Son of the Morning (97 page)
‘How many survived the battle?’ said Dow.
‘Hard to say, not many,’ said the bowman.
‘What shall we do?’ said Dow to Montagu.
‘Edward has offered you a part of France. Offer him something he wants too. The best path now is Calais. Take that, hold it, and you have the basis for trade with England, you have a valuable port which, if you strike the right alliance with England, you will be able to hold.’
‘Be friends with the high men?’ said Dow.
‘Not friends but allies. It’s very different,’ said Montagu ‘and, come the right moment, when you have gathered your strength, you may even strike against England or France and see what you want imposed.’
If Montagu could expose the impostor prince, even find the true prince, then England could be delivered from the grip of devils. God would not allow a devil to stand in the place of an appointed royal. What if he inherited?
‘You don’t want what we want,’ said Dow, ‘why should you help us?’
‘You’re wrong. I seek to be damned for betraying my wife and my king.’
‘To be damned you can kill yourself or just miss church on a Sunday. Why go to this trouble?’
‘Because a Montagu fights. That is the motto of my family.’
‘Does he fight God?’
‘
Now
he does,’ said Montagu. ‘Though he hopes to lose. I will not give up my life but I will give up my soul. I can be useful to you. I’ll tell you now, the devils won’t want you to have Calais. You have to work out a way to deal with them.’
‘We need the Evertere,’ said Dow, ‘Osbert took it.’
‘You,’ said Montagu to Greatbelly, ‘find Edwin and get him to negotiate for at least equal possession of Calais. It’s the only realistic strategic objective now.’
‘Realistic strategic objective!’ said Greatbelly. ‘That the same as any port being good in a storm?’
‘Something like that.’
Up the slope devils were already squabbling with bowmen and one had already drawn back his bow for the benefit of Lord Sloth, Edwin’s Lucifer-blessed arrow no doubt chosen from the basket.
‘And now?’ said Dow to Sariel.
‘From Calais grow Lucifer’s peace. The Evertere may find its own way home.’
‘Does the true prince live?’ said Montagu.
‘What true prince?’ said Dow.
‘Isabella has bargained with devils. One has taken the guise of the English prince.’
‘The true prince
must
live. A devil commits no crime against God by merely relocating a prince. He would sin if he killed a legitimate royal son,’ said Dow.
‘Will you help me find him?’ said Montagu.
‘Are you not of Lucifer now?’ said Dow. ‘What happened to your damnation?’
‘Edward is still my friend, though he hates me,’ said Montagu. ‘I will not see England go to devils. I oppose God’s servants, the devils. I spite God. I am damned. Is that philosophy enough for you, Joanna?’
The woman nodded. ‘We need your help, William. We won’t win our land without you,’ she said.
‘You’ll have it. But you must find your sorcerers to help me find this boy.’
‘Will you do it, mother?’ said Dow.
‘I will go to the light and look,’ said Sariel. She kissed Dow on the forehead. Then the light was like a rainbow caught in a waterfall and she was gone. Montagu went to cross himself but thought better of it.
‘We should move,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to be found here by the devil prince if he thinks I’m dead.’
‘To Calais and something we can have and hold. The seed of freedom for all the world will be planted there.’
Up on the hill there was a great cry. Edward’s men were calling his name. The king went to the foot of the windmill tower, held up his hand and said something to the warriors. They all sank to their knees in prayer. Then they stood and shouted as one. ‘Glory to God! Glory to God!’
‘Lucifer! Lucifer!’ shouted the bowmen. The English united to loot the corpses of the dead.
At Montagu’s feet something he had believed to be a corpse moved. It was a naked man with an arrow in his backside. Bardi!
‘Help me!’ said Bardi.
Montagu bent to him. ‘You who have traded with powers diabolic and devilish, you who have sought only your own good. Where has it brought you?’
‘I only seek to serve!’ said Bardi.
‘To serve yourself,’ said Montagu.
‘Have pity on me!’
Montagu took off the angel feather cloak, still intact despite the battle. ‘You may not survive the journey, but I know one who is in need of a man like you. Go to the old English queen, Isabella. Say that I sent you and that I hope she will find a use for you.’
‘God, I’m in agony. Will she have doctors to get rid of this arrow?’
‘All your troubles will be at an end,’ said Montagu. ‘Now go, wish for Isabella and she will find a use for you that rewards you amply.’
‘Thank you,’ said Bardi. He crossed himself and said ‘Isabella’. There was a flash of white light and Montagu saw a comet heading north west.
‘Where has he gone?’ said Dow.
‘To reap the interest on his investment,’ said Montagu. ‘Now let’s away, the victory’s not yet won.’
Dow held up his three fingers, the sign of Lucifer. Montagu held up the three fingers in reply.
‘For Free Hell!’ said Dowzabel.
‘For Free Hell,’ said Montagu, as a cry went through the camp. ‘To Calais! To Calais!’ but on the field of slaughter, the men were deaf to the call, lost to their plunder.
So on Crecy field did this Dowzabel
Treat with a lord for the good of Free Hell
And Earl Salisbury did swear most truly
To find Prince Edward, taken so cruelly.
To Isabella flew Bardi of the bank.
She could not find it in her heart to thank
That most gentle Florentine courtier
And took her pleasure in his foul torture.
Our tale of the morning’s bright child is done.
The Son of the Night’s must now be begun.
Thanks to Adam Roberts, Michele Howe and Richard
Hornby for their reading and perceptive comments.
‘The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.’
A Gollancz eBook
Copyright © Mark Alder 2014
All rights reserved.
The right of Mark Alder to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper Saint Martin’s Lane
London, WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK Company
This eBook first published in 2014 by Gollancz.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978 0 575 11517 0
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.