Chapter Six
The battle for Babylon waged for six additional days, only brought to an end when a furious storm rolled in and very nearly drowned Edward’s army out.
The moat of Babylon filled up and overflowed, creating great torrents of water and mud and debris that rolled downhill and into Edward’s encampment at the base of the hill that held the castle.
At first, the storm was very cold rain but as the day passed, the temperature dropped and it turned into miserable, slushy snow. It turned into torrents of a mess.
At that point, it was misery for everyone.
The men inside of Babylon had to deal with a bailey full of mud and puddles of half-frozen water, and because of the siege by Kenton and his men the previous week, supplies were running low.
Babylon had, in essence, been at war for weeks upon end without any reprieve or chance to replenish supplies.
Because of this, Nicola and the old cook, Hermenia, were forced to become very creative with what remaining supplies they had left.
The big pig that had been slaughtered and roasted at the commencement of the battle was now only skin and bones, and Hermenia had the cook fry the skin in hot fat to make big crunchy slabs, giving the men something more to fill their bellies.
There were a few more pigs in the stables, not as fully grown as Nicola would have liked, but she had little choice in slaughtering them if she was going to feed a castle full of men, including her sons.
Therefore, she had Hermenia slaughter three young pigs and the meat was roasted and put into great pots to be made into stew that would feed the army for days.
Dried winter vegetables went into the pots – dried beans, peas, turnips, carrots, old celery leaves, and slabs of raw pig fat to season up the broth.
There was salt, fortunately, and sacks of peppercorns, so the stew was well-seasoned as it bubbled away in three big pots out in the kitchen yard.
Hermenia and a few soldiers rigged canvas covers over the pots so that the falling snow wouldn’t ruin it and they stood back, bellies rumbling, as the delicious smells of cooking pork filled the air.
Unfortunately, hunger eventually won over and men began eating it before it was completely cooked.
As they entered the seventh day of siege and the black clouds overhead showed no sign of stopping, the men of Babylon sucked down the bubbling stew, hot and salty.
Liesl and Raven, helping old Hermenia, manage to fill two big bowls of it for Nicola and the boys and, along with some cheese Hermenia had stashed away and stale bread, took it up to the family’s chambers on the fourth floor.
There, the three little boys devoured the meal whilst Nicola and her serving women took the leavings.
During the past seven days, Nicola hadn’t seen much of Kenton.
He’d spent all of his time upon the walls of Babylon, fighting off Edward’s forces or launching offensives against them.
She had seen him from her window on several occasions, a massive man in frozen armor upon those mighty walls, a fixture there as if he’d been defending Babylon his entire life.
Nicola came to wish that he had been defending Babylon all this time instead of Gaylord, a secret fantasy that Kenton was her husband and not Gaylord, the man who had beat her, the man who had ultimately been killed by his own son in an ironic twist of fate.
What if Kenton was her husband and he was here, defending Babylon against an enemy, protecting their children and their home.
To even think on such a silly fantasy gave her a warm, giddy feeling, something to dream about and secretly entertain whilst warfare and death went on around her. Truly, there were plenty of both.
Nicola had spent every day of the siege down in the great hall, helping Kenton’s surgeon with the wounded.
Some men were hardly injured whilst others had sustained mortal injuries.
One young man had been hit by an arrow through the belly, severing his spine, and the remainder of his life was measured in hours.
Nicola sat with him, telling him stories she often told her sons, stories of valor and great deeds, while the young man quietly died.
That death had particularly affected her, seeing a young life cut so needlessly short.
After that, she’d retreated to her room for the rest of the night and into the day.
She was finished with death for a while.
She was fairly certain that Kenton knew of her presence in the great hall, among the wounded, because she saw his knights several times – the big red-haired knight, the one that looked like a bear, and then the blond knight with the thick neck.
They had come in, usually bearing wounded, and they would notice her.
