Warlord(44)

The city of Vendôme was held against us by a small and presumably rather nervous French garrison – like Loches, it had been handed over to Philip by Prince John while Richard was imprisoned the year before – but the garrison was attempting to hunt with the hounds and run with the hart, and it was in almost constant communication with Richard’s heralds, sending costly gifts to Richard, and dispatching embassies from the various city guilds and religious institutions. The feeling in our camp was that, if we were to beat the French in the coming battle, Vendôme would happily surrender to King Richard without a fight and accept his magnanimous forgiveness. If we were to be beaten by Philip – and I could not for a moment imagine that we would be – then Vendôme would remain in French hands, and would no doubt welcome Philip with flower-strewing maidens and sung hosannas. It was a truly practical, unsentimental arrangement – Richard did not have to waste lives and materiel capturing Vendôme, which would fall into his arms like a swooning virgin if he managed to see off the French King. This unspoken agreement also meant that there was a large amount of daily traffic between Richard’s camp and the great men of Vendôme, negotiations of all kinds were taking place, knights inside the walls were looking for future favours from the King, merchants were making discreet deals with the army’s quartermasters to supply them with food and equipment that was badly needed. And I had decided to take advantage of this unofficial accord to go myself into the city of Vendôme, and pay a visit to Cardinal Heribert.

I had been quite prepared to make a clandestine visit to the town, a knotted rope flung over the walls on a dark night, perhaps, or a quiet purse of silver passed to a venal sergeant manning a gate, but I was aided in the accomplishment of my desire by a most unexpected source. Robin mentioned that Sir Aymeric de St Maur and his Templar entourage were making an official embassy to the knights and burgesses of Vendôme, on behalf of King Richard, a formal mission to prepare the ground for the submission of the town after the French defeat. On hearing this, I approached the Templar and asked his leave to accompany them into Vendôme. When he asked why, I stretched the truth and said that the Cardinal had been a friend of my father’s when he lived in Paris, and I wished to pay my respects. To my surprise, the Templar readily agreed.

‘Certainly, Sir Alan, if I can be of service, I should be happy to oblige you,’ said Sir Aymeric, smiling at me in a benevolent, avuncular fashion.

I was slightly unnerved by this – we had met on several occasions and he had never been this friendly. The last time I had been this close to him, he had threatened me with torture with red-hot irons to persuade me to reveal the whereabouts of the notorious outlaw Robin Hood.

‘And how is the noble Earl of Locksley? In excellent health, I trust,’ Sir Aymeric said gravely as we parted, having agreed that I would join him and his embassy the next day before dawn and we would ride into Vendôme under the Templars’ black-and-white banner together. I assured him with the utmost courtesy that his former mortal enemy, and the object of his almost diabolical fury one year earlier, was in the finest fettle.

The next dawn, Sir Aymeric was just as cordial. Hanno, Thomas and myself joined their party, which comprised his beaming lieutenant Sir Eustace de la Falaise, six sergeants, and several of King Richard’s senior barons and clergymen. I nodded a stiff greeting at Sir Eustace, a good-looking young Norman knight whom I did not know well but who had a decent reputation as a fighting man if not as a deep thinker, and Sir Aymeric enquired with infinite concern whether I had broken my fast that day. When he discovered that I had not, he pressed a cup of wine on me and a perfectly delicious honey cake.

I had told Robin of Sir Aymeric’s extraordinary affability the night before. ‘I don’t think there is anything sinister about it,’ said my lord. ‘He merely wants to put the unpleasantness of the past behind him. We are reconciled, Alan, remember that. Whatever he has done, we are all supposed to be amicable now. I expect you to be on your very best behaviour—’

‘Yes, you play nicely with Sir Aymeric,’ interrupted Little John, chuckling heartily. The big man had been listening to our conversation from the corner of Robin’s big tent. ‘Let him share your toys, but don’t let him bully you.’

I was irked by both Robin and John’s attitude. Of course I would behave myself. Did they think I was going to brawl over some harsh words the previous year?

‘So you have completely forgiven him, have you, Robin, for attempting to have you burnt at the stake?’ I said, a little truculently. Robin was not a man known for his abundance of Christian forgiveness.