Honour and the Sword (7 page)

He said ‘The village. Have they hurt the village?’

I thought of my friends, of Colin and Robert, then I remembered the screams in the Manor and thought with sudden terror of Simone.

Father shrugged. ‘It’s not bad, Sieur. There’s been no burning, only a few men lost in the defence. I’m afraid your steward was killed.’

The boy’s eyes were very wide. I could hear his breathing.

Father smiled. ‘Perhaps, Hélène, you might take our new Seigneur inside. I expect the poor lad will be glad of food and warmth.’

He bowed as the boy went past, but the smile was still there and it looked even broader. I followed him to the barn with the horses, feeling like nothing was safe or made sense any more.

Father lit the candle, and I saw Rosalie and Jolie were already there, both harnessed up and even with panniers on. Then I understood.

‘You were going to leave?’ I got a dull ache of misery in my chest as I pictured myself coming back here and finding they’d all gone without me.

‘We thought you were dead,’ said Father, taking the halter off Tonnerre. He was having trouble looking at me, and I realized how upset he must have been. ‘The Manor’s full of burnt corpses, the curé had us go over it. We thought you were dead.’

I looked at the panniers and saw they were stuffed with bundles. There was a candlestick poking out of one of them.

‘But they’re not our horses, that’s from the Manor, it’s the Seigneur’s.’

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ said Father irritably, grabbing a sack to fill the manger. ‘He’s Seigneur of nothing, he’s a pauper like the rest of us. It’s every man for himself and I’ve a family to think of.’

I started to rub down Duchesse. I was finding it difficult to take all this in, it was easier just to do something I knew.

‘What will André do?’

‘Starve, I expect,’ said Father, and chuckled. ‘It’s that or work for his living. I’d like to see him labouring in the fields for a bully like Pagnié, wouldn’t you?’

I didn’t think I would much. I said ‘He won’t need to do that, he’s got money.’

‘In Paris, yes,’ said Father. He finished the manger and took the sacking over to Tonnerre. ‘But how’s he going to get there, boy? Walk?’

I thought that was stupid, I mean he’d got six horses, they were right in front of us. I said ‘He’s got money here in the Saillie, he said so, lots of it.’

Father paused. ‘Has he?’ He started to rub down Tonnerre, but seemed less brisk than usual, like he was thinking. ‘Has he indeed?’

We worked in silence for a moment, with nothing but the brush of sacking, the swishing of tails, the snorting of Tonnerre, and the slurping noises of the foal suckling Perle. Then Father started to whistle. He whistled a lot, my Father, he was brilliant at it, he could do ‘
Bransle des Chevaux
’ with all the twiddly bits, and I loved that best. It was ‘
La Pernette
’ he was whistling now, but it still made me feel better, like everything was normal and somehow coming right.

The cottage looked all right too when we went in. Blanche and Little Pierre were tucked up in bed and there was soup simmering on the hearth like this was an ordinary day. I thought the soldiers might have looted it and smashed things, but I suppose they’d been too busy killing people to bother.

Ours was a nice house. You’ll have seen it from outside, of course, but all the Ancre cottages are properly built with stone flags on the floor and good big fireplaces, and they’re even divided into two rooms. Ours was the best, because it’s built on what used to be the edge of the Home Farm, so there’s this cobbled bit outside like a courtyard of our own, and a well at the back for water, and we had that spare barn next door for when the horses were sick or foaling and Father wanted them near. I slept in there myself back then, because there wasn’t room in our bed for five.

The boy looked comfortable enough. Mother had got him settled by the fire to wash his face and comb the twigs out of his hair, and he was sitting laughing up at her and calling her Nelly, like he did when she was his nurse. It made me feel those days were back and we were all sitting together in the boy’s closet and any minute the Seigneur would walk in and give me a sweetmeat and call me a fine boy. Then I saw the way Father was watching them, his face all closed up and those faded blue eyes hard as grey slate, and my bad feeling came back with a whoosh. By the time we sat down to eat I was so tense I was hardly even hungry any more, which was a shame because it was good soup, there were actual bits of rabbit floating in it.

Mother did her best. She smiled at us sort of bravely and said ‘André says the soldiers won’t stay long, Pierre, our troops will drive them out.’

