A Knight and a Spy 1410 by Simon Fairfax

Author:Simon Fairfax [Fairfax, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Simon Fairfax
Published: 2021-11-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

The three men made their way to the lane that led from the mill and headed north towards the Watten road. From past experience, Jamie knew that this northern area was a series of wide marshes that had not been drained, and to stray from the marked paths meant a horrible death by drowning. He made his way forward carefully, prodding the ground with a long stick if he was at all uncertain of the pathway in the darkness. The other two followed in his footsteps.

It took much longer than he anticipated, and each time they looked back, the southern skies were illuminated by an eerie orange glow as Saint-Omer and its cathedral burned behind them. They hurried as fast as they dared, aware that as soon as the fire was under control, the town’s citizens would be looking for the culprits with no mercy in their hearts.

An hour later they finally cleared the marshland and began to make faster progress, heading northwest in the direction of Watten. It took them four hours in darkness to travel the eight miles or so to the village. When they finally arrived it was near midnight, and rather than cause suspicion and alarm they made a camp a few hundred yards from the village near the banks of the river Aa. Thankfully it was a dry night and the heat from a small campfire was welcome at the end of their journey. As they seated themselves around the fire to warm their hands, Cristoforo opened his leather satchel and produced a small metal bowl. He stood and went to the river, filling it with water.

“You thirsty, Cristo? Here, drink your fill from my water bottle,” Mark offered.

“Nay Mark, I have a small scratch from the fight.”

Jamie looked round. “You’re injured? Here let me see,” he said.

“In a moment, let me set this first.”

With that, Cristoforo set up a crude tripod using green sticks that would not easily catch fire and contrived to cantilever the top spar to support the bowl by the thin chain that was attached to it, so that it might hang over the flames. This done, he unbuckled the thick gambeson he wore. In the firelight they saw that it was darkly stained on his chest.

“My God man, that is more than a scratch,” Jamie observed. “Here, let me aid you ere you re-open the wound.”

As they tried to remove the gambeson they found that the dried blood had stuck it to the Italian’s torso, and prying it off caused the wound to bleed again. At this, Cristoforo took a sharp intake of breath against the pain. His linen shirt beneath was stained dark red, and dried blood covered most of his chest.

“God’s legs, but that is not good,” Jamie exclaimed.

“It is nothing. The bastardo with the halberd, he caught me with a cut before I could stop him. But he can tell the tale to his ancestors tonight ere he sleeps with the dead,” he finished. “Please pass me my satchel.

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