Edgar was at the table. ‘I was over with the men at the English Tower today,’ he said. ‘The attacks on the Barbican and the Tower of King Henry are having an impact. It worries me, the way that the walls are shaking.’
‘They must hold,’ Ivo growled. ‘If that point falls, the enemy will have immediate access to the city.’
‘Perhaps. But even a baker can see when stones begin to shift in the masonry. A man beside me today was killed by a shard of rock. A missile struck the wall, and a great jagged piece of the parapet snapped off and flew through the air. It cut off both his legs.’ Edgar wore a pensive frown.
‘There were many on the outer wall today who died,’ Ivo said. He sounded weary, and rubbed a hand over his eyes as he spoke. ‘Too many.’
Pietro brought some skewered meats from the charcoal brazier. ‘God’s blood, many inside the city died as well,’ he said harshly. ‘We need God’s protection, or the city will fall.’
‘There are plenty of knights here,’ Baldwin said. ‘You shouldn’t fear.’
‘Eh? There are not enough men-at-arms. We need archers and axemen to defeat this foe,’ Pietro said. He didn’t meet Baldwin’s look, but stared aggressively at the floor. ‘I must go to the walls as well. I can do no good here, but I can wield a bow and arrows.’
‘Who will guard the house from looting?’ Ivo demanded.
‘If the Muslims get in, there will be no house to protect,’ Pietro said flatly.
Baldwin shot a look at Lucia. She had been listening, but her eyes were downcast. Feeling his guilt return, he too averted his eyes.
After they had finished their meal, Edgar and Pietro declared their interest in leaving the house for a while and seeing the damage outside. They left soon afterwards.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Ivo demanded, peering at Baldwin.
‘Nothing. But I have been asked to ride out tonight.’
‘Ride out?’ Ivo echoed. ‘What — outside the city?’
‘I am to ride with the Templars and try to destroy that damned catapult,’ Baldwin told him.
‘It would have been better, had that blasted fool on the cog hit the thing,’ Ivo muttered.
Baldwin shrugged. ‘Sir Otto is determined to remove it,’ he said.
‘When do you go?’
‘Sir Jacques will come for me.’
‘Good,’ Ivo said, and drained his wine. ‘At least he can keep an eye on you, eh?’
As Baldwin rose and left them, Ivo saw Lucia looking after him.
‘You should go to him, maid. He may die tonight,’ Ivo said, then looked up as a loud rumble came to them: another building struck and collapsing. ‘We all may.’
Edgar was already up. ‘I will see if I can help,’ he said.
Ivo nodded. ‘You go. I’ll wait here. I need to rest.’
Lucia watched while Ivo poured himself another cup of wine.
‘I know you, Lucia. And I know that boy quite well. He’s a good man. He needs your comfort.’
‘He did not look at me.’
‘Did he need to? He isn’t used to the sight of men dying. He’s not a knight. Treat him with kindness.’
‘I do,’ she said quietly.
There was another rumble nearby, and then a yelping from outside the gate. Lucia felt a quick alarm. ‘That’s Uther,’ she said, and hurried to the door.
The dog must have followed Pietro and Edgar when they opened the door, and a pair of street urchins had seen him. As Lucia opened the door, she saw them throw pebbles. Uther was whimpering at the edge of the road, while the boys laughed.
‘Stop!’ Lucia shouted, running out into the road, but the boys only jeered and threw the last of their stones. They bolted when they saw Baldwin appear in the doorway.
Lucia ran to the dog, and when she looked up, she saw the twisted anguish in Baldwin’s face. He reached down tenderly and gathered up the dog, who whined again.
‘You poor fellow, Uther,’ Baldwin said, and there was a catch in his throat.
He turned and carried the dog back through the door. Lucia followed in his wake, pulling the door closed behind her. Baldwin laid the dog down on an old scrap of cloth he found, and studied him.
Uther had been badly beaten. His fur was matted with blood, an ear had been slashed, and now he lay panting like a hart held at bay. Baldwin touched his head with his hand, and the dog opened an eye and stared up at him for a moment. His tail beat twice on the ground, and then he closed his eyes again and lay, his breathing fast and unnatural.
‘Be strong, little fellow,’ Baldwin murmured.
Lucia saw the tears in his eyes and heard the thickening in his voice. She stroked Baldwin’s arm. ‘I will look after him.’
‘Thank you,’ Baldwin said, and would have said more, but there was a loud knock at the door. He ran to fetch his sword, took his leave of Ivo, and stood beside her.
‘Be strong, Uther,’ he said again.
‘Be careful,’ Lucia said. ‘Please, my lord.’
He glanced at her with surprise, and then bent to her and kissed her softly. ‘I will. Take care of him for me, Lucia, please.’ And then he was gone.
Lucia knelt beside the dog and rubbed her hand over his hot pelt. ‘You have to live,’ she told him. ‘He needs you more than me. If you die, that will be an ill omen for him. Don’t leave him!’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Baldwin strode through the streets until he reached the Hospital of the Knights of St Lazarus. It was a large space — a fortunate fact, since there was a great force of men and horses gathering. It was roughly triangular, with the church dedicated to St Lazarus on the left, and the great gateway of the inner wall dead ahead. The tower of St Lazarus, which had been funded by the Order, was the other side of the gateway, and not visible from here. All the outer towers were built to be overlooked by those of the inner walls, so that defenders would always have the advantage.
The Templars stood patiently by their horses. They were the largest force here, and Sir Guillaume de Beaujeu was mounted on a massive black destrier who pranced and stepped with barely controlled excitement. This was no sweet-natured horse, but a trained man-killer that would kick, bite and stamp on any man in his path.
‘Quick, Baldwin — you can ride with a lance, can you not?’ Sir Jacques demanded.
‘Yes, of course I can!’
‘Good, then wait,’ he said, and beckoned a sergeant from his Order. The man carried a mail shirt that was several inches too big for Baldwin, but Sir Jacques insisted that Baldwin wear it over his padded jack. There was a pair of whalebone-reinforced gauntlets, too, and a helmet of steel, but Baldwin found this last to be too large for his head and loose, so the sergeant had to run to fetch a thicker padded coif for him to wear beneath it.
‘You will ride with the men behind the second rank, the squires and sergeants, Baldwin,’ Sir Jacques said as Baldwin drew the helmet on. It restricted his vision, and he found his breath disconcertingly loud.
‘I am glad. But of all the men in Sir Otto’s army, why me?’
‘Well, my friend, I thought you could do with the ride. And there could be benefits for a man who has ridden in a holy war. We shall see!’ Jacques said with a quiet smile. ‘But for now, please do me the favour of not getting yourself injured or killed, eh? Ivo would never forgive me. Keep your head low, aim for the heart, and keep your seat.’
‘Yes.’
‘You know how cavalry strikes. The heavy knights in the first wave will try to hit as one wall, knocking all opposition aside. The second wall will be the sergeants on the remounts for the knights, and finally the third wave is yours. These successive shocks are what should drive the force through the defence.’
Baldwin nodded.
‘You will ride behind my sergeant here. Do you keep with him and mark his position, so that when we all pass through the Muslim positions, we shall be together and capable of supporting each other. If you lose us, look for the Lazarus banner, and if you cannot see that, go to the Templar banner.’