City of Fiends

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Venn Ottery

The column had already found two other bodies by the side of the road, much as Sir Richard had the day before, and Baldwin looked down at the two youths with a horrible sadness in his heart. Both had been captured in the fields and slain where they were. Baldwin had seen them because of the rooks which had congregated, the foul carrion. They rose in a black mist when he clattered nearer.

They had ridden quickly enough from the River Clyst, and now were almost at Venn Ottery, a modest manor with three small houses and a reeve’s hall. A chapel finished the complement of properties, and while there were some columns of smoke rising from between the houses, unusually there was no one about. Apart from one tiny figure running straight at the column itself. Baldwin left the bodies and rode with Simon towards the head of the column, his eyes all the while on the road ahead to ensure that Sir Charles did not have an ambush ready.

When he reached the Sheriff, the child’s interview was already complete.

‘The men have just left. This little fellow saw them packing,’ Sir James said, his voice raised so that all could hear him. ‘They must be just the other side of the vill, not far. They have carts, so will be impeded. We shall ride hard to them, and when we reach them we shall destroy them all. Good. Prepare to ride. We shall be moving at a swift pace.’

‘Sheriff, that is good news,’ Baldwin put in, ‘but we must be aware of their movements in case of an ambush.’

‘There is a scant baker’s dozen of men,’ the Sheriff said carelessly. ‘This lad was able to count them.’

‘Where are the others which Sir Richard saw yesterday?’ Baldwin demanded.

‘Ridden off, I daresay, or gone on ahead. No matter. We have a third of them here and will wipe them out,’ the Sheriff said. ‘Why, Sir Baldwin, you don’t fear them, do you? This will only be a short action, I promise you!’ He laughed and set off.

Baldwin clenched his jaw against the insult, but he did not have time to protest further. The column was already moving off along the lane, and more than a couple of men glanced at him with grins, as though they were enjoying the Sheriff’s joke at his expense.

‘Simon, when we are past this vill, keep close to me,’ Baldwin said and waved to Edgar. In the Holy Land Edgar had been his Sergeant, and now he returned to Baldwin’s side and took up his post to protect Baldwin’s flank, Sir Richard with him, and he nodded in the direction of the houses. ‘They’re burning the place.’

‘I know. They are doing everything they could to tell us they’re here,’ Baldwin said. ‘It is like the men who used to prey on travellers in the Holy Land. They would sometimes set a trap such as this. Allow one or two victims to escape, burn what they left . . .’

‘Then what?’

‘Let us see,’ Baldwin said grimly. They were all riding at a steady pace now. ‘Sir Richard, stay with us. We shall form a guard. If there is an ambush, we must charge their flank and force them to run.’

‘Aye,’ Sir Richard said, and his hand went to his sword-hilt, testing the blade’s pull from the scabbard. He suddenly bellowed to two men in the posse. ‘You, and you. Come here. You will remain with us, and if we charge, you come with us. Clear?’

It had been a pretty little hamlet once, Baldwin thought to himself as they rode into the yard area in front of the larger of the houses. What remained of the Reeve lay before his door, butchered. Wolf wandered over and nudged and sniffed at a dog that also lay nearby, his back hideously bent where a savage blow had cut through his spine. Baldwin called Wolf away, and he came with a last reluctant prod, as if unwilling to believe the other was dead.

More bodies lay scattered about. Baldwin counted five, including the poor naked woman beside her door. The boy had gone to her, and crouched at her side, wailing. Three of the houses were already smoking, and one had thick, greenish-yellow smoke pouring from the roof where the thatch was ablaze. In the warm air, the smoke rose quickly, but then drifted away southwards. It was a relief that they would not be riding into it.

‘They’re ahead! Less than a quarter-mile!’

The shout from in front made Baldwin look up with alarm. He saw Sir Richard give a wolfish grin. ‘There’s a trap, then,’ the big knight said, nodding happily. ‘As you thought, Sir Baldwin.’

‘Why? What makes you think it’s a trap?’ Simon asked.

‘They will have seen us coming,’ Baldwin said through gritted teeth. ‘They saw us and yet waited until we were certain to see them. And now they can persuade the Sheriff to give chase until he is inside their trap and cannot escape.’

‘Christ’s cods! So what can we do?’

‘Follow me!’ Baldwin said.

Venn Ottery

Sir James de Cockington rode ahead with anticipation thrilling in his blood. The bastards were just up at the corner of a little lane, couldn’t possibly escape, not with the posse so close behind them. And it was good odds, with four or five men to every one of theirs.

