Lucifer's Harvest (The Chronicles of Hugh de Singleton, Surgeon) Read online

  Blackwater’s tent was in view of the combat, so I was able to watch as men clambered over the fallen segment of wall. As yet Blackwater, Calne, and I had no employment, but that would soon change.

  There was little for the Welsh archers to do. Most of them held back upon the lower slope and remained alert for any face which appeared atop an undamaged section of wall. Such an appearance was greeted with a dozen or more arrows and the man vanished.

  Knights and men-at-arms continued to mount the fallen stones of the wall and pass through the breach. From more than one hundred paces away I could hear the shouts of inflamed men and the clash of metal upon metal as sword met sword.

  A moment later I saw the great doors of the east gatehouse swing open and the portcullis rise. Men-at-arms who had scaled the fallen segment of wall had fought their way to the gatehouse and opened the portal to their comrades. What had been a trickle of English soldiers entering Limoges now became a torrent.

  Within a few moments a reverse flow began. I saw a man stagger through the gatehouse holding a hand to a bloodied shoulder. His aketon had not saved him from a wound. I hurried to the surgery tent where other casualties would soon join the fellow.

  I spent the next five hours reassembling broken men. When the last of the wounds were stitched closed and bathed with wine, Calne and I had nearly consumed our supply of silken thread. Blackwater was of little use. Physicians are oft unwilling to redden their hands with the blood of the injured and wounded, preferring to sniff a man’s urine from a distance and prescribe herbs for his complaint.

  Several men were too badly lacerated to save. One man had received a thrust which opened his bowels. Friends brought him to me upon a pallet but he died as I began to cleanse the wound.

  I learned when the battle was over that Prince Edward had taken two hundred French knights and men-at-arms prisoner. Three hundred of Limoges died in the fight, and forty English. Much booty was taken, to enrich nobility, knights, and common soldiers. Among the dead was John de Boys, who, men said, was cut down when he valiantly attacked three French knights. ’Twas of no use bringing him to me, his friends said. He died where he lay.

  Jean de Cros, Bishop of Limoges, who it was had surrendered the city to the Duke of Berry a month earlier, escaped injury. But others died because of his perfidy.

  A few wounded men remained to be stitched together as night fell, so I finished the work with light from three cressets. ’Twas full dark as I stumbled along the path to my tent. Several men of Lord Gilbert’s cohort, Arthur and Uctred amongst them, celebrated victory before a fire, consuming too much of the wine they had seized in the looting of the city. Had I not been so weary I might have made merry with them. Instead I sought first a bucket of water with which to wipe away the blood I had accumulated in the past hours, and then my bed.

  Chapter 13

  Sir John must learn that the man who slew his son was dead, so next morn I sought him. His appearance was much improved. The ointment I had prepared for his ear, he said, had much reduced the ache. I told him then of John de Boys’ death without naming the man.

  “’Twas one of his friends, then, who did the murder, as you suspected,” said Sir John. “Else you would not know of the guilty man nor that he was slain yesterday.”

  When I did not immediately reply he said, “Only two of my men-at-arms died yesterday. Walter Eppingham and John de Boys. Walter and Sir Simon were not close. ’Twas John, then, who did murder. But why?”

  I made no reply.

  “I can guess,” Sir John answered his own question. “I told him evil would follow, did he persist in his perversion. Liked lasses well enough. Why could he not keep to them? But what son,” he sighed, “listens to his father? ’Twill cost me a fortune to pay priests to say masses for his soul, else he will remain in purgatory ten thousand years.”

  Some sons listen to their fathers, I thought. I regarded well my own father’s advice. Perhaps it depends upon the father as well as the son as to whether the younger observes the admonitions of the elder. And if a legion of priests may pray Sir Simon from purgatory into heaven, what use then of a hell?

  Now that Limoges was returned to Prince Edward’s rule I wished to return to England. Some of the prince’s knights and men-at-arms must remain in Limoges, of course, to oversee rebuilding the wall and make certain that the Duke of Berry did not return. I prayed that Lord Gilbert’s cohort would not be amongst those who must stay.

