Michael JECKS - The Mad Monk of Gidleigh

Brian and his men had been pushed back until now he was at the hall’s entrance with the last few of his men. There was a scuffle there, and Roger saw Sir Ralph trying to clamber up the steps to reach Brian, but then he saw that dreadful crossbow rise, saw Brian take a casual aim – from that distance, a matter of feet, he could not miss – and fire.

The bolt struck Sir Ralph in the forehead, and the Coroner saw his head jerk as though struck by a hammer. Even as Sir Ralph’s body hesitated, Coroner Roger knew he was dead. No man could survive a wound like that. Then Sir Ralph fell backwards down the steps and lay at the foot of them, a crumpled body with all life gone, and then Brian was in the hall, the door slammed firmly shut in the face of the attackers.

‘Aha! Coroner. We thought you might have forgotten us,’ Baldwin gasped.

‘You thought I’d forgotten you ? When I’d promised you a good meal last night, I knew you had to be ill or detained, when you never arrived. A trencherman like you, missing a free meal!’

Baldwin could laugh now. The relief of surviving made him feel an excess of delight that rushed through his veins and into his head, almost like sex. He gave a great sigh. ‘I am glad you have so little understanding of my appetites.’

‘Ha! You think so?’ said the Coroner, and hiccupped.

He stumbled, a hand grabbing for Baldwin, catching him by the shoulder. Baldwin smiled still more broadly, thinking merely that his friend had stubbed his boot or tripped on a cobble, but then the Coroner coughed, and a little gobbet of blood spattered on Baldwin’s tunic. Coroner Roger was gazing up at Baldwin’s face with an expression of confusion, and then a frown passed over his features. That was when the knight saw the point of the crossbow bolt protruding from Coroner Roger’s breast.

‘Christ Jesus!’ he murmured, and it was almost a sob. The Coroner was now feebly trying to stay on his feet, but his legs would not support him. Baldwin tried to smile at him, but he had a great choking lump in his throat, and the words would not come for a moment.

At the hall, Baldwin saw a movement in the great window. Brian must be standing on a table to fire through it. ‘Look out! ’Ware the crossbow in the window, there,’ he roared, before carrying Coroner Roger into the protection of the keep.

Flora and Lady Annicia remained in the relative safety of the solar block with Ben. Lady Annicia had been in the hall when Brian leaped in through the door with his remaining companions, slamming and barring the door to the hall. She had been going to ask about her husband when she saw the expression on Brian’s face. There was a feral brutality there; this man was going to die, and like a badger caught in a narrow alley, he was turning at bay ready to slaughter as many others as he could.

She slammed shut the door to the solar, shoving the first of the heavy bolts across before Brian could reach her. Then the other two bolts, one at the top, one at the bottom. The oak timbers of the door were sound enough to hold any man at bay for an age. Without an axe, he could do little more than hurl abuse through it. There was one loud thud, and she guessed that it was a crossbow bolt slamming into it, but the point failed to penetrate the inch-thick wood.

There was a slight gap between door and frame, and from this she could see Brian stacking one table upon another, then peering through the window and firing. Suddenly the shouting outside grew louder, and she wondered what was going on. Lady Annicia was worried. She hoped that her husband and son were still alive and well, but she had seen nothing of either. Similarly, she had seen nothing of the other men. Where were her own servants – the grooms, gardeners, steward and others?

At a fresh outburst of noise, she peeped through the door crack again, in time to see a howling flurry of arrows fly through the window. All was quiet for a while, and then there was a sudden shout of pain. One of the men had been pinned to the floor by an arrow, the fletchings still quivering, protruding from his calf.

‘We can’t stay here,’ she said under her breath, ‘but there’s no other way out.’

‘We can’t get out from above?’ Flora asked.

She shook her head. All the windows were barred. Ben sat on a chair, his face a mass of weeping burns, and he began to chuckle. ‘Father will save us. He won’t let us come to any harm. Father? Dad? Help!’

‘Shut up, fool,’ Lady Annicia snarled. Ben took hold of her shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, his fist struck her chin, and she tumbled down, stunned. She saw, as if through a misted glass, Ben swing his fist into Flora’s face; the girl was knocked off her stool by the force of the blow. Ben went to the door, unbolted it and pulled it open.

‘Dad! Father, I’m here!’ he called, heaving the door wide and pelting into the room. As he did so, there was a noise like a flock of geese flying through the air, and a cloud of arrows appeared. Ben was struck, in the throat, the breast and legs. Then, still upright, he began to shriek, a hideous scream like a rabbit in a fox’s mouth.

‘Kill him!’ Brian ordered, and Ben’s cry was cut off as a sword whistled in an arc. With a thump, it sliced through his neck and his head flew off. It was then that Lady Annicia fainted.

Baldwin had gently set Coroner Roger on the ground, and he lay still, his fingers clasping Baldwin’s shoulder. ‘Old friend, hold on. Please, hold on.’

He went out to the yard again. Brian and his men were being forced to keep their heads down, because a group of six archers were up on the walls, shooting down through the window. In a corner, near the door to the hall, Baldwin saw Hubert, and he ran to the Squire.

‘We shall have to storm it,’ Hubert said. ‘We can’t break in from here, the door’s too thick, but if we bring the ladders here, we can set them against the window and climb in there.’

‘It would be too dangerous,’ Baldwin reckoned. ‘They have crossbows in there, and they could cut you to pieces as you tried to hack through the bars and squirm between them.’

‘What else can we do? Fire the place and drive them out?’

Baldwin looked at the hall, remembering the horror on the face of Flora as she awoke after the fire last night. ‘Only if there’s no other way.’

Simon joined them, fingering his blade with a black expression. ‘He’s dead. The Coroner’s dead.’

There was a roar from the hall, then they heard Brian’s voice.

‘You! Coroner! Can you hear me?’

‘The Coroner’s not here,’ Squire Hubert said, but Baldwin put his hand on Hubert’s forearm.

‘I am here – the Keeper. Will you surrender to us?’

‘Set us free and we’ll go. There’s no need for more bloodshed.’

‘You have to surrender unconditionally.’

‘We won’t. We have two hostages here, Lady Annicia and a girl…’

‘Shit!’ Simon muttered. ‘That must be Flora.’

‘… but they won’t be hurt if you let us have free passage from here.’

‘No!’ Baldwin shouted. ‘You must surrender unconditionally.’

‘We won’t. If you don’t want these women to die, you’ll have to set us loose. We want all your men away from the door. Any more arrows coming into the hall will hit the women first. They are in the room without cover.’

‘It’s true, Sir Baldwin! He has us sitting in the middle of the floor.’

‘Lady Annicia, are you harmed?’ Baldwin called, muttering under his breath, ‘Damn! If we let them go, we’ll never catch them again.’

‘No. Not yet. Not from these men,’ came her response.

‘Baldwin, you have to agree to let them free if the women are released,’ Simon said.

‘We can’t! He’s murdered the Coroner and God knows who else. How can we let him go?’