The Jester

Chapter 93

BLACK CROSS’S MEN STOOD just outside the sleeping town. The moonless night covered their approach. They had ridden for the better part of two days, barreling at full speed, knocking people and carts out of their way as they charged through tiny forest towns. He knew that the hard journey only heightened their eagerness for blood.

From up ahead, a scout crept back from the woods. “The village sleeps, my lord. It is ripe for attack.”

“And their defenses?” Morgaine inquired.

“Only one.” The scout smirked. “They have piled their shit in the road so high our horses may not see.”

Morgaine chuckled. This would be child’s play. Babes slaughtered in their sleep. He had sought this beetle all the way from Antioch. Now he was only minutes from holding his prize. The greatest of all of them. This insect would not get away again.

Morgaine said to his men, “Whoever finds the prize will have a castle waiting for him on his return. Kill who you have to, fuck who you like, just find the redhead. Run a blade up his ass and bring the worm to me.”

His men’s eyes lit up. Senses eager for battle, they applied their breastplates and shoulder pieces over their riding leathers. They chose their arms-maces and pikes and heavy swords. [281] They do

Morgaine’s lieutenant signaled him. “What orders, sir?”

“Level it,” Morgaine said evenly. “Every home, every child. Other than the i

The Tafur nodded. At Morgaine’s nod, he gave the signal to charge.

Chapter 94

THE FLOOR SHOOK beneath my feet. The rumble of hooves grew louder and louder, like an avalanche approaching fast.

I ran into the street. People stuck out their heads from their positions, looks of terror building in their eyes.

“Do not panic,” I urged them. “They think this will be child’s play. Everyone remember the plan.”

Inside, I felt the grinding fist of fear that must now be intensifying in everybody’s gut. I hurried toward Alphonse and Apples, bracing the rope on both sides of the bridge. I told them, “Remember what they did to your friends and family the last time they were here. Remember what you swore in your heart you would do to them if you ever had the chance. Now is that chance!”

The thundering noise had risen to a terrifying level. I could not tell if the noise crashing through me was the drum of approaching hooves or my heart beating out of control.

Finally we saw them-a black cloud bearing down on us from out of the woods, torches in hand. Twelve to fourteen, howling cries of death.

A spark of hope flared in me. The town was dark. I knew they could not see our defenses.

“Hold tight,” I hollered as the horses neared, but my words were drowned in the advancing roar.

The first line of horsemen galloped over the bridge, straight [283] into the tautness of the rope. The horses came down in a tangle. The lead riders were pitched into the air. With a scream, one was hurled headlong into the sharpened stakes and impaled through the chest, his limbs outstretched and twitching. The other catapulted off his mount, landing on his neck, his body trampled under the advancing hooves.

Seeing the ambush, the next line of marauders attempted to stop, but their speed was too great. A third rider fell, screaming. Then another.

I saw Odo leap out from under the bridge and, as one struggled to right himself, swing his heavy club downward, smashing it into the man’s head. His helmet caved in like tin. Buoyed by the sight, Apples dashed out as well, thrusting his sword through the other raider’s neck.

The torches carried by the fallen riders sent the wooden defenses up in flames. Horses whined and bucked. Arrows shot out from the trees, and two other riders hit the ground, pierced through the neck and head. The other marauders, seeing what had happened, regrouped on the bridge. Then they darted single file through the burning defenses into town.

Now Tafurs on horseback were in the streets, flinging torches into our homes. I waved my sword at the trees. “Now, Jean, now!”

A dark shape fell out of the sky, hurtling across the road and crashing into one of the riders, knocking him off his mount with a loud groan. He remained there, stu

For a moment, and even without a weapon, I felt exultant. This was working. People were fighting. Seven of the invaders were down, perhaps slain. Two more were off their horses, surrounded by townsmen pelting them with clubs and [284] stones. They tried to fight in all directions, overwhelmed, thrashing at air.

I watched as Alphonse climbed onto the back of one of the attackers and pushed a knife through the eye slit in his helmet. The Tafur pitched forward. He thrashed back and forth, jabbing his mace, trying to twist the boy off. Another boy swatted a beam at the man’s knees and sent him to the ground, where Alphonse jerked the blade across the bastard’s neck and soon he rolled over, dead.

All around, people were screaming, ru

I started to run-weaponless-toward the square. “Here,” Emilie yelled, and tossed me my staff.

Across the road, I saw poor Jacqui, the ruddy-faced milk woman, hurling stones at one attacker while another galloped up from behind and knocked her to the ground with a mace. Arrows shot out of the trees, and the second attacker fell. He was immediately surrounded by townspeople, kicking and bashing him with clubs and farm tools.

Suddenly the square lit up in flames.

Aimée, the miller’s daughter, and Father Leo had set fire to the line of brush ringing the square. The horses of the invaders reared. One rider was immediately thrown, landing in the flames. The others darted and circled, unable to break through.

The fallen rider stood up, engulfed in flames. He thrashed about crazily, smoke pouring through the slits in his armor. Fire had seeped inside; his skin was boiling like a pot over a flame.

Two other attackers remained trapped inside the ring of flame. One forced his mount through, but Martin ran up and whacked the horse’s legs. The rider clubbed at him but was thrown from his mount. He flailed on the ground, struggling to [285] right himself, his weapon out of reach. Then, from out of the darkness, Aimée ran out. She raised an ax and crashed it solidly into the man’s head.

We were wi

Then, to my horror, the last Tafur who’d been contained within the ring of fire burst free. He reared his steed and made his way, ax whirling, toward Aimée, who still stood staring at the man she had killed.

“Look out, Aimée,” I yelled. I started toward her, helplessly screaming at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t bear to see the miller lose his last child. The girl did not move, oblivious to the death descending upon her. I was twenty yards away, not thinking, ru