Chapter Four
They started arriving just before the nooning meal. Hordes of men, weary from a march across rugged territory, trudged into the bailey like beaten animals. The day was cold and cloudy in contrast to the sun the day before, and rain threatened, adding to the gloomy ambiance.
Kenton stood on top of the inner wall, watching Henry’s troops filter in through the gatehouse and into the inner bailey.
Conor, Gerik, and Ackerley were down in the courtyard, segregating men and making sure to send the wagons on to the stables while keeping the men gathered in the ward.
Great houses were arriving, men in support of Henry who had been in skirmishes all over Yorkshire in the past few months.
Now, they had a base from which to launch the rest of their conquest of the north.
The plan was to march on Harrogate before the end of the week and preparations had to be immediate.
Kenton was pleased with the progress, though one would never know it by looking at him.
The men filtering in through the gates would look up and see him atop the wall like a mighty sentinel and they would raise their weapons in salute.
Le Bec gazed back at them, his eyes hard enough to cut steel and calculating enough to anticipate the ultimate victory.
By early afternoon he was ready to leave his post and go down and mingle with the men.
But a speck on the green horizon caught his attention, a small flick that grew in size until it sprouted arms and legs and became a man on horseback.
The rider was alone but Kenton didn’t give it much thought; there were still hundreds of men arriving at Babylon and the rider was more than likely a member of a detachment.
Therefore, he descended to the inner bailey without concern, visually inspecting the troops that were gathering there.
Conor and Ackerley were in conversation with one of the commanders of a small army that had most recently arrived while Gerik had moved out of the fortress altogether and was now beyond the walls to estimate how many more men were coming.
Already, with the volume of men coming, logistics were going to be difficult.
Kenton was engaged in a conversation with one of the Earl of Oxford’s commanders when he heard someone call his name. He turned towards the sound to see Gerik making his way towards him quickly with a man in Warwick colors trotting along beside him. Already, there was concern in Gerik’s eyes.
“My lord,” Gerik said. “One of Warwick’s scouts has returned. He brings news.”
Kenton looked immediately to the weary soldier. “What news?”
The soldier was near the point of collapse. “Edward’s troops, sire,” he gasped. “About three hours south. They’re moving on Babylon.”
Kenton didn’t change expressions, but Conor, having just joined him, hissed a curse. “How many?”
“Not as large as our force,” the soldier said. “But we still have troops coming in from the southwest. We’ll have to close the gates before they can reach us, leaving them vulnerable to Edward’s army.”
Already, Kenton’s mind was working. “I am well aware of that,” he said. “Can you give me a number on Edward’s troops?”
The soldier nodded. “I would say one thousand, sire,” the man replied. “’Tis a large force moving north from the village of Barnsley.”
Kenton looked around the fortress, mentally calculating what he would be up against. “Barnsley,” he repeated with disgust. “We had no reports of troops there. Why in the hell didn’t our spies tell us of this?”
“Most of the army was reported to be towards York,” Conor could see his liege’s irritation.
“If they’re moving north from Barnsley, more than likely they were much further south.
From Chester, even. Edward knew we were laying siege to Babylon and, I would wager to say, mobilized these troops to help defend the fortress. ”
“Then they have had days to move northward.”
“Precisely.”
Kenton pondered that. “What is our current count inside the castle, Conor?”
“One thousand, four hundred and fourteen men, my lord.”
Kenton paused to think on that number. “With approximately eight hundred more still on approach and Edward’s army due in three hours,” he pondered.
After a few more moments of deliberation, he turned to Conor.
“Send several riders to the southwest with news of this. Have them intercept the rest of Henry’s supporters and have them hold station for six hours, giving Edward’s army time to reach us.
Then, have them move quickly and attack the rear of Edward’s force as they lay siege to Babylon.
We shall mash Edward between our two armies and quash him. ”
It was a simple, yet effective, countermeasure and Conor was swiftly gone to carry out the command.
Kenton wasn’t worried in the least about the approaching siege, but he did want to seal up Babylon and prepare for the onslaught.
One more hour and he would raise the drawbridge.