  The prince had come near to bankruptcy a few years past due to the battle of Najera, which he and Pedro the Cruel had won. Victory can be as costly as defeat.

  He had raised taxes in Aquitaine and Limousin to restore his empty purse, thus angering the burghers of Limoges and elsewhere, and providing a foothold for the French king.

  Recapturing Limoges had surely cost Edward a considerable sum. He would need to raise taxes again, thus reminding the folk of Aquitaine why they had rebelled against his rule, and giving them cause to do so again. The ransom of two hundred knights and gentlemen would go far in reducing Prince Edward’s debts, but a costly English army must remain in Aquitaine. I wished not to be a part of it.

  For my part the battle for Limoges was over. I had done all asked of me. I had treated the battle wounds of soldiers, solved a murder, escaped the gallows, and offered physic to a great prince. Having fulfilled my responsibilities and more, I deserved to return to my home.

  From Sir John’s tent I walked to Lord Gilbert’s. I had been much relieved during the battle that I had not seen him in the surgery tent.

  “Hah, Master Hugh. You have survived the contest. Did I not tell you that you would be in no peril?”

  “You did, but we have not yet crossed the sea back to England.”

  “Well, we shall do so soon enough. Prince Edward wished me to remain here, but although I have served him without payment to this day, the forty days which I owe him are long past and I told him I cannot continue to bear the cost of my retinue without reimbursement.

  “And what of Sir Simon’s death?” he continued.

  “The man who did the felony died yesterday in taking the city.”

  “You are sure of this?”

  “Aye, quite sure.”

  “Come. The prince will want to hear of this, and how it is that you are certain of it. He speaks of the mystery frequently.”

  I followed Lord Gilbert through the camp, which since the capture of the city was filling with carts laden with loot. My service at the surgery meant that I was safe from French axes and pikes, but it also meant that I had no part in taking the city and enriching myself at Limoges’s expense. If, when an army approaches, a city immediately surrenders, custom requires that it must not be plundered. Fees and taxes and ransoms may be levied. But if a siege is required to take a city, with the noisome conditions a siege army must endure, then the victors are free to seize what booty they may. I would have liked one of Limoges’s famed enamels to present to Kate. But she must be content with only my return, empty-handed as ’twill be.

  Many men sought Prince Edward’s counsel, so Lord Gilbert and I waited till he had rendered judgment upon sundry other matters.

  “Ah, Lord Gilbert … when will you be off?” he said. “Soon, no doubt. Crossing to England will be a disagreeable experience anon.”

  “Two days, I think. You are well served to hold the city, I think, so my lads are dispensable.”

  “Aye. When the wall is rebuilt Limoges will be secure against King Charles.”

  “Unless he can find Cornish miners to employ,” Lord Gilbert chuckled.

  “And Master Hugh,” the prince said, turning his attention to me. “Thomas Arderne praises your work. One of my squires,” he added when I responded with a blank look. “You sewed his leg back together yesterday. Some Frenchman smote him from the rear and the thrust caught him behind his cuisse.”

  “I remember. ’Twas a deep slash.”

  “Will he walk evenly again, or will the cut render him lame?”

&nbs
p; “I cannot say. I told him that he must support his weight with a crutch for a fortnight, perhaps more. He was displeased. ‘Folk will think me an invalid,’ he said. I told him that such a verdict would be proper. For a fortnight he will be an invalid. And if he dispenses with the crutch too soon, the wound may not knit properly and he will then walk with a limp till men carry him to the churchyard.”

  “Master Hugh has discovered who murdered Sir Simon Trillowe,” Lord Gilbert said.

  “Ah, and who is the villain?” Prince Edward asked.

  “Was,” I said, “not is. The man died yesterday in taking Limoges.”

  “You are sure of this?”

  “Aye. There can be no doubt. When I placed the evidence before him he admitted the felony.”

  “Oh … knew he would hang for his offense, so chose to die in battle rather than do the sheriff’s dance. Is that how it was?”

