‘Not the time o’ day for doin’ that sort of work,’ Sir Richard commented.
‘No. I agree,’ Baldwin said. ‘But the fellow did not unlock or unbolt the postern. It is still secure, so it is not the work of a man who is set upon allowing strangers in immediately.’
‘But could be sometime soon, was what we thought,’ Harry said. ‘If you’re seeing parties leaving the castle, the garrison will be reduced. And now it’ll take little time for a man to open the gate.’
‘Very true,’ Sir Richard said. ‘What d’you think, Simon? You have a good mind for subterfuge.’
‘I think we should mount a permanent guard here,’ Simon said. ‘Whoever did this could be opening the castle.’
‘Would you recognise the man again?’ Sir Richard demanded.
‘Yes. Without a doubt,’ Senchet said.
Sir Richard looked at Baldwin. ‘I think we ought to have all the masons and labourers stand in front of this good fellow and see if he can identify him.’
‘Absolutely,’ Baldwin agreed. ‘Let us go to their camp and do that straight away.’
The labourers had moved from directly below the tower in the north-east corner of the yard, and were a little further towards the southern wall because the tower had been one of the last sections to be completed and the tents were blocking the area the masons needed for their workings.
In the chill evening air, all the labourers and workers were made to stand and Senchet viewed each carefully before shaking his head. ‘No, it is not one of these here.’
Baldwin thanked the master mason responsible for the works and asked, ‘Is there any man missing?’
‘How would I know?’ he snapped. ‘I’m not responsible for them. My own fellows are here, and that’s all I care about.’
Baldwin and the others left him still fuming, and returned to the hall and their food. But at the doorway, Baldwin looked back. ‘I want a guard on the wall over the postern and another down by the gate itself. They will be relieved, but I want men there all through the night.’
‘Yes,’ Sir Richard said, and belched. ‘Damn nuisance.’
It was a tight fit in here, but William atte Hull was glad that he had spent time constructing this little hideaway.
The fact that the knights had gone to check where he had oiled the locks on the postern showed that someone had seen him. It was Art who saw the man walk in after William had left the dark alley. Art was a good, loyal servant of the King, and as soon as he saw Senchet down there, he had gone to warn William. And now here he was, hidden in what appeared to be a loose pile of rocks beside the southern wall. But it was not solid. He had carefully built a chamber in the heart of this pile, and now he lay in the makeshift shelter and considered what he could do to facilitate the attack.
One thing was certain, if he was seen by that foreign scrote, he would be captured as a traitor.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Morrow of the Feast of St John the Baptist
Berkeley Castle
The castle was quiet this morning, after the festivities of the night before, and Baldwin was up and on the castle’s walls before any other than a pale-faced sentry or two. One leaned on his polearm as if it was the only thing holding him upright.
Simon was asleep still. Baldwin had left him on his bench snoring fit to crack the walls. He had kept Sir Richard company until the very early hours, and Baldwin suspected that his head would be exceedingly painful when he did wake. Which was a source of pleasure to Baldwin, bearing in mind that Simon’s snores had kept him awake for much of the night.
From here on the walls he could see over the acres of boggy marshland. The land all about here was wild, untamed and dangerous. North was the Severn Estuary, where Baldwin could see occasional ships moving sluggishly on the water between clouds of mist. Nearer, lay the main Gloucester to Bristol road, and it was always busy. It was the reason for the castle’s construction, after all.
Baldwin looked around one last time in the grey pre-dawn light: there was nothing to be seen yet, but he knew that the fog could conceal hundreds of men, and here in the castle they would have no idea of their presence until the enemy launched an assault.
He passed the guard on the wall over the postern gate. The man had been up late, to judge from the look of his bleary eyes. He leaned against the battlements, casually watching the swirling mists, and Baldwin was content that at least he was awake, if not as alert as he could have been. Below, when Baldwin glanced into the court, he saw another man at the alleyway, picking his nose assiduously.
There was nothing more he could do, he thought. He turned and was about to walk down the stairs when he heard something.
It was faint — a metallic ‘snick’ from outside the castle. On the misty air, the sound was leaden. There was no perception of direction, not with his deaf right ear, and Baldwin turned his head so that his left ear was projected towards the noise. Nothing. It could have been his imagination, but he didn’t think so. Baldwin turned his head again so that he faced the wild heath once more. His eyes studied the mists as though he could penetrate them with his fierce glare.
And then there was a swirl as a breeze moved them, and he saw through the mists a column of men.
‘Guards! Guards! Alarm!’ he bellowed at the top of his voice, even as the mists began to clear and he saw the massed men outside the castle.
Simon heard the roar of his friend’s voice through the blanket of sleep that had so fully bound him. He tried to leap from his bench, only to stumble over his clothes on the floor. Quickly pulling on his chemise and tugging on his hosen, tying them quickly, he shrugged himself into his aketon, and thrust his feet into boots before buckling his sword about his waist.
Outside, the shouts were increasing, and he stood taking stock. The guards and men-at-arms were already pelting over the court to their allocated places, most of them looking the worse for wear after the feast last night. One youngster was throwing up at the corner of a wall. Simon gave him a buffet over the back of the head. ‘Get to your place, boy!’ he snarled. The sight and stench of vomit made him want to puke too. He had drunk far too much last night. His head was thudding painfully, and the thought of fighting in this condition did not fill him with confidence.
The men on the wall were already hurling abuse at the men below, one or two throwing rocks. There was a supply of stones left over from the mason’s works, and these were employed to good effect. Three men had crossbows, and they were calling down for more bolts to shoot. Simon was about to bellow for men to fetch them, when he saw two of the labourers grab bags of rocks and some staffs, and hurry up to the wall.
Simon had enough to think of. He was crossing the yard when he glanced up at the wall. To his astonishment, he saw fighting. Then, ‘Watch out! We have them inside already!’ he shouted as he ran to the wall himself. Some of the labourers had taken their sticks and knocked down the men from the walls. One crossbowman was thrown to the court, landing on his head. He didn’t move again.
Now Simon looked about him, he saw other little groups fighting, and he stood in the midst of the mayhem, sword in hand, trying to see which men were fighting for the castle, which were against it. It was almost impossible. Then he saw a man dart down that alley towards the postern, and felt his scalp crawl at the thought of more men entering.
He ran without thinking, and was at the alley as the man reached the gate. He had already shoved the key in the lock, and Simon gave a hoarse cry and threw himself forwards. The fellow darted to one side, but then he had a knife out. He had the look of a fighter, and Simon was wary, aware of his own slowness this morning. His sword-tip did not waver, and he thrust quickly, only to see his blade miss the mark. Back to circling. Simon panted slightly, his mouth open as he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the fellow.