Chapter 9

It was something of a pleasure again for the hunter to take this same old Roman road north again, passing those familiar majestic great forests of Essex where he had once plied his trade as a poacher in the King’s forest. Every stone in the road and every stand of trees that they had passed reminded Robert of older, lonelier times until they traveled beyond Maldon, and continued northeast on the road toward Colchester. The novelty of these quite similar, but yet different, new lands with vast clumps of virgin woodlands mixed between smaller manor estates, both large and small, began whetting the hunter’s natural instincts.

He’d gone soft, he thought with a slight chuckle, a townsman that had become a woodsman, then again partially turned into a clerk of the urbs ... a man of (slight) affairs in the grandest city of the kingdom, and perhaps even all of Europe! Even on this rural road much of the way to Colchester, signs of human habitation was commonly found. Hamlets and small villages that could barely having boast either fifty inhabitants (or pigs) regularly appeared on their path and then were left behind, on at least a regularly hourly basis. Between these meager abodes, though, virgin forests reigned.

It was after one such brief transit, about an hour before dusk of that mid-autumn afternoon, that the hunter’s more primal instincts began to gear themselves into better operating order, like a miller’s windmill once again rotated to face on the full breath of the wind, turning the grinding wheel to its best operating speed.

“I think we’re being followed,” Robert calmly said, riding up just a bit faster to place his horse Shadow right next to Sir Hugo’s mount, an older but almost equally magnificent stallion.

“Of course we are,” Sir Hugo replied with a laugh. “We’ve had a shadow since we left Westminster two days ago, and they added a few more of their fellows after we passed through Maldon. That’s one reason why we didn’t linger for long at the tower, to keep them from reinforcing their numbers here too quickly. I know you had hoped for a night with your doxy, but it really couldn’t be helped. That’s also why I picked up the small escort of soldiers, not that just four cavalrymen and the pair of us suffice to deter them, if they had intended to strike at us, but they should deter most the more sensible highwaymen from delaying our passage. Now ... just how many of their number have you spotted, and how are they arrayed against us?”

“Behind us, four of which I’m certain, with perhaps a rear guard or another pair or rear riders. I can’t be certain, as they’re all riding single file in a line, making a count of their numbers more difficult. To the far fields over to the east of us at this moment, I believe there are two riders, keeping to the far cover and only rarely covering open ground at a fast gallop. They act like a normal small hunting party, but they’ve shadowed our trail for too long now for that purpose to have merit. Now to the west, I’ve seen no one out there lurking in those denser woods, but when we’ve paused to take a brief rest I’m sure I’ve heard the passage of some small troop making their way through that thicker cover, so I’m certain that a least another pair of men are shadowing us there as well.”

“Quite correct, in every account!” The rotund elderly knight laughed, with genuine amusement. “Those long hours toiling in the Chanceries of Red and Green wax have not dulled quite all of your exceptional instincts, and by the end of this trip they’ll have been sharpened quite keenly indeed to their former edge. Perhaps it has been a mistake to keep you at Westminster for so long, without at least some short minor errand running. Now that the other clerks have marked you as competent, efficient and yet amiable ... or so I hear, I think it would be unremarkable now if I deployed you off on some minor, but yet purposeful tasks, every few months or so. You still have much to learn and rightfully you should be still a year or more away for your next likely reassignment, to the Chancery of White Wax ... where you’ll be likely to spend many long and tedious years learning the King’s law and how his justice should be applied. Most young promising clerks, one’s possessing some of your talents, never progress from there ... but when knowledgeable enough they are assigned duty to the shires, either with the Coroner or the Sheriff. Not an unworthy career goal at all for a suitable clerk with both the mind of a scholar and the combat skills of a seasoned knight. Should you someday find the urge to roost with a wife, such a mundane royal assignment would befit you ... although I admit to possessing higher and loftier goals for you, but these are not without higher inherent risks. We’ll see ... those days remain further in your future! Now, with at least eight unknown men, likely soldiers or at least with significant knowledge of arms, behind and flanking us with the advantage of number – why am I showing such little concern then?”

“I could only hazard a guess, or rather several guesses, but I feel no immanent sense of danger from them either. In truth, they hunt us, but not for their sport. The game they seek must be bigger, the trophy far more precious than merely our heads. We are their Judas goat, I believe, guiding these hunters to their ultimate prey.”

“Again, quite correct ... and why?”

“I cannot see that a minor mission to eliminate a single murderous assassin plaguing York would trigger such an armed response to our heading there. Clearly then our armed friends wish us to lead them to our other destination ... that most secretive place where my Essex Rose remains hidden, safe from every unfriendly French eye. She is what they seek, for our French enemies know not her name or even the continence of her face, and require us to point her out to them so that they might then seize her. The warning letter fearing for her safety that you had just received, just a few days ago, must have been falsely sent – to lure you, my lord, the only man alive who can vouchsafe for her true whereabouts. We must not lead these knaves to her and put her in such dire peril!”

