Chapter Eighteen #3
As his companions rolled the bones and won money from each other, the young guard watched the man at the gates as he lay in a heap, begging weakly for help.
The young guard had been raised by his widowed mother and had been taken to church regularly where the priests had instructed the faithful to be generous to the poor.
As he saw it, leaving a man to die like a dog was not generous and the more he watched, the guiltier he felt. Finally, he could stand it no longer.
Going down the narrow spiral stairs to the ground floor, he made sure his companions were busy with their game before going to the great iron gates of Braidwood and peering at the injured man through the gaps in the iron grate.
Unhinging the big iron bolt and releasing the big iron pin at the bottom of the south gate, he pulled open only one gate and peered outside.
The poor man was lying in the dirt, weeping.
When he saw the young guard, he gasped and extended his hand, begging for help.
The young guard reluctantly took his hand with the intention of dragging him inside the gate but his compassion was his undoing.
The man outside of the gate was not injured at all.
Armand le Foix was quite well and when the young soldier latched on to him, he pulled as hard as he could on the young man and yanked him outside of the gate.
A dagger between the young guard’s ribs and he breathed no more.
Le Foix was up, waving to his comrades who had been waiting against the riverbank on the opposite side of the road.
Their wait had been long and they had been partially submerged in the river to stay out of sight of Braidwood’s guards, but they were ready to move when le Foix gave the signal.
Soon, a horde of men were racing towards Braidwood as le Foix opened up the gates wide. The Armagnacs poured in.
The guards playing Bones on the ground floor of the gatehouse were the first to die.
Le Foix’s French companions made short work of them.
They then raced across the drive and through the lovely gardens, heading for the house in the darkness, when one of the sentries in a south-facing tower happened to see the tide of men and noticed the open gate. The alarm quickly sounded.
As the sound of a heavy iron bell began to sound throughout Braidwood, the servants who had been traveling between the kitchens and the manse emerged from the doorway that linked the house with the kitchen, realizing that a host of men were rushing at them.
Startled, they ducked back into the house and tried to bolt the big door but the Armagnacs were more powerful than the house servants and breached the house at the dining room entry point.
As the sleeping soldiers from the bunkhouse were roused and grabbed their weapons, running for the house, the Armagnac invaders bolted the dining room door from the inside to prevent the Braidwood soldiers from entering.
Now, they had free run of the house, at least for a time, and they intended to take advantage of it.
Unfortunately, Collins was the first servant they came into contact with.
The man had leapt from his bed because he’d heard the alarm and now he was faced with more than a dozen heavily armed men he didn’t recognize.
He was angry more than fearful, hoping that he might perhaps be able to ascertain what treasures these men were after and give the occupants of the house, sleeping upstairs, time to escape.
He put up his hands in a supplicant gesture.
“I am the majordomo of the house,” he announced. “Whatever you wish, tell me and I will do my best to get it for you if you will only leave us in peace.”
Le Foix was edgy, feeding off the excitement of having breached de Russe’s manse. He marched upon Collins and shoved the man in the chest, sending the old servant staggering backwards and falling to his knees. Le Foix stood over him.
“When is de Russe returning?” he demanded.
Collin’s wasn’t sure what the man meant. He eyed the host of unfriendly faces around him, shadowed by the darkness of the room.
“Which de Russe?” he asked.
“Bastian.”
Collins cleared his throat nervously. “I am not entirely sure,” he said. “He has gone to Wallingford Castle. You would find him there.”
Le Foix’s eyes narrowed. “We saw his army leave earlier today,” he said, watching Collin’s expression turn curious.
“Aye, we have been watching this place since yesterday, hoping de Russe would leave. We were fortunate in that we did not have to wait long. Why did he go to Wallingford? Did he go there to stay?”
Collins shook his head. “He went to discuss business with Suffolk,” he said, not wanting to divulge too much to the man with the very heavy French accent. “If you want Sir Bastian, then he is not here.”
Le Foix shook his head. “I do not want Sir Bastian,” he said, looking around the room. He noticed the floor with its Roman tiles but his gaze returned to Collins. “Where does the man keep his possessions?”
Collins was confused. “He took his weapons with him,” he said, unsure what the man was asking. “He did not leave anything behind.”
Le Foix shook his head. “Not his weapons,” he said. “His possessions. Money and other personal effects. Did he take them with him?”
Collins shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “I was not involved with what the man took with him to Wallingford.”
