She wore a plain cotton smock and a shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her blond hair was pinned and fell about her neck. She didn’t look noble, just as brave as I had ever seen her.
Oh God, how I wanted to catch her eye, call out to her. Let her know that I was here.
The drumbeat began again. The crowd grew hushed.
“Let her go,” someone finally yelled. “We have no fight with her.”
Emilie stopped for a moment, a smile of kindness on her face, but a soldier pushed her toward the scaffold.
The crowd hollered to save her life, even as a masked hangman pulled her by the arms up the stairs and led her to the noose. I knew how frightened she must be; I knew how her heart must be fluttering. I glanced at Odo: Hold! The same to Ox. How I wanted to rise and shout the words I am here!
Then the horns sounded again-this time the duke’s flourish. From the entrance to the castle Stephen appeared, flanked by his lackeys, the bailiff and the chamberlain.
The bailiff pulled out a scroll and began to read: “ ‘In accordance with the laws of the Duchy of Borée and sanctioned, heretofore, by the Archbishop of the Diocese and the Holy See, it is willed that all known abettors and caregivers to the heretic rebels will be deemed agents of corruption to both Duchy and Church, and therefor be hanged by the neck until dead, and their body burned, as is the law.’ ”
“Let her live,” a voice shouted from the crowd. “It’s Stephen’s neck that fits the noose, not hers.”
[431] Stephen’s face reddened. “Where is your jester now, lady?” He stepped up to the gallows and said to all, “I have given him a chance to spare her life, to spare the City more blood, and yet he does not appear. Lady Emilie, you have only these weak-willed women to speak for you.”
“Your deeds speak, for me,” Emilie said. “I pray he does not come.”
Stephen narrowed his eyes. “We will wait, but only a few moments more.”
Odo looked at me with readiness. Now, his eyes said. We must strike now. I gave him no signal.
Suddenly a lookout called from the walls, “My lord, it is the jester’s army. Their arms are down. They submit.”
Stephen’s face lit with joy. “Be sure, sergeant. Submit or attack? There must be no tricks.”
“No, the sergeant is right,” confirmed the chatelain from the ramparts. “They carry their banners down. They do submit. And the jester, he is at the head of them.”
From my perch, I could make out rows of my men approaching with their arms at bay. And Alphonse, in my patchwork skirt and cap, at the head.
“The fool’s stupidity amazes even me.” Stephen smirked, bounding up the steps and peering over the wall. “He lays down everything for a woman. What chivalry! Come forth, jester,” Stephen called beyond the wall. “We will open the gates. I have something you will want to see.”
He signaled to his gatekeepers to draw up the portcullis. Two men hoisted the heavy metal gate skyward.
At the same time, Stephen ordered, “Hangman, secure the noose.”
The crowd gasped in protest. Something vile was about to occur. The masked executioner fitted the rope around Emilie’s neck and positioned her body over the trap.
“Stay away,” Emilie shouted to the men approaching outside [432] the gate. A black hood was placed over her head. “Please, Hugh, go back. Go back!”
Stephen laughed out loud. “Sorry to disappoint you, lady. It seems he is every bit the fool he is reputed to be.”
I could no longer restrain myself. I looked to Odo in the crowd, and to Ox hovering by the opening gate. Across the way, I spotted the Moor on a balcony above the square.
I signaled them. Now!
But suddenly Stephen shouted, “It is not him!” He strained over the wall, his eyes bulging. “It’s a trick! The jester is not there! Close the gates!”
Chapter 148
THE MOOR’S ARROW streaked across the square, striking one of the gatekeepers in the back. He slumped to his knees.
Ox threw off his pails and jammed a rod in the pulley, bringing the heavy portcullis to a stop. He ran his knife into the back of the other gatekeeper, who was struggling to bring the gate down.
A swarm of my men, Alphonse in the lead, rushed inside. They overwhelmed the soldiers at the gate as arrows rained down on them. Soon they were battling Stephen’s men hand-to-hand.
Stephen leaped down from the walls and ran toward the scaffold and Emilie. “Where is your fool?” he asked her. “He lets you die? He does not come for you?”
He gave the nod to his hangman. Then Odo pushed his way past two guards. He plunged his knife into the hangman’s gut, hurling him off the scaffold. He went to Emilie.
“He does come, Stephen,” I called. I held up the lance. Our eyes locked in a hateful exchange. “I am here, my lord. Norbert told me you were a jester short.”
The thrill of victory twisted into rage on Stephen’s face. “Get him!” he screamed. “A hundred gold pieces for the man who brings me that lance. Five hundred!”
His guards started to move toward me. I raised the lance.
[434] “You threw my son into the flames,” I said, fixed on Stephen. “Here, fetch your lance.”
I hurled it with all my might into the center of the bonfire. To everyone’s horror, it stuck firmly amid the flames.
“No…!” Stephen hollered.
He ran like a madman to the fire, desperately pulling at branches and wood, flames biting at his flesh. He hurled sticks toward the lance, trying to dislodge it. Then he backed off, driven away by the raging heat. He stared at the lance fixed in the center, red-hot and starting to lose its shape.
Then he turned toward me, murderous hatred in his eyes. “You!” he screamed. “You incredible fool!”
Chapter 149
STEPHEN BOUNDED UP the stone stairs two at a time and onto a parapet, climbing to my level with great speed and agility for such a large man. His eyes burned.
I took my sword and leaped from my ledge to a second-floor balcony of the castle. One of Stephen’s soldiers moved to stop me, and I slashed him across the chest, sending him flying.
The duke hurdled another ledge, racing toward me in a frenzy. He came to face me on the same balcony-ten paces away.
“Your wit has never been in doubt, carrot-head,” he said, leering at me. “Now we’ll see if you have fight.”
He leaped upon me, bringing down his blade. A bone-chilling clang reverberated through my arms as I parried the blow. Stephen pivoted deftly and swung his sword, two handed, at my chest. The blade cut my side.
I buckled, stung with terrible pain.
“Come on, fool,” he taunted, “I thought you had some passion for the fight. You will see there is more to being noble than sticking your dick in a highborn coo. You wanted restitution for your shit-covered wife and son? Come on!”
He struck with his sword again, forcing mine back inches from my neck. His eyes were ablaze; hot breath fumed in my face.
With the last of my strength, I kneed him. Stephen groaned and buckled. I pushed him away and swung my blade, knocking [436] the sword from his hand. His eyes widened as it toppled over the ledge. He stood there, defenseless, yet still glaring.
Then he jumped up onto a ledge overlooking the square. He laughed. “Just know that if I get to her first, she is dead!”
He leaped across to the next balcony. Then he darted inside the castle.
I ran to the edge of the balcony, scanning the courtyard, looking for Emilie. I didn’t see her anywhere. Odo either. Blood was seeping from my side.