Michael Jecks - No Law in the Land

‘We believe you are holding a woman hostage here. We would speak with the castle’s owner.’

At this there was a loud step on a wooden walkway, and soon another man was staring down at them. ‘I am Sir Robert de Traci. You say you are Sir Baldwin de Furnshill?’

‘Aye. And this is the King’s Coroner, Sir Richard de Welles. We are here-’

‘I heard,’ Sir Robert said drily. ‘You think to come here to my home and accuse me of such behaviour? I am surprised.’

‘If the woman is not here, could you not let us inside so that we can verify the fact? We can then continue in our search for her. She was brought this way. She was seen along this very road, in the company of a wandering felon by the name of William atte Wattere,’ Baldwin lied. ‘Do you know of him?’

‘Wattere? You say he is a convicted felon? How would I know him?’

‘Where else would this road lead?’ Baldwin asked, pointedly staring at the track that continued after the road had petered out just behind the castle.

‘It leads nowhere. But since the woman is not here, surely your witness was mistaken,’ Sir Robert said. ‘In any case, I do not have time to investigate the matter further.’

‘Wait! Sir Robert!’ Baldwin cried, but the other knight had already left the walkway beneath the battlements.

Only his son remained, and now he laughed at the men before his gates. ‘What, would you storm our walls, masters? Eh? We have a force in here that is plentiful enough to defend them, I assure you. But feel free to try, if you must!’

‘Your name, fellow?’ Baldwin said. It was hard to keep his horse under control. The beast was spirited, and he could tell that his rider was trying to control a rising anger.

‘I am Basil of Traci, fellow ,’ Basil sneered.

‘Then know this: we shall leave here now, but if I learn you have lied to me, I will return with the king’s posse. And when I do, I shall raze this castle to the ground, with you inside it if necessary. If one hair of that maid’s head is harmed, I will visit every indignity and pain upon you personally. I will see you crawling to plead for mercy, boy! If she is here, beware!’

‘Old man, you need your meal. I’ve heard that aged fools can be driven mad if their food is late. You are raving,’ Basil said. ‘Go home and eat, and ease your poor old head.’

Baldwin’s jaw set, and he whirled his mount about before he could listen to any more taunts. In a fury, he set the horse’s head to Bow, and rode off along the road.

Simon could see his inner rage, but he could hardly restrain his own fury. Baldwin had failed him, and had failed Edith. All Simon knew now was inner turmoil and a clammy fear that his little Edith, his daughter, was in dreadful danger.

And he could do nothing about it.

Nymet Traci

The stables were well afire already when Wattere pushed through the press of men and entered the hall.

He felt a fool. Over to the straw he had gone, collecting a little pile in his hand, and then taking some charcloth and striking his flint until it had begun to glow gently, a mottled series of little red blooms on the black surface. Then he began to blow on it, encompassing the cloth with some straws, and adding a little fine tinder on the glowing dots, until the tinder caught, and then the straws as well.

He was just finished and had risen when he heard the voices at the gate. Walking out slowly, his hands in his belt, the picture of ease and innocence, he had realised that Basil and his father were both up on the wall above the gates. It was galling to think that all his efforts had been pointless, but then he heard the sudden moaning of the fire as more straw caught light, and he began to sidle away.

It was shortly after he had reached the door that he saw other men begin to look about them. Before, most of them were up on the walls, staring out at the strangers. Others were down in the yard, and as the blaze began, they were all occupied. It was one man up on the wall who first noticed. Wattere saw him sniff the air, puzzled. The odour was not the same as clean woodsmoke. No, the sharp, greasy tang on the wind was that of hay and straw, rich and grassy, and for a moment he was confused. Turning, he stared hard at the house and the little kitchen beside it, but the smoke was not emanating from either chimney. Next his eyes were drawn to the thatch on either building, but a short while later the wind gave a low soughing, and then it was that the first sparks began to soar and he caught sight of the flames erupting from the stable blocks.

That first guard gave the warning shout, and soon others had joined in, men rushing to the fire from all directions, grabbing buckets, barrels and even helmets, anything with which to carry water and try to help put out the fire. In a short space of time, only a few men were left up on the walls. Even Sir Robert himself was in the thick of it with the men on the ground, bellowing himself hoarse as his servants and fighters all exerted themselves before the fire could reach the main hall. The noise of crackling mingled with the creak of tormented wood and the shrill, horrified shrieks of the horses remaining inside. Two men took axes, wrapped wet cloth about their heads, and darted inside, hacking at all the tethers holding the beasts, and in a short while the maddened creatures had bolted from the stalls and escaped, all bar one piebald rounsey, who was so deranged that she galloped at full speed into the farther wall, instead of towards the door. They found her later, burned badly, her neck broken.

Wattere eyed the men rushing witlessly in the yard and nodded grimly to himself. He would have liked to have pushed Basil into the fire if he could, but the arrogant prickle was there at the back of the press. Instead Wattere pushed on through the door and ran over the floor to the solar where Edith was being held.

Her chamber was up a short flight of wooden stairs, and he was soon at the door. There was a latch, and a bolt to lock it. Basil and his father had not thought anything stronger would be necessary to hold a dull-witted wench, and in any case, with the gates shut and barred, what was the need? She was as caged whether she was in the room or wandering the yard. She could attempt to leap the walls, but that would likely break her legs, and not many would be prepared to run that risk.

He pulled the bolt open and shoved the door wide. ‘Maid, come quickly. I think I can save you.’

She had risen, and he saw her hopeful expression, but as he beckoned urgently, her face changed, and he saw the blank terror return. He tried to duck and move out of the way, but Osbert’s blade sank into his shoulder before he could, and Wattere clenched his teeth against the horror of that slick, sharp steel wedged deep in his shoulder and collar bone.

It was the shouting that attracted Edgar’s attention at first. As they rode away, his sharp ears caught the sound of barked commands, of shrieks, and then the whinnying of animals in dread. The flames were clearly visible when he glanced over his shoulder, and he halted his mount to stare for a moment before calling to the others. ‘Sirs! Master Puttock! Something most odd is happening.’

‘What in Christ’s name!’ Sir Richard muttered. Then a gust of wind blew, and the angry orange flames were fanned. There was a loud crunching and rending sound, and the flames rose still higher. ‘Sweet Mary’s tits! The place is on fire!’

He was already the last. The others were all riding pell-mell for the castle, Simon and Baldwin racing almost neck and neck, while Edgar galloped behind. Even Mark was reluctantly clinging to his own seat, his mount having decided that this was a good day for a race.