Defiant Unto Death (51 page)

Blackstone extended his hand and the man grasped it. Sergeant Jacob held Blackstone's gaze. ‘Rudd was drunk with a knife in his hand. Your son defended his mother and sister and I finished the job. I can assure you, Sir Thomas, that's all that happened.'

Blackstone pressed no further. John Jacob had protected Christiana and now he shielded her name.

‘England has little need for us now, sergeant. The French wars are over,' Blackstone said.

‘Then I'll fight the Scots. There's always them to cause trouble.'

‘No. That's done with. Edward has imprisoned the Scottish King. Men like us are left to their own devices.'

‘Then you'll be doing what exactly, Sir Thomas?'

‘That's yet to be decided, but when it is, I could use a good captain at my side, John Jacob.'

‘I'm a sergeant, my lord.'

‘Captain,' Blackstone answered.

Jacob nodded in acceptance, but before the men spoke another word the clatter of horses echoed down the street. Blackstone leaned out of the window, but the riders were a couple of streets away; all he could see were their pennons fluttering below the roofs.

Blackstone pushed his way through the corridors to Christiana and the children. ‘Stay here,' he told her.

‘What's wrong?' she asked

‘De Marcy is here. He's inside the city.'

‘Here? Why? For us? Does he have men with him?'

Blackstone had moved from the room to the garden and back again. ‘A bodyguard, that's all. Where's Henry?'

‘He went out to the merchants, as he always does. Thomas, are we in danger?'

‘Does he know about de Marcy?'

‘What?' she asked, unable to hide her fear.

Blackstone grabbed her arm. ‘Does Henry know about the Savage Priest and what he did? Does he know I went to kill him?'

She hesitated, and then nodded. ‘Yes, he knows. I told him on the barge. He asked me why you'd left us.'

‘Keep the door locked and open it only when I return.'

Blackstone pulled the door closed behind him. He moved as quickly as the crowded corridors would allow and, despite his size and strength, which pushed men aside, the sheer number of people slowed him. His own fear was that Henry would try to prove himself and attack de Marcy. If that happened, no one would stop the Savage Priest from killing the boy.

By the time Blackstone reached the part of the palace where huge doors opened onto a courtyard, servants were holding the intruders' horses and squires stood with the pennons of de Marcy and a lord of Provence. The Pope's welcoming ministers ushered the sallow-faced killer and his entourage into the corridors of power. Papal guards lined the route as de Marcy strode towards the inner chambers where the Holy Father waited to greet him. Fear of what this killer and his routiers could do had forced the Pope to welcome him and hear his demands.

Blackstone pushed through the merchants and traders who had been herded against the walls. There was no sign of his son. Fear crushed him as tightly as the crowd. One of the soldiers half turned to press back the throng and Blackstone saw Henry. The boy was crouched below men's legs, knife in hand, like an animal preparing to spring.

Blackstone pulled and turned people away, and as de Marcy came within five strides of Henry, reached out and grabbed the boy's shoulder. The guard turned, men's voices were briefly raised in alarm, and then subsided into complaint. Blackstone yanked Henry back into the crowd, but the commotion was not lost on de Marcy. His pace faltered, his eyes scanned the huddled men, pressing shoulder to shoulder. It was impossible not to see Blackstone. The doors of time closed and their memories collided. Both knew the other. Their eyes locked, and Blackstone saw the look of triumph on the Savage Priest's face. Neither man could do anything, surrounded as they were by the numerous papal guards.

Blackstone pulled Henry further back into the crowd as the dignitaries and de Marcy went on to the Pope's chambers.

Christiana scolded Henry as she gathered their few possessions together. ‘You've exposed us all to danger. Now he knows we're here. If you'd obeyed me we would still be safe.'

‘I'm sorry, Mother,' Henry said.

‘There's no shame in trying to kill someone as evil as de Marcy, Henry,' Blackstone told him.

‘You encourage him?' Christiana said.

‘He was trying to succeed where I had failed. But,' he said, turning to Henry, ‘they would have killed you. That's the only reason I stopped you. You have to think before you kill.'

‘Blessed Mother of God,' Christiana whispered, crossing herself, ‘you bring death to the last place of refuge we have.'

