Part 19 (1/2)

'Since you have not taken her,' Berenger called to Erbin, 'you won't mind us staying for some drink and food, as comrades who share at ease.'

'Nay,' Erbin said, looking at Berenger coolly. 'You accused us, and that was an insult. On second thoughts, I think you should go now before I call the guards to report you. Go on f.u.c.k off. The wench is probably back there already, wondering where you have got to.

Berenger glanced at Geoff. 'What do you think?'

'I think he's talking ballocks, Frip.'

Berenger had risked his life many times for money and the chance of winning a b.u.t.t of wine. If he were to attack Erbin, he felt sure there was a good chance he would die, but what of that? To die trying to save the girl who had herself saved their Donkey was a good trade. He saw Geoff give a wolfish grin, and felt his own face crack into a smile. He was just about to shout and launch himself at Erbin when Granda.r.s.e put his hand to his breast.

'No, lads. If you do that, we'll all hang. Leave these Welsh fellows alone.'

'Why?' Berenger said. He was ready for action.

'Fripper, you had Sir John save you once before when you killed one of these pieces of s.h.i.+t. Don't expect him to do so again.'

'I don't know,' Berenger had his eyes fixed on Erbin. That was the man, if it came to blows, whom he would kill first. There was something cold and feline in Erbin's eyes. Something unnatural.

'What now?' Geoff murmured from the side of his mouth.

'Ballocksed if I know,' Berenger said with a shamefaced chuckle. There was nothing they could do but retreat. It was one thing if these Welshmen leaped upon them and brought matters to a head, but if they did nothing and stood back while the Englishmen remained here, it was a stalemate. No one would support them if they caused an affray in the middle of the Welsh camp.

All because of that woman, too. All this trouble over a French tart who wasn't even a 'wife' to any of them.

Geoff said, 'If she was here, we'd have heard her by now, Berenger.'

'He's got a point, Fripper. If they've killed her, it's too late to do anything about it now,' Granda.r.s.e added.

'All right, I know,' Berenger said. But he was reluctant to leave, and possibly abandon her to her fate. She had saved Ed, he told himself.

There came to his ears a noise, a pop and hiss like a loud hiccup. All heard it. Erbin's eyes slid away towards a door set in the wall on their right, and a sudden, shrill scream came from within.

Berenger stepped forward, slammed the cross of his sword into Erbin's face hard enough to feel the nose break, and then span to his side. His sword was at the throat of the nearer Welshman, and the second was stepping away from Geoff's point, arms held up defensively.

'Wait here, Granda.r.s.e,' Berenger snapped, and was about to make his way to the chamber, but there was no need.

She appeared in the doorway, her face blank. Her mouth was moving, as though she was whispering something, but Berenger could hear not a single word.

The Welsh drew away from her, averting their faces, one covering his eyes as she came out and walked forward, her feet scarcely rustling the gra.s.ses, until she drew level with Berenger. She looked like a woman who had peered into h.e.l.l itself, and who had lost her mind. She then continued on her way, pa.s.sing behind Granda.r.s.e and Geoff, leaving the clearing and continuing on towards the vintaine's camp beyond the copse.

Berenger felt a s.h.i.+ver run down his spine. There was the distinct odour of brimstone about her. The men in the camp huddled anxiously near the fire as if men afrighted by a ghost or a vampire, casting agitated glances all about them. And all the while, shrieks of agony came from the little room.

Berenger, still clutching his sword, saw a man stumble from the room, his hands to his face.

'I'm blind! The b.i.t.c.h blinded me!' he cried.

Ed was sitting back, feeling sick to his core, while Archibald ministered to him, when she returned.

'Beatrice? Are you all right?' Archibald asked. Each syllable threatened to shatter his own bruised skull.

She said nothing, merely squatted on her haunches at the fireside, staring at the flames. Then she pulled out the flask and placed it on the ground near Archibald, away from the fire.

'They took me into their room and left me tied up. They said I was to satisfy all of them. But my hands were in front of me. I poured powder into a drinking horn, and put stones and sand on top. I wanted to kill them. When the vintener came, a man was sent to hold me still and quiet. I sat down and s.h.i.+vered, and asked him to stir the flames and make the fire warmer. When he did, I threw the horn into the fire. It exploded, right beneath his face.'

