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all respect. I bowed to the priests.
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What a shame, then, Stephen said, if a similar fate befell another whom you
prize.
Fury tightened in my chest. If any harm comes to her, it will take more than a
delegation of priests to save you. Lady Emilie returned here of her own will,
out of loyalty and concern for her mistress. She has no conflict with you.
And doyou? Jester, rebel, heretic... How is it I should address you?
Hugh, I said, fixing on his cold, superior eyes. I am Hugh De Luc. My wife was
Sophie. My son, who never saw his second year, was Phillipe.
I'm sure all of us are delighted to hear your family tree, but what is it you
want here, Hugh?
What do I want? Part of me wanted to pull him off his mount right there and
end this thing, just he and I. I directed my horse one step closer to him. I
want your admission of the wrongs you have done. I want restitution paid for
each man, woman, and child killed in pursuit of this. I put forward the lance.
I want the lady Emilie sent to me at once.
The duke looked to his underlings, as if he were restraining a laugh. I heard
he was entertaining. And now I think no less myself. You want a lord to be a
mule-keep. You parade behind a purported relic of the Church and yet you put
the souls of a thousand followers at risk.
These men are here of their own mind, I said. I doubt they would go home even
upon my demand.
Does the welfare of their immortal souls not matter to them? one of the
priests inquired.
I don't know. Let's see. I turned back toward my ranks. Go home. Lay down your
arms. All of you. Fight's over. I have his word that the duke promises to
spare your souls.
My words echoed across the field, but not a single person moved. I turned back
to the priest. Shrugged.
And what if I said the lady Emilie was here of her own mind too, Stephen
snapped. That it is her choice to stay, even upon my demand.
Then I would call you a liar, Stephen. Or a hopeless fool.
Again, jester, he said, yanking his horse, you waste precious time on jokes.
Your new chatelain will tell you, you are on the verge of a bloody bath.
We are ready, my lord. This battle has your handprint on it, if it occurs, not
mine.
Stephen curled a smile. Just know that I will not be as lenient with you as
was that codswipe Baldwin. You have seen the fate of certain villages and
people who I thought had something I wanted. Expect no less, jester. I will
see your heart burned out of your traitorous body. You will be hung upside
down as heretics, all of you... your insides left to soil your faces as they
run to the ground. Even God will avert His eyes!
Then what do you say, Daniel? I glanced at Gui with a smile. We must make sure
we fight this fight on a full stomach, so as not to disappoint.
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Stephen sniffed back a laugh. Then he ran his eyes over the lance. You know,
should I return with that, all I described could be avoided. You could have
the little slut and ride off to the far corner of the earth for all I care. As
for your men, I will see that we restore their souls.
Most tempting, I replied, pretending to ponder his offer for a moment. Problem
is, my men have not assembled here for Lady Emilie, but for the single purpose
of seeing the offenses of your rule brought to justice. They're here to demand
recompense for your crimes. To see you bow down, lord, nothing less. Then I
will give you the lance. That ismy offer. In the meantime, with all respect to
the bishop, we'll take our chances on our souls.
I could simply take it, you know. My archers could cut you in half with just a
nod.
And mine too, my lord. Then God would have to decide.
A tiny twitch tremored on Stephen's nose. You think I would trade the dignity
of my name even for a vault of such lances?
It should not be so hard, I said, holding it close to his face, since you have
traded most of it already just to be this close.
Stephen reared his horse and smiled. I can see why the court grew fond of you.
Get prepared, jester. I will reply. Within an hour. He yanked his horse around
and started to head back toward the gate.
Chapter 135
OUR ARMY WAITED just two hundred yards from the towering walls of Bor e in a
broad and teeming line.
Archers tensed their bows, fire arrows tipped in oil. Foot soldiers, some
holding ladders like crosses, focused on the walls, on the line of silent
green-and-gold defenders.
A thousand men, cradling their weapons, muttering last prayers, awaited my
sign.
What are you thinking now? Odo asked.
I took a breath. That Emilie is in there... And you?
That those are the biggest fucking walls I've ever seen. The smith shrugged.
I fixed on the impressive main gate, waiting for Stephen's reply. Odo to my
left, Georges, Daniel, and Alphonse flanked to my right. The tension beat
around like a drum of war.
Stephen's defenders crowded the walls, crossbows tilted down at us. There were
no taunts or curses rattling back and forth, only a heavy silence hanging like
a fog between the two armies. In the distance, the chirp of birds could be
heard. Any moment, the tense calm would be shattered like a club smashing
through glass.
Odo leaned close, clutching his enormous pike. One of the Languedocians told
me a good one. You have the time to hear?
I kept my eyes fixed on the gate. If I must.
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What's hairy underneath, stands tall and erect in a bed, has reddish skin, and
is guaranteed to make even a nun cry out in tears?
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