Bernard Cornwell - The Grail Quest 1 - Harlequin

Five gunners armed themselves with linstocks, long wands that each held a length of glowing linen. They stood well to the side of the guns and, at a signal from the Italian, they touched the fire to the exposed fuses. There was a brief fizzing, a puff of smoke from the touchholes, then the five mouths vanished in a cloud of grey-white smoke in which five monstrous flames stabbed and writhed as the guns themselves, firm-gripped by their cradles, slammed back along their plank bedding to thud against the mounds of earth piled behind each breech. The noise of the weapons hammered louder than the loudest thunder. It was a noise that physically pounded the eardrums and echoed back from the pale castle walls, and when the sound at last faded the smoke still hung in a shabby screen in front of the guns that now lay askew on their carriages with gently smoking muzzles.

The noise had startled a thousand nesting birds up from the old city's roofs and the castle's higher turrets, yet the gate appeared undamaged. The stone balls had shattered themselves against the walls, while the garro had done nothing except gouge a furrow in the approach road. The French, who had ducked behind the battlements when the noise and smoke erupted, now stood and called insults as the gunners stoically began to realign their weapons.

The King, thirty-four years old and not as confident as his bearing suggested, frowned as the smoke cleared. Did we use enough powder?" he demanded of the master gunner. The question had to be translated into Italian by a priest.

Use more powder, sire,“ the Italian said, and the guns will shat-ter.” He spoke regretfully. Men always expected his machines to work miracles and he was tired of explaining that even black powder needed time and patience to do its work.

You know best,“ the King said dubiously, I'm sure you know best.” He was hiding his disappointment for he had half hoped that the whole castle would shatter like glass when the missiles struck. His entourage, most of them older men, were looking contemptuous for they had little faith in guns and even less in Italian gunners. Who,“ the King asked a companion, is that woman with my son?”

The Countess of Armorica, sire. She fled from Brittany.“ The King shuddered, not because of Jeanette, but because the rotten smell of the powder smoke was pungent. He grows up fast,” he said, with just a touch of jealousy in his voice. He was bedding some peasant girl, who was pleasant enough and knew her business, but she was not as beautiful as the black-haired Countess who accompanied his son.

Jeanette, unaware that the King watched her, gazed at the castle in search of any sign that it had been struck by gunfire. So what happened?" she asked the Prince.

It takes time,“ the Prince said, hiding his surprise that the castle gate had not magically vanished in an eruption of splinters. But they do say,” he went on, that in the future we shall fight with nothing but guns. Mysepuddled loam to the nearest gun. The grass in front of the guns

was burning in a score of places and the air was filled with a stench like rotted eggs that was even more repugnant than the smell of the corpses in the river.

If it amuses you, my dear, then I am glad we have the machines, the Prince said, then frowned because a group of his white-and-green-clad archers were jeering the gunners. Whatever happened to the man who brought you from Normandy?“ he asked. I should have thanked him for his services to you.”

Jeanette feared she was blushing, but made her voice careless. I have not seen him since we came here."

The Prince twisted in his saddle. Bohun!“ he called to the Earl of Northampton. Didn't my lady's personal archer join your fellows?” He did, sire."

So where is he?"

The Earl shrugged. Vanished. We think he must have died cross-ing the river.“ Poor fellow,” the Prince said, poor fellow.“ And Jeanette, to her surprise, felt a pang of sorrow. Then thought it was probably for the best. She was the widow of a count and now the lover of a prince, and Thomas, if he was on the river's bed, could never tell the truth. Poor man,” she said lightly, and he behaved so gallantly to me.“ She was looking away from the Prince in case he saw her flushed face and she found herself staring, to her utter astonishment, at Sir Simon Jekyll, who, with another group of knights, had come for the entertainment of the guns. Sir Simon was laughing, evidently amused that so much noise and smoke had produced so little effect. Jeanette, disbelieving her eyes, just stared at him. She had gone pale. The sight of Sir Simon had brought back the memories of her worst days in La Roche-Derrien, the days of fear, poverty, humiliation and the uncertainty of know-ing to whom she could turn for help. I fear we never rewarded the fellow,” the Prince said, still speak-ing of Thomas, then he saw that Jeanette was taking no notice. My dear?“ the Prince prompted, but she still looked away from him. My lady?” The Prince spoke louder, touching her arm. Sir Simon had noticed there was a woman with the Prince, but he had not realized it was Jeanette. He only saw a slender lady in a pale gold dress, seated side-saddle on an expensive palfrey that was hung with green and white ribbons. The woman wore a tall hat from which a veil stirred in the wind. The veil had concealed her profile, but now she was staring directly at him, indeed she was pointing at him and, to his horror, he recognized the Countess. He also recognized the banner of the young man beside her though at first he could not believe she was with the Prince. Then he saw the grim entourage of mailed men behind the fair-haired youth and he had an impulse to flee, but instead nervelessly dropped to his knees. As the Prince, Jeanette and the horsemen approached him, he fell full length on the ground. His heart was beating wildly, his mind a whirl of panic.

Your name?" the Prince demanded curtly.

Sir Simon opened his mouth, but no words would come.

His name,“ Jeanette said vengefully, is Sir Simon Jekyll. He tried to strip me naked, sire, and then he would have raped me if I had not been rescued. He stole my money, my armour, my horses, my ships and he would have taken my honour with as much delicacy as a wolf stealing a lamb.”

Is it true?" the Prince demanded.

Sir Simon still could not speak, but the Earl of Northumberland intervened. The ships, armour and horses, sire, were spoils of war. I granted them to him."

And the rest, Bohun?"

The rest, sire?“ The Earl shrugged. The rest Sir Simon must explain for himself.”

But it seems he is speechless,“ the Prince said. Have you lost your tongue, Jekyll?”

Sir Simon raised his head and caught Jeanette's gaze, and it was so triumphant that he dropped his head again. He knew he should say something, anything, but his tongue seemed too big for his mouth and he feared he would merely stammer nonsense, so he kept silent.

You tried to smirch a lady's honour," the Prince accused Sir Simon. Edward of Woodstock had high ideas of chivalry, for his tutors had ever read to him from the romances. He understood that war was not as gentle as the hand-written books liked to suggest, but he believed that those who were in places of honour should display it, whatever the common man might do. The Prince was also in love, another ideal encouraged by the romances. Jeanette had captivated him, and he was determined that her honour would be upheld. He spoke again, but his words were drowned by the sound of a tube gun firing. Everyone turned to stare at the castle, but the stone ball merely shattered against the gate tower, doing no damage.

Would you fight me for the lady's honour?" the Prince demanded of Sir Simon.

Sir Simon would have been happy to fight the Prince so long as he could have been assured that his victory would bring no reprisals. He knew the boy had a reputation as a warrior, yet the Prince was not full grown and nowhere near as strong or experienced as Sir Simon, but only a fool fought against a prince and expected to win. The King, it was true, entered tournaments, but he did so disguised in plain armour, without a surcoat, so that his opponents had no idea of his identity, but if Sir Simon fought the Prince then he would not dare use his full strength, for any injury done would be repaid a thousandfold by the prince's supporters, and indeed, even as Sir Simon hesitated, the grim men behind the Prince spurred their horses forward as if offering themselves as champions for the fight. Sir Simon, overwhelmed by reality, shook his head. If you will not fight,“ the Prince said in his high, clear voice, then we must assume your guilt and demand recompense. You owe the lady armour and a sword.”