They’d gathered in a wooded copse overlooking the French siege camp. Dawn was still hours away and blackness shrouded the countryside, but they could make out the blurred outlines of the town walls and the towering castle keep. Philippe did not operate his siege engines in continual shifts as Richard liked to do, and he’d halted the bombardment at dark. Fires burned in the camp, but there was no sign of movement, the tents tightly staked against the wind. The scene looked deceptively peaceful, for the damage done by trebuchets and mangonels was cloaked by the night. Within the town they knew what they’d find: bodies piled like firewood until they could be buried, looted shops, houses commandeered by Philippe’s knights. Some of the citizens would have fled to the castle, others to the adjacent Benedictine abbey of Notre-Dame, but many might have stayed, for Issoudun had been under French control until Richard had captured it in July. If they did, they likely regretted it, for soldiers saw plunder as their right, and they rarely drew fine distinctions when the opportunity presented itself. Whatever its loyalties, Issoudun would have suffered the fate of any town taken by storm. But the suffering of its people was hidden behind its stone walls, not particularly redoubtable, yet still a challenge to the men discussing its defenses in this quiet forest grove.
“This will not be easy,” Richard admitted. “The castle and the abbey of Notre-Dame and several churches are separated from the town by formidable walls. Its main gate leads into the town, but it has a second gate in its south wall. We are not going to be able to get in that way, for the River Theols flows around the town to the west and the south. Moreover, even Philippe would know enough to have that gate well guarded. So our only chance to reach the castle will be by getting into the town first, and it is walled, too, although they are not as high as the castle fortifications.”
There was a silence as they considered that, for they had no siege engines, nor the numbers to confront the French army in the open. “Well,” André said, “I assume you do not mean for us to fly over the walls. So how do you intend to accomplish this feat?”
“Remember how we took Messina.” It was not a question, for most of the men with him now had also been with him when he’d forced his way into the Sicilian city through a poorly guarded postern gate. “There is a postern gate at Issoudun, too, in the south wall, and it is not protected by the river, which curves away from the town by then. I noticed it when Mercadier and I took Issoudun, although we had no need to make use of it. I’d wager that Philippe did not bother to do an inspection of the walls; what he knows about conducting war could fill an acorn shell. The town is asleep and Philippe’s guards probably are, too. If we could open that gate, we’d be in the city ere the French even knew what was happening.”
It was too dark to see their faces clearly, but he heard their murmurs of approval. Stealth was their only weapon—that and the French king’s carelessness. “We are agreed, then,” he said. “One of us will use the hemp ladder to scale the wall, then make his way to the postern gate and open it for the rest.”
“Not you, though!” This was said by André, Morgan, and Guillain in such perfect unison that it could have been rehearsed, and the other knights laughed.
“I did not say I’d be the one to do it,” Richard protested, but the corner of his mouth was twitching and after a moment, he conceded, “Well, the idea may have crossed my mind.”
That came as no surprise to any of them; these men knew Richard as well as anyone on God’s earth. “I ought to be the one,” André insisted, pointing out that he was familiar with Issoudun, for his castle at Chateauroux was less than twenty miles away. But after some bickering, they settled upon Guillain; he also knew the town well, and for a big man, he could move as quietly as any cat.
The French had taken Issoudun so quickly that they’d had no need to encircle it, and now that they had the castle garrison penned up within the town walls, they relied upon the River Theols and sentries to guard the stronghold’s second gate. Their camp was spread out to the north so they could aim their siege engines at the castle’s main gate. Richard and his knights gave it a wide detour, also making sure to avoid the suburbs outside the town walls, for an alert watchdog could easily doom their mission. They took shelter in woods that gave them a view of the postern gate, watching tensely as Guillain cautiously made his way across the open fields. Denied moonlight, he had to navigate by the sound of the river to his left and by the spire rising above the town walls, for the hospital, H?tel-Dieu, was close by the postern gate.
He was soon swallowed up in darkness, but each man could follow him in his mind’s eye, knowing he meant to fling a hemp rope ladder fitted with grappling hooks toward the top of the wall embrasure. The wall was not so high that it could not be done, but it might take several attempts for the hooks to catch, with Guillain sweating it out as he waited to see if any curious faces would appear over the battlements, drawn by the scraping of iron on stone, a sound that would be echoing in his ears louder than thunder. No one asked what they’d do if he failed. They had no backup plan, but they were confident that Richard would come up with one if need be; he always did.