Michael Jecks - King's Gold

Sir Richard stared down at him in bafflement. ‘Fellow’s fainted,’ he muttered, and pushed him aside with his boot. Then he lifted his fist and beat on the timbers. ‘Hoi! It’s me, Sir Richard de Welles. You all right in there? Eh? Speak up, man? Are you all right, I say?’

There was a muttered response, and Sir Richard glanced around. ‘Open up. There’s no danger for a while.’

He heard a thud or two as the heavy bolts were pulled aside, and then the door opened and he slipped inside. ‘Lock it again,’ he ordered. ‘How’s Sir Edward?’

The three men at the door gazed at him uncomprehendingly and he grunted to himself before striding off to see for himself.

Sir Edward of Caernarfon had heard the noise of battle from the first, and now he stood in his chamber with a feeling of panic. Sir Ralph was with him, and Gilbert, and the two stood resolutely at his side.

There was a loud rapping at the door, and he felt his heart leap into his throat, but then he heard the welcome bellow of Sir Richard. ‘Sir Edward, you all right in there?’

‘Yes,’ he cried. ‘Sir Richard, what is happening?’

‘A force come to break into the castle,’ Sir Richard shouted. ‘Don’t know why.’

Sir Edward felt a chill at those words. Sir Richard no fool, was reminding him that there was no guarantee that this attack was destined to save him. It could be for another reason entirely — to kill him. It was certainly not past Sir Roger Mortimer to arrange for his death by sending men to sack the castle. He would not care about the loss of life that ensued.

‘What should I do?’

‘Stay where you are,’ Sir Richard said. ‘With luck we’ll hold ’em off.’

When Sir Richard had finished speaking, he went to a window that gave a view of the courtyard, and the scene that met his eyes was a shock. The main gates were wide, and there was a rabble of men outside, some on horseback, milling about. He heard a crashing thunder, and knew that already some men were attacking the door to the keep. With all the masons’ tools, he knew it would not take too long before the door gave way.

He scowled at the thought, then strode to a door which led to the spiral staircase in the wall. Climbing quickly for a man of his build, he went to the topmost wall and stared about, trying to assess possible methods of concealment or escape, but could see nothing.

Baldwin, he saw, was still on the battlements. His companions had almost all fallen, and only two survived with him of all the garrison and labourers who had joined him. As he watched, three lunged forward, and Baldwin stepped back, feinted, and stabbed. One of the attackers gave a shrill scream, dropped his sword and clutched his throat.

‘Good man,’ Sir Richard said approvingly, but his eyes were already studying the rest of the battle, and it was quickly apparent that there was little hope of escape. The courtyard was held by the enemy, and there was no sign of Edgar or the others fighting to defend the castle.

Then he saw Edgar, a dark, rushing figure carrying a ladder; he set it against the battlements and then swarmed up it, to run at the men holding Baldwin at bay. He gave a cry Sir Richard could hear distinctly from the top of the tower, and soon Baldwin was relieved. The last attackers were driven off. Sir Richard saw Baldwin pointing and staring down into the yard, and when their eyes met, he waved. Baldwin waved back.

In the castle there was the sound of breaking timbers as doors were smashed open, and a few wisps of smoke showed where some men had broken tables and stools just for the pleasure of destruction. A bellow of delight told that one man had discovered the undercroft where the wines were stored. Sir Richard returned to the door to Sir Edward’s chamber and stood outside.

He had enjoyed his life. It had been moderately long, and he was happy enough. If he could serve Sir Edward now by dying in his service, it would be no bad thing. He was ready enough to die. Since the death of his wife many years ago, raped and killed by a servant he had trusted, he had felt as if he had lived on too long. And to die in the service of a fellow’s liege lord was always good. Better than living as a coward.

So he gripped his sword more firmly and waited.

The men were already turning to looting as Stephen Dunheved knocked on the doors to the keep.

‘There is no need for more blood to be shed,’ he shouted. ‘We want our King, that is all. Let him out, and you can all live.’

The negotiations took a little while, but it was not long before a sulky face appeared in the doorway and Stephen and Thomas walked inside. Their men were behind, and they took the weapons from the guards before herding them outside, while the brothers took one to lead them to Sir Edward’s chamber.

‘I will prevent you,’ Sir Richard said as they ascended the stairs.

He was a great bear of a man, and he balanced on the balls of his feet, readying himself to launch at them.

Stephen held up his hands in a placatory manner. ‘Sir Richard, do you remember me?’

‘Eh?’

‘I used to serve your King, just as you did. Sir Richard, would it not be arrant nonsense for us to battle — you to hold him, I to free him? Ask him what he wishes. Do not listen to those who demand you keep him here. If it is against our King’s wishes, who are we to argue?’

‘Our King wishes to keep Sir Edward here,’ Sir Richard said.

‘Ask Sir Edward, then,’ Stephen Dunheved said. ‘Look through the window at how many men I have with me, Sir Richard. If you wish, I can have an archer come here and fill you with arrows. It would change nothing. Your death would alter nothing. Sir Edward will still be released.’

‘If I die defending him. .’

‘But you aren’t. You are fighting to protect Sir Roger Mortimer’s plan to hold him here. Do you want that?’

Sir Richard gripped his sword tighter. ‘No. But it is my duty,’ he said.

Stephen was about to order a general charge at Sir Richard when Sir Ranulf pushed past him.

Sir Richard’s face was pale with shock to see him. ‘You? Coroner, you are with them too?’

‘Of course,’ Sir Ranulf said. And Rodney, too. We want the real King on his throne. Think of the rewards for the bold ones who reinstal him!’

Sir Richard shook his head. ‘This is treachery!’ He lifted his sword and was about to leap on them, when the sound of the door unlocking behind him made him pause.

Sir Ralph walked out and put his hand on Sir Richard’s shoulder. ‘Sir Richard, I think there have been enough dead, my friend. It is time to end it.’

Aye, perhaps,’ Sir Richard said, but his eyes were on Sir Edward.

Sir Edward of Caernarfon slowly walked from the room like one in a dream. He stared at Sir Richard with an expression of blank uncertainty, as though he had no idea whether he was being rescued or captured.

Berkeley Castle

It was obvious that the castle was lost. Where there were one or two men left standing, they were collected by the attackers in dribs and drabs, and led to a wall where they were watched.

Senchet eyed the men with interest. Beside him, Harry was binding a cut over his knuckles where a sword had caught him, swearing quietly to himself.

‘There!’ Senchet hissed, and pointed. There, with the men being held, was the Keeper of the gate. Senchet remembered him from the day of their capture. ‘He had the keys.’

‘What?’

‘The room over there, where our chest has been stored. That man locked the door.’

‘What of it?’

Senchet licked his lips. The gatekeeper’s room was a little chamber in the gatehouse, and from here Senchet could see the open door. There was no one inside.