Chapter 23
T hey were under attack.
Wallingford Castle might not be under siege, but getting to Matilda had been no easy task. Finally, after days of planning and observing, they chose to wait for cover of darkness to enter through the eastern postern gate. As they had already sent a message to FitzCount, the earl knew they were coming. He had offered to send a contingency of men out to meet them, but Sir Eamon had chosen not to take him up on the offer.
The plan had been to sneak inside, but somehow they’d been spotted.
An arrow whizzed by Darien’s ear.
“Dammit,” he heard Alden curse. “Bastards are in the trees. How did Corwin not see them?”
Their scout, Darien would have pointed out, had failed them. It was that simple.
“Eamon!” Darien shouted, readying his bow. “We’re exposed. We need cover.”
“Move to the thicket!” Sir Eamon commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Roland, take the rear with Alden. Gareth, flank Darien.”
The sound of crashing foliage echoed as they scrambled toward the nearest trees, the air thick with tension. Darien nocked an arrow, his heart racing as he spotted the glint of steel between the branches—another enemy archer, crouched and preparing to fire.
“Got you,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the bowstring taut. With a swift release, the arrow soared through the air, striking true. The enemy archer tumbled from his perch, crashing into the underbrush.
“Well done,” Roland shouted, his own sword drawn as he fended off a charging soldier.
“Keep moving,” Darien yelled back, scanning the tree line for more threats. His instincts kicked in as he spotted a group of three soldiers advancing toward them, weapons drawn.
“Eamon!” he called out. “Left flank. Three more coming in.”
“Take them,” Eamon barked. “We need to push through!”
Darien focused, his breath steadying as he drew another arrow. He let it fly, aiming for the lead soldier. The arrow pierced through the man’s armor, and he crumpled to the ground.
“Two left,” he called, already reaching for another arrow.
Alden stepped into view, sword gleaming in the dappled sunlight, and quickly dispatched one of the remaining foes with a fierce swing. The last soldier turned to flee, but Darien was quicker. With a final pull of the bowstring, he sent another arrow flying, striking the soldier as he attempted to escape.
“Let’s move,” Sir Eamon shouted, leading the charge as they breached the thicket, the trees finally providing the cover they so desperately needed.
Darien followed closely as they pushed toward the gate ready to confront whatever lay ahead. Thankfully, they encountered no additional resistance. It wasn’t until they were met by FitzCount’s men and escorted into the safety of Castle Wallingford’s outer walls that Eamon unleashed on Corwin.
“You nearly got us all killed,” he said, his voice echoing a rare combination of anger and even fear.
Darien did not disagree.
As their comrade endured Eamon’s wrath, Darien was surrounded by his friends.
“Seeing you with that in battle”—Gareth nodded toward Darien’s bow as they walked—“is very different from in the training yard. You may be better with the bow than even Roland with his sword.”
“He’s not that good,” Roland muttered, but Darien could sense the smile in his voice.
They alternately congratulated and complimented each other, Darien knowing now why each of these men had been recruited to serve the empress as Guardians of the Sacred Oak. More than one of them should lie dead, the way they’d been surrounded. That all twenty now walked across the courtyard unharmed was a testament to Sir Eamon and his fellow instructors’ recruitment.
As it was after any battle, the men’s chatter rose to a fever pitch. Word quickly spread of their arrival, and knights and servants alike began to stream into Wallingford’s courtyard. By the time they arrived at the keep, Darien and the others were followed by what had to be more than a hundred others.
Whispers surrounding their secret order of knights had grown after they successfully led Empress Matilda away from London when the mob of commoners and king’s supporters nearly captured her. That failed attempt to gain the crown, despite Stephen being held captive, had been a pivotal turning point, both in her claim and their existence. Many knew of the Guardians now, even if they did not know their name or where they trained.
“I did not expect such a welcome,” Alden said as they entered the keep, the guards having to turn the crowd away.
“I would have much preferred a quieter one.” Gareth was the last to enter as the grand oak doors of the keep were closed behind them.
“Welcome to Wallingford Castle.” The earl stood in the entranceway, despite the hour, to greet them. “Sir Eamon, you made quite an entrance with your men.”
The two shook hands. “Not one I would have hoped for, but we lost none of ours and Stephen has a few less in his contingency this eve.”
“With luck he will reward us with a bed and meal,” Roland muttered.
“Come, I have a meal prepared for you,” the earl said, as if hearing Roland’s statement.
“Darien.” Eamon urged him forward. “We would speak with you immediately,” he said to the earl, introducing them.
“Of course.” Brien FitzCount looked between them, obviously curious about the urgency in Eamon’s voice. “Come. This way.”
To be standing in the presence of one of Matilda’s staunchest supporters, a man who had held off and battled King Stephen for more than a decade, was as impactful as Darien expected. This was a man whose castle had been long considered impregnable, not only due to its fortifications but also the large body of fighting men he had gathered together. He was a man to admire, and Darien was about to propose that the woman he’d been fighting for these many years, the daughter of Henry I of England, should not take her rightful place as England’s ruler.
The gravity of this moment was not lost on him. It was entirely possible Darien might be tossed out on his ear. But like the Marcher lord, he too had beliefs that guided him, no matter the consequences.
And one of those beliefs was in Liana. So, taking a deep breath, he followed the men into FitzCount’s solar chamber and prepared to face whatever might come next.