The Iron Castle (Outlaw Chronicles) Read Online Free PDF Page B

than the destruction of all the Angevin holdings on this side of the Channel all the way south to the Pyrenees.’
    ‘That is so,’ said John.
    ‘And in the south, what?’
    ‘In the south we have the Lusignans, a powerful old family – sure you’ve come across them before, some were in the Holy Land with us: cruel fighters, fond of women – theirs and other men’s – and vassals of King John nominally. They will side with Arthur or Philip, or whomever suits them best at the time.’
    ‘And now?’
    ‘Now they are in rebellion, supporting Arthur’s claims to the dukedom. But they are being held in check in the south by William des Roches – remember him from the Great Pilgrimage? Red hair? A madman with a mace…’
    ‘I remember him – but I thought he was loyal to King Philip, or was it Arthur?’
    ‘Used to be. Used to be Arthur’s man. He’s just like the rest of them – interested first and foremost in himself and his family. King John offered him cartloads of silver, more Norman lands and a permanent seat on his royal council, and William came running as swift as a hound. He did make one condition to our John, though. He insisted that if Arthur were defeated he be treated honourably – apparently, he’s a bit sentimental about the lad. Genuinely fond of him, if you can believe that.’
    ‘So he does have some honour?’ I said.
    ‘Honour? You’ve come to the wrong shop for honour, Alan. The barons on both sides in this war will go with whoever offers them the best price. The knights, too. Honour be damned. It’s cash that counts. Robin’s got it right, you know, fill your boots while you can – for God only helps those who help themselves.’

Chapter Three
    The Castle of Falaise was the birthplace of William the Bastard, conqueror of all England – as the local Normans never tired of pointing out back in my great-great-great-grandfather’s day – It stood on a raised plateau above and to the south of the bustling town, and consisted of a massive square stone keep – ten times the height of a man and as wide as it was high – at the north-west corner, and a round tower of similar height attached by a fortified passage to the square donjon. A fifteen-foot-high curtain wall looped around a wide area stretching two hundred yards to the east, encompassing barracks, blacksmiths, bakeries, a deep well, cookhouses, storeroom and stabling for two hundred horses. It was an impressive fortification – not as fearsome as, say, Caen or Rouen or Château Gaillard, the Lionheart’s mighty castle that stood guard over the eastern marches of Normandy, but enough to daunt Arthur of Brittany if he showed his nose west of Dol. And with a garrison of some four hundred and fifty men-at-arms, knights, squires and sergeants, it could do more than daunt. If Arthur came across the frontier and attacked with all his forces, Falaise could hold out for months until help could be mustered by King John. If Arthur tried to bypass the powerful castle and venture further into Normandy, even perhaps to link up with Philip surging in from the east, a couple of hundred well-mounted, well-armed warriors could sally out and cut up his supply lines and ambush any stragglers in his army. Falaise was at the very centre of Normandy: if Rouen was the brain, the capital, the home of its mercantile activities, Caen thirty miles to the north, with its stalwart fortifications, might be said to be its heart; but Falaise – birthplace of its greatest Duke – was the loins; it was where people felt the most Norman. From Falaise, an army could swiftly march south into Maine or east into Brittany, but that army could also do valiant service by staying where it was.
    Lord Hubert de Burgh greeted me in his lavish audience hall on the middle floor of the keep. Rich tapestries hung from the walls; the furniture was carved with fantastic faces of animals and demons, painted in blues and reds and, though not yet dusk, the room blazed with