Chapter Eight

Duke of Normandy’s Castle August October 1096

“It was the first castle,” Colin said in hushed reverence. “I was awe-struck. Rango, on the other hand, was terrified.”

“What did the castle look like?” asked Sally, her eyes wide. “Did you slay any dragons? Any alligators in the moat? Damsels in distress or knights in shining armor? Did you meet Robin Hood? Did you see Excalibur?”

“Please excuse her. She has a vivid imagination. As you can tell she reads lots of fairy tales and just finished Robin Hood and the Tales of King Arthur,” Anne said, shushing her daughter.

Colin smiled. “No, Sally. There were no moats and no dragons. The legendary King Arthur was six-hundred years before my time, although I heard stories of him from my mother when I was a child. There were no damsels in distress. There were many knights. However, Robin Hood never fought to prevent Prince John from taking Richard the Lion heart’s Kingdom. I met Richard briefly, and he did not speak a word of English.”

“Robin Hood did to help King Richard,” Sally said with conviction.

Colin paused a moment and winked at the others, “Yes, Sally, he sure did.” Colin knew different. “I met the thief called Robin Hood many years after Richard died. The fabled county of Loxley did not exist during the reign of Richard or his brother John.” There was one thing Colin learned in his eight-hundred years, never argue with a ten-year-old where fantasy is involved.

“So, what did the castle look like?” asked Sally again.

“Well, the walls were stone, and there were two tall towers with two massive wood doors in the middle. There were slits where you could shoot an arrow from every few feet in the tower. An outer barricade surrounded the castle. Two inner barrier towers twice as high as the outer towers were next to a cast iron draw gate. The inner wall was also twice as high as the outer one. The keep was in the rear of the courtyard while the great house was centered in the courtyard and was elaborate but in clear need of repair.”

“What’s a keep?” asked Sally.

“The keep is a tower, and it’s the last defendable place if the castle is overrun by the enemy.”

“Were you?” asked Sally.

“Was I what, Sally?” Colin asked surprised.

“Overrun by the enemy?” Sally asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“No, Sally, we were not overrun by the enemy. The outer doors and the inner draw gates were open, so we walked inside. I was not prepared for what I saw next.”

Thousands of soldiers filled the courtyard marching in unison from one wall to the next. It reminded Colin of a centipede.  In another corner, soldiers practiced swordplay. Dozens of straw dummies lined another wall. Soldiers took turns pelting the dummies with arrows. However, the wall took most the hits.

“We come back when the soldiers go home, no?” pleaded Rango.

Colin spoke in a hushed voice, hoping to avoid detection. “No, my friend, we’ve come all this way. It is too late to turn back now. I must rid myself of this cursed letter and return to Amelia.”

“Amelia thinks you are a, how you say it… rat, no?”

“I hardly think she thinks highly of me, but I have a certain charm, don’t you think? Given time, well, let’s first cast off this burdensome letter to its rightful owner.”

“You are sure this Earl of Kent is here, no?”

“He better still be here. I can understand if you hide here.” Rango sat down next to the wall. “I’m sure the archers need a moving target practice,” Colin said. Rango leaped up.

“I would be safer than the straw, no?” Rango smiled. “Maybe a soldier can deliver your letter. He gets the curse, and you return to Alison, no?”

“It’s Amelia, not Alison and no. I must deliver the letter. It is my soul in danger and my curse.”

“Alison, Amelia—whichever one, it doesn’t matter.  I feel there is something in the air that will prevent you from returning and you will drag poor Rango into your doom, no?”

“For the last time, there is no doom. We deliver the letter. The Earl thanks us, rewards us, and we are on our way home, richer for enduring this evil curse to the end. Are you with me?”

Rango frowned and shrugged his shoulders. “I best be coming along to protect you, no?” and followed Colin into the midst of the fighting soldiers.

Colin and Rango crept through the soldiers fearful that one would stop them and ask questions, or worse. Nobody paid attention to Colin and his diminutive friend. Surprised, they climbed the long stairway, and Colin knocked forcefully on a large door. An elderly servant answered it. He glanced at Colin with a particular gene se qua and spoke in French. “Enlistments are taken at the Keep.” He turned and closed the door when he saw Rango. “They are not looking for children at this time.” He slammed the door in Colin’s face.

“Rango, what was all that about? You know I still don’t understand your difficult language.” Rango was more than a little upset that the help called him a child.

“Well, it appears he expects you to enlist and I am a child.” Rango sneered. 

Colin knocked on the door once again. The same servant answered. “My good man, I am not a child.” Rango shook his fist. “My dear friend is not here to enlist. We have an urgent letter to the Earl of Kent from the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“Why didn’t you say in the first place? Wait here. I will fetch the proper steward.”

Colin and Rango waited for far too long when the door finally reopened. “I will take the letter to his Lordship,” the finely liveried steward said with his hand outstretched.

“My friend here was told to deliver the message personally,” Rango said, in French, who then turned to Colin. “He,” Rango pointed to the servant, “wants to take the letter to the Earl, but I told him that you needed to deliver it personally, no?”

The steward glared. “Very well, follow me. You can wait outside the chambers whilst I confer with the Duke and the Earl. They are very busy at the moment.”

“There is not enough time to describe the opulence and wonder of the big house. Needless to say, it was grand. The servant led into a room five times the size of my house in Canterbury. I was afraid to sit on any of the plush, high-back chairs or partake of any of the fruit and cheese that lay on the table. Rango showed little sign of restraint. He clambered onto a chair which he pushed to the table and filled his mouth with the cheese. I, however, paced back and forth. I was about to chastise my friend when the door opened.”

