Crispin_ At the Edge of the World - Avi [46]
“By Saint Alexius,” said Bear, “having lost all, we are true beggars.” He spoke with care, not wanting to give any offense. “May I ask who you are?”
“Richard Dudley. Of the Kentish Downs.”
“You’re a long way from home,” said Bear.
“That’s as may be.”
“May I ask,” said Bear, “if you serve King Richard?”
Dudley frowned. “Who is he?”
“By the grace of God, Master Dudley, he’s England’s king.”
This caused a stir among the soldiers.
“What of King Edward?” Dudley demanded.
“God give him grace,” said Bear. “He’s been dead these two months. Richard of Bordeaux—his grandchild—has been crowned King.”
Dudley made a hasty sign of the cross over his heart. “Our Edward was a great solider,” he said.
“He was all of that,” said Bear. “I served with his son, the Black Prince, at Poitiers. A famous victory.”
“Did you?” cried Dudley. “Would that he were king.” He sat back in his saddle, appraising Bear in what seemed a new way. Bear’s words made the soldiers nod and nudge each other and consider him with some respect. At least, they seemed to relax.”
“Then you were a soldier,” said Dudley.
“I was,” said Bear. “But I grew old. And worn.”
Dudley, sword hand lowered, leaned forward again, his free hand at rest. Once more he studied Troth, as if appraising her. He shifted back to Bear. “Well, then,” he said with grin or grimace—hard to say which—“I offer you the good fortune of joining us.”
“Your generosity does you honor,” returned Bear. “Do I have a choice?”
“I think not,” said Dudley.
“In the name of God, then,” said Bear, “whom do you serve?
That time, Dudley allowed himself a smile. “Myself,” he said.
31
RICHARD DUDLEY called Bear to him, and told him to stay close. Putting rusty spurs to his horse’s flank, he went forward at an easy walk. Bear was just able to remain by his side, while Troth and I kept apace. Right behind us came another horseman. The third horseman trotted in tandem. The rest of the soldiers, following, were strung out in a ragged line, the oxcart coming last. Though no one said as much, we were so hemmed in we might as well have been called prisoners.
At first Dudley asked Bear about his soldiering days, which to my surprise, Bear was willing to recount at length. These were stories I had not heard before. Hard and brutal, even shocking, it was as if Bear were trying to impress the man. It greatly troubled me that Bear would invent such tales, so as to pretend he was what he wasn’t.
At one point, Dudley asked Bear, “And what weapon did you fight with?”
“In those days, a sword.”
“It can be so again,” said Dudley. “Our cart has enough.”
Bear only said, “How did you come here?”
“With the Duke of Lancaster,” said Dudley. “Unlike his brother, the duke’s a hateful villain. A poisonous traitor. A spawn of Satan. He’s given what’s English to the French, then abandoned us. Kings and princes may make wars, Master Bear, but their subjects fight them. I never signed the truce. Well then, so be it!”
“I’ve little love for the duke,” agreed Bear.
“Then you may have an interest in where we are going,” said Dudley.
“If you wish to tell me,” returned Bear.
“To a bastide I know well,” said Dudley. “And by my faith, a curious one.”
I had no idea what a bastide was, but since Bear made no response, I merely listened.
“It’s called Bources,” said Dudley. “Do you know it?”
Bear shook his head.
“It’s a village laid down—God’s truth—in a perfect circle. With a castle built long ago by our own King Edward. A river moat goes round the entire town. Nothing remarkable in that, save that Bources is small, with an undersized garrison. Most curious of all, the church sits just beyond that river moat.”
Bear merely nodded.
“In this church—as I have reason to know,” Dudley went on, “sits a treasure chest. Graciously left by King Edward to pay for his soldiers and the church. Well then, we are soldiers, are we not? I mean to have it.”
“By Saint Martin of Tours,” said Bear after a moment, “I have no great love for priests, but to steal from a church—”
“You’ll do nothing to stain your faith,” said Dudley. “Your girl