Siege by Richard Foreman

Author:Richard Foreman [Foreman, Richard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2019-12-15T22:00:00+00:00

Morning.

The dawn glowed, as much as the Count of Toulouse's bloodshot - from rage and wine - eyes. The mission had been an abject failure. Raymond was still no wiser as to the details of Bohemond's strategy to procure the city - and still no closer to taking it from him. The skirmish had been a waste of good men, men that he could ill afford to lose. He cursed his nephew. This campaign was supposed to make a man of him. But the prince was not an alchemist. He couldn't turn lead - or shit - into gold. Only his affection for the boy's mother prevented Raymond from ordering his hunting hounds to tear him limb from limb - or running his sword through the youth. Or he could have easily ordered Henri to remove his nephew from the world. The knight would have done so with pleasure. Not even a hammer and chisel could alter the scowl on the furious soldier's face. Henri may have also relished the prospect of digging the grave or tossing the corpse on a burning pit himself.

Girard stood before his uncle once more. In disgrace. A failure. Awaiting punishment. A couple of men from his company had returned from their mission - and had shown as much loyalty to Girard as he had shown to them. Raymond had asked them to report on the disastrous events which occurred in the night:

"Tell the truth. If I suspect that you are lying to me, it'll be the last words you utter."

The fatigued, injured soldiers provided an alternative version of how the mission imploded, which contradicted Girard's version. The nobleman was responsible for the attack. The nobleman was responsible for the defeat. When confronted with the truth, in the presence of both Raymond and Henri, Girard broke down and pleaded for forgiveness. His crime was wanting to succeed. To serve. If only his crossbowmen would have hit their targets, they would be celebrating rather than censuring him right now, Girard argued. His men had let him down. Words and excuses poured out of him, like diarrhoea, Henri judged.

"A bad workman blames his tools. Your men behaved with ten times more honour than you displayed. If only one of the stray quarrels would have went so awry, as to cut you down, as you remained outside the fight. But there doesn't seem to be that much justice in the world, divine or otherwise," Raymond flatly remarked, unstinting in his condemnation. "Your company is forfeit. Your wealth is forfeit. Your brother was right to disinherit you. There are cowards and thieves belonging to Peter the Hermit's rabble who possess more honour than you."

Raymond became sick to his stomach of looking upon his wretched nephew - and dismissed him from his sight. As Girard made his way out of the chamber, what little composure Raymond maintained was abandoned - and the prince comically spouted a litany of curses at the nobleman whilst launching various pieces of food and cutlery at his back.

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