'You did well, maid,' Archibald said, but he thought something had broken. Something deep inside her that had been fine and strong was rent apart and would never be mended.

He stood, fetched a thick blanket and, barely touching the woman, draped it over her shoulders. He poured water into a pot and set it on the fire to boil. Tipping some strong wine into a large cup, he topped it up with the steaming water, stirred in a dollop of honey and pa.s.sed it to her. She took it without looking up, but at least she sipped it.

Something about its warmth or taste communicated with her. She looked about her as if startled, wondering where she was, but then stared at the ground, and Archibald was saddened to see her misery. It made his own eyes well up.

'Maid, you're safe now,' he said gruffly.

'No. I will never be safe,' she said, and began to weep.

'You know what she is?' Erbin said. He stood at Berenger's shoulder now. 'She has already killed one of mine, at Caen, when she called you to aid your bratchet. Now she has blinded another of my men. She will bring bad luck to us all. You understand me? She is evil, man. A witch. You saw her cursing us. We have to destroy her.'

The man in the room was being tended to at the fire. His face was a ma.s.s of blood where the flesh had been burned, and his eyes were mere b.l.o.o.d.y caverns. He sobbed and moaned as the men tried to comfort him.

'She had something, and it exploded in my face! It all blew up! I can't see anything!'

Erbin spat. 'Someone shut him up.'

'This is your fault. You took her,' Berenger said, although he felt his flesh creep at the inhuman sounds coming from her victim. 'Leave her alone. If you do anything more, if you look at her, let alone touch her, I will command her to curse you with all the fervour at her command.'

'It is not just us,' Erbin called as Berenger rejoined Granda.r.s.e and Geoff and set off for their camp. 'It's the whole army. You think a b.i.t.c.h like her will comfort you in your beds? While you're swyving her, you'll be seeing to the end of all of us! We'll all die here!'

Berenger continued on his way as the Welshman shouted after them, his words growing more overwrought as the English left the Welsh camp behind.

'You hear me? You will see to the ruin of the whole army if you keep her! She's evil! She's a witch!'

Granda.r.s.e stopped and looked back at Erbin through the trees. 'You hear that? Daft b.u.g.g.e.r has had his pate beaten once too often, hasn't he? He's brain-dead. Witch, my a.r.s.e! What, does he think a witch would come here just to annoy him?' His tone was light, but there was a frown on his face. His superst.i.tious soul rebelled at the thought of harbouring a witch. 'Eh? Berenger?'

'Yeah, what do you think, Frip?' Geoff asked.

Berenger looked at them both. 'She feared rightly that she was to be raped, by the whole lot of them, so she defended herself as best she might. That's all. They captured her and imprisoned her in that little chamber. We all heard her being taken.'

'Aye, but if she is a witch . . .' Granda.r.s.e growled.

'If she is, she'll likely strengthen us. We haven't done anything but try to help her, so the wench would have no cause to want to harm us,' Berenger said with finality.

They entered the edge of their camp and Granda.r.s.e and Geoff strode to the fire, squatting near the heat.

Berenger found his own attention moving to Archibald and the wagon. There was a small fire, and Berenger could see Ed sitting there beside Beatrice. The sight of her reminded him of Erbin's hissed words: 'She is evil, man. A witch.'

'Ballocks to the lot of it,' he sighed tiredly, and stepped around the men in the camp, over to his own belongings, and there he lay down.

At a sudden snapping of twigs, he looked up again and felt a s.h.i.+ver of unease when he saw that Beatrice was staring straight at him, as though she could read his every thought.

8 August Berenger slept uneasily that night. When the vintaine was called to stand-to the next morning, he could not help but look to where he had last seen Beatrice and the Donkey, but they were not there. Of course they weren't. They had their own duties to attend to. Archibald, however, was there and he waved amiably.

As Granda.r.s.e wandered up and down the line counting the men, Berenger saw a movement over his shoulder. It was the Donkey, with Beatrice. She moved so elegantly, it was like watching a woman skating on a frozen lake, but he felt a flicker of alarm at the sight of her. He could see again the face of Erbin, flames lighting his features with an unwholesome orange glow as he made his stark accusation: 'She is evil, man: a witch.'