Any troops that were unfortunate enough to be caught outside at that time would have to find cover.
Message delivered, Kenton dismissed Warwick’s soldier. As the man went in search of food, Kenton spoke to Gerik.
“Find Lady Thorne and tell her that we will be in for a siege and to prepare to assist our surgeon with the wounded. She will do everything necessary to see that the man’s life is made easier, considering we should have a fair amount of wounded once the battle is in full scale with the rear assault.
” Gerik turned to leave but Kenton stopped him with another directive.
“And tell Warwick what is transpiring. I shall meet with him and the knights in the great hall in a half hour.”
The knight acknowledged the order and departed, and Kenton moved forward with other things requiring his attention.
There was much to do now and little time to do it.
Huddling with Conor and Ackerley for a few minutes to finalize preparations, the three knights then went about seeking shelter for the soldiers that were in the bailey.
Siege engines were a very real fear, hurling projectiles over the walls, and the men in the bailey would be caught in the open without protection if such things happened.
While Conor and Ackerley began moving men inside as much as they were able, or directing them around to the enclosed kitchen yards and stables with sod roofs, Kenton went to gather the commanders of the armies within the bailey to tell them what was transpiring.
With a battle approaching, they would need to know.
The preparations moved smoothly enough, a given factor whenever Kenton was in charge.
He was orderly and methodical, and the results were evident.
He was busying himself with a group of soldiers who had just arrived from the smaller city of Huddersfield when Gerik suddenly appeared at his side, looking rather frustrated.
“A word, my lord?” Gerik said quietly.
Kenton was in the process of directing the soldiers in the construction of some make-shift shelters. He had a huge plank of wood in his hands, one that would have normally required two men to carry it. But Kenton handled the bulk easily. He turned to Gerik impatiently.
“What is it?” he asked.
Gerik was hoping for privacy but saw he would receive none. To ask for a confidential word would have been to irritate his already strained liege and this conversation, as it was, would not be an easy one. Therefore, he took a deep breath and proceeded.
“Lady Thorne wishes for me to tell you that she cannot help the surgeon,” he said.
Kenton planted the beam vertically as a few soldiers moved in to secure it. “What do you mean?”
Gerik was hesitant to tell him the rest but he had no choice. “She says you have not personally given her permission to leave her chamber,” he said. “Therefore, she cannot help the surgeon. She suggests….”
Kenton cast him a baleful eye. He was almost afraid of what he was about to hear. “Pray, what does she suggest?”
Gerik winced. “That if you want it done, then do it yourself.”
Kenton stared at him. Then, his gaze trailed to the keep and he wiped his hands off on his tunic. “Is that what she said?”
“Word for word, my lord.”
That confirmation was all it took to send Kenton back across the bailey, heading for the keep.
Gerik watched his liege cross the muddy ward and up the articulated wooden stairs that led into the keep.
He shook his head, sorry for the foolish Lady Thorne.
The woman was in as fine a mood as Kenton was and, very shortly, there would be a great battle going on in the keep. Personally, he did not envy Kenton.
Kenton, however, did not envy Lady Thorne.
The woman was as difficult as any he had ever encountered and, once again, he tried to keep his irritation in check as he entered the great hall, mounting the steps to the third floor.
He could hear Warwick in the master chamber, talking to his advisors.
By the time he hit the alcove on the fourth level, his irritation had been given time to build into a righteous fury.
It seemed as if all the woman ever did was provoke fury in him.
Fury and interest. As he approached the open chamber door that led to the Thorne rooms beyond, the first thing he saw was Teague, jumping out at him.
“Knight!” he said happily. “I have weaponsth, lots of weaponsth. See them?”
Kenton stopped so quickly that he nearly lost his balance. Only quick reflexes had saved Teague from being run over. The little boy was thrusting something up at him and Kenton saw that he had a handful of small wooden knights in one palm and several sharp sticks in the other.
“Where is your mother?” Kenton asked.
Teague pointed a full hand in the direction of the adjoining chamber. “In there,” he said. “But how do you like my weaponsth? I made them mythelf.”