CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Hugh
Balliol surveyed the approaching rider with little short of total disdain. From
his vantage point on the battlements of
“I come on behalf of Alexander, second of that name, Ard Righ King of Scots. He does beseech you in your own interests to surrender unto him.”
“Tell
your Prince” roared Hugh Balliol “that we do not give ourselves to vapid boys,
we are strongly fortified here and can withstand the greatest of sieges. Turn
away and chase the sheep back to
“I
come from a King, no mere Prince” stormed the messenger “and here this,
gathered in arms is not only the might of
“Proud words” sneered Balliol “but words mean nothing unless backed by deeds. Go back to your masters and tell them that we widdle on them, we regard them as of no account, leave now ere we chase you and make sport with you, vile youth.”
The horseman visibly shifted in his saddle then turning swiftly he spurred his mount and rode hard down the valley. The audience on the battlements watched silently until he had disappeared from sight.
“Harsh comments?” enquired or suggested Hugh Balliol’s nearest companion.
“Not really, who the hell do these rebels and ill-brought-up Scots think they are, de Buissant?”
Sir Guy de Buissant smiled wryly, almost to himself, he had ridden hard with his troop of men to be here. The King was placing more and more trust in him. He thought to himself how even greater would his star be shining if Eleanor of Brittany was monarch instead of her Uncle John. Still, no complaints he was regarded as a man of parts, a reliable cog in the affairs of state.
“I think - indeed I know - from discussions with you,” enjoined de Buissant “that our preparations are more than adequate to withstand the onslaught of our savage opponents.”
“Quite my good Sir Guy. I suggest therefore that we remain vigilant but at the same time do not remain over tense. We will keep a permanent watch obviously but change shifts as appropriate. As our guest you can relax for the next few hours but I would appreciate it if you took over the night duty. I know from your reputation that it would be difficult to pull the wool over your eyes. Our castle here will be in unfailing safe hands.”
The period under Balliol’s control passed without incident almost as if the Scots and their allies had lost interest. Similarly for the first hour or so that Guy had charge of operations the situation was equally quiet. The former squire wondered when the enemy would pluck up courage to attack, or possibly was there some cunning strategy being developed. The waiting was much more difficult than the action.
“Sir Guy I would speak with you. Have you a moment?”
De Buissant spun round to confront one of the guards from the battlements.
“Surely that is what I am here for. Have you some information to give me?”
“Strangely enough while I was patrolling a small silk bag or purse , call it what you like, was thrown almost directly into my path. Where it came from I don’t know. Anyway here it is. I have not looked inside, in case as head of operations at the moment you wanted to make the first inspection.”
“Quite sensible of you my man” smiled Guy “right let’s look inside and see exactly what we have here.”
On
opening the silk bag Guy’s attention was immediately attracted by an ornate
ring, some semi-heraldic inscription suggesting that it was no ordinary piece
of
jewellery. Twisted round it was a small parchment script with a brief unsigned
message inscribed. The gist of the written comments was a request to see the
owner of the ring in a location some 500 yards from the castle.
“They are asking a lot to expect us to fall for that trick” mused the guard.
“I don’t think so” responded Guy “what advantage is there in luring just a few of our number into an ambush? After all they would not expect us to send a large detachment of troops on the basis of a scribed demand.”
“No, I see your point.”
“Indeed. In fact I am tempted to go alone and find out for myself. I will wait until Balliol has had his ration of sleep and then tell him of my plans.”
When Hugh Balliol was roused from his slumber he was considerably unlifted in spirits when he was shown the ring and the message. He chortled to himself for a while and slapped de Buissant on the shoulders in obvious glee.
“Well my boy, we have a good contact here. This is authentic beyond doubt. I should also warn you that if you meet up with the bearer of the message you will get a very pleasant surprise.”
“In what way my good sir?”
“Why the lady concerned is a dark Moorish woman full of beauty, charm, and about everything else.”
“Then I await the meeting with pleasure.”
“Aye, but first take a couple of stalwart solders with you. The lady is completely reliable but in case anything goes awry, say you are spied upon, then an extra few swords are to your advantage. When you see the lovely Barrisa - that’s her name - you may need two strong lads to pull you off her” concluded Balliol with a nudge and a wink.
