Chapter Nine
Bronwyn rubbed sleep from her eyes. Had she heard that right? The empress was gone? It must have been the note she had delivered to Sir Robert earlier. It had involved plans for a retreat. Of course. She just hadn’t through it would happen so soon.
She stared at Lady Alice, whose face was tight with worry. “Get up. I need you.”
“What is it? I must’ve been dreaming. I thought you said—”
“The empress is gone,” Lady Alice repeated.
Bronwyn jerked and shot to her feet. She’d been so tired after all the busyness and stress that she’d fallen asleep in her clothes and had been dead to the world.
“What do we do?” Lady Alice asked. “And I say, why aren’t you surprised? Did you know of this plan?”
“I…”
Lady Alice tsked. “We are going to have a talk about sharing information between friends, but now is not the time. The empress has fled. Gone in the night. Lady Susanna was sleeping in her chamber when she came into ours in the middle of the night and said Empress Maud had never come to bed that evening and instead had been going to the chapel to say her prayers. Then Lady Susanna fell asleep and when she woke up, the empress was gone. Her bed wasn’t slept in. ”
Lamps were being lit. Whispers filled the space. Servants were being shaken awake. Torches around the room were being set alight and the word spread like wildfire. The empress had left, stealing away in the dead of night.
“I went out to the chapel myself. It was empty,” Lady Alice said. “And now I’ve heard whispers that the city is burning. Matilda isn’t just here; she’s brought an army of a thousand men or more, and they’re burning the city to the ground. It’s not safe here. We need to leave.”
“But go where?” Bronwyn looked around. The great hall was busy. She muttered a curse and stretched. Servants hurried past, their feet hitting the wooden floorboards with urgency, like unruly patters of rainfall.
Then she heard it. The sound of marching. Men’s boots striking the road. The sound of cavalry, of knights, and horses neighing. Bronwyn went to the nearest window and looked out. The sky was already turning light as she saw hundreds of armored men approaching the castle, coming up the hill.
“Where do we go? They’re practically on our doorstep. What do we do?” Alice asked. “Do we run?”
“I don’t know,” Bronwyn said. “But let’s go.”
They ran together. “Wait,” Lady Alice panted. “We have to collect Lady Susanna. She won’t survive on her own. She may be a prankster at times, but she means well. And she’s utterly distraught at the death of Tristan. I think they were lovers, you know. We have to get her.”
Bronwyn frowned, but this was no time to argue. “And the nuns, I’ll not abandon them.”
Lady Alice cursed. “We’ll never get out at this rate. All right. Where do I meet you?”
“In the brewery. Meet me there.”
The girls parted ways, and Bronwyn went in search of the nuns. But there was speed and urgency, and more servants began to run. Some stayed, happy to welcome the incoming army. Others took up weapons and tried to run. Some had already fled.
Bronwyn entered the chapel, running in the early-morning blue-hued light, and threw open the chapel door. Sisters Joan and Rebecca knelt before the altar, praying.
“Sisters,” Bronwyn said. “We have to go. The army is almost here,” she said, panting.
The nuns exchanged a look. “We will come with you.”
“But where do we go?” Sister Joan asked. “The city isn’t safe. I heard it was burning and men were looting.”
“There may be chaos and confusion with the army coming in. Now may be our only chance,” Sister Rebecca said, looking at Bronwyn. “Let’s go to the brewery. We’ll make use of our little escape hatch.”
The trio exited the chapel and went back inside the castle, just as the soldiers invading drew nearer. Rocks and arrows flew through the air.
They slipped inside the castle. Bronwyn looked around. Against the wall in the great hall, men were running. She stopped and picked up a sword. It was heavy, but it felt good to hold a weapon again. She felt safer and stronger for it.
“Bronwyn, what are you doing?” Sister Rebecca asked. “I hope you are not thinking of violence.”
“I am thinking of defending us if there is a need for it.”
“The Lord does not condone violence.”
Bronwyn’s mouth quirked in a smile. That was a bit rich, considering she’d heard of men going on religious crusades to the Holy Lands in the name of God. “I think he would want us to defend ourselves.”
“Let us go. We cannot waste time talking,” Sister Joan said.
“Indeed. You have said enough.” Sister Rebecca glared at her fellow nun.
Bronwyn glanced at her, but Joan did not say more.