The boy nodded gravely. ‘They’ll never get past Doullens or the border forts. Monsieur le Comte will certainly fight. We’ll turn them back and drive them all the way out of the Saillie.’

There was a long silence. It sounded good to me, but I wanted someone else to be convinced as well.

‘No doubt, Sieur,’ said Father politely. ‘But of course there might be a long delay before we’re relieved. What will you do until then?’

The boy said easily ‘Oh, the curé will take me in.’

‘Naturally,’ said Father. ‘But the Spaniards are already looking for you, Sieur, and I hear they have a description. They will wish to make you hostage, like the family at Verdâme.’

The boy looked shocked. ‘They’ve made the ladies prisoner? Mlle Anne?’

‘Oh, they’ll come to no harm, Sieur,’ said Father smoothly. ‘They are in much the safest place, and will doubtless soon be exchanged home. Nobody could blame the Seigneur if he made such a choice himself.’

The boy sort of bristled with outrage. ‘The Rolands have never been prisoners, never.’

‘Quite,’ said Father. He drank more soup and watched the boy over the spoon. ‘The Seigneur will need to hide.’

The boy looked doubtful. ‘But if they’ve got a description …’

Father laid down his spoon. ‘What if you pretended to be a peasant among peasants? What if you hid in my own family, here at Ancre?’

That was a really horrible idea. I hoped the boy would throw a temper at the mere suggestion, but he just rocked his chair back from the table and considered.

‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘You think I can pass as a peasant?’

He was sat carelessly stretching out those long legs of his in that way nobility have of taking up more room than anybody else. He was all clean from Mother washing him, and his skin seemed dazzling white, he made me feel brown and leathery just sitting next to him. His hair was falling in all neat waves, his hands and nails were perfect, his eyes bright and challenging, his voice sort of oozing authority. He couldn’t have looked less like a peasant if he’d tried.

‘Of course,’ said Father. ‘Cardinal Richelieu’s agents pass as all manner of things in their way of business. If the Seigneur pleases I’m sure he can be whatever he chooses.’

The boy nodded thoughtfully. ‘It might be dangerous for your family.’

Father shrugged nobly. ‘Only if we have much contact with the soldiers. Of course, we’ll all have to work for them if we can, even Hélène. Perhaps they’ll need people to wait on them.’

The soup went into a cold lump in my belly, and I think I maybe choked a little. Mother’s face had gone grey and frightened, and it twisted me up inside. I found myself turning desperately to the boy, but he just pressed his hand on my arm and stood up.

He said ‘We can’t let Nelly wait on soldiers.’

‘Our employment is gone, Sieur,’ said Father sadly. ‘I can’t let my family starve.’

‘No one’s going to starve’ said André sharply. ‘I won’t have it. You’re still employed, Pierre, and so are all the Ancre staff. I have enough money to look after us; there’ll be food from the estate, the soldiers can’t take all of it. It’s only right I should be paying when you’ll be looking after me.’

I saw the relief in Mother’s eyes, and the panic slowly eased round my throat. I should have known Father would find an answer. He loved us, he’d got to keep us from starving and save Mother from being near soldiers, and he’d found a way to do it all. All right, it meant we’d got to have the boy with us, but I told myself it needn’t be too bad, it wasn’t going to be all like today. I wouldn’t need to see much of him, he was my parents’ problem now.

They started working out arrangements, so I finished my soup and let them get on with it. Mother was fretting of course, she was worried the bed wasn’t big enough, but then the boy said casually the best thing would be for him to sleep in the barn with me.

This time I really did choke. At least Mother argued against it, she said it wasn’t fitting to put the Chevalier de Roland in a barn, but the boy pointed out he’d spent last night in the forest and the barn had got to be better than that. Father was concerned about the lack of protection, but the boy said I’d be there, wouldn’t I, and I’d protected him all day.

Father looked at him when he said that, then back at me, and he seemed oddly satisfied about something. He said of course the boy should go in with me if that’s what he wanted, so Mother shut up and stopped arguing. Nobody asked my opinion, of course. Nobody ever did.

So Mother looked out a blanket then we showed the boy the barn. It wasn’t that big and the wood rattled a bit, but it was really comfortable, with hay bales you could sit on like chairs, and a ladder to the upper level so you didn’t have to sleep with the horses. There was even a grain hole at the back which was sort of like having a window, and you could always shove straw over it if it got cold. Mother started making up a bed for him, so I left them to it and went back to the yard to wash, hoping the cold water would help me clear my head.

