“You also told us we were free,” Odo shot back. “So I figure this is my choice.”
I faltered. “I put you in charge, Georges. I left you with Baldwin. And four hundred men.”
“So you did, didn’t you?” The miller winked.
From down the road, the heavy rumble of footsteps now rose in my ears. Many people, marching. From around a bend, the first of them came into view. It was Alois, from Morrisaey, and three of his townsmen, carrying their axes and shields.
The column grew. Alois’s four turned into forty. Then forty more. Faces I recognized. From Morrisaey, Moulin Vieux, Sur le Gavre. Some on horses, others on foot. Their faces rugged, silent, proud. A lump caught in my throat. I didn’t speak. They kept coming, line after line, men who still believed in me. Who had nothing left but their souls.
Then, on a pale stallion, bound like a sack of wheat, I saw Baldwin. And his chatelain close behind.
I could not believe what I was seeing!
“They all came? All four hundred?” I asked Alois.
He shook his head. “Four hundred and four.” He grinned. “If the Freemasons came along.”
Odo said to me, “We figured, if our souls are fucked anyway, what do we have to lose?”
My heart almost exploded with pride. I stood there watching the column grow and grow. Feeling the common heart of these men. Some called out to say hello, “Hey, General, good to see you again.” Others simply nodded, many I did not know by name. When the end of the column came in sight, it was trailed by four scruffy men hurrying to keep up, hoisting a white banner with an eye painted on it-the sign of the Freemason society.
I mouthed “Thank you” to Odo and Georges, the words sticking in my throat. I wanted to tell them how proud I was of them. Of everyone.
[371] I merely put my hand on the miller’s shoulder.
“Guess we’re going to Borée,” Odo said with a shrug, and I nodded, watching the column as it stretched down the road.
“You better have a real plan if you want to take this place,” he muttered.
Chapter 127
JUST AS IT HAD HAPPENED weeks before when we marched on Treille, at every village we came to, every crossroad, people joined our ranks. Our fame had spread, and it was embarrassing. Certainly it was humbling.
Farmers in their fields, carpenters, goatherds with their flocks, ran to their fences to see a lord like Baldwin bound behind a fool.
“How can you continue on?” people asked in wonder. “Stephen has damned your very souls.”
“He might as well,” we called back, “since that’s all we have left.”
Once again I marched at the front in my tattered jester’s suit, carrying the holy lance. But this time the army was properly outfitted. We had real swords and newly minted shields taken from Baldwin’s men and painted in the green-and-red checkerboard that had become our crest. We also had crossbows and catapults to mount a siege, oxen and stores of food to sustain an entire army.
“You cannot take Borée,” some mocked us. “A thousand men could not take Borée.”
“We could not take Treille, either,” Odo replied huffily.
“We trust the lance,” Alphonse would say. “It is truer than any b-bishop’s judgment.”
[373] New recruits fell constantly into line. “I’ll come. This is a new world if a lord is dragged by a fool!” Young and old knelt before the lance and fell in.
Yet even as we marched, I knew this new battle would not be as easy as the last. Stephen would never let our ragtag army approach without a fight. He had a much larger and fiercer army than Baldwin. Better trained. He himself was known to be a formidable fighter.
And to be sure, I was no general. The only military skills I had were those I had picked up in the Crusade. Nor did Georges, or Odo, or any of my other men have any tactical training. They were farmers and woodsmen. An old worry began to consume me: that I could be leading innocent men, who believed in my call, to slaughter.
I needed a leader, but where could I get one?
The third night out, I wandered over to where Baldwin and his men were being held. The duke glared at me belligerently. I merely shook my head and laughed.
I knelt beside his chatelain, Daniel Gui. He was handsome and held himself with a strong bearing. He’d never complained of being a captive, unlike Baldwin, who spat curses and threats at anyone who met his eye. I’d heard other good things about him.
“I have a dilemma,” I said as I sat on the ground next to him. I looked Daniel Gui in the eye, man to man.
“You have a dilemma?” The chatelain laughed, showing me his bonds.
“Mine first.” I smiled. “I am at the head of an army, but I know little of how to fight a great battle.”
“Is this a riddle, jester? If it is, let me play. I know how to fight, yet my army is disarmed and scattered.”
I offered him a sip of ale. “It seems we are aligned yet opposite. But you command the duke’s forces.”
“I command Treille’s forces,” he responded firmly. “My job was to lead them in defense of my city, not slaughter innocent subjects that our lordship did not trust.”
[374] “Treille is Baldwin, though. You try and separate them, but you cannot.”
“My dilemma.” The chatelain smiled. He showed me his wrists. “By which I am now unfortunately bound.”
“I need a general, chatelain. If we march on Borée, we will not overcome it with sleight of hand.”
He took another sip of ale, seemed to think this over. “What do I get if I help you take this city?”
I smiled. “Mostly a lot of trouble with your old boss.”
Daniel Gui grinned. “I’m not exactly sure I can return to that job now anyway.”
Indeed, Baldwin would be already savoring the taste of someone to blame. “Only a chance,” I answered. “The same chance any of us have. To sue for peace and go back and live our lives as free men.”
“There’s an irony here somewhere.” The chatelain chuckled. “So far, you have taken my castle and put my liege in chains. You don’t seem too bad a soldier for a man in a checkerboard suit.”
“I was at Antioch and Civetot,” I said, “in the Crusade…”
The chatelain nodded in a deep and acknowledging way.
“So, will you help us? I know it will mean breaking your pledge to Baldwin. Your career may not be the brighter for it. Yet we are not such a bad bunch, for heretics and rebels and fools.”
Daniel took in a deep breath and smiled. “I think I will fit in just fine.”
Chapter 128
WE CAME OUT OF THE FOREST the next day facing a river. A truly terrifying sight stood before us.
On the high ground, directly in our path, waited an ominous horde of warriors. Maybe three hundred of them.
They wore no colors, just rough skins and high boots, swords and shields gleaming in the noonday sun. They were long-haired and filthy, and regarded us with no particular alarm. They looked ready for a fight.
Panic shot through our troops, and through me as well. The ferocious-looking horde just stood there, watching us assemble out of the trees. As though battle were an ordinary thing for them.
Horns blew. Horses whinnied. A few carts toppled over. At any moment, I expected them to charge.
I ordered our column to a halt. The rabble ahead of us looked restless. Shit, had I led us into a trap?
Odo and Daniel ran up to me. I had never seen Odo this scared.
“They growl like Saxons,” Odo muttered. “These ugly bastards are meaner than shit. I heard they live in caves and when food is scarce, they eat their young.”
“They are not Saxon.” Daniel shook his head. “They are [376] from Languedoc. From the south. Mountain men. But they are known to eat their young even when the harvest is good.”