It was with more than a little horror that the servants of Château-Arvon were forced to capitulate to the brigand who had seized control of their home. Most there had lived there their whole lives, and had never seen anyone attack the castle in all those years. Only the most elderly could still remember the days of Augustin II's reign shortly before the end of Guillaume I's reign, when there was last an attack mounted against the castle walls. Since that time,all had counted themselves fortunate as violence had been kept at bay. Certainly, it had its place within the context of life within Arvois, in the form of the popular tourneys and against those who turned to banditry or other such crimes, yet it had almost disappeared.
Therefore, a great many were thus ill-prepared for the invasion of the keep and surrendered without a single word. Weakened by the peaceful Pierre's long reign as Comte, they could not fathom resistance, especially if it might endanger the man's women-folk. To most of the people there, these women-folk were considered to be their own kindred, so that very few could even fathom risking the lives of any of them, even in the name of Pierre.
Only a small band of them proved still unwilling to surrender. Those led by the valiant Raphael d'Arvon, a lesser captain of knights who had served the family for nigh on fifty years. It was none other than this Raphael, a large Tigrun with a leonine mane who still dressed in his night-robe, broke past the enemy, seized hold of one of the armouries and proceeded to, with a small motley of servants, men-at-arms, and knights, hold their ground.
"Never shall we give way to any invaders, no matter the squalls! Hold fast we will, until our Seigneur returns and puts each one of them to the sword!" He was heard shouting at any who would listen, his booming voice carrying forward and out into the courtyard.
Raphael was a strange fellow, born in the lands of Tirreinia far to the south, in South-Agenor, he was bulky and more passionately Gallian than any other man. He had come along with his father, who soon starved himself simply attempting to feed his cub, who was taken in by the likes of Pierre's father, who had thought a great deal of the man's father. He was to say to him, cheerily, when he took him into his house, "Do not forget what thy father has given up for thee."
It was these words, along with the generosity that the Comte had shown him, that had moved Raphael to such earnest service. Such was the loyalty he felt for the old Comte, that he had done his utmost to master the knightly arts, mastering swordsmanship and spearmanship, and horse-riding. This he had done not only to best serve the Comte, but that he might one day protect the man's son and pass onto him what he himself knew of the martial arts.
It happened that Raphael had in recent years retired from combat himself, for he was old and had become quite lame in one leg and half-blind in his right eye. Yet still he was keen to demonstrate his ferocity, and his pious love for Pierre so that he would not back down, would not facilitate as so many others were doing.
"None shall have this house! None shall take this keep from Pierre so long as I draw breath! Down with the lickspittle traitors, down with them and down with their cowardly servants!" He shouted to all in sundry.
Never had any expected such resistance from one such as he, or that a great number of men might rally to him. His stiff resistance and devotion to his liege were to have the terrible and debilitating effect of rotting the conquest of the fort from within. Though he had acted impulsively to take the castle, Casimir paid it a great deal of mind, and the almost drunken, foolish manner in which his men comported themselves then. Never particularly foolish, certainly he had behaved rather more impulsively than he might otherwise have done. However, he still made certain to push matters in the way he had long planned them to. It was his view that he ought to wait until his men were asleep before he set in motion the next part of his grand design.
*****
It happened, though, that while Casimir and a great many of his men indulged themselves by raiding the pantries and wine cellar of old Pierre that a single boy slipped out. The boy's name was Bastien. Bastien le Voleur, or the Thief, as the local chambermaids knew him, for his uncanny habit of always managing to slip into the pantries to swipe a pastry or three, or some cheese. It did not help that Bastien was a squirrelly fellow who was always quick to cheer and quicker to grin. Kindly and pious in spite of his bad habits, he had a long reputation that was encouraged by Pierre, who had always doted upon the orphaned Ratvian.
Yes, Ratvian for Bastien was a fellow with a fluffy tail, sharp front teeth, and pointed ears atop his head. When one describes him as squirrelly, it is because that was what he most closely resembled. This was because of how, of all the tribes of the Ratvians, he was descended from the Écuréon tribe, as the Gallians called it, or Sciurii or Sciurion tribe, as others might call it. This tribe of Ratvians had more in common with squirrels than rats or mice, like the principal Ratvian tribe that most are accustomed to being introduced to in such tales.
