Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (reading an ebook TXT) 📕

It was growing late and the slowness of the ride meant that, with the heavy clouds hanging so low over the peaks, it was growing dark, and this was no place to be benighted. Shivering, she pulled her cloak more closely around her shoulders and kicked her mount close up behind John's. The escort closed tightly about them and they rode in silence save for the occasional clink of harness or the click of hoof on stone. Matilda could see John's hand on the hilt of his sword as he looked about him. At last he too seemed to be growing nervous. Before them the mynydd-dir rose in a high barrier, misty and black. Behind, the broad Wye Valley was lost to sight behind the band of woods.

They rode hard, not sparing the horses on the rugged path which followed the wandering of the tumbling Rhian Goll, running angry and muddy red with flood waters from the mountains. A cold drizzle was beginning to fall. To their left the great triangular hill of Mynydd Troed rose in a massive shoulder in front of the clouds.

Castel Dinas stood sentinel over the pass. It was an awesome, lonely place. Matilda could feel her horse beginning to tremble, perhaps sensing her own fear. Its ears pressed flat on its head, its eyes staring, it followed its companions as their guides wheeled off the track and turned up a steep turf ramp that led to the walls of the castle itself.

"Open up there, " John shouted into the gale. "Lady de Braose demands entry. " But there was no answer; the gatehouse was deserted.

The horses had come to a rearing halt outside the north entrance. On either side a deep dry ditch encircled the high escarpments of the castle. Before them the gatehouses flanked a strong nail-studded gate. The builders had obeyed William's orders well so far.

John forced his frightened horse near enough to the gate to allow him to beat on it with the hilt of his sword. "Ho there! Entry!" he shouted, but the wind whipped the words from his lips. Behind them the clouds were flying up the pass, gray, thick, hiding trees, mountains, perhaps men... From the corner of her eye Matilda thought she saw something move below, on the side of the hill. The palms of her hands were sweating with fear and the horse, sensing it, plunged suddenly sideways fighting the bit, poised to bolt back the way it had come.

Then at last a small gleam of light showed in one of the high slit windows of a gatehouse.

"Open up, you lazy clods. " John put every ounce of strength he had left into his shout. "Lady de Braose wants entry to her castle. "

At last they heard the bars being slid back and the great slabs of oak swung open to reveal half a dozen men, drawn swords in their hands, streaming torches held above their heads for light. Piles of dressed stone and mortar, weird white shapes in the gloom, lay all around in the shelter of the bailey's walls. At the far side the lower part of the new keep showed pale and square, obviously unfinished, in the darkness.

"Who is the constable here?" demanded Matilda. "Why was there no lookout posted? Prince John and I have ridden far and fast. We do not expect to be kept waiting outside like serfs. " Her fear had turned to fury. Gripping her whip, she wheeled the horse. "Shut the gates now, you oafs, before half the countryside wanders in at your invitation. Where is the captain of the guard?"

Four of the men ran to push the gates shut and slid the bars across into the sockets. One of the soldiers came forward and dropped on one knee. "The constable is sick, like many in the garrison, my lady. Forgive him. He did not know anyone was coming. " The man hesitated and looked quickly over his shoulder at his companions. "It is hard to keep a full lookout up here. "

Matilda was not to be appeased. "Hard! Hard to keep a lookout! Then post some more men, sir. I don't care if you have to carry them up, but do it. You could be attacked and overrun and have the enemy sitting before your fire before you knew he was at the gate. "

"May I ask the nature of the illness that strikes down so many of this garrison?" John's lazy voice broke in suddenly.

"I don't... I don't know, sir. 'Tis very common... "

"They're all dead drunk, Your Highness. " One of the other soldiers stepped forward suddenly, his face lit by the torchlight showing a scar from eyebrow to chin. "That's the illness of Castel Dinas. If you'd been an hour or so later I'd have been down with it myself, and probably my fine companions as well. There's not a man will stay sober the night through here and keep his sanity. "

John looked at Matilda and raised an eyebrow sardonically. "Perhaps we should join them in their merrymaking, my lady. God's teeth! It doesn't look as though there'll be much service here tonight. You, fellow. " He nudged the kneeling man with his foot. "Show Lady de Braose and myself the splendors of your new tower. We need food and wine and warmth. "

The man scrambled up, and bowing, ran ahead of them toward the keep. It was Spartan indeed. A hearth had been built into one wall in the new fashion but it lay empty. Instead a pile of logs burned low in the middle of the floor, the smoke straying through the room and escaping at last through the doorway from which they had entered. Around it were the snoring sleeping figures of a dozen or so men. Goblets and jars of wine had fallen to the floor, and the room stank of stale wine and vomit.

Matilda pulled her cloak to her nose in disgust. "Get them out, " she ordered, her