Chapter Thirty-Five
Christopher and his mighty army were not in time to save Tickhill Castle from being consumed by John and his forces.
Led by Sir Dennis and his band of mercenary generals, they were a surprisingly strong and disciplined army.
The crown troops laid siege to Tickhill for nearly two weeks before retreating.
John was anchored in deeply at Tickhill and Christopher reluctantly decided to pull back to a safe distance to anticipate John’s next move.
Tickhill was lost for the moment and it was difficult for him to admit it.
As Christopher knew, the army was not to stay at Tickhill.
After establishing jail-like security in and around the fortress, the army banded together once again and moved northwest toward York.
Christopher found himself chasing after the army as a mother after an unruly child.
The mercenary army would attack every fortress in their path and the crown troops would be there to defend and repel, losing a few castles but saving more than they lost.
It was frustrating and exhausting work. John was grimly determined to seize England castle by castle, hoping to shut off the north from the rest of the country; to conquer it keep by keep.
Christopher knew the tactical planning to be Sir Dennis’. The man was a cunning soldier, if not a bit reckless. He had a huge army with voracious fighters that he used handily, moving from one castle to the next with incredible speed. Christopher had a devil of a time keeping up with them.
February moved into March, and March into April.
His thirty-sixth birthday came and went on the battlefield, the same day that Edward suffered a nearly mortal wound to the groin.
The knight hovered one step above death for nearly a week before showing any improvement, so Christopher sent him back to Lioncross as soon as he was able to travel.
Edward carried with him a special written message for Lady de Lohr from her husband.
Christopher had slept the night before with the message clutched to him, knowing it would soon be touching Dustin’s own hands.
He missed her more than words could express.
Spring came and went, moving into summer and Christopher found himself in East Anglia outside of Norwich.
He had relatives here but did not stop to visit.
The justices had been sending him regular communication regarding Richard’s situation; a circumstance still unimproved.
Richard was well and was still being held captive, and the justices were in the process of raising the ransom demand.
All they asked of Christopher was to control John as best he could.
More and more of Richard’s troops were coming home from the Holy Land every day and soon Christopher would have another army larger than the one presently under his command waiting at Windsor.
With over four thousand men, he would surely destroy John and regain the seven keeps he had been unsuccessful in defending.
With the heated summer months, the battles seemed to wane and eventually there was a strained standoff.
John still held seven castles, but he had made no more advances, and the majority of his field army, including Sir Dennis, had retreated to Nottingham.
The situation was at a stalemate, a state Christopher guessed would remain for a length of time while John rethought his strategy.
At the beginning of August, he saw his opportunity to return to Lioncross for the first time in almost a year.
With his troops taking a well-deserved break in London, Christopher set off for home.
He and his five knights rode all day and all night, not pausing to rest, for they knew how eager their liege was to see his beautiful wife.
And, in faith, they were eager for the coming rest they so very much needed.
The humidity of August was bearable as he crossed onto his land, his stomach twisting with excitement to be closer to Dustin than he had been in six months.
He wondered how she would react upon seeing him, for he had sent no word ahead.
He wondered if she still loved him, or if she had forgotten about him altogether.
The humidity of the day meant nothing to him as the late morning sun beat down on his oven-like armor.
He felt nothing but relief as he rounded a crest and the mighty fortress of Lioncross loomed in the distance.
David reined his horse alongside, smiling at his brother’s face. “Jesus, Chris, you look like you are seeing a ghost.”
“I feel as if I am living a dream,” Christopher said quietly. “Christ, David, has it been so long? I cannot believe we have actually arrived.”
“We have,” David said with a nod, gazing off at Lioncross. “I only hope your wife does not kill you for giving her the surprise of her life.”
Christopher nodded in agreement, not replying as they drew closer to the village.
Harold, racing alongside Christopher in his customary place, suddenly took off after a rabbit and Christopher whistled loudly to the mutt.
The dog had been his constant companion throughout the campaign and the two were inseparable.