“Nor shall we, for I was certain that very warning letter was indeed sent in falsehood,” the wily aging spy whispered, with a knowing wink of his eye. “A smart spymaster does well to not entirely rid his organization of the unfriendly eyes and mouths of the enemy, especially the agents of our mortal foes the French. Keep your enemies closest to your heart, I believe some wise priest from Rome once told me, after a dozen or more cups of wine together. It’s best not to allow too many of them loose in our troubled kingdom, but its better still sometimes to just know who they are ... and even cultivate them as a good gardener would a prize cabbage. Some can maybe be turned to serve us, with the proper inducements, and others can be fed a steady diet of half and near-truths, as suits us, fattening them for times like now. I was certain that one of my more minor agents here in Colchester had also been in the pay of our enemy as well, taking both our coins and perhaps wishing to just play us both falsely, to his own enrichment. About a month ago, I determined to discover where this agent’s true sympathies truly lay, so I arranged for him to overhear a carefully staged conversation between another agents of mine that he knew, with another stranger, unknown to him. During that conversation, a fake message from ‘The Rose’ was passed over to one of the familiar agents, to be delivered to me. The supposedly coastal region in Suffolk, were the Rose was said to be in hiding was verbally mentioned, just once, but clearly enough for the rogue to mark it well in his mind, to be repeated to his French spymaster ... but not the precise town. Suffolk has many coastal villages and they yet do not have any description of their quarry, save that she might have red hair ... as do many lovely ladies of this kingdom. The road to Suffolk is a fairly direct one, with many places for spies to be placed with certainly of following our path, like now.”

“Clever,” the hunter agreed with a small nod of his head in acknowledgement, “so, in truth, this new message you just now received was a confirmation that the French had fallen for this trap and they believe that we will lead them directly to her. I assume that their plans are to be foiled, somehow? Outnumbered as we are, a battle between our small forces might have uncertain results, especially if more opponents will be adding to their numbers.”

“No worries on that account,” he laughed, “I’ve spent many a long evening pondering how this trap I’ve baited will be closed shut. Even before we left Westminster, two separate messengers were sent by routes both direct and oblique, commanding in the King’s name that a warship with a strong compliment of soldiers and archers be dispatched up the coast at best speed, with provisions for a week or more, to that very remote coastal village. I chose this place of refuge well as it is almost nearly an island, the only roadway in and out is flooded by the tide for long hours, twice a day. Every advantage there would be ours, for the terrain overwhelming supports a cautious defender, and a lessor force can prevail even over greater numbers.”

“Especially with some trained archers and the assistance of a master bowman,” Robert laughed.

“Quite so!” Sir Hugo smiled, “A clever spymaster, casually passing through as a peddler perhaps, would deem it an excellent place to hide a secret or a treasure worth protecting. When I was a younger man, old King Henry used this place as a place of exile for certain disgruntled noblemen that were too important or powerful to just kill or exile. The townsfolk, a very secretive and clannish lot, have enjoyed royal favor ever since. They’re smugglers, most of them, but often used for the King’s business when we need people or items brought in or out, and we must be certain that there will be no unfriendly eyes.”

“No ... the old knight added, as they slowly rode through the next village as the sky began to steadily darken, “we’re certain to be safe at least until we reach Colchester, before we see sundown. Once on the other side tomorrow, on the road to Ipswich, we’ll be on naught but trails, and admittedly the opportunity for ambushing us might grow more seductive. To take at least one of us alive, able to give answers when put to the question. I don’t think either of us would much enjoy hat, myself in particular ... since in fact you do not know the name of the remote village in question. I shall, for obvious reasons then, hold on to that bit of knowledge for yet awhile longer then.”

“Fine, keep your secrets ... my wise but far too enigmatic master,” the hunter laughed.

“Have no concerns my overly anxious master bowman, for quite soon it will become your time to display your more devious attributes along with a demonstration of your superior woodcraft skills to remain unseen. Certainly, we want our adversaries to follow us to our final destination ... but not all of these particular agents are entirely needful for our purpose. In fact, nearly all, save for a lucky pair of survivors, are strictly necessary to escape in order to inform their masters. They will think us stupid, if we utterly failed to note their passage, trailing us, especially considering the importance of our destination. Should they find their divided force significantly threatened, and perhaps nearly eradicated, this would only confirm to their French masters that they are indeed approaching their most desired goal. Ideally, this would likely leave just their scout leader, whom I sure that you can cleverly deduce after a short period of direct observation, to more stealthily tail us from a greater and safer distance from behind. Also leave alive but perhaps wounded their rearmost mounted messenger, probably a youth riding rearguard, to escape with haste to back to their masters to report. For the value of their expected prize, I’m certain that ample precautions have been made for a significant number of reinforcements. Either several bands of hired bandits, or even more likely, a French ship loaded with soldiers lying somewhere just off of the coast, awaiting a signal for their final destination. In fact, I hope and pray for such an abundance of assistance, as this likely shall draw out every local agent they possess between London and York, either significant or petty, into the rather heated reception I have so painstakingly arranged for them.”

“Then let us not disappoint them tomorrow!” The idea of drawing his bow again against a more challenging target of flesh, rather than immobile practice figures of straw and wood, quite appealed to him after his endless long hours in the Chancery wielding naught but a quill.

The archer had never actually seen Colchester before and he was almost disappointed when Sir Hugo immediately turned his leading horse off to the right, towards a narrow alleyway barely inside of the old city walls, bypassing the entire town’s center. The aged knight then tossed a small silver coin to a lame beggar lying in this dank alleyway, who then immediately scampered off to knock twice sharply on a nearby doorway. Quicker than the archer could count to ten, a trio of young youths rushed out of the doorway bearing an ever increasing selection of empty barrels and crates, until this alleyway was quite blocked off from either further transit, or even casual viewing from the gate entrance. This barricade was then covered with a variety of woven rush mats that the older lad then began to loudly hawk for sale.

“Quite clever and efficient,” Robert remarked, as he followed this master through a nearly bewildering maze of tiny old cobblestone streets that seemed to shadow the southern and then eastern ancient walls of the old town.