‘Keep up! Come on, charge the devils! These whorecops won’t live to murder another farmer!’

He was at the lane’s turn, and leaned into the corner, raking his spurs along his horse’s flanks, and now he saw them all again. Slightly fewer, as though some had slipped to the hedge at the side, but their wagons were up there in front, at the far side of a small wood. He drew his sword. ‘Take their carts, then kill them all!’ he bellowed, and hurtled down the incline at the gallop.

A snap and whicker, and a whistling noise – and he was sure that he heard a man’s cry – but as he had the thought, a rider was overtaking him, a short man, bent almost double, on a grey rounsey. Sir James was about to feel irritation when he saw the man rise from his saddle and drop, a foot caught in his stirrup, and Sir James saw the wicked crossbow bolt in his forehead.

Then he saw that behind him and the rest of the posse, a pair of carts had been pushed into the road. Their escape was blocked, as was the road before them. And on either side archers were standing, picking targets with lazy precision.

He crouched lower, eyes wide with sudden terror, as the bolts and arrows began to fly, and over the rushing roar of the wind in his ears, he could hear the high whinnies and screams of men and beasts as the missiles slammed into them.

Simon and Baldwin were at the rear of the group as the main column began to gallop, and at the first shriek of pain, Baldwin bellowed and pointed to a thinner part of the hedge at the side. He cantered to it, and leaped through, Simon close behind him, Edgar and Sir Richard side-by-side behind, and found himself in a pasture. There, ahead, he saw the trees, and in the midst of them were a number of men.

‘Quick!’ he roared, and thundered straight at them. Somehow three others had joined them in their diversion, and now they all spread out into a loose line as they crossed the field, hurling clods of earth and grass into the air as they went.

For Baldwin, any nerves had fled as soon as the first arrow was loosed. After that he knew only rage that felons, no matter whom, should dare to attack him and his companions. He felt the wind in his hair, the tug and snatch of the cloak at his throat, the reckless abandon of his horse, the weight of the sword in his fist, and let the savage glee of warfare take him. Bent low over his horse’s neck, sword held high, he raced towards the nearest man.

The ambushers were concentrating too hard on their victims in the lane to notice him, and when they did, it was already too late. Baldwin’s first blow hit an archer in the middle of his breast, and as he fell from Baldwin’s sword, he saw Simon had killed another, while Sir Richard was bellowing and cursing, whirling with his beast as a man tried to flee his fury. Then Baldwin and Edgar were in the trees and for a moment it was a close thing. Baldwin’s blade seemed to be alight with a cold blue flame as he stabbed a man, then hacked at another. An arrow thrummed past his ear, too close, but then Edgar had the bowman with a slash to the throat, and he fell in a spray of blood. Another was about to fire at Simon with his crossbow, but Wolf seemed taken with the same frenzy as his master, and ran in low, biting his legs. The man fell, and Wolf towered over him, his snarling mouth at the man’s throat, and he squealed in terror until Simon came and slew him.

It had been a quick action, but already the men from the road were pouring into the woods, and of the twelve or more of those who had lain in wait, only two were still living. The other side of the woods was not so secure. The enemy was in there, and arrows whistled and thumped into the trees about them as they rallied.

Baldwin and Edgar rode on until they could see a break in the trees, and there they halted. A few arrows whacked into the trees nearby, but there were too many twigs for an archer to aim with accuracy. A twig could throw a clothyard off by feet even at short range.

‘Where is the Sheriff?’ Baldwin bellowed, trying to bring some order to the madness about him. ‘To me! Where is the Sheriff?’

There was no sign of him in the road. A few men were still struggling together, but even as Baldwin stared, he saw Sir Charles’s men running up with knives, and soon all the members of the posse which had charged into the ambush with Sir James were dead. Farther back down the lane, Baldwin saw the remains of the column the Sheriff had led from Exeter so light-heartedly earlier that day. They had retreated, and now streamed back away from the fight. A few, perhaps five or six, stood watching from the top of the road at the corner. Apart from them, and Baldwin’s small team, the Sheriff’s entire column was dead or had fled.

‘He is here, enjoying my hospitality, Sir Baldwin,’ Sir Charles called, and Baldwin peered through the trees. ‘Would you like to join him?’

‘Sir Charles? Is that you?’

‘Aye. It is good to see you again, my friend, but I would have wished it were under better circumstances.’

