With a crash, low-hanging branches buffet his face as Triomphe jumps through the hedge and gallops onward along the familiar, moonlit road, both horse and rider feeling the urgency pulling them faster forward. Four apparitions stand by the cemetery wall with pleading eyes and outstretched arms as they race onward and onward, faster and faster forward. With a sharp keen, his ghostly family fades from sight, while a black-caped rider speeds away through the town. Onward and onward, faster and faster forward. Giving chase, hunter and quarry dash across the Levallier lands and toward the forest. Onward and onward. Faster and faster forward.
At full speed, Triomphe shoots into the forest as a low branch slashes across his rider’s face.
Pierre woke up with his hands instinctively extended out to protect his face. He sat up then, concerned that he’d had another nightmare, different, yet still chilling. Noticing its absence, he found his wife’s bedshift crumpled at the foot of the bed. He retrieved it, breathed deep of the wife-scent, folded it and tucked it under his pillow.
The expected, gentle knock on the door came. “My lord? Are you awake?”
“Yes, Étienne, I am. Come in.”
Étienne entered the bedchamber carefully carrying a tray of food. “My lord. I took the liberty of bringing your breakfast to you today. With all the concerns of the past few days, I thought a quiet breakfast might be to your liking.” Étienne carried the tray to a side table by the window.
“Excellent idea, Étienne, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my lord. I’ll bring your clothes up shortly. Do you have any instructions for me, my lord?”
“No, Étienne. Not at the moment.”
“Very good, my lord.” Étienne turned and left the room.
Pierre sat down at the table and leisurely ate his breakfast. After the headlong rush of the past few days, the messenger delivering the news of his wife and family, the endless hours galloping pell-mell through the countryside, the discovery of his castle home in mourning and the stress of the funeral preparations, it was refreshing to sit and eat a relaxing meal alone. It reminded him of those quiet mornings with Danielle when the children were with the servants. Though the memory brought his recent pain to mind, the sharpness of it was already being dulled by time.
His meal finished, Pierre began to think about the upcoming day. This morning, he would sit in judgement on the four prisoners held in the gaol and he was not looking forward to it. Administering the Lord’s Justice was one of his duties that he liked the least. Pierre always had a difficult time remaining dispassionate when he listened to the prisoners’ charges and he was never sure if he was making the correct judgements regarding their fates. When last he had left for war, he had left instructions for Guillaume to administer the Lord’s Justice by proxy in order to avoid having prisoners sitting in gaol for an extended time and to hopefully avoid a multitude of waiting judgements upon his return. His hope had been that this odious duty could have been avoided. As it was, four prisoners in gaol was a manageable enough number, but it was four too many as far as he was concerned.
After dressing in his usual garb, Pierre left the living quarters and walked to the judgement chamber. The chamber was in a little used part of the castle adjacent to the gaol and the garrison barracks. Guillaume was waiting for him just outside the door.
“My lord, the prisoners are waiting inside,” Guillaume said as he opened the door. Pierre stepped through and, followed by Guillaume, walked to the chair behind the podium. Standing behind the podium, he took notice of the four shackled prisoners sitting on benches before him, flanked by two guards. When Guillaume took his place in front of the podium, he formally announced, “The prisoners will stand and receive The Lord’s Justice. Pierre Levallier, Baron of Neufchâteau, with full authority granted by the Lord Jesus Christ, shall sit in judgement. May Almighty God bless these proceedings.”
The four prisoners stood amid the clanking of chains as Guillaume finished the proclamation. Pierre took his seat and asked, “Guillaume, what is the first case?”
“My lord. The three prisoners on the left, named Marcel, Émile and Gaston, were caught by the castle garrison poaching on Levallier lands.”
Pierre raised an eyebrow. “Thievery? On my lands? Did they kill anything?”
“Two deer, my lord.”
Pierre studied the men’s faces and after a brief pause said, “Guillaume, these men do not look familiar. Do we know where they are from?”
“No, my lord, but they are certainly not Neufchâteau men. I took the liberty of asking around to the neighboring farms and villages and no one remembers seeing these men. As far as I can determine, they are not inhabitants of the barony.”
