Amicia whirled on him. ‘What?’
‘For your own protection, sister,’ he said, his voice quiet. ‘Father Henry has killed the Abbess. But he will seek to blame you.’
‘Father Henry?’ she came towards him, a hand at her chest. ‘The priest?’
He was at the top of the stairs. ‘Obey. On your life.’ He ignored her outcry, and went down the steps, past the commanderies, to the courtyard. At the door, Bad Tom waited, armoured cap a pied, a pole-axe in his left hand.
‘It’s bad,’ he said.
The captain nodded. He pulled on his gloves, and took the staff of his command from his belt. ‘On me,’ he said, and Tom opened the door.
The sound hit him. Anger first – then fear.
Every farmer and tenant was in the courtyard – four hundred men and women packed into four hundred square ells. The noise was like a living thing.
The dispensary had a wooden step, and two of his men-at-arms were keeping it clear.
On the other side of the courtyard, a dozen big farmers stood together. With them were some of the merchants.
The captain turned to Carlus, and he blew his trumpet. It was loud, and shrill.
Every head turned.
The captain waved the staff over the assembly. ‘Disperse!’ he said into the sudden silence. ‘There will be no negotiation, and no surrender,’ he went on.
A dangerous murmur began.
‘Kindly disperse to your stations and your beds, and let’s have no more of this,’ the captain kept his voice level and kind.
One of the merchants raised his head. ‘Who are you, messire, to decide for us?’
The captain took a deep breath and struggled with the spark of rage that hit him. Why did good men always make him feel like this? ‘I will not debate this with you,’ he said. ‘If you wish to leave, the gate will be opened for you.’
Another farmer shouted ‘Fuck you! That’s just death! It’s our land that’s destroyed. Our farms that are burned, you sell-sword. Get out of the way, or we’ll put you out.’
Jehannes was waving to him from the portcullis winch. He had a key in his hand.
‘This fortress is under the protection of my company,’ The captain said loudly. ‘The lady Abbess charged me with its defence, and I will hold it until I am dead. The power that invests us will not hesitate to lie, deceive, or betray us to our doom – but it will not let anyone here escape alive. The only hope any of you have is to join us in resisting to the last drop of our blood. Or better yet, to the last drop of theirs.’ He looked around. ‘The king, ‘ he almost choked on the title, but he got it out. ‘The king is on his way. Do not give way to despair. Now, please disperse.’
‘You can’t fight all of us!’ shouted the farmer.
The captain sighed. ‘In fact, we can kill every one of you.’ He spoke out. ‘Look around you. Would the Abbess ever have given in? She isn’t even buried yet and look at you. Ready to surrender?’ He pushed his way into the courtyard, ignoring Tom’s protests. He pushed his way through the crowd until he was nose to nose with the big farmer.
‘Priest says she was a witch,’ the farmer said.
People were shuffling away from him.
‘Priest says all these so-called nuns is witches!’ the farmer insisted. ‘Souls black as night.’
A few men nodded. None of the women did.
The captain passed his arm through the farmer’s arm. ‘Come with me,’ he said.
‘I don’t have to – argh!’ the farmer stumbled. He was unable to resist the armoured man, and was pulled along through the crowd to the great gate.
The gate was open, and the sun was shining beyond the walls of the fortress.
‘Look out there,’ the captain said. ‘Look out there at what Thorn has done. He betrayed his king. He betrayed his people. He has made himself a construct of the Wild, a sorcerer without compare, unlimited by laws or even friends. And you think that is better than your Abbess? Because a priest told you that black is white, and white is black?’ The captain spat the words.
‘And I should trust you?’ the farmer growled.
‘Since you are so obviously a fool – yes. You’d do better trusting me, the man who fights to defend you, than trusting to the God-damned priest, who killed your Abbess.’
The crowd was backing away from him, and he had to assume his eyes were burning.
The farmer stood his ground, but his jaw was trembling. ‘You’re one of them too. And the priest says the other witch killed the Abbess. For her power.’
The crowd muttered again. ‘You’re one of them!’ shouted a man at the front.
‘I am whatever I choose to be,’ said the captain. ‘So are you. What do you choose?’
Tom and Jehannes stepped up behind him. And with them, a dozen other men-at-arms in plate armour, and most of the archers. There were archers on the walls, on the stumps of the towers.
‘Don’t make me do this,’ the captain said to the crowd.
Sister Miram walked out of the wreckage of the chapel with Mag, the seamstress. Miram raised her arms.
Mag spat. ‘Look at you, Bill Fuller.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Playing with fire. Going to stand here and get shot?’ She looked over the crowd. ‘Go to your beds. Let go. We’ve lost the Abbess. Let’s not spill any more blood here.’
‘We can take ’em,’ Fuller said. But his tone suggested he knew he was lying.
Mag walked over and slapped his face. ‘You always were a weak fool, Bill Fuller,’ she said. ‘They’ll kill every one of us, if they have to. We wouldn’t even hurt them to do it. And for what? The enemy is out there.’
Johne the Bailli came out of the chapel. ‘Well said, Maggie.’ He went and stood with Bad Tom. ‘I stand for the Abbess. We will not surrender.’
Maggie’s daughter Sukey came and stood with her. She was shaking.
The Carters started to burrow through the crowd.
Dan Favor went and stood with Ser Jehannes.
Amie Carter grabbed her sister’s wrist and towed her across the open space. She turned and faced the crowd. ‘Don’t be a pack of tom-fools,’ she said. ‘You been sorcelled. Can’t you feel it? Don’t be so stupid and pig-ignorant you can’t face it.’
Liz the laundress came and stood by Tom. Kaitlin Lanthorn walked across the open space.
‘Sluts and harlots,’ said a voice.
The heads of the crowd turned, as one.
Father Henry looked as if he’d been on the cross. His face was streaked in old, dried blood. His robe was flayed and fell around his waist, showing his ascetic body, lacerated with further cuts.
The people parted for him. He walked between them like a king.
‘Sluts and harlots. Are these your allies, Satan?’ He stopped at the edge of the crowd.
‘Not all of us are sluts, priest,’ said Master Random, and he burrowed into the crowd. ‘Adrian! Allan Pargeter! What are you doing with this man? Fomenting mischief? Master Random walked into the crowd, looking for other apprentices he knew.
‘You killed the Abbess,’ the captain said.
Father Henry drew himself up, and the captain knew he had his man. He was too proud to deny the crime.
Fool.
‘She was a witch, a creature of Satan who chose to put her own appetites against-’
The stone hit the priest in the head. He snapped around, eyes blazing, and just for a moment, he didn’t look like a gentle and crucified Jesus. He looked like a madman. His eyes raged.
‘Take that man,’ the Red Knight said. He pointed his baton.
Bad Tom reached out with his pole-axe, caught the priest’s foot with the head, and pulled, and the priest fell. Tom kicked him viciously, his armoured foot making a distinctive meaty sound as it connected with the priest’s gut.
The priest retched.
Two archers grabbed him and hoisted him. He tried to speak, and he got the butt of Tom’s pole-axe in the arch of his foot. He screeched.
And suddenly, there was no crowd. Just frightened people, looking for salvation.
And most of them asked – Where is the king?
Chapter Fifteen