Part 15 (1/2)

Berenger shot him a look. 'I don't know if he's dead yet. That is why I know this area. I walked it with him sixteen, seventeen years ago, all the way to Avignon to see the Pope. G.o.d save his memory: King Edward II was as good a man as any I have ever known.' Berenger held up his mazer in a silent toast. 'The King gave me some money, and I lived here in France for a time, but I missed England, so returned. Since then, about eleven years ago, I have been a soldier for the new King.'

'You came straight to the army after that, then?'

'No. First I was arrested and held as a traitor'

'What? Why?' Archibald choked on his wine.

'Some said I was involved in murdering his father, but our King heard that I always loved his father, and he pardoned me and had me released.'

'But no wife.'

'The army is my family: the vintaine contains my brothers. I am proud to be one of them.'

'That is a fascinating tale. Do you think the old King is yet alive?'

'I am sure he is dead. And that is good. He was old, and his son, G.o.d save him, would not need the complication of a father appearing and demanding his throne back!'

'True enough.'

'And now,' Berenger said, finis.h.i.+ng the wine, 'I must return to the men. I thank you for your hospitality.'

'And I thank you for your candour.'

'Aye, well, some secrets are too ancient to be kept.'

'And watch out for the boy.'

Berenger was about to respond, when he saw Sir John de Sully.

'Berenger Fripper, I have been told to take you in chains.'

'What?' Berenger sprang to his feet.

'Our good Lord the Prince of Wales has heard that you feloniously slew one of his men, a respected fighter with his spearmen. His men all a.s.sert that you killed him.'

'I did.'

'Ah!' Sir John looked at him. 'Very good, Berenger. I know you. As you reminded me, we once walked together on a long journey. So, if you killed this man, you will have had a reason, I hope?'

'They'd caught our young boy and were hanging him. We had to kill the Prince's man to get to Ed and release him.'

'So you say they were tormenting your young mascot, and you took offence? I can understand that. However, His Highness is inordinately fond of his t.i.tle, you know, and of the men of his Princ.i.p.ality.'

'The Welsh were going to kill him. The proof is there on his neck, where the rope bruised and burned him.'

'Was he worth your life?' Sir John asked.

'Without him, we'd have run out of arrows in the battle. Would the Prince prefer to have lost Caen and more archers because of a lack of weapons?' Berenger asked. 'I protected our boy against those who tried to murder him. One stood in my way and I had to kill him. It's as simple as that.'

'I will speak to the Prince and we shall see what comes of it. Meanwhile, my friend, I recommend that you keep yourself out of the way as much as possible in the days to come.'

Geoff had noticed Ed's mood.

The boy had been quiet and withdrawn for days. His throat was healing, and the livid blue-black mark was turning to green and gold at the edges, but he looked like a beaten hound, slouching around with his head down: the picture of despondency.

'What is it, boy?' he asked. 'What's troubling you?'

Ed jumped at his voice. 'I was thinking of all the French in the town,' he said. His voice faltered. 'So many dead.'

'You were the boy who once told us that the only good Frenchman was a dead one,' Geoff reminded him.

'That was because . . .'

'What?'

'My parents were killed by French pirates when I was a boy,' Ed burst out. He didn't want Geoff's sympathy, but he couldn't keep his story hidden any longer. 'My father was out fis.h.i.+ng when they arrived in several big s.h.i.+ps, and they landed and killed everyone. My father, mother, brother all slaughtered. And for nothing!'

He could picture the scene in his mind's eye now: the s.h.i.+ps beaching, one with a gonne in the prow that boomed and belched flames and death at the unarmed men on the beach. Horror-struck, he saw his father's friends hacked down by pirates as they stood mending nets. Others were cut down by the evil flying b.a.l.l.s from the gonne or from the deadly bolts from crossbows.

'So that's why you hate the French,' Geoff said.

'I have always hated them. I wanted to come here to kill as many as I could, but now I see them, it's hard to hate them. They look like us!'

Berenger had been sitting in the dark of a tree's shadow. 'It's a good lesson to learn, boy,' he put in. 'All people are the same, deep down.'

'But if you know that, how can you go on killing them?'

Geoff rose suddenly. 'G.o.d will know which are His own when He receives their spirits. Look around you. The good people of that city will be in a better place this night.'

The Prince's lodging was in a merchant's sumptuous house in the old city, and it was already full of his commanders. Sir John had been summoned, which surely meant that there was news about the French army.

This was a new, modern building, with chimneys and glazed windows, and Sir John eyed the place covetously. Even now, after the army had been through every chamber before the Prince could commandeer it, there were still beautiful paintings on the whitewashed walls. Scenes of biblical events, pictures of angels sitting over base sins, and one glorious tapestry which depicted the Battle of Charlemagne against the ma.s.sed hordes of the Saracens.

Sir John would have taken that first. It would suit his manor at Ashreigny.

'You like that?' the Earl of Warwick asked. He was sitting at a table, sipping wine from a mazer. The Prince and his bodyguards had not yet arrived.

'It is magnificent, my Lord.'

'Perhaps in years to come they'll have to replace it with our King's battle against Philippe.'

'You believe it will come to that?'

'That we shall finally crush them when the French meet us in battle? Yes, with G.o.d's help.'

'Yes,' Sir John said.

'You sound doubtful?'

'We have tried to bring him to battle many times before.'