“Very well.” Turning to address the prisoners, Pierre declared, “This court is ready to pass judgement. Marcel, Émile and Gaston, this court finds you guilty of thievery. I am willing to consider the fact that you may not have known that the lands you were hunting on were mine as you seem to be strangers to this town. Still, the deer you killed did, in fact, belong to me. You are therefore in my debt, a debt which you will repay very soon. I am leading a military expedition which is fitting out for departure within two or three days. This expedition will need teamsters to haul supplies and the teamsters will need strong, healthy men to move those supplies. Therefore, Guillaume will hire you out to the teamsters who will be given instructions that you shall not be paid until we reach our destination. The value of the deer shall be taken from these wages and, upon payment, you shall be free men once again. Failure to submit to the rule of this court will result in the forfeiture of your lives.” Turning back to Guillaume, Pierre said, “Take them away. What is the next case?”
Guillaume nodded to one of the sentries, who, in turn, escorted the three prisoners out of the chamber. When they left the room, Guillaume turned to Pierre and said, “My lord, this last prisoner is named Augustin. Augustin is a deserter from the supply teams of King Phillip’s army in the north. He has abandoned his family in Bayeux and has been stealing food and sleeping in the barn of one of the local farmers. Additionally, the farmer’s daughter became his lover during this time and was helping him hide in the barn. According to the midwife, the daughter is now expecting his child.”
When Guillaume stopped speaking, he looked up to see his liege lord clenching and unclenching his fists. While Pierre’s eyes did not betray his emotions, his voice did. “So, we have an adulterous deserter in our midst, do we? Guillaume, how old is the daughter?”
“Seventeen, my lord.”
“Seventeen? She’s certainly of age. Was she a willing lover?”
“Yes, my lord, according to her, although her father says otherwise. I suspect he’s trying to spare his family the shame of his daughter’s actions.”
“I see,” said Pierre, whose voice began to rise as he continued. “And are we sure that this is the Augustin who deserted his liege lord and his family, abandoning his responsibilities to live the life of a free spirit wandering aimlessly across the land, defiling the honor of country maidens wherever he passes?”
“Yes, my lord. The prisoner himself has admitted as much.”
“Oh, he did, did he? Interesting.” Pierre was visibly angry now. “Is this a rare breed we have here? An honest adulterer? A deserter with morals? Sir Vagabond of the Farmlands, Slayer of Maiden Virtue? I’ve heard enough!” Pierre turned to the prisoner and said, “Augustin, this court finds you guilty of desertion, adultery and thievery. The sentence is death. You shall be hung by the neck off the castle wall today upon the setting sun. In the dead of night, your body, living or lifeless I don’t care which, shall be taken down and quartered, your limbs cast to the four winds and your carcass left unburied in the woods for the carrion crows to feast upon, their droppings scattering your essence across the land. You wish to be a free spirit, unencumbered of life’s obligations? Your wish is granted! Guillaume, notify the priest. That is all!”
Pierre, angered to the core, stormed out of the judgement chamber and across the courtyard. As he entered his living quarters, he saw Étienne walking quickly toward him.
“My lord! There’s a Genoese messenger in the study waiting to see you.”
God damn it! Not now! “Is he alone or are there others?”
“He is quite alone, my lord.”
“Very well. Find Guillaume and tell him that I would like to know how the preparations are coming and that I would like to do some battle training with him late this afternoon. You can find him at the judgement chamber or on his way to see the priest.”
“Yes, my lord. I’ll do this at once.”
Pierre continued on to the study, trying to shed his anger like water off a duck’s back. As he entered the room, a soldier in Genoese garb turned away from the bookshelves on the far wall. “Buongiorno, il mio signore,” said the messenger.
“Buongiorno,” Pierre replied. “You are alone?”
“Si, signore. I was sent ahead to tell you about our delays. The Savoyards decided to bar our troop’s entry into their kingdom. When I left, our commander was considering a hard ride around it.”
“Indeed. Is this the route you took?”
“Si, signore. If the commander does take that route, I suspect that they will be here in two days, perhaps three. The Savoyards were demanding a tribute of some sort, but the commander was loathe to part with so much coin.”
This was disheartening news. Figuring in a one or two day march to Roye, it didn’t look like Pierre’s expedition would make it there in time. That would mean that the English army would cross the Somme unimpeded and make their way to the Dutch. “Étienne!!!”
The sound of running footsteps preceded Étienne’s arrival at the doorway. “Yes, my lord?”
“You were able to find Guillaume?”
“Yes, my lord. He was on his way to see the priest when I found him. He says that he’ll be able to give you a full report on the expedition’s preparations this afternoon and should be able to spar with you as well.”
“Excellent. I need you to take our Genoese friend, …” Pierre paused, looking at the messenger for help.
