the door and a voice identified itself as their master, as well as calling the
names of their companions, they did not hesitate to unbar the door at once.

Raymond took one look at the chaos of yelling, dodging,
running forms and knew that any orders shouted into the dark would be useless.
He thrust his torch into the hand of one of the men and told him to go round
the hall lighting the torches in the brackets. By coincidence, Aelfric had just
managed to seize one of his fellow men-at-arms, who was pursuing a screaming,
weeping servant who had not wits enough to identify himself.