Free The Devil's Domain by Paul C. Doherty Page B

truth?’ Sir John asked.
    ’We are officers of the King of France,’ Vamier declared. ’We are prisoners here but we fear for our lives. Sir Walter’s hatred for our nation is well known.’
    ’And good reason for it!’ Sir Walter burst out.
    ’Hush now!’ Athelstan held his hands up.
    ’But it’s true,’ Vamier continued. ’Why!’ He caught the look of puzzlement in Athelstan’s eyes. ’Hasn’t he told you? It was the St Denis which attacked Winchelsea when his wife and sons died.’ The Frenchman lifted his shoulders and spread his hands placatingly. ’Of course, it was a different crew, different men. No man here would agree to the wanton slaying of a woman and her sons. But, Sir John, you have fought in France ?’
    Sir John nodded; Athelstan recalled himself and his brother Francis entering a French town which had been sacked by English archers. Women lay dead in the streets, their throats cut, their dresses pushed back and, beside them, young children. The glory of war had died at such sights. Athelstan glanced at Sir Walter. The knight’s face had grown pale, his lips were moving soundlessly, beads of sweat ran down his cheeks.
    ’I’m no assassin,’ he said hoarsely. ’Aye, I hate you. If I had my way, I’d see you all hang on the gallows for the pirates you are!’
    A fight would have broken out but Sir John banged the table with his fists.
    ’When did you take this oath?’ he asked. ’What did it signify?’
    ’When we came here,’ Routier said, ’and we realised we were in the charge of Sir Walter.’ He gestured at the platter. ’Sir Walter himself will tell you: we only eat from the same dish and drink from the same jug.’
    ’And last night?’ Athelstan asked.
    ’The same. We dined here on what was supposed to be some fish, drank the same putrid wine and ate the same mouldy bread.’
    His companions lowered their heads to hide their amusement. Sir Walter would have retorted angrily but Athelstan caught his wrist. ’They are only baiting you,’ he whispered.
    ’If we met him on the field of battle,’ Gresnay declared, ’we’d do more than that, Brother!’
    ’One day you might!’ Sir Walter shouted , his lips flecked with spittle.
    ’But there’s another reason, isn’t there?’ Athelstan asked.
    The change in the French knights was remarkable. They dropped their lazy, insulting demeanour. Vamier shuffled back on his chair, Routier pulled across the wine jug and refilled his cup.
    ’Come! Come!’ Athelstan insisted. ’You are hardly a band of brothers, are you? After all, once you were cocks of the walk, masters of the Narrow Seas , and then one day your two ships are trapped between English men-of-war and the port of Calais .’
    ’Taken in a fair fight!’ Routier protested. ’Fortune’s fickle wheel and fortune is blind. Perhaps next time we meet, Sir Maurice will know what it’s like to be taken prisoner?’
    ’Oh, answer the question!’ Sir John snapped. ’Two French ships taken in one day! That smacks of treachery! You were expecting fat-bellied cargo ships full of wine from Bordeaux . Aye. The best claret, rich and red, the only good thing that comes out of France.’ The coroner grinned. ’That’s not true, but we can sit here all day like little boys in a street insulting each other.’
    ’We were betrayed.’ Vamier rapped the table-top with his fingers. ’And the traitor could be among you now?’ Athelstan asked. ’Possibly.’
    ’It could have been anyone.’ Gresnay waved his hands.
    Sir John smiled beatifically across at him.
    ’Young man, I’m in London yet I know that, in French ports, men-of-war are being prepared. I know that. The seagulls know that, the rats on board ship know that.’ His face straightened. ’But how many men know what’s contained in sealed orders? Come on, how many?’ He pointed at Routier. ’I ask you a question, sir, how many people on the St Sulpice and the St Denis knew where you were to sail, when, and