Jacq's Warlord (31 page)

“But with women?” Gwen asked, her face aghast.

“With women.” Jacq needed to meet with the sergeant-at-arms to review the defenses. “Gwen, I don’t want the servants to think that because I’m not inside to supervise their efforts that they can slack off. I won’t be able to direct the efforts inside once I start work on the outside. Since you have proven to be a very capable leader, I would like for you to be in charge of the keep.”

The laundress’s eyes rounded and her mouth fell open. “Me?” she squeaked. “You want me to take charge of the household staff?”

Jacq smiled, amused to discover it was possible after all to stun Gwen speechless.

“Truthfully, I asked Enid first, because she is the elder. But she felt it would be too much work for her to keep everyone working to my standards—so I’m offering the job to you.”

Gwen looked to Jacq, and then Enid who was beaming. “Me?” she repeated.

“Now, Gwen, this means you have to set the example for others with your behavior,” Jacq said pointedly. “And you’ll be paid.”

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“I will be paid?”

“Yes, I’ve already talked to William, and you’ll be paid a monthly wage in addition to being provided a room for yourself and Annie.”

Gwen’s eyes blinked rapidly. “We no longer have to sleep in the hall?”

With a smile at the woman she had wanted to punch out weeks ago, Jacq nodded.

“That’s right. You’ll be in charge of the people who serve inside the keep. William still has charge of replenishing our stores, collecting rents, overseeing the planting, and so on. Oh, and the cook has command over her workers as well. Will you do it?”

“I do not know what his lordship will say about this, but if you give me the chance to prove I can do the job, then…yes!” Joy and tears shone in the woman’s eyes. “I will be dependent upon no man for my food and board…and I can take better care of Annie, because I will no longer have to follow the soldiers to earn my keep. Thank you, Lady Jacq.”

“No, thank you. I’ll announce it a dinner.” When she rose from her seat, she grimaced as she stretched the muscles in her lower back. “Well, I have a little reconnaissance to complete before dinner. I’ll see you ladies later.”

Jacq went in search of Sir Geoffrey and was directed to the tilting yard. There she found the older man instructing two young boys in the art of swordplay, their wooden swords clattering loudly against each other.

“Sir Geoffrey, may I have a word with you?”

“Yes of course, milady,” he said. With a word to the boys to continue, he fell in step beside her as she walked away.

“I would like to review the physical defenses that are in place to defend the keep, as well as review your strategy for defense.”

Geoffrey looked taken aback by her request. “But, milady, you needn’t worry about these matters.”

With a deep breath she counted to ten in her head, and reminded herself the direct approach might be suitable man-to-man, but in this time a woman needed guile and flattery to approach a man in his domain.

“Sir Geoffrey, I know you must have heard I have some knowledge of military tactics. My request in no way implies I’m not confident in your ability to protect us. I’m simply curious to know how one defends a keep, and I’m told you are the best person to instruct me.”

Sir Geoffrey’s chest expanded, and he seemed pleased by her words. He bowed deeply. “I beg your pardon, milady. I would be happy to explain it to you. Please, follow me.”

Geoffrey led her toward the curtain wall. Enid’s husband was a little stodgy and set in his ways, but Jacq could sense his pride in his work and the weight of responsibility Rufus entrusted him with.

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When they’d climbed the steps to the walkway atop the curtain wall, he warmed to the task of describing the defenses offered by the architectural design of the curtain wall itself. The merlons or “teeth” at the top of the crenellated wall provided protection to the archers. There were also projections with sturdy platforms, built out from the top of the wall, from which objects could be dropped on besiegers’ heads. Loopholes built into the walls of the towers at each corner of the fortress not only let in light to the interior, but also provided protected positions for more archers.

Jacq found the murder holes a gruesomely fascinating design. They were built between the outer wall of the gate and the portcullis. During attack, objects, hot oil or sand could be dropped through the holes onto the heads of their attackers.

Next, Geoffrey showed her to the arms room where weapons were stored. Jacq made a mental inventory of the weaponry.

“Sir Geoffrey, there are shields and swords enough to arm only twenty men.”

