29 - The Oath by Michael Jecks Read Free Book Online Page A

witness, I declare I only want to help you. Now, ah . . . Thank you, Hamo. Put the wine there, and then you may leave us.’ She waited until he had left the hall, and then herself poured two cups from the jug.
    When Emma passed her a cup, Cecily took it and sipped, but sat with her eyes downcast.
    ‘Look, the attack on the house was not your fault,’ Emma said patiently. ‘Squire William was a thoroughly evil man. He and his men were foul to commit such a dreadful crime.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘You mustn’t blame yourself. I imagine you feel a little like me – guilty, because you survived. I felt that after my husband died, but . . .’
    ‘No! It’s because I didn’t protect him ! He shouldn’t have been hurt. I should have protected him, as I swore. I failed Little Harry!’
    Third Wednesday after the Feast of St Michael 12
     
    Near Tintern Abbey
    All along their route, the peasants stopped and stood staring as they heard the sounds of the marchers approaching. As the noise grew nearer, there was a rush as men and women dropped their tools, no matter how expensive, and flew away, scooping up children as they went and hurrying off to hide in the woods and shaws that stood about the vills.
    No one wanted to be caught by the warriors. Everyone knew what could happen when a force arrived. Men with swords would always resort to blunt persuasion when they wanted food and drink – and women.
    But the people of the village didn’t realise that these men-at-arms had more pressing concerns than mere pillage. They didn’t want to be caught by the host that followed so closely on their heels.
    The main road was churned underfoot by the centaine of thin, anxious men in dirty jacks and leather, all stubbled, pallid-faced and sick with fear. Their legs and hosen were beslubbered with mud, and weariness made them stumble as they trudged, eyes downcast.
    Sir Ralph of Evesham sat astride his rounsey feeling dejected as he surveyed the men about him. They were so exhausted, it was a miracle any of them were still on their feet. In the last twelve days they had marched all the way from London, with the perpetual fear of capture in every man’s heart, but as their journey progressed, men had disappeared. The numbers were down to below a tenth of the force which had set off.
    In the early days, he had managed to retain his belief that at some point they would meet with additional men who would join them to help protect the King, but now the truth was clear and stark even to his optimistic eye. The idea that the Marcher Lords would come to the King’s aid was as false as the hearts of those further east who had broken their promises. King Edward II was alone but for this tiny force.
    ‘Sir Ralph, we should ride on, sir, and make a surveillance.’
    Sir Ralph nodded. Thank the Lord for his loyal men, he thought gratefully. Pagan and Alexander were both still with Squire Bernard and himself, which was little short of a miracle. So many others had seen their pages and heralds leave as the force trudged on towards Wales.
    ‘Good idea,’ he said, and lashed his palfrey’s flanks with his reins’ ends.
    They cantered ahead together, Sir Ralph slightly ahead of his squire, and could soon see the village ahead.
    ‘Shall I see if there’s an ambush?’ Squire Bernard said as they paused at the edge of the woods.
    ‘No, we will go together,’ Sir Ralph said.
    They trotted down a shallow incline, both keeping a wary eye open for the threat of danger, but like so many other villages along their way, the place was deserted.
    ‘Get back and tell the heralds that it’s safe,’ Sir Ralph said, and dismounted. He walked to the well at the side of the road and pulled up a pitcher of water. It was brackish, but wholesome.
    He sat down to wait, and it was just then that he heard the unmistakable sound of hooves approaching at a canter.
    ‘Sir Ralph? You are wanted, sir. The King has sent me to fetch you.’
    Sir Ralph mounted and rode to