This particular one, Bastien, was a great big ox of a squirrel. Large for his age, even by the standards of his race, he was to slip out through a hidden doorway in the kitchens before the invaders had properly secured it. Knowing of a single displaced stone near the rear walls that surrounded the castle, one that he had used countless times to smuggle himself out and into the local village. He was to struggle and slither and otherwise press himself forward, through that crack in the wall. Struggling entirely because of the weight he had put on as of late, and because he was at that age when boys become men, he came near to being stuck in that narrow passage more than once.
Once free and on the other side of the castle walls, he threw himself forward with wild abandon to the local tavern, whereupon he stole his way into their stables. Aware that horse theft was a terrible crime, and one that was harshly punished, with young Bastien unlikely to be able to afford the fine, he nonetheless steeled his heart and stole one of the horses. Though many did not know it, he had ridden a great many horses before. This he had done in secret with the blessings of Pierre, who, amused by his enthusiasm for chivalry, had encouraged him, just as old Augustin II had done for Raphael. Of course, Raphael had gruffly disapproved of teaching Bastien the slightest thing and allowing him to occasionally slip into the stables to steal away with one of the horses for a few hours of harmless riding.
Now, though, the very training in managing a steed that had been passed onto him was what might rescue the castle-keep and Pierre's family from Casimir and his fellows. Racing across the moonlight, at such blinding speeds that he could well have been mistaken for the likes of ancient Mercury himself, or even the likes of Hermoðr.
When at last he had caught up to and arrived before the likes of Pierre, he did so with some difficulty. It happened that the Comte had just reached the foot of the mountain and was preparing to split his Knights in two, to make it all the easier to reclaim the monastery. Wrestling with who to appoint head of the secondary group, he had appointed the likes of Norbert, son of Raphael, the head of this secondary group. A ferocious Tigrun like his father, Norbert was no less large, no less fierce, and was a Knight of some standing in his household who had lost in the jousts earlier that day against Casimir. However, he was still held in the highest esteem by his liege, for he had good judgment and a great deal of prudence, having guarded the Lady Gisèle for more than twenty-three years, since he was a Squire.
They might well have proceeded further on, with Ruaidhrí and Salomon accompanying the good Comte, each of them eager to press forward. In this, they struggled, however, for Augustin had taken fright and had begun to complain that he wished to stay in the village. His valour ordinarily so redoubtable and ferocious had, however, given way completely to his innate timidity.
"I would prefer not to return to that dread place," he complained at some length, shaking and quivering not unlike a leaf that is trampled upon.
"Do take heart, man, you have already made it this far," Pierre growled at him impatiently.
"Oui, you share a name with the noble Comte's revered father of fond memory, and here you are trembling and almost sobbing like a maiden who has lost her wits!" Norbert sneered, hardly able to bring himself to look upon the woodcutter.
Ashamed Augustin could only stare at his feet. Yet trembling and afraid, he looked as though he might weep so that a part of many who observed him wished to defend him. And yet, tender as many could be, such as Salomon, they were all utterly filled with shame to be associated with him. They had hoped that with time and with a little more faith in him, Augustin might grow into the man they all needed him to be, into a worthy man capable of facing down his fear and standing tall alongside them.
Some, such as the Comte, had compassion for him, while others, such as the likes of Norbert, had little of it left in them. Ruaidhrí, stalwart and loyal to the woodcutter, was no less filled with shame and disgust towards his friend. "Courage, man," he said to him then, "You must have courage, lest you will bring shame and dishonour to our people, for we Caleds and you Gallians are kin. Therefore, cease quivering like a woman and take heart, for even I, a child half thy age, have resolved to go forward, to yon temple."
His words had the desired effect of shaming Augustin enough into nodding his head, if reluctantly so. Doing so with visible reticence, he was to, in spite of his parlour, begin urging his horse forward, even if it seemed to cost him dearly with each step the stallion took. It was as he did so that Bastien arrived.