“Lord Rathburn’s men took what they needed and we have enough for the fourteen men-at-arms remaining.”

“And how many archers do we have?”

“We have men trained in archery from among the servants and farmers should they be needed.”

“Are there enough men to man the battlements and towers if we’re attacked?”

“Enough to hold out for a short while, milady,” he said, his words more firmly enunciated as if he were speaking to a child. “If we were attacked, we would send to Lord Rufus for reinforcement.”

Jacq swept aside her irritation. “And if we can’t hold an enemy at the outer wall?”

“Then the inhabitants of Rathburn must barricade themselves within the keep and hope that help comes before the doors are breached.”

The thought of the men, women and children of Rathburn holed up in the keep, waiting for the battering rams to knock a hole through the heavy oak doors, disturbed Jacq. “If we had more archers, could we hold out longer?”

“Yes, milady. But such is not the case.” Geoffrey’s smile was forced. “Lord Rathburn was summoned to bring the bulk of his forces to Henry’s aid. Our fighting men and most of our weaponry are with him.”

This made Jacq angry. “Pardon me, Sir Geoffrey, I’m sure that you are more than capable of mounting a proper defense, but does it not seem somewhat irresponsible for Lord Rufus to have left us so poorly manned?”

The tips of his ears turned red, as he visibly struggled to control his anger at her insult. “Begging your pardon, milady. I would not have you thinking that Lord Rufus did not provide adequately for your safety. He had little choice, but to bring most of the men with him. It is the way of warfare here. Besides, we are located out of the path of the armies as they are moving. There is little chance we will be attacked.”

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Jacq knew something more had to be done and wasn’t afraid to say it. After all, she wasn’t staying here and the people would benefit in the long run. “Sir Geoffrey, I think we can do better.”

Geoffrey blinked and his shoulder shoulders straightened. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, madam,” he said, his tone less patronizing than it had during his “lecture” on defenses.

“We are going to start a training program in archery for all the able-bodied inhabitants of this keep and the surrounding farms.”

“But we already have training for all the men and young lads.”

“They are only a handful, right?”

He shrugged. “Yes, it is sad but true.”

“Then we will train the women, as well.”

Geoffrey harrumphed, his mouth pursed tightly. “I beg your pardon. We most certainly will not. Women have no place on the battlements during a siege. It is a man’s job to protect the womenfolk from harm. I cannot allow you to endanger them. Besides, women are not built for using a proper bow.”

“I know I saw at least two crossbows among the equipment in the armory. And I know that women use bows for sport.”

“Yes, but in the first place the church frowns on the use of the crossbow, and in the second, the bows women use are smaller and do not achieve the distance required to be an effective defense. Women haven’t the strength to use a proper bow.” Geoffrey’s aging forehead furrowed in a frown and cheeks glowed a blotchy red.

Jacq arched her eyebrows and leveled a cool stare in his direction. “I beg to differ.”

“Begging your pardon, Lady Jacq, you may well have the strength, but you are very different from most women.” He allowed a reluctant grin to quirk at the side of his mouth. “God’s teeth, milady, you are taller than most of the men! Our women are small and fragile.”

Her eyes narrowed. She refused to give an inch in this argument. “Would you consider Agnes, the cook, to be small and fragile?”

Geoffrey glared at her a moment, and then took a deep breath. “I suppose you are correct on that one. But not all of the woman are as strong.”

Jacq nodded. “Understood. I will look for volunteers. I won’t force any woman to learn to use a bow who isn’t willing. I ask only that you consider it.” Pushing for the kill now that she could see him wavering, she added, “And think, you said yourself we are so far out of the way an attack isn’t likely. In the meantime, the women will have something to do to keep their minds off their troubles.”

Geoffrey’s gaze narrowed and a small smile tipped the corners of his lips. “Well, put like that I can see little harm. Just don’t you be expecting me to do any of the training. Pardon me, milady, but Lord Rathburn would have my ballocks if he knew.”

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“When Lord Rathburn returns you may place all blame on me. He’ll know I gave you little choice.”