  “Aye, m’lord. As you say.”

  “Who was the fellow?”

  “I promised the man that I would not disclose his name.”

  Prince Edward lifted his brows at this. “What? Not even to your prince?”

  From the corner of my eye I saw Lord Gilbert raise one eyebrow, surely startled at my disrespect.

  “Well, I applaud a man who keeps his word, and a promise is a promise. Was it your suggestion,” Prince Edward continued, “that the felon seek an honorable death in battle rather than twisting at the end of a hempen rope?”

  “I may have mentioned the option.”

  “Hah. A diplomat as well as a surgeon. I could find use for such as you. My father is aged and I may soon come into my kingdom. I think then I shall steal you from Lord Gilbert and have you serve me in London. A surgeon and a cunning agent in one.”

  I had then the wish that King Edward III continue a long life. Ten years earlier the thought of serving at court would have delighted me, but now I had no higher ambition than to serve Lord Gilbert in Bampton and live peacefully with my Kate. I hoped that my face did not betray the thought. ’Tis not wise to offend royalty, and by withholding a felon’s name I had already done so.

  True to his word, Lord Gilbert instructed all of his cohort to ready themselves to depart Limoges on Saturday, the twenty-second day of September. We traveled with nearly eight hundred others also eager to reach England before autumn made the sea into a slate-gray grave for unwary voyagers.

  Eight hundred men retracing their path through France found great difficulty in finding provender for men and beasts. We had foraged the route but a month before and found little enough sustenance then. But to break up our force would be unwise. Scouts reported that King Charles’s men followed closely, eager to seize any who fell behind. There may be strength in numbers, but there is also hunger. My runcie’s ribs showed plainly and my own were nearly as visible when we at last came in sight of Calais and the sea.

  The harbor sheltered only a dozen or so ships when we arrived at the port. Rank does have its rewards, and few barons of the realm outrank Lord Gilbert Talbot. Others would have to wait. Lord Gilbert’s men, me amongst them, went aboard ships and awaited a favorable wind.

  For three days a gale blew from the northwest and held us in port. But on the fourth day the sun appeared and the wind shifted so that it came from the south. Sails were raised at dawn and our fleet stood out from Calais, sails bright in the slanting sun.

  I had seen the white cliffs rise from the sea once before, when I returned to England as a youth after one year spent studying surgery in Paris. Upon that occasion I was filled with apprehension for what my future might hold. This time no such anxiety assailed me. The Lord Christ had directed my path through pleasant places. I had Kate, two daughters, and every prospect of sons in the years to come. Galen House was more than I could have dreamed of a decade past, and in my service to Lord Gilbert as surgeon and bailiff I had found satisfaction and modest wealth. I had also gained a few scars.

  Even Lord Gilbert found little reason to linger at the abbeys and castles between Dover and Oxford where we found succor at the end of each day of travel. There was no lady to welcome him home at Bampton Castle, but likely he was as eager to see his son as I was to take Bessie and Sybil in my arms.

  We spent half a day in London. Lord Gilbert wished to pray and light candles at St. Paul’s in thankfulness for the success of our campaign and safety for his cohort. Only three of his men-at-arms had suffered wounds and these were slight.

  Three days after leaving London I saw the spire of St. Beornwald’s Church above the autumn-browned leaves of Lord Gilbert’s forest. We all spurred our beasts so as to hurry the last miles, and within half an hour men and beasts clattered across the drawbridge and flooded into the castle yard. This space was immediately filled with the joy of those returning, and those who had prayed for our safe homecoming.

  I was yet mounted, and so searched over the heads of the happy throng for my Kate. I found her at the top of the stairs leading to the solar. She had heard the uproar and left the chamber to learn its cause.

  Kate caught sight of me, gathered her cotehardie, and with Bessie trailing, plunged down the stairs. I dismounted and ran to meet her. I had looked forward to her embrace for many weeks. As I held her close I felt a swelling come between us. I looked down and contemplated my wife’s belly. ’Twas not so slender as when I departed Bampton.