The surprise all felt at the arrival of the squirrel was one that caused a ripple through the whole of their ranks as they stared in shock at him. Shortly before he arrived, he blew into the war-horn he had stolen, startling every man there and capturing their attention, and making them all stare in wonder. Their amazement had only grown when Bastien arrived panting and screaming hoarsely 'Monseigneur!' repeatedly until he was at last to throw himself from his horse that he might find his knee as was right and proper.
"Monseigneur! I bring urgent news from the castle!" He called in a panic to the startled feudal lord, who stared down at him in confusion.
"What is it?"
"Château-Arvois has fallen!" Bastien revealed to the shock and confusion of all those present before him.
So quiet were they that one could have heard a stone fall a thousand kilometres from there. One could have been mistaken for thinking thence, each of the warriors, little more than statues. They were certainly life-like, as the saying goes, but there was little of life that was truly in them. Their mouths hung open, their eyes blinked stupidly, not unlike those that belonged to cows, and there was an air of confusion that hung over every man.
How could it be? They were asking themselves how the castle could have fallen so swiftly; they had been gone only for a few hours. Making their way slowly yet steadily towards the monastery, they had halted and argued among themselves for no less than three of those hours. Yet still the question of how this could have happened hung over each of them, with Pierre the most strongly affected.
"We must turn back!" Ruaidhrí was the first to recover from his state of dazed alarm; thoughts of his sister in danger urged him to turn his own steed back.
"Wait! But what of the monks?" Norbert replied,hesitant to go back.
"We must not abandon the castle, if we lose it, we will win back the monastery if only for a heartbeat," Salomon argued back at once, turning to the Comte, he was to plead with the older man. "You know this to be true, good Comte! Your women must be rescued at once, ere they are humiliated and potentially slain by these wretched brigands!"
Pierre, who had stood by, gaping more dumbly than any of his men, staring from Bastien to them, was at last to exert himself. Staring at first from the men around him to the mountains and back up the way that the squirrel had come was to at long last be roused from his stupor. His previous shock was soon forgotten and was to be replaced by a black fury that would carry him from that place north of his lands to the south.
"We shall turn about and put each of these knaves to the sword!" He proclaimed loudly, furious at the notion that anyone might threaten his kinswomen and home. "This Casimir has overstepped the mark once again!"
There was a great cheer then, as everyone pumped their fists in the air and turned their horses about to follow. All save a few, such as Norbert, who still felt it to be of the direst importance to rescue the monks as they had sworn to do, but a few mere hours ago.
"What of the monks, my liege?" Norbert asked of him hesitantly.
"Your piety is good and noteworthy, Norbert," Pierre complimented at once.
"Thank you, Monseigneur."
"But we shan't let go of our homes, though if you feel so strongly, I will have of the twenty herewith me now, fourteen accompany ye north." Pierre declared at once, after having counted the heads and decided upon how many should head north and how many should return south with him. There were a great many protests from the twenty knights he had selected to accompany him, but he would hear none of it. "I will hear none of it! I can raise the whole of Arvon in rebellion and will do so. But those monks like Gisèle and the girls might only have a few mere hours; therefore, we will rescue them both. Norbert, it was you who reminded me of my duty. And you who are wisest, most pious and courageous of all my knights and were the one to remind me of the importance of this quest, in spite of your desire to be reunited with thy father, it is you who must lead my knights north."
Such was the effusive praise that Pierre heaped upon his servant that the Tigrun bowed his head, and might well have knelt before him. A humble Knight, he had no words and could only with the most supreme of efforts keep from weeping at such high praise.
Many of those around him looked on with approval. Long had they known and long had they served beside Norbert, and long had they loved him. Bold and heroic, loyal yet still clever, he had served loyally just as his father had before him, so that there was not a man present thereupon the foot of the mountain, who did not feel pleased on his behalf.
Salomon may have been an outsider, but he, however, felt no less pleased than they even as he threw himself forward to offer his services to the Comte. "Monseigneur, let me be the first to volunteer my services in the battle to retake your home."