The older man walked away shaking his head. “His lordship will have his hands full with that one. That’s a certainty.”

* * * * *

Rufus cursed the mud as his horse faltered again. Chilled and wet clear to his smallclothes, he shifted uncomfortably in his armor.

The past weeks had seen a whirlwind of activity. The duke had set a demanding pace for the movement of his army. Rufus had been placed in charge of Henry’s personal guard after the first battle. Between training and fighting, Rufus and his small contingent from Rathburn had been sorely tested.

Henry was well pleased with his progress, and particularly pleased with the improvements made in his personal guard. Rufus had done so well, he feared once the war was over Henry would impress him into permanent service. And while the monetary reward would be great, Rufus’ heart was with Rathburn.

However, there was much to admire in Henry. He was ruthless to his enemies, and yet generous to those he defeated. He had confided to Rufus that laying waste to an enemy’s holding would only feed resentment once he was king.

“Besides you can’t tax dead men.” Henry didn’t fear appearing weak—his army grew with each passing day as those who waited to see which of the rulers would likely triumph soon chose to throw their lot with Henry.

“To Henry!” A shout from the front line of Henry’s army signaled the attack. The open meadow, its long grasses flattened by the recent rains, was host to two armies, lined up in congruent opposition of each other. Shouts echoed down the line as Henry’s army moved out to engage the enemy.

Rufus lowered his visor and spurred his destrier forward to follow the lines of foot soldiers carrying lances and pikestaffs and bowmen in two ranks who fired against the enemy in alternate waves.

Another day. Another skirmish. And Henry moved inexorably toward his single-minded goal. If the would-be king sensed the growing desperation of the opponents they faced most recently, he did not lessen the ferocity or momentum of his quest. He was a man bent on fulfilling the destiny he’d been weaned on.

Rufus kept the duke within his sight as he brandished his sword, slashing at a knight who broke past the line of soldiers. Rufus’ blade came away slick with blood.

Suddenly, there were shouts from the flank and Rufus wheeled his horse about to meet the new threat. An attack from this direction was unexpected and Rufus desperately marshaled his knights. “To Henry! To Henry!”

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His men surrounded the duke and repelled the assault. When a second wave of horsemen rode toward them, their intent was clear. Assassination of the duke was the last option left to Stephen’s men.

“Rufus, do you expect me to hide behind your shields?” Henry shouted his frustration.

“Sir, these men intend murder,” Rufus shouted back. “We must get you to safety.”

“If I run in the face of my enemies, I am not fit to be your king. Give way to me, Rufus.”

Reluctantly, Rufus signaled to the men to reform, and with the duke alongside him, he rode forward, slashing and hacking his way through the assassins.

Rufus kept Henry in sight and was gratified Donald and several of his own men took position near the duke, as well. While the main body of Henry’s army was engaged in a pitched battle along their front, Rufus and his men fought a desperate battle against an enemy with little left to lose.

Always mindful of where Henry was, Rufus’ blood ran cold when he saw three horsemen break through the guard and converge upon the duke. With the rest of his men fully engaged, Rufus kicked his spurs into the horse his opponent rode, causing the beast to rear up, unseating his rider.

With sword raised high above his head, he charged toward the duke and his attackers. One whose back was to Rufus never saw the blade that arced toward his neck. Rufus pushed his body off his horse. He sent the animal screaming away with a slap to the animal’s flanks from the flat of his blade.

The duke held his own against one of the two remaining assassins, but another moved in at the duke’s side.

Rufus urged his horse forward, his heart in his throat.
Henry must survive!
When the knight raised his sword to strike, Rufus yelled a warning to Henry.

The fighting duke rolled out of his saddle to the ground to avoid the blow.

Enraged, the knight wheeled his horse to face Rufus.

Blood racing through his veins, Rufus smiled grimly as the other knight spurred his destrier forward, his sword held high. When he was almost upon him, Rufus made a graceful feint to the right, not bothering to deflect the blow with his shield. The blade came so close to Rufus’ head, he felt the whisper of air that accompanied the thrust.