  I held Kate at arm’s length and spoke. “We are soon to be five?”

  She did not reply, but a tear began to flow down her cheek. I thought ’twas from happiness that I had returned. Not so.

  “Nay, husband. We will be four.”

  I was puzzled. I looked to Bessie, who had fixed herself to my leg, and then Kate’s words pierced my heart. Where was Sybil?

  “Two days after Lammastide,” Kate sobbed, “Sybil took a fever. I gave her damson root and sow thistle which I found in your chest, for I have heard you speak of these herbs as useful to treat fevers.”

  She fell silent.

  “These had no effect?” I asked.

  Kate shook her head.

  “The fever worsened?”

  “Aye. Upon the fourth day she died.”

  Had I not been with Lord Gilbert in France, might I have saved her? Likely not. I am a surgeon, not a physician, and even physicians will not cure all children who suffer such a malady. But yet, for many months to follow, if I lay awake of a night and sleep eluded me, I considered if I might not have healed my daughter’s affliction. And perhaps, had I been with Kate, my presence might have softened the blow of Sybil’s death for her. Two may carry a burden better than one.

  “She is in the churchyard?” A foolish question.

  Kate nodded, too overcome with sorrow mixed with joy to speak.

  “I wish to go there.”

  I lifted Bessie to my arms, took Kate by the hand, and together we walked slowly from the castle and the happy throng there to the bridge over Shill Brook, thence to Church View Street. Past Galen House we did not speak, and when we passed under the lych gate Kate pointed to the west end of the church, west of the porch, where it is that in Bampton deceased infants and children are buried.

  “I had a coffin made for her,” Kate said as we approached a place where the sod had been recently displaced. “And a willow wand lies within it beside her, to ward off the evil one.”

  To this moment my eyes had remained dry, but as we stood over Sybil’s grave Bessie pressed her cheek close to mine, and I felt there the wetness of the child’s tears. The little lass was old enough that her parents’ sorrow was made her own. My tears mingled with hers.

  I would have preferred to spend the night at Galen House, away from the revelers who celebrated a successful campaign and safe return with too much ale and too much noise. The merrymaking which I could not share did not subside till past midnight, but even then I could not sleep.

  So it was that next morn I was haggard and unkempt when Lord Gilbert found me. He had been told of our loss, and commiserated. He understood sorrow, having
lost Lady Petronilla to plague.

  “You may remain here, in the castle, for as long as you wish,” he said. “I’ve no other use for Lady Petronilla’s chamber, and with so many knights yet in my employ and feeding at my table, two more mouths will make no difference to the cook.

  “But no, you will want to return to Galen House. I can see it in your eyes. Arthur and some others can assist you, tomorrow or whenever you will.”

  “This day, I think,” I replied. “But I do esteem your good will.”

  ’Twas a cold, misty day in mid November, a fortnight after Kate and I had returned to our life at Galen House, when I had business at the castle and heard the report of the death of Sir Charles de Burgh.

  “The weather was foul,” Lord Gilbert said solemnly, “when Sir Charles reached Calais some days after we left the town. He and many others waited more than a week for a fair wind. When it finally came many ships set sail for Dover, but the wind turned, as can happen so late in the season, and a gale drove five vessels upon the rocks near to Folkestone.”

  “Sir Charles’s was amongst these?” I asked.

  “Aye. His corpse washed ashore on the shingle next day.”

  “Sir Charles told me that Lady Joan is with child,” I said.

  “Aye. Well, he has already a son to inherit his lands and title. But another would be desirable.”

  “Just in case.”

  “Aye,” Lord Gilbert agreed. “Your Sybil is proof that much can go amiss with children. One heir is not enough … which is why I must seek a wife. I have but Richard, though he seems hale enough.”

  “So did Sybil, when we departed for France,” I said.

  “Ah … you take my point readily.”

  Limoges was taken, but at great cost to many who served Prince Edward.

  The Lord Christ told His followers that they must daily take up their cross and follow Him, but most men prefer to take up a sword. Swords are not so heavy as crosses.