"Salomon is with me! Those who do not go with Norbert, follow me! We shall, with his aid, take back that which is ours!" Pierre shouted to all in sundry, raising up his arm, wherefore he tugged fiercely at the reins of his mount, and tore his way across the vast plains that separated him from the only home he had ever known.
*****
Upon their return, it happened that they were joined, if inadvertently so, by the local people of the village of Arvon. A great many of these common people had, of course, heard the great troubles and commotion that had taken place in their liege's castle. Terrified, they had initially murmured and raced from house to house, demanding what had happened. A number of them had gone up to the castle and been fired upon by arrows and spears, with three dying on account of their injuries. These three men, Eudes, Ludévic, and Ulf, were one and all men prone to drink, yet who worked long hours in the fields and had large families, so that between them they had approximately eighteen children (there was one yet to be born). It was only of the party of four that had been injured Luc who survived, with this younger half-brother of Ulf vowing vengeance upon the guards. He had to be restrained from returning to the keep, not that it took much effort to restrain him, as he had lost a great deal of blood along with half of his foot.
By the time Pierre arrived before the village, he discovered it in the midst of attempting to besiege and break into the castle. They had already arranged for ladders and battering-rams, and had thrown every able-bodied man against those high walls. The reason for their madness was fear for the very girls that always came down to market to buy cloth, or hurried off to the local temple in Turan to pray for marriages and love, or to that of Marianne to pray for hope. Their mother, who had lived there for nigh on forty years and had devoted herself to every victim of tragedy in the village, was someone who had donated such wealth that none had starved in the past decades,andhad inspired the men. And lastly, they loved their Comte. He was a man like them, one who was akin to a father to all within the county and who never spared any expense, spared them the rod other feudal lords would not have, and who disliked taxing them. Frugal, valiant, and kind, he had brought glory to Arvois, and they could not have asked for more from him.
Enraged and filled with a kind of madness that had purged them of all fear, they threw themselves against those who had invaded his castle, with nary a plan and nary any consideration for their own safety.
The brigands that had overtaken the keep did not know how best to ward off the relentless villagers, even as they struggled against those within who refused to give in. Fighting along two fronts, it happened that they vastly underestimated the feudal lord, not realizing at once that he was en route to the castle-keep.
*****
While the great crowd of people distracted and alarmed the guards at the walls, Pierre, for his part, made for the northern walls with a ladder of his own. Leaving his horses with a small collection of villagers, with orders to stable them until his return, he had paid them amply (twice the usual stabling fees), and he was the first of his men up the ladder. Obstinate by nature, he was to make his way through the fields and land that separated the village from the north walls.
Once up and over the wall (most of the enemy was concentrated along the southern wall), Pierre was to help the others climb up and over, and was to direct them to the nearby guard-tower. From there, he climbed down, leading the way as always, sword in hand as was right and proper. How his friend Clovis, he mused to himself, might well have loved to be there! He would have already hewed down a dozen men, all while carrying the Chabet-family Lily-flag or l'Oriflamme in one hand and his sword in the other. Pierre, though, would content himself with his buckler, which had the family 'écussion' or coat of arms engraved upon it in one hand, and his sword in the other.
Throwing himself forward, against the Knights that had followed Casimir in the seizing of the castle, Pierre called out to those behind him, "Follow me! We shall hound them from this place!"
The cheer that resulted was one that buoyed his spirit and inspired in him, greater sense of purpose and rage against those who had seized his family. Wholly unaware of where to find resistance, he knew only that he had to make it known to all present within the courtyard that he had returned. This he did, even as he revelled in having thrown the northern gates and sent one of his men out that way to spread the news that the gate was open.
It was not long before the east gate was likewise opened to the outside world, with the local people soon pouring in to lend their assistance to their noble Comte.
Hungry to liberate the keep, a great many fought, struggled, and otherwise threw themselves forward. Doing so with the unrelenting madness of beasts themselves, they soon had the castle surrounded and the bandits captured.
Parrying and slashing madly, Pierre fought like a demon unleashed from the deepest pits of Jotunheimr, his eyes ablaze with fury and a low leonine growl on his lips. Never letting up, he was to bellow and hiss and snort so that he did not seem at all a Man, but rather some beast from another time and place.
