‘I think we could finish it relatively swiftly,’ I told him. The plan had been forming in my head on the journey to the castle, and now I put it into words. ‘With your help we could take the battle to our enemies. Some of them are witches, but your son says that your archers are masters of their trade, and dark magic surely won’t be able deflect all their arrows. As for the kretch, you may just be able to attend to it yourself – in the same way that you slew the Great Worme.’
Will smiled, his face glowing with pride. ‘Look at the tapestries that adorn your room,’ he said. ‘They tell the story of what happened fifteen years ago. It shows my father slaying the Great Worme that had devastated the surrounding countryside. What he achieved once, he may do again, employing the same means.’
Thorne turned towards Will and smiled too. When their eyes met, I could see that a bond was forming between them.
The father nodded, but I suspected he was somewhat less enthusiastic about the idea than his son.
It was after dark when Thorne and I returned to our room. Candles were flickering in their holders beside our beds. I picked one up and carried it across to the first of the tapestries; there were five in all.
The worme was depicted laying waste to farmland – carcasses of sheep lay scattered about a field. It held a man in its jaws, only his legs visible. The worme depicted was huge. I had never heard tell of one so big. No doubt the embroiderer had exaggerated its size for effect.
In the second tapestry the worme was advancing upon the castle, and the knight was riding out to meet it. The river lay between them. In the third, he had dismounted and was walking into the water at the ford in full armour; the worme was surging towards him, jaws wide open.
The fourth tapestry showed them locked in combat, and the manner of the knight’s eventual victory was now clear. The battling figures filled the whole tapestry, and I could see that Sir Gilbert’s armour was covered in spikes as Will had said. The worme had wrapped its body and tail tightly around him, and was being pierced by the spikes and cut to pieces, bleeding in a dozen different places as the knight sliced into it with his sword, which he wielded two-handed. In the final tapestry, Sir Gilbert was holding the head of the creature aloft in triumph, and pieces of it were being carried downstream by the torrent.
‘Could he really deal with the kretch in the same manner?’ asked Thorne.
‘Perhaps, child. It might be worth a try. If we and some of the knight’s men engage the others, his protective armour might just enable him to cut it into pieces. Under pressure from his son he seems prepared to try, and I am inclined to encourage that endeavour.’
Our enemies arrived early in the morning of the following day – about twenty of them, accompanied by the kretch and Bowker. They didn’t cross the river but, after staring towards the castle for a while, settled beside the largest of the outlying farmhouses and lit cooking fires.
All through the afternoon they kept their distance while we watched from the battlements. But new bands of witches were arriving by the hour. By evening I estimated that our enemy numbered over a hundred. In addition to the external threat, tensions were rising within the castle.
‘It’s the priest. I saw him over there, stirring up trouble,’ Thorne said, pointing to where the farmers were camped by their animals. ‘I was standing by the gate and he kept pointing at me.’
‘He is a priest, child, so it is only to be expected. And those people have been forced to take refuge within these walls because of us. There is bound to be resentment.’
We dined with the knight and his son again that evening, and Thorne told our host about the priest.
‘You need not concern yourself about him,’ Sir Gilbert replied. ‘Father Hewitt has already been to see me and asked that I banish you from the castle. I refused, and the matter is closed. He is my chaplain and has been with us for many years. Indeed, were I to die before my time, he would become the guardian of my son until he reaches maturity. He is a priest and you are witches, so there is a natural enmity between you. There is little he can do but stir up the feelings of his flock. But I am their lord and they will obey me in all things. You are perfectly safe here.’
‘We are grateful for that,’ I told him. ‘I examined the tapestry in our room with interest. I assume that you still have that armour?’
‘I do indeed. I had it specially made and it proved most effective against the worme. In truth, the creature was not quite as large as the embroidery suggests,’ he said with a smile. ‘But it was a dangerous beast and killed many humans as well as cattle.’
‘Father is both clever and brave,’ Will stated proudly. ‘Minstrels still sing of what he achieved.’
‘You must be very proud of your father,’ I said, smiling at the boy. But then I turned back to Sir Gilbert. ‘Such armour may not be as effective against the kretch. It has bone-armour of its own. If we engage it, we should work as a team and we should do it soon, before too many more of the Fiend’s servants arrive. Their numbers will grow by the day. But destroy the kretch and we will leave this place and they will follow. You will be able to return to the routine of your lives.’
‘We will do it tomorrow, then,’ said the knight. ‘We need to find some way to lure them closer to the castle, within range of my archers.’
I nodded. ‘I will think of something. And tomorrow we will put an end to them. You will return our blades?’
‘Of course. We will leave the castle together with the weapons necessary for victory.’
But I was wrong, events did not turn out as I had expected.
It is better to fight than to be a mere spectator. A witch assassin craves combat.
WE HAD A pre-dawn breakfast and then, to Thorne’s relief, we put aside the green dresses and once more attired ourselves as assassins. I was looking forward to the coming battle and felt comfortable to be dressed once more in the garb of my calling.
I could not risk taking the Fiend’s head with me into combat so it had to be hidden. I used more of my precious remaining magic to achieve that. Using many cotton threads which I unpicked from the hem of my dress, I hung the leather sack from a ceiling beam in the darkest corner of the room. Once that was done, I cloaked it thoroughly. Only a powerful witch or mage could find it now; even for them it would not be easy.
Sir Gilbert, dressed in his spiked armour, was waiting for us in the courtyard, surrounded by his men. So were our blades. It was a good feeling to slip each one back into its scabbard.