There was a rapid knock on the door and Father Niccolò, breathless and sweating, having run from the Pope's chamber, entered and then leaned back against the door, as if the devil himself were pressing from the other side.

‘De Marcy threatens the towns that control the routes into Avignon. He would seize all trade and bullion. He demands payment of more than fifty thousand gold florins. And he wants you. You have to leave. Now. The Pope will give you up. He has no choice.'

He looked sympathetically at Christiana. ‘I am going back to Florence. There is a boat waiting. My lady, I hope you are convinced that the offer I made Sir Thomas is a good one and is now the best chance you and your family have of escape.'

Christiana looked to Blackstone. ‘What offer?'

Father Niccolò winced. He had come between man and wife. He quickly shrugged the moment's awkwardness away. This was no time for protracted family negotiations.

‘Thomas. Please. We must leave,' he urged.

‘What offer?' Christiana demanded again.

Blackstone hesitated before answering. But answer he must. Time had run out.

‘I have a contract to lead forces in Florence.'

‘To leave France?' she asked. ‘This is my home! I'll not run again!'

‘There is no damned France left, Christiana! The King is taken, the Dauphin will struggle to gain power. Charles of Navarre will be released and the killing will start again. Christ, it's all done with here!'

Blackstone gave a brief look of regret at his blasphemy to Torellini, who nodded and made the sign of the cross.

‘Keep the documents I gave you safe. I will take your family; the transalpine Princes will welcome you and your men. I have already sent word.'

‘I told you, Father. They aren't my men. They're Sir Gilbert's.'

‘Then why are they still waiting in the hills before they make their way into Italy? They wait for you, Sir Thomas.'

Christiana's anger was barely contained. ‘You believe de Marcy's men will cross the mountains?'

‘Yes,' Torellini said. ‘Once his demands are met here, and they will be, he will join forces with the Germans and Hungarians who are already in the north of Italy. They have aligned themselves to the Visconti of Milan against the Pope and the Papal States. My lady, there is nowhere safe now except with me in Florence.'

‘I'll not leave my husband again,' she said, with a brief glance at Blackstone.

Blackstone hesitated. She would be safer with Torellini. The priest had kept his word and delivered her and the children to safety. If Henry had not tried to attack de Marcy their presence at Avignon would have gone unnoticed. That, he knew, was not why she was afraid of leaving him. What mattered was that the last time he had left her she had been hurt.

‘We'll stay together,' Blackstone said.

The threat of excommunication against Gilles de Marcy had no effect on the Savage Priest. Under pressure from the papal politicians the Pope made, some would say, a pact with the devil. He would save the vital trade routes that brought the Holy See its wealth.

And that, as Father Niccolò explained while he led the Blackstone family through labyrinthine passages to safety, was why the Savage Priest had dined with Pope Innocent and was fêted like a prince. The payment would be made, his demands would be met and Blackstone's life was worthless within the confines of the city. Palace guards were already raiding their rooms. But Pope Innocent had played one card that de Marcy did not yet know of. Torellini emphasized the importance of the documents he had given to Blackstone. The Pope, by affixing his great seal to the folded parchments, had endorsed them. They secured arms and payment once Blackstone reached the transalpine Princes whose provinces straddled the border between France and Italy. If he would lead, then others would follow. Father Niccolò had assured His Holiness that Florence would finance the contract to fight the Visconti and those routiers, such as de Marcy, drawn to their wealth and power. With that seal of approval Blackstone's fortunes had changed again.

It gave him the authority and the means to wage war against the Church's enemies.

Blackstone carried Agnes as the dank passageways, lit by cresset lamps, gave way to a gate below the outside walls of the city. Alerted by Torellini's messengers, Guillaume and John Jacob with his two remaining armed men waited with the horses. Agnes smiled and waved at them both as the protectors greeted Christiana, who seemed reassured by their presence.

Father Niccolò made the sign of the cross and blessed them as Sir Thomas Blackstone knelt and kissed the hand of the priest who had held him in his arms all those years ago.

‘I grant you absolution for any previous wrongdoing, Thomas, and pray that you find safe passage through the mountains. I will see you again.'