Le Foix sighed heavily, turning to look at the men behind him. They were prepared to tear Braidwood apart in their quest for riches as well as the Maid’s relic. After a moment of gazing at his anxious men, le Foix scratched his head and returned his attention to Collins.
“Who is left here at Braidwood?” he asked. “We saw a great many knights leaving, but who is left behind?”
Collins could only pray that Lady de Russe had already escaped the house after having heard the alarm.
“Lady de Russe and her companion are here,” he said. “As is Sir Bastian’s father.”
Le Foix turned to the men behind him. “The father,” he hissed. “Find him. Mayhap he knows. And if he does not, I will take de Russe’s wife to sport. Find her! We will use her!”
The men scattered as le Foix turned to Collins and brained the man over the skull with the hilt of his sword. As Collins dropped to the floor, le Foix headed up the stairs to the upper floor of Braidwood.
*
Gisella had heard the alarm, that faint but frantic ringing of a bell. It had awoken her from a deep sleep and as she struggled to sit up in bed, Sparrow came pounding on her door.
“Gigi!” she shrieked. “Open the door!”
Spurred into action, Gisella flew out of bed and unbolted the chamber door. Just as Sparrow ran inside, Braxton entered through the connecting dressing room, for he had been sleeping in the chamber next door.
“Bolt the door!” he hissed. “Hurry!”
Gisella and Sparrow threw the bolt against the heavy door as Braxton raced as fast as his sickly body would move to the windows overlooking the courtyard and gardens below.
He caught a glimpse of men running through the gardens under the cover of darkness and saw clearly when they fought with the servants near the kitchen, making their way into the house.
Once he saw that, he came away from the windows and grabbed the women.
“With me,” he said. “Now.”
Gisella and Sparrow had no choice but to follow the man as he dragged them into the dressing room, cluttered with cloaks and garments, cabinets and vessels for water and washing.
There were shoes on the floor and a saddlebag that Bastian had left behind.
Braxton dragged them over to a section of the dressing room that held pegs supporting cloaks on it.
Running his fingers along the wall, he came across a knot in the wood, except that it was not a knot at all – it was a lever that, when pushed, released that portion of the wall to reveal a small room behind it.
It was a hidden room, a safety measure for just this purpose. Braxton shoved the women inside.
“Stay there and do not utter a sound,” he whispered quickly. “You will not be trapped, as there is a release on the interior of the door, but do not open it for any reason, no matter what you hear. Stay in this room and do not make a sound. Is that clear?”
He went to shut the door but Gisella grasped him. “Wait!” she cried softly. “Come with us, Braxton!”
He shook his head, kissing her hands sweetly before pushing her back into the room. “It is not big enough for me,” he said. “I will be safe, trust me. You must stay quiet!”
With that, he shut the door and the women heard it lock.
The sudden silence was terrifying and Sparrow stifled a sob, so very fearful.
It was also pitch-black except for two small holes in the wall.
One of them peered into the room where Braxton had been sleeping and the other hole peered into the corridor outside.
Gisella went to the hole that opened into Braxton’s room and saw the man lumber across the chamber, moving for a big chest at the foot of the bed.
As she watched, he opened the chest and pulled forth an enormous broadsword in a leather sheath.
As he pulled the broadsword forth, it glistened in the weak light, wicked and deadly.
“God’s Bones,” she whispered. “He intends to fight. He cannot fight! He is too sickly!”
Sparrow shoved her out of the way so she could take a look. “He is mad!” she breathed. “He cannot fight!”
Gisella pushed Sparrow aside so she could watch Braxton.
She was absolutely terrified for the old man but she was smart enough not to make any noise or try to call out to him.
She was safe and she would survive unless those who had broken into the manse burned it down over their heads, but she was terribly frightened for Bastian’s father.
As she watched him move to the head of his bed, back to the wall as he faced the chamber door expectantly, Sparrow hissed at her.
“Men!” she murmured. She was peering out of the hole that opened into the corridor. “Armed men!”
“Shush!” Gisella warned her. “Not another word!”
Sparrow bit her lip, watching the strange men with big weapons kick down doors and ransack the sleeping rooms, and that included her room across the hall.
She held Gisella’s hand in the darkness as Gisella continued to peer into Braxton’s room, waiting and watching to see what would happen next. It wasn’t long in coming.
Someone kicked at Braxton’s door and both ladies instinctively jumped at the sound.
Oddly, he hadn’t bolted it and whoever kicked it then lifted the latch and shoved it right open.
As Gisella watched the scene unfold from the safety of the hidden room, Braxton faced off against a heavily armed warrior.
She could hear every word.