‘I agree with that,’ Baldwin said. He jerked his head and he and Edgar rode back to where Simon and Sir Richard stood still on their horses. The other three were also still there waiting, and Baldwin gestured to one, then pointed up towards the remaining men, who still waited nervously at the top of the lane at the corner. ‘Go to them and tell them to charge when they hear us begin to fight,’ he whispered. The man nodded and galloped away.

‘What is that, Sir Baldwin? Seeking assistance? There is no one near here. I conducted my spying with the greatest of care, I assure you,’ Sir Charles called.

Baldwin motioned now to Edgar, flattened his palm and lowered it in dumb sign. Edgar nodded, and was about to drop from his horse when Sir Charles laughed.

‘Do ask Edgar to stay there, Sir Baldwin. I can see you both, and I would so hate to have to fire this crossbow at him before he has had a chance to leap upon me.’

‘Greatly though I enjoy our conversation, I think I must leave you,’ Baldwin said, peering through the screen of leaves to see the man.

‘Please don’t do that. I would be very sorry to have to hurt this fellow any more,’ Sir Charles called back, and there was an edge to his voice as he spoke.

‘Who?’ Baldwin said.

‘It . . . It’s me, Sir Baldwin,’ Sir James de Cockington called.

‘Is that the Sheriff?’ Sir Richard bawled.

‘Yes, it is me.’

‘Aye, right. Then you’ll know that we don’t tend to suffer felons to barter with a man’s life, eh?’ he yelled.

‘That has been the rule, I know, but there are times-’

‘I am a King’s Officer. I’m the Coroner for Lifton, the King’s manor. I am very sorry, but I won’t negotiate with a man holding a blade to a Sheriff’s neck.’

Sir Charles spoke again with an oily sweetness. ‘Sir Richard, I appreciate your candour. So, would you prefer me to slit his throat now?’

‘Aye. Do that and we’ll discuss matters when I have you tied and ready for the rope.’

There was silence for a moment, and then, ‘If you mean to provoke me, you won’t succeed.’

‘No? Good,’ Sir Richard said. He glanced at the others about him. ‘This fellow will not allow the Sheriff to survive. The body would be too much baggage to carry with him. So he’ll kill Sir James as soon as he may. Nor will he release him willingly. If we negotiate, he will look for advantage . . .’

‘I want you to surrender your arms to me and then you can ride away. I will take the good Sheriff with me as far as the border with Somerset, and then I give you my word I will release him.’

Sir Richard smiled grimly. ‘In a hog’s arse he will! That whoreson will kill Sheriff James as soon as he may. If we throw down our weapons, he’ll kill us. Even if he let us ride off, he’d use our weaponry on others. We can’t allow him to escape.’

Baldwin looked from him to Edgar, who nodded agreement. He glanced at Simon.

Simon was troubled, but he gave his assent. ‘We both know Sir Charles, Baldwin. He’s bold, resourceful and determined. I can only think of the bodies by the roadside all the way back to the Clyst. And he has killed the Bishop and despoiled the Bishop’s manors as far as Petreshayes. No, we cannot allow him to escape.’

‘Very well,’ Baldwin muttered. He raised his voice again. ‘What do you wish us to do, then?’

‘Throw all your weapons here into the roadway. Then you may mount and ride away.’

‘You expect us to throw away all means of defence?’ Baldwin laughed. He looked at Simon and Sir Richard, and they nodded and began to sidle away.

‘You can remain here and haggle if you prefer. I would like to return home, however.’

‘Where is your home now?’ Baldwin asked.

‘I live far from here,’ the response came. ‘I won’t be visiting again for some time. Now, your weapons?’

‘Wait,’ Baldwin said. He turned to the others. ‘Dismount!’ he shouted, but then added: ‘Slowly, and keep your weapons ready!’

Louder again, he said, ‘We are coming!’

‘We’ll hold our fire,’ Sir Charles said.

‘Sir Baldwin, don’t surrender!’

It was the Sheriff. His tone of anguished trepidation was enough to incite in Baldwin’s heart a sudden and unexpected sympathy for the man. ‘Don’t hurt him, Sir Charles. You know I cannot allow you to escape if you harm him.’

‘Come and throw down your weapons.’

Baldwin glanced about him. His companions were spread out, but he was uneasily certain that the men with Sir Charles would have each of them marked, and they would be ready with their bows, preparing to fire as soon as the posse came closer.

‘Come, my friends,’ Baldwin said.