Blackstone held Agnes in one arm and climbed into the saddle. ‘Guillaume, lead the way,' he said.

Hooves clattered across the cobblestones as Torellini waited at the gate, an arm raised in benediction and farewell, but Blackstone never looked back.

Killbere spat in disbelief: ‘God's work?'

Blackstone showed him the sealed documents. ‘The Vicar of Christ's,' he said.

‘As good as! You don't attend mass or go on bended knee enough for the privilege, Thomas. Sweet Jesus! Forgive me, but you're only one step removed from being a heathen.'

‘I'll be happy to have Him on our side, Gilbert, and I'll make sure you get to pray on behalf of us all, seeing that you've already sworn your sword to Him.'

‘Aye, but that was a pact to save my own worthless skin! You've been handed the keys to heaven.'

Killbere looked to where Guillaume had fashioned a canopy for Christiana and the children. ‘It's a risk having them along,' he said.

‘What would you have me do? Abandon them?' Blackstone answered sharply.

Killbere put a placating hand on his friend's arm. ‘Thomas, not for us. For them. You've already dragged them across the whole of France with ravenous wolves at their heels. Anyway, no matter; they'll be as safe as anywhere with us. We've nearly two hundred men, but we need more.'

‘They'll come,' Blackstone said. ‘Gilbert, I gave my men over to you. Now I have to take them back. I want no ill feeling between us.'

‘There is none. I'm glad of it. I've been scratching my arse for the last few days thinking how best to go on. Now you've returned the problem is no longer mine. I wish I could tell you you're the answer to my prayers but I can't because no supplication passed my lips.'

Blackstone looked across the river towards the hills. ‘We have to get past de Marcy's troops, and reach a safe haven until more men can be found.'

‘They're not the only ones we have to worry about. We stopped merchants yesterday and helped lighten their journey,' he said, and then scowled as Blackstone was about to question him. ‘Thomas, it was food and drink and a few bolts of cloth; we didn't cut a throat, I swear. But there are more horsemen, several hundred by all accounts, moving across Provence. From what the merchants said, they're scorching their way along the plains to the north and towards the mountains. We won't stand a chance if we're caught between the two.'

‘We're few and we travel fast. And we've always had luck in our killing,' Blackstone answered.

Blackstone presented John Jacob to the Chaulion men as their captain; since losing Guinot at Poitiers, those English and Gascon troops had no one to command them and Perinne who commanded the Chaulion monastery made a better lieutenant – a man who could follow orders and see them carried out. He gave Perinne and the men permission for any man to go his own way, but no one was prepared to leave Blackstone and Perinne, like Sir Gilbert Killbere, knew when it was best to step aside.

‘We'll grow in numbers and there are victories to be had. We take what we need when we need it – and pay for it. There'll be no rape, no slaughter of children – my men know me for this – and I'll punish any man who disobeys. We forget our past belligerence towards each other; we're a mix of men as good as can be found, and we'll take our fight into Italy and be paid for it. Turn your backs on France; she has no need of us now. We serve a new cause and we serve each other,' he told them.

Blackstone instructed a bodyguard of men, commanded by Guillaume, to protect his family and then ordered them to strike camp. The Savage Priest would know soon enough that he had slipped away. By nightfall they had made ten miles, with sightings of horsemen on distant ridgelines, but he would not let them stop for rest or food. The cloudless, moonlit night aided the men sent ahead to scout the tracks that meandered through the valleys and climbed into the low, tree-covered hills.

After a week of tiring travel, Blackstone led them into a broad valley where a fortified manor house stood. Its ancient walls, laid centuries ago by a Roman legion, divided field and vineyard from pasture and pens, and looked to be easily assaulted. But the manor house and its courtyard had a greater strength than its walls; it belonged to a kinsman of the transalpine Prince, the Marquis of Montferrat, who had agreed to invite Blackstone's men into Piedmont where they would be hired by the Vicar-General of Italy to fight anti-papal forces. The fortified manor house served as a beacon for one of the routes through the mountains. If harm befell the Seigneur of this territory, then those responsible would find their way ahead blocked, their troops constantly ambushed and a revenge exacted in blood. No money would buy redemption.