“Thank-you” nodded Guy “I will bear those sentiments in mind. I will select a couple of capable men and discretely locate the area where Barrisa will be waiting for us.”
A
short while later Guy was manoeuvring himself into a strategic position behind
a clump of bushes. With a discrete wave of his hand he ushered his two stalwart
companions alongside him. Searching the area with keen young eyes he
espied a slight movement some distance away.
“Barrisa” he voiced quickly. There was a further slight undulation in the forestry and so he followed-up by hissing “the ring you sent, Barrisa” Stealthily a dark-cloaked figure moved alongside him, swiftly pulling back part of the hood she revealed a beautiful brown face with the darkest of eyes.
“I am Sir Guy de Buissant and these are two of my fellow soldiers” announced the former squire.
“Thank-you
for the introduction” responded Barrisa “I have important news for you. I must
speak quickly or else my non-appearance in the coup will be noticed. Eustace de
Vesci plans to attack
“That will do him little good” snorted de Buissant. “This is one of the most secure castles in the land. We are difficult to approach from any side. What a total waste of time.”
“My opinion also” smiled Barrisa “but de Vesci is not over-burdened with brains. I thought that I would let you know nonetheless in case you wanted to send a party out to cut him off in his tracks.”
“Indeed that is an excellent suggestion” agreed Guy “I have had dealings with de Vesci before, a straight out and out conflict would be much to my liking.”
“This is one of de Vesci’s so-called stratagems” indicated Barrisa “Alexander is concentrating on besieging Balliol and his people. The Ard Righ King of Scots is a lively, quick-witted young lad and I would not wish to see any harm befall him. He has other virtues, capabilities as well should I say” grinned the Moorish lady.
“Never fear, good lady” replied de Buissant “We are not in the business of despoiling youths, we know who are the evil ones here, the vicious barons and their adherents.”
“Yes
indeed Sir Guy” smiled Barrisa “Alexander does learn fast, not such a callow,
gauche young man that you suggest. However your sentiments are well appreciated
and as a measure of my gratitude to you can I bestow upon you a chaste kiss.”
Sir Guy looked slightly taken
aback but seeing how beautiful his new-found confident was he shrugged his
shoulders and held out his arms to her. The voluptuous Moorish woman embraced
the knight firmly, her obvious and very evident femininity communicating itself
to him even beneath the deep-folded cloak she was wearing. De Buissant felt his
head spin as Barrisa forced her lips hard onto his and responded by running his
hand down her back and holding her in a vice-like grip. Their bodies moved
together each seeming to demand more and more from each other as if they were
joined together in a rhapsody of desire. Guy almost forgot where he was as he
struggled to free the monkish cowl covering the woman’s head. He pulled it back
to reveal Barrisa’s long strong hair, the thrill of feeling those thick-waft
coal black strands sent his mind and body into numerous ecstasies. That
intensity of passion that almost borders on the losing of the mental faculties,
that forces flesh and spirit to leap over the ravine to a world of no control,
all the signs were there. Inspite of the coolness of the morning Guy felt the
perspiration overwhelm him, he was beside himself with suppressed ardour when
Barrisa pulled away from him.
“I could follow this up on another occasion, sir knight” beamed the lady pulling back the hood to cover her head. “Sadly this is not quite the right place and we both need to get back to make our respective plans. May God go with you, if you fight like you love then de Vesci will have no chance whatsoever.” Laughing coquettishly Barrisa turned on her heel and was gone deep into the undergrowth.
A short while afterwards Sir guy was quietening his faithful mount by gently caressing the side of the animal’s face. He thought to himself as he surveyed the surrounding area from the hill-top that de Vesci would surely play into their hands. Not a man to tangle with was the notorious Lord of Alnwick but nevertheless not a particularly clever villain. King John could leave him standing when it came to cerebral powers, and it certainly said much for the barons, or rather very little thought Guy that de Vesci should be regarded as a leader of sorts, God help the rest.