Every man that came to blows with him struck air or his shield when he at last threw away his spare blade in favour of it, when the secondary weapon broke. What alarmed most was that his Dwarfsteel sword did not shatter, did not break, but rather remained whole and unbending at all times. Slicing and slashing through armour and flesh alike without ever giving an inch, even as his gaze cut through every man he came across.
When at last he fought his way through not only the courtyard, against wave after wave of men before him and but six of them behind him, fighting to remain alive and provide him much-needed aid, he was dripping in sweat and blood. Many were the men who were to think back in later days to that day with a great deal of awe. He was truly his father's son; many were to later say in voices brimming with wonder and admiration.
*****
None were more impressed, however, than Salomon. It was he who observed the heroics of the good Comte that night, and was to later recount it for the rest of his days. Always he would speak admiringly of the valour and of the feat of arms. Whenever he would, in future days, ride into battle always it would be with the image of the Comte burnt into his mind's eye.
Not only did Pierre fight his way past dozens of warriors, with his men riding hard at his sides, but when they saw him, the enemy who had hoped to bully and abuse his women took fright. Some attempted to flee, only to mid-flight come face to face with the local townspeople who were no less brave than their liege. Others were to attempt to hide behind the women, eager to take them hostage for fear of their lives.
This availed them nothing, as Pierre, though he paused, had foreseen this event and had sent in some of his men to slide along the shadows, and slip in the main-hall behind these knaves.
It was, however, when he hurried to Gisèle, his beloved Comtesse's side, that he was in for the rudest of shocks, as the woman did not receive him with the utmost relief, nor did the other wailing ladies. Each of them was shocked and still terrified for reasons that perplexed all of the men.
"They have taken her, Pierre!" Gisèle burst out once she was freed, wailing and screeching as might a woman possessed.
"Taken who?" Pierre demanded of her, confused and bewildered even as his heart sank with despair, as the suspicion of what had happened began to snake its way into his heart. It was as he held his weeping wife that he barked out at those around him, "And where is Augustine? And the rest of the girls?"
"The girls were rescued by Sir Gauvain, who managed to make his way to their chambers, lock the door, and seal himself and a dozen knights and guards with them." Maximilien, the head of the guards, informed him proudly, with a warm look to the knight in question, who flushed red all the way up to his ears.
While the younger knight muttered and mumbled humbly, Pierre insisted, "And where is Augustine and that girl she has taken for a pet? Seonag was it? Where are they?"
"He has taken them! Pierre, he has taken them!" Gisèle shrieked at him.
"Who?"
"That knight!"
"What knight?"
"He wore black," Gisèle whimpered as she once more dissolved into tears, only to admit, "He called himself 'Vifombre'…"
*****
Ruaidhrí, who had been left behind since Pierre refused to endanger the youth, was soon reported missing by the innkeeper with whom he had been left. The same man who was head of the tavern/inn where Salomon and Augustin had hoped to establish themselves in days prior. Reporting before the Comte with trembling hands and downcast gaze, he was to report this fact worriedly to the feudal lord of Arvois, expecting not only immediate punishment but the heavy hand of vengeance.
Yet Pierre, never a particularly vengeful man where the innocent were concerned, was to ask of the man before him, "And which way did he go? Towards yon mountains that lie to the north, or did he venture south?"
"Neither Monseigneur," the innkeeper replied, trembling, "He left for the south-east, more east if I was to be honest. That way lies the eastern woods that separate us from the river that serves to nearly sever us from Norstrieux-"
"I know what lies east, you fool!" Pierre barked, whereupon he turned to his guards, "Horses! We must have horses! There are mountains that way and forests also, I suspect I know where it is that Ruaidhrí has gone."
"Where is that Monseigneur?" Salomon asked, "We must, though, rescue Seonag! Should any harm have come to her-"
"No harm shall be visited upon her, you have my word, young man," Pierre assured him quietly, yet with supreme confidence, even as there was an edge of steel to his voice. "We need only follow after her brother to find her and Augustine."