Rango peered briefly into the room. “I wait here, no?” he said as he popped the last piece of cheese in his mouth.

“No. We are in this together. You are with me. Besides, what if they only speak French?” Colin strode through the door. Rango shuffled along behind him. Once inside he tugged on Colin’s jacket. “Do you know who that is?” he whispered and pointed to one the men in the room.

That same man approached Colin and stared down at Rango in disgust. He wore a red, half robe over a white ruffled blouse, black britches, and white stockings. His brown, greasy, un-brushed hair pulled back behind his ears, and his beard was unkempt. “I am told you have a letter from my dear friend the archbishop?” he asked in an over emotional voice. The other men in the room examined something unseen on a long table with intricately carved legs.

Colin handed the man the letter, relieved his journey, and the burdensome curse ended. He turned to leave.

A man near the desk shouted, “You have not been given permission to leave.” His hair and beard were as black as his eyes. He wore a floor-length red robe with a rounded white yolk and a gold collar. “Odo read the letter and be done with it.”

“I am getting to it, Robert,” Odo, tore open the envelope without looking at the waxed seal. His eyes narrowed, and a frown came to his face. He glared at Colin and boomed, “You are late.” The Earl of Kent peered at the letter one more time. “Permission to throw this vagabond and his dog into the dungeon, my Lord, we must teach him a lesson on being punctual.”

“Not so fast, Odo, read us the letter first, let us decide whether it merits the dungeon or the executioner’s blade.”

The Earl glared at Colin again. Rango crept behind Colin. He rustled the letter and read, “Odo my dear friend, the time is at hand for your return to England. Certain factions in King William's court are ready to swear allegiance to Robert. William’s Kingdom is within Robert’s reach. He may rule England and Normandy. Act by June after that there is no hope.” Odo slapped the letter onto the table. “What say you now, Robert?” bellowed the red-faced Earl of Kent.

Robert, Duke of Normandy, sauntered over to Colin. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back as he glared at Colin and sized him up and then he returned to the table. Odo spoke, and Robert held up his hand. “We have more important matters at hand. Pope Urban has asked us to supply a good Christian Army to rid the Holy Land of nonbelievers. We are to make Jerusalem safe so pilgrims may worship without fear of death. Those gathered at this table have sworn an oath to God and Church to march and complete his Holiness’ bidding. Odo, you know I have already leased Normandy to my brother William to fund our mission. Now is not the time for a quarrel. I will rectify my differences with William when we return.”

“Yes, my Lord, there is an urgency to carry out Pope Urban’s Crusade. The four of us here want nothing more than to rid the Holy Land of the pests that now reside there. Now, what shall we do with this vagabond and his dog?” Odo seethed.

“Patience, Odo, patience. His dog amuses me. From henceforth he shall be my fool.” Robert snapped his fingers, and several servants materialized out of nowhere and seized Rango. “Dress my new fool for the part. Do not be afraid of me little one. No harm will befall you. I will use you in my quest when I feel an urge to smile.”

They carted Rango off with little of a struggle.

“And the other, My Lord?” the Earl said, his voice and mannerisms making Colin’s skin crawl.

The Duke rubbed his chin. “There is something about him. I can’t put my finger on it. I have a feeling he’ll be of great use on our Crusades.” He cast a glance at the table with his arms folded. “It is agreed. We leave for Constantinople the first of October and will winter in Italy. God be with us. Our quest is just and holy, and we will prevail.”

The other two men in the room bowed. One man wore a yellow tunic with a red dragon spewing fire from its mouth stitched on it. A man with neatly brushed short brown hair and a well-trimmed beard and mustache looked on. The other wore a blue cape and red blouse, his eyes too close together. His wavy blonde hair hung to his ears, and his large nose was devoid of a mustache.

The Earl spoke again, “As you wish my Lord, but what should we do with him in the meantime? He was late with an important message. I can’t possibly return to England after a few months have passed.”

“Place him in the keep until we leave. Treat him kindly. But he is not to leave the keep.”

“The man in the yellow tunic was the Duke of Normandy’s brother-in-law, Robert, Count of Flanders. The other was Stephen, Count of Blois. Between them, they mustered five thousand men to join their Holy Crusades.”

“Did they allow you to leave the keep?” asked Grant.

“No, I was well treated but remained in my cell in the keep from the first of August until the first of October.”

“What happened to you then?” asked Sally.

“Well, we all left Normandy for our march to Blois where we were joined by Stephen’s army. It was also the first time I saw Rango since that day in the castle. Rango was dressed as a monkey; he appeared so embarrassed.”

“A monkey? That’s funny,” laughed Sally.

“No, Sally,” her mother said, “It was demeaning. Just because the man was a dwarf was no reason to make fun of him that way.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” Sally wrinkled her nose with her frown.

“It’s all right, Sally. I found it hard not to laugh at my friend at the time as well.”

“So, you are on your way to the Crusades?” asked an elderly man in the back of the room.

“Yes, I, one Duke, two counts, one Earl, and one monkey dressed friend,” he winked at Sally, and she smiled, “and five thousand men were on our way to Jerusalem to rid the city of its rightful inhabitants. I might have chosen execution if someone could have given me a clue what the outcome of the Crusades would be and the part I would play in them.”