“Antonio, signore.”
“Antonio, to the kitchens. Give him lunch and help him pack for his next journey.” Turning back to the courier, he said, “Antonio, I will be writing a message that I will need you to take to Roye as soon as you are ready to go. You must give the garrison commander the message and tell him what you have just told me. Hopefully, he will notify the Duke of Lorraine as well. That is all.”
As Étienne led Antonio from the study, Pierre walked to his desk and wrote a request for alternate instructions should the expedition not arrive in Roye in time. Once finished, he gave the message to Antonio, who left for Roye immediately.
Following lunch and a light nap on the balcony, Pierre made his way down to the courtyard to train with Guillaume. As he crossed the yard, he noticed the preparations being made for tonight’s execution of the prisoner, Augustin. With his anger gone, Pierre began to have second thoughts about the harsh punishment being meted out. There was no question in his mind that Augustin still deserved death. It was the manner of Augustin’s pending death that troubled him, that he was capable of such barbarity.
Guillaume’s greeting interrupted Pierre’s thoughts. “My lord. Would you like to hear about today’s preparations now or after we parry?”
“Now please, Guillaume. Have you encountered any problems with the preparations?”
“Nothing insurmountable, my lord, just the usual difficulties of getting underway. However, Corinne at the Pain D’Or was unable to meet her commitment quota of bread for the day. She is quite unhappy with the current situation, but has pledged to serve you to the fullest, as she has throughout the years. She asked me to forward that pledge to you herself.”
“She’s unhappy with the current situation? What situation would that be?”
“Something about not having the right ingredients to bake the bread, my lord. It seems that bread requires different ingredients than most of the pastries that she typically bakes. She also mentioned that, while she’s able to get help from the children when she bakes pastries, none are interested in helping her with something as simple as bread. Because of this, she’s doing all the work herself.”
“Well, tell her that we’ll take what we can. We are all making sacrifices and her dedicated service to her liege lord will be long remembered. The more bread we have, the less we’ll have to impose on Roye itself and we’ll last a little longer if besieged.”
“Yes, my lord. I’ll tell her after we’ve finished.” Guillaume stood and waited for Pierre’s acknowledgement, then followed his liege lord’s gaze up to the castle wall, where the execution preparations were being made. “Was there anything else, my lord?”
Pierre stood and continued staring at the work above. “Yes, there is. When Augustin’s body is taken down from the wall tonight, simply bury him in some nearby woods. If he lives after the hanging, despatch him quickly and mercifully before his burial. There is to be no quartering of the body. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord. Understood. Do you still wish to do some battle training today?”
“No. I don’t think so. My martial spirit has left me for the moment. Let us train in the morning.”
“Very good, my lord. Tomorrow morning, it is. In the meantime, I will forward your wishes to Corinne.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Guillaume.”
Finished with his final duty of the day, Pierre went to the stable and saddled Triomphe for another afternoon ride. As yesterday, he let the horse run under him and felt the ride’s exhilaration purge the stress and tensions of his responsibilities.
When Pierre returned from his ride in the graying light after sunset, he spotted a flowered garland in the dirt by the castle gate. After picking it up, he entered the castle grounds and stabled Triomphe for the night. Still carrying the garland, he walked into the bailey and found Guillaume and other soldiers of the castle garrison bathed in torchlight. Upon the inner wall of the courtyard, hanging by single rope, was the hooded body of Augustin.
“Does he live, Guillaume?” Pierre asked as he approached.
“No, my lord. The kicking and twisting ended mere moments after he was dropped from the ledge. He is quite dead.”
“Give it a few moments more, then take his body down.” Pierre quietly said. Then, handing the garland to Guillaume, he continued, “When you bury him in the woods, I want you to drape this around his neck. Also, note well the grave’s location and make a simple marking on a nearby tree. The marking and location must be easy enough for a seventeen year old girl to find. And only a seventeen year old girl. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord. Understood.”
Pierre left him then, sick at heart. Death, even when justified, was never something to be rejoiced over. His duty called upon him to administer justice and now two women would lose their lover and their children would lose their father. Duty, honor and glory. Where was the honor? Where was the glory?
Foregoing supper, Pierre retired immediately to bed. While his ride with Triomphe had rejuvenated him, all the pleasant relief of that ride had worn off in the castle bailey. Now heartsick, Pierre retrieved Danielle’s bedshift and kissed it softly before hugging it close and laying down to sleep.