She knew that because she always turned to see if it was Kenton coming into the hall, so her gaze would lock with that of whatever knight happened to be there, but so far Kenton had yet to set foot back into the hall of the wounded.
She was certain his knights had gone back to Kenton and told him that the Lady of Babylon was doing her duty.
She hoped, in some way, her dedication to his men would earn his respect as a woman who was capable of performing under pressure.
As the days passed and the battle raged, she realized that she wanted it.
From a man she was terrified of in his first days at Babylon to a man she was increasingly enamored with, her opinion and thoughts of Kenton le Bec were rapidly changing.
All thoughts of Kenton aside, Nicola also saw Warwick on occasion, which usually caused her to flush red and run in the opposite direction.
Like Kenton, the man had remained in the heat of the action, upon the walls, fighting off men who had once been allied with him.
Nicola knew that Warwick had once been allied with Edward because Gaylord had fought with the man in years past, so Warwick was something of a distasteful enigma to her – she didn’t understand a man who could switch sides so easily from one king to another.
Gaylord had once told her Warwick tended to side with the man he knew could provide him with the most power.
To her, Warwick was a sword that could be bought.
Towards the end of the seventh day of the siege, the snow began to fall in earnest and it was a white-out condition that saw both armies retreat into shelter.
Those in Babylon were much better protected than Edward’s army and by the time dawn began to color the eastern horizon on the next day, the snow eased enough for Edward’s army to leave.
Conditions were too terrible to continue the siege and the commander in charge of Edward’s forces was willing to concede defeat.
His men were exhausted, freezing, and hungry, so without any fanfare or fuss, Edward’s army skulked off at first light, leaving the walls of Babylon, and her inhabitants, relatively intact.
Upon the great walls that embraced Babylon’s keep and occupants, Warwick, Kenton, and his knights were watching the retreat of Edward’s forces.
The snow was still falling, sticking to the skin and eyelashes, although it wasn’t falling nearly as hard as it had been earlier.
Kenton stood next to Warwick as they watched the figures through the mist disbanding below, fading off into the falling snow and leaving the land stripped and devastated behind them.
“They are heading southeast,” Warwick said.
“They will cross the Black River, pass Huddersfield, and it is my guess they might head to Conisbrough Castle to regroup. It would be wise to take a contingent of men after them to harass them while they are weak. They could potentially splinter. That would further weaken Edward’s strength in this area. ”
Kenton, with snowflakes hanging off of his dark eyelashes, looked at the man. “Do you want me to take some men and go after them?”
Warwick shook his head. “I was referring to me,” he said, turning away from the wall and wiping the melted snowflakes off of his face.
“There is a larger contingent of Henry’s men in Wakefield at the moment and I will join them.
Now that Babylon has held, I have every confidence it will continue to hold.
Your duty, Kenton, will be in subduing the surrounding countryside and claiming it for Henry.
You will also keep this road and exact tolls from anyone who travels upon it.
This is a very important road between Lancashire and Yorkshire.
It is imperative that Henry control it.”
Kenton nodded sharply. “Aye, my lord.”
Warwick began to take the stairs down through the gatehouse, narrow spiral stairs that were difficult to navigate for men of Kenton’s size. He ended up taking the steps sideways, following Warwick down.
“Rochdale is to the west, Kenton,” Warwick said, bumping his shoulder armor against the frozen stone walls. “It is imperative that the town be brought under Henry’s control. That will be your next task – to subdue and control Rochdale before moving on to Manchester.”
Kenton nodded. “I thought as much,” he said. “Rochdale and Manchester are big towns. I will need at least a thousand men or more to cover them.”
Warwick reached the bottom of the steps, into the cold, muddy gatehouse.
“You shall keep fourteen hundred men,” he said.
“I want Babylon well supplied with soldiers. I will take the rest with me, on to Wakefield. You will send word to me when Rochdale is under your control and we will celebrate once you contain Manchester. You are the Lord of Babylon now, Kenton. Command your realm with fairness and swift action.”
“I will, my lord.”