Then the back door creaked, and there was Father watching me.

‘All tucked up and comfortable, is he?’ he asked.

‘He’s in bed,’ I said, drying my hair on my shirt.

‘Is he awake?’

‘Oh yes,’ I said bitterly. ‘He’ll probably be awake all night.’

‘Good,’ said Father. ‘See you make the most of it.’

I looked at him blankly, because that’s just how I felt.

He sighed, then stepped out into the yard and sat down on the edge of the well to talk to me.

‘Come on, boy, it’s simple enough.’ He patted the rim to show I was meant to sit next to him, so I did. It’s a very small well, so we had to squash up close. His face was so near I could see the little red veins round his nose Mother said came from working too hard.

He spoke softly, the way people usually do in the night air. ‘It’s all up to you now, boy. Play this right, and we’re made.’

I thought he was mad.

‘No, no,’ said Father. ‘It’s Jacques saved his life, Jacques can protect him against the whole Spanish army. Trust me, he likes you’.

I started to say that was bollocks, then remembered the way the boy had put his hand on my arm. I looked at Father, and he nodded gently.

‘Use it, boy. Be respectful, call him “Sieur”, handle him right and it won’t be the Seigneur running Dax, it’ll be us. Now do you understand?’

I remember staring at the cobbles and noticing how bright the snail trails looked in the moonlight. I remember the rough stone of the well digging in through my breeches and stinging where Father had beaten me. I remember how close he was, and the warmth of him coming right through my damp shirt.

I said ‘Yes.’

‘Good boy.’ He gave me a little wink, then got to his feet and padded back to the cottage.

It was quiet in the barn when I got back. The horses were nuzzling sleepily after their long day, and it made me feel like I was still in the Ancre stables and had dreamed the whole thing. Then I climbed up to the top level, and there was the boy sitting on a red blanket looking brightly at me and I knew I bloody hadn’t.

I remembered what Father said about being polite, and knew I hadn’t been, not very, so I took a deep breath and tried. ‘Have you everything you need, Sieur?’

He looked at me, and it was like the little light in his eyes slowly faded.

‘Yes, thank you. I have everything.’

I looked at him sitting in his tatty nightshirt on Clare’s old blanket in the straw. Beside him were his breeches all folded up neatly, and his boots laid carefully beside them, and the sword nearest him so he could reach out for it if he wanted. That was all he owned in the world now. I felt sorry, because even I had more than that. I had a Mother and Father for a start.

But it’s impertinent to feel sorry for nobility, so I dropped my head quickly and asked if he wanted any water or anything, and again he said no. I couldn’t think of anything else to be nice to him about, so I said to call if he wanted me, then just sort of bowed and went to my own blanket in the far corner. It was still damp and hairy, but I didn’t care, I was just too tired.

I dreamed about Clare. I had a nightmare about the day she died, when she just didn’t come out of the fit at all and nothing we did made any difference. I was holding her like I always did, then she gave this great twisting leap and lay still, and Father said ‘She’s quiet now, isn’t she? She’s quiet.’ Then I felt her getting colder in my arms, and I looked at her face and her eyes were open like César’s were, and as I’m waking I think ‘He’s another, he’s another I ought to have saved and didn’t.’ And I’m awake now, but it’s like the dream’s still going on, because I can hear these odd sounds, like something banging faintly against the wall, a sort of thrashing in the straw and the noise of stifled breathing, and someone really is having a fit, then I’m fully awake and realize it must be the boy.

I move so fast across the barn I trip over my boots. He’s clinging on to the wall, his fingers digging into the boards like he’s trying to hide, and his breath’s coming out in hard little gasps. His eyes are screwed shut, and he doesn’t even know I’m there. It’s not a fit, of course, he’s only crying, or would be if he could make himself let go. I guess he’s afraid of making a noise, of me hearing or anyone knowing, because he’s the Seigneur and must not cry.

I want to help him, but know I can’t, it would kill him to realize I’ve even seen. I tiptoe away and creep quietly back to my blanket. It’s hard, but I keep reminding myself he’s not really a child, he’s the Seigneur just as much as his father was, and I’ve got to protect his dignity.