Read Online Blood on the Sand by Michael Jecks - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Jecks
Ads: Link
raised. They might suffer in a fight, but all, apart from Tyler, would
prefer to fight than submit to torture and maiming.
The guards were bellowing orders and somewhere a bell had begun to sound. Berenger threw an anxious look about him. Jack was helping Clip to his feet, muttering, ‘Should have left him tae
me. I’d have taken his leg off, the cowardly prickle!’ At the other side of the group, John of Essex had bent his head into an aggressive posture once more. He looked like a man
fighting in the ring: focused and determined.
‘Archers!’ Berenger called. ‘We can’t fight these gits. We need to get out of here and find weapons; get a blacksmith to take these manacles off.’
‘Are you mad?’ Tyler shouted, and suddenly threw himself at Berenger, hands outstretched. ‘He was going to let us go! Now he’ll see us all killed!’
‘No, he was going to blind us all. That’s what he just said to his clerk over there.’
‘You’ll get us all killed! I had him listening to me – he would have let us go!’ Tyler screamed.
‘Jack! Get this tarse-fiddler off me and break his neck if he holds us up again,’ Berenger said. Jack grasped Tyler’s wrist chains and pulled him away. Then, with the rest of
the men, Berenger began to head to the doors.
They were open, and the vintaine poured through, Berenger keeping a firm grip on the cardinal’s throat. When the man stumbled, Berenger jerked the chain and the cardinal quickly regained
his footing. There was a shuffling and muttering as the archers made their way to the main entrance. There Berenger muttered to Clip, who trotted forward and peered out.
‘Clear!’ he called back, and the men hurried out, still followed by the guards. The stairs outside were not easy to negotiate with his arm about the neck of the cardinal, but
Berenger made it without falling, and soon he and the rest were down at the courtyard area. Here, they marched across, heading for the large gate by which they had entered only an hour or so before
. . . but once the gate was opened, there was a shocked silence. Outside, with swords drawn, were more than forty men. Strong, weather-bronzed men with dark hair and good linen or muslin shirts:
the Genoese who had captured them on board their ship.
‘A good day to you, my friend,’ Chrestien de Grimault said, bowing to the cardinal – or was it Berenger? ‘I trust I find you well?’
Berenger felt the cardinal’s throat move as he tried to speak. He quickly tightened his grip. ‘My apologies, but His Eminence is feeling a little weak. I will speak for him in case
he grows more fatigued.’
‘I think he grows wearier and wearier,’ Chrestien de Grimault said. ‘It is undoubtedly the weight of troubles lying on his mind. So many things for him to consider, such as
swearing to me that my prisoners would be treated honourably when I first brought them to him.’
‘He has ordered us to be blinded and crippled.’
‘At the church, it is certain. My man told me earlier that your fate was sealed. I feel sure you would wish to join us for some drinks before any such rash decision could be
taken.’
‘We’re going to the port.’
‘A fine idea. However, if I may be so bold,’ Chrestien said, and his eyes rose to the building behind them, ‘it would be sensible to take your guest away from here. There are
many men with weapons who watch your every move with interest. Perhaps we should leave here and find a better place to talk?’
Jack stepped to Berenger’s side. ‘I don’t trust the slimy whoreson, Frip.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘Master,’ Chrestien said with a broad smile. ‘I dislike the cardinal there more than anyone. And if I and my men wanted to kill you, we could, with all these weapons. So
clearly I do not intend you harm. I suggest a stratagem. You slam the gates and jam them, and then follow me. I shall lead you to the ship, where you will be safe.’
Jack began to speak, but behind them all
prefer to fight than submit to torture and maiming.
The guards were bellowing orders and somewhere a bell had begun to sound. Berenger threw an anxious look about him. Jack was helping Clip to his feet, muttering, ‘Should have left him tae
me. I’d have taken his leg off, the cowardly prickle!’ At the other side of the group, John of Essex had bent his head into an aggressive posture once more. He looked like a man
fighting in the ring: focused and determined.
‘Archers!’ Berenger called. ‘We can’t fight these gits. We need to get out of here and find weapons; get a blacksmith to take these manacles off.’
‘Are you mad?’ Tyler shouted, and suddenly threw himself at Berenger, hands outstretched. ‘He was going to let us go! Now he’ll see us all killed!’
‘No, he was going to blind us all. That’s what he just said to his clerk over there.’
‘You’ll get us all killed! I had him listening to me – he would have let us go!’ Tyler screamed.
‘Jack! Get this tarse-fiddler off me and break his neck if he holds us up again,’ Berenger said. Jack grasped Tyler’s wrist chains and pulled him away. Then, with the rest of
the men, Berenger began to head to the doors.
They were open, and the vintaine poured through, Berenger keeping a firm grip on the cardinal’s throat. When the man stumbled, Berenger jerked the chain and the cardinal quickly regained
his footing. There was a shuffling and muttering as the archers made their way to the main entrance. There Berenger muttered to Clip, who trotted forward and peered out.
‘Clear!’ he called back, and the men hurried out, still followed by the guards. The stairs outside were not easy to negotiate with his arm about the neck of the cardinal, but
Berenger made it without falling, and soon he and the rest were down at the courtyard area. Here, they marched across, heading for the large gate by which they had entered only an hour or so before
. . . but once the gate was opened, there was a shocked silence. Outside, with swords drawn, were more than forty men. Strong, weather-bronzed men with dark hair and good linen or muslin shirts:
the Genoese who had captured them on board their ship.
‘A good day to you, my friend,’ Chrestien de Grimault said, bowing to the cardinal – or was it Berenger? ‘I trust I find you well?’
Berenger felt the cardinal’s throat move as he tried to speak. He quickly tightened his grip. ‘My apologies, but His Eminence is feeling a little weak. I will speak for him in case
he grows more fatigued.’
‘I think he grows wearier and wearier,’ Chrestien de Grimault said. ‘It is undoubtedly the weight of troubles lying on his mind. So many things for him to consider, such as
swearing to me that my prisoners would be treated honourably when I first brought them to him.’
‘He has ordered us to be blinded and crippled.’
‘At the church, it is certain. My man told me earlier that your fate was sealed. I feel sure you would wish to join us for some drinks before any such rash decision could be
taken.’
‘We’re going to the port.’
‘A fine idea. However, if I may be so bold,’ Chrestien said, and his eyes rose to the building behind them, ‘it would be sensible to take your guest away from here. There are
many men with weapons who watch your every move with interest. Perhaps we should leave here and find a better place to talk?’
Jack stepped to Berenger’s side. ‘I don’t trust the slimy whoreson, Frip.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘Master,’ Chrestien said with a broad smile. ‘I dislike the cardinal there more than anyone. And if I and my men wanted to kill you, we could, with all these weapons. So
clearly I do not intend you harm. I suggest a stratagem. You slam the gates and jam them, and then follow me. I shall lead you to the ship, where you will be safe.’
Jack began to speak, but behind them all
Similar Books