He and David had taken to treating the dog like one of the family, feeding it from the table and letting it sleep in its own bed.
Harold had become a kind of mascot, a tough little scrapper of a dog with a heart as big as England herself.
Passing through the town, he saw that it had not changed a lick and was mildly surprised when the villagers recognized him and turned out to give him welcome.
Pleased as he was, he did not acknowledge them.
His mind, his attention, was on his fortress.
Anticipation and excitement shook his belly until his hands quivered.
He simply could not wait to take his wife in his arms and tell her how much he had missed her.
Lioncross Abbey loomed before them, the squat and powerful walls embracing the oddly-shaped keep.
Shouts went up on the wall of the fortress and the huge gates began to yawn before him.
His men had seen him coming and had turned out en masse to greet their liege.
He could not fight off the grin as his troops cheered him wildly as he passed through the gate, his eyes raking over his structure to make sure everything was as he had left it.
Much to his pleasure, the fortress was as strong and solid as ever and he reined his horse to a halt in the middle of the dusty bailey.
Max and Anthony rushed to him like eager children, welcoming him home with handshakes and claps. Christopher slapped Max on the side of the head, demanding his wife before any words of greeting were exchanged.
“I should have known,” Anthony said. “He returns not to his fortress or his men, but to his wife who has been ruling us like Nero.”
“Nero, did you say?” Christopher shrugged. “That sounds about right. Where is my little Caesar?”
“In back with her garden,” Max replied. “She has spent nearly every day there and it thrives. Keeps that damn monkey with her, too, and that little blond dog.”
Christopher whistled to Harold, who was immediately beside him. “Go find your mistress,” he told the animal, and it darted off as if it knew exactly what he was saying. He looked at Max again. “Did the cat ever return home?”
“Aye, it did, and it sleeps with your wife, along with the other pets,” Max said. “You are going to have quite a fight on your hands trying to claim your rightful place in bed. But, in truth, the monkey has become rather fond of Edward and sleeps with him at times.”
Christopher grinned and removed his gauntlets. “Where is de Wolfe?”
“With your wife, I imagine,” Max answered. “He has hardly let her out of his sight.”
“Good man,” Christopher said firmly, pushing past the group of them. “Make yourselves useful, men. I would see to my wife now.”
Jeffrey exited the castle just as Christopher entered, exchanging words of pleasant surprise with him before pointing him in the direction of his wife. As Christopher ducked inside, Jeffrey descended the stairs and greeted the group of returning knights.
“I see battle agrees with you,” he remarked, sizing up the familiar men, as well as unfamiliar men. “The baron looks healthy enough.”
“The man is immortal,” Leeton sighed, leaning against his destrier. “But I am not. I want food and sleep, in that order.”
The other knights agreed heartily, yelling for their destriers to be tended.
With the horses taken care of, they were free to proceed into the castle and to the first decent meal in months.
Max and Anthony were chattering like magpies, filling the returning warriors in on all of the happenings during their absence.
The group of knights mounted the stairs, all running off at the mouth like children.
“Was the baron surprised when you told him of his wife?” Jeffrey asked.
Max shrugged. “We did not tell him. He will see for himself.”
“See what?” David demanded. “Is Dustin all right?”
Max grinned at his brother. “She’s fine. Better than fine,” he smirked at David. “She’s with child.”
David’s mouth opened in astonishment. “She’s pregnant?”
Anthony put his arms out in front of him, mimicking a rounded stomach. “Verily.”
Jeffrey shot them all reproving looks. “ ’Tis disrespectful to speak of Lady Dustin in such a manner. You should show more consideration and tact.”
Max punched Jeffrey in the arm. “Do not be so serious, Kessler. You know we hold the utmost esteem for Lady Dustin.”
Jeffrey scowled as he entered the castle. “Uncouth heathens, the lot of you.”
Christopher was quivering with excitement. He passed through the grand hall, making note of the interior of his keep as he moved through and into the kitchens. The servants bowed and scraped as he passed by, surprised their lord had returned home and scurrying to prepare a hasty welcome.