More time passed. Air bubbles rose to the surface. His glove flailed back and forth. But the Tafur never rose again. Black Cross was done, drowned, dead.
[415] I forced myself to crawl over to the edge of the embankment. The fighting had wound down. Stephen’s men were kneeling, groaning, hands in the air. Some of our men were beginning to cheer, hoisting their swords above their heads.
Then they were all cheering, jubilant faces reflecting the same incredible thing. We had won! Stephen was defeated. We had actually won!
All around, people came rushing up to me. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Finally, tears bit at my eyes, tears of joy and exhaustion. People shouted my name as if I were a hero.
I reached behind me for the holy lance. With whatever strength was left in my body, I thrust it high into the air.
Toward Heaven.
Chapter 143
EMILIE DID NOT hear cheering. Why?
She knew a fierce battle was under way. She’d heard the pounding gallop of horsemen leaving the city, the walls shaking with their strides.
Oh, God, she thought, that could only mean Stephen had attacked. Hugh’s army was now fighting for its life.
Emilie could not bring herself to look out the window of her cell. How could God let this ruthless bastard win? Fight, Hugh, fight. But she knew the odds were against him.
She waited for the roar, close by, announcing victory. It would tell her Stephen’s killers had done their job. That Hugh was dead.
But there was no roar.
After the first rumble of horsemen there was only the clash of metal, the gnashing din of battle, far-off cries. Then, in the distance, a trail of cheers. Why were the ranks on the wall so silent? She finally pulled herself up on her mat.
No cheering… Could Hugh have won? Was it possible?
Suddenly the bolt jangled and the door was flung open.
Stephen was there, his eyes fierce. Two soldiers followed him into the cell.
She forced a smile. “I hear no cheers coming from the walls, my lord. Why do I think the battle has not gone your way?”
[417] “For both of us.” Stephen snorted and seized her arm. “There’s a noose in the courtyard that awaits your pretty neck. Tomorrow morning, you traitorous bitch!”
“You have no right to pass such judgment.” Emilie tried to twist away. “You sentence me to death on what charge?”
“Sedition, abetting the rebels, fucking a heretic…” Stephen listed them with a shrug.
“Have you lost your mind? Is there no honor left in you? Have you bargained everything with the Devil for a piece of metal? That lance?”
“The lance,” Stephen said, his eyes flashing, “is worth more to me than you and your fool, and all the pitiful ‘honorable’ souls left in France.”
Emilie shouted, “You will not beat him, Stephen, whether you hang me or not. He came for you as one man; now an army stands behind him. You cannot stop him, not with all your titles and mercenaries, no matter how many men.”
“Yes, yes, your ruddy little fool. Oh, now you’ve really got my knees knocking.” Stephen laughed.
“He will come for me.”
Stephen shook his head and sighed. “Sometimes I think the two of you actually deserve each other. Of course the fool will come for you, my pathetic girl. That’s precisely what I’m counting on.”
Chapter 144
THE REALIZATION SETTLED over the men that the battle was finally over. No more fighting. No more blood.
They looked around, stunned and elated. Those who had lived sought out friends and embraced them. Georges and the Languedocians, Odo and Father Leo, Alphonse and Alois, farmers and Freemasons, jubilant just to be alive.
I led our men back to the castle walls, exhausted, out of fight. But as conquerors!
The same defenders who had pushed aside our attacks now sullenly watched us, arms at rest. Stephen’s captured knights were pushed to the front, stripped of their armor, and forced to kneel. A cry rose up. Not a cry of victory but a single, steady voice that grew in power until all joined in.
“Submit, submit,” they chanted.
Finally, from a parapet above the front gate, Stephen appeared, dressed in a ceremonial purple cloak. He surveyed our ranks contemptuously, as if he could not believe this ragtag rabble had beaten back his troops.
“What happens now?” I asked Daniel.
“You must talk with him. Stephen has to comply or his knights will lose their heads. He is bound by honor.”
“Go on.” Odo pushed me forward. “Tell the bastard he can keep his fucking grain. See if there’s any ale in there.”
[419] I grabbed the lance. Someone hitched up a mount for me.
“I’ll go with you,” Daniel said.
“I’ll come too,” the miller said.
I looked at Stephen. I didn’t trust this bastard, no matter how deeply he was bound by honor. “I think not.” I shook my head. I had someone else in mind.
We brought up Baldwin. He had long been stripped of his fancy clothes and was dressed in a burlap tunic like any common man. His wrists were bound, his haggard face badly in need of a shave.
“It is your lucky day,” I said, plopping a plumed hat upon his head. “If all goes well, you’ll soon be back in silk.”
“You do not need to dress me up.” He threw off the hat. “You can be sure Stephen will recognize one of his own.”
“Suit yourself.” I nodded solemnly.
We headed forward out of the ranks, Baldwin’s mount tethered to mine. Soldiers on the walls watched us silently approach.
We stopped, out of arrow-shot, forty yards from the wall. Stephen gazed down, barely acknowledging me, as if he had been called away from a meal.
“Black Cross is dead,” I announced. “The fate of your best knights, what’s left of them, awaits your word. We have no more urge for blood. Submit!”
“I commend you, carrot-top,” the duke replied. “You have proven to be as worthy a fighter as you are a fool. I have taken you too lightly. Come, ride forth where I can see your face. I will present my terms.”
“Your terms? It is our terms you are bound to hear.”
“What do I detect, jester? Do you not think me a man of honor? Ride forth and claim your prize.”
“I think you bargain freely, lord, with something you are short of. Do not be offended if I send out my man instead.”
A smile curled on Stephen’s face. “Your man, then, jester. And I will send mine.”
“Shall I go?” Daniel offered.
[420] I shook my head and glanced toward Baldwin. “No… him.”
Baldwin’s eyes bolted wide. A film of sweat broke out on his forehead.
“Here’s your chance.” I pulled his hood over his head. “Show us how your fellow lord recognizes you.”
I untied his horse and gave it a hard slap to the rump, and it bolted forward. The duke, hands bound, tried to gather it under control. As he crossed over into no-man’s-land, he began to shout, “I am Baldwin, duke of Treille!”
A few guards on the wall began to point and laugh.
The duke’s voice became more agitated. “I am Baldwin, you fools. Disregard these clothes. Look at me, Stephen. Do you not see?”
All that could be seen was a lowly-clad figure galloping toward the gates on his horse.
“Here, jester,” Stephen called from the wall. “Here are my terms.”
A chilling whoosh was heard and an arrow struck Baldwin’s chest. The duke keeled back. Then another, and a third arrow cut into him. Baldwin’s body slumped in the saddle. The horse, sensing something was wrong, reversed its course and drifted back toward our ranks.