Suddenly
there was a movement below as horsemen approached together with a number of
infantry men and soldiers carrying cross-bows. Guy scoured the terrain in
anticipation seeking to identify his enemies. Yes he was unmistakable the surly
features encased in mail, savagely defiant, so full of himself, ordering and
blustering
in his usual arrogant fashion, Guy held his hand steady then at the strategic
moment brought it down. In response a flight of arrows sped at deadly speed
towards the would-be assailants of
Here was de Buissant’s chance as he now urged the front file of his small group of cavalry down the hill-side. In a trice he was almost alongside de Vesci who gave him a look of recognition.
“Damn squire, the popinjay of Eleanor of Brittany!” he snapped simultaneously bringing his sword crashing against Guy’s shield.
“Now a knight, my Lord” responded de Buissant “You may call me Sir Guy.”
“Still an impudent brat” almost spit out the fierce-visaged baron, wheeling his horse away to obtain a better footing. The sudden movement brought a response from Guy who sought to turn his own animal but alarmingly a small piece of rock struck against one of the beast’s front hooves. The horse began to cavort in semi agitated fashion as the debris stirred-up by the activity had lodged in his leg. De Buissant felt a savage glow catch him on his unprotected upper arm as he rocked backwards seeking to adjust his shield. Alnwick moved closer to his antagonist and brought the mailed fist holding his sword crashing against Guy’s jaw. The King’s supporter gasped in pain and rolled back in his saddle. He could see for just a split second it seemed a look of utter contempt on the face of his enemy. Somehow this spurred him into action, the adrenaline started to flow, and twisting savagely on his mount he just avoided a downward slashing stroke from de Vesci’s weapon.
“Just a deferment for a few minutes, boy” snarled Eustace gloating “Prepare to meet your maker.”
De
Buissant flung his shield straight at the head of the Lord of Alnwick who
brushed it away with one sweep of his arm. He was, however, slow at regaining
his composure as Guy drove his sword straight at his midriff in Roman style.
Eustace de Vesci grimaced more in shock than through severe injury. His
mail-coat absorbed most of the blow but he had lost some of his orientation.
Guy leapt from his own
horse and grasping de Vesci firmly round the body pulled him and himself down
onto the ground. The older man seemed distracted and had taken more severe
bruising than his antagonist. Nevertheless he reacted fiercely and the two
rolled together in the dust each seeking a quick advantage. De Vesci somehow
got to his feet and with one last great effort aimed a kick at de Buissant. Guy
grabbed hold of the attacking foot and pulled it towards him sending Alnwick
crashing onto his back. With a snort of fury de Vesci fell back seemingly at
best semiconscious.
De Buissant got to his feet and turned to se how the rest of the skirmish was going. De Vesci’s followers were showing reluctance to fight Guy’s men lacking both commitment and enthusiasm and a number had already run away. They would not try this ploy again that was sure, at least not if they had any sense. Guy noted a flash of steel and casting his eyes downwards saw de Vesci rising. The former squire jumped backwards not a moment too soon as the baron swung his sword in a vicious arc near Guy’s head. This time, however, there was no second chance for the rebel because de Buissant drove his own sword at his enemy’s throat. The Lord of Alnwick started to speak but all he could manage was a gurgling yet savage cry. He would speak no more, give no more orders, chastise no more servants, abuse and maltreat no more innocents, rebel no longer against his Liege Lord. He had departed into the other world.
“We
can always fight another day, my
“After
all” added the English knight “
“Then why have we spent such a hell of a long time besieging it, and seeking its destruction?” grated Alexander.
“It seemed the right policy at the time” responded the Englishman “but times change, flexibility of tactics and even strategy is a sign of a mature mind!”
Alexander
laughed inwardly to himself. What further excuses would they
find. Quite a disaster all round, Eustace de Vesci dead, other soldiers both
Scots and English also no more and the Castle still as defiant as when the
campaign had started. Still a warm night with Barrisa beckoned, even if the
weather was less than it should be, it was always hot and sultry with that
young woman. Yes at least there was somebody that the King of Scots could
trust, a lady who was reliability itself.
Go to Chapter 30
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