She followed the women down to the brewery.
Lady Susanna was there, but there was no sign of Lady Alice.
“If you’re looking for Lady Alice, she’s gone to fetch Mistress Agatha,” Lady Susanna said, her eyes red.
Dark circles hung beneath them, as if she’d had little sleep.
“There’s no time.” She looked at Bronwyn.
“Lady Alice told me your plan. If you’re looking to escape, I’m coming with you. She said I should come.”
“I have to find her. I can’t leave her here,” Bronwyn said.
“But we have to leave. She’ll be along, I’m sure. But we have to hurry now. It’s not safe—”
“You go on. I’ll follow.” Bronwyn dropped the sword and hurried.
The blade was heavy and she could run faster without it.
She moved fast, running up the stone stairwells to the empress’s rooms. They were unguarded.
That came as no surprise to her, but she needed to find Lady Alice.
Even if they were sometimes at odds, she still considered her a friend, and as she had thrown in her lot with the empress, it wouldn’t be safe for her once the army arrived.
She went inside the rooms, but they were empty.
“Lady Alice?” she called. “Mistress Agatha?”
For the first time, she had a proper look inside the empress’s room.
She wanted to know just how the person had managed to enter the room and leave such things like the knife in the pillow, the sheep’s head, and the note in the prayer book, all without being seen.
How? There must have been a secret opening in the floor, a hidden stairwell, something.
Unless of course, it had been one of the ladies inside the empress’s chamber all along. Someone who was trusted.
But then she heard a woman cry out, and turned. There was no weapon inside the room. Indeed, the empress’s chest of clothes was gone, as was her prayer book. There was no sign she’d ever been there.
Bronwyn ran from the room and into the corridor. Guards ran, men-at-arms marched past, and soldiers shouted. “Lady Alice!” she called.
She ran up to the parapets and stopped. The morning air was fresh and at that height, cold and windy.
The wind picked up her hair and sent it flying around her face.
She tugged at her kerchief wound around her neck before it could fly away and stared.
Far beyond the castle walls, Winchester was in flames. The city was burning.
Bronwyn tensed and gripped the stone wall for support.
Small fires had broken out around the city and whilst some of it seemed concentrated in certain parts, great plumes of black smoke sailed into the air, and large, orange fires, burning bright, caught her eye.
She coughed and felt sick for all the people down there.
They’d survived a siege and now this was on their doorstep.
A worry plagued her. Theobold and Rupert—were they all right?
Were they alive? She muttered a quick prayer for their safety.
She heard a yell, and it worsened. The chaos. The hell.
The air became littered with the screams of the fearful and fighting, the terrified and dying. Arrows screamed and flew through the air, landing against walls of houses and stuck in thatch, striking shutters and men like pincushions.
Men were cleaved through their helmets, boys trampled by cavalry, their small corpses thrown and trampled upon like ragdolls.
Buildings burned as fighters and mercenaries stormed through the houses and buildings located with the city walls.
The wooden structures were no match for the marching fighting men, who battered in the shuttered windows, kicked in doors to loot and pillage, and set fire to the thatched rooves.
Bronwyn trembled as more arrows filled the air, great shafts of death that rained down in slivers and whooshes.
Horsemen’s steeds’ hooves struck the ground with the sounds of thunder, riding forward, their shields at their sides. Horses whinnied, and men in armor with spears, pikes, and shields marched forward, whilst the defensive forces met them in the city streets.
Swords clanged and rang, punctuated with men’s shouts, screams and horses’ whinnies. The air was filled with the scents of smoke, fire, horse, steel, mud, and blood.
Men were cut down with swords, pikes, lances, and axes, and the screams of men and horses dying made the day worse as they cried out. The scents of smoke, blood, and iron sailed through the air, making her eyes water and cough.
Horses tumbled, terrified from the battle, and fell on their sides.
Men were sheared through, their limbs cut off in the fight.
Men were trampled, as others danced like puppets as their bodies were riddled with arrows.
Soldiers with fire at the end of pokers stabbed and burned their foes, whilst men with sharp blades fought, their booted feet slipping in the mud.
Some stabbed with short swords, and others hammered with axes, maces, and pikes.
Arrows pierced the stone and struck the walls. Soldiers hacked spare trees and then Bronwyn realized that Sir Robert’s forces were retreating.