Chapter Eleven
Conisbrough Castle
Two and a half days later
“That is what the boy said,” a man clad in heavy tunics and a cloak of fur against the freezing temperatures spoke. “Warwick’s army is moving out of Babylon in an attempt to capture Rochdale and Manchester.”
In the second floor main chamber set deep within Conisbrough’s enormous keep, the man’s words had an ominous echo.
There were several men in the chamber, huddled near the enormous hearth with the elaborate mantel, blazing hot enough to cause them to sweat.
But the chill of the day had been particularly bitter and under the guise of discussing their recent failure at Babylon Castle and what to do about it, the men who had sought refuge at Conisbrough had gathered with the garrison commander.
What they really wanted to do was eat, drink, soak up a bit of warmth, and forget about the past week that had seen them defeated by the weather more than they had actually been defeated by the Henry loyalists who now held Babylon. Still, it had all been a bitter blow.
But this latest news has the men perking up, listening to what Brome St. John, the garrison commander of Conisbrough, was saying about a rider that had recently stumbled through the gates of the castle.
Half-frozen, the young man had relayed some stunning information.
Truthfully, all men in the chamber sat straight when they heard this news but Lord Saxilby, the baron who had led the assault against Babylon to regain it, was listening more closely than any of them.
“They are leaving Babylon?” Lord Saxilby wanted to make sure he heard correctly. “How would this lad know? Where did he come from?”
Brome St. John was a very big man with long blond hair, bunched up around his shoulders with ice crystals sticking to it.
He moved closer to the fire, pulling off his gloves.
“He claims to be from Babylon,” he replied, holding his cold hands up to the blaze.
“He said that Lady Thorne sent him. I know Lady Thorne and I know her husband. Gaylord Thorne is loyal to the bone for Edward. It would make sense that Lady Thorne would send word to us of the enemy’s movements. ”
Lord Saxilby, a short man with a strong constitution and a great acumen for battle, listened seriously. “We all know Gaylord Thorne,” he pointed out. “But you say that Lady Thorne sent the information? Why not Gaylord?”
Brome shook his head. “This I would not know,” he said. “The messenger specifically said Lady Thorne. He did not make mention of Gaylord.”
Lord Saxilby mulled over that odd fact, which concerned him. “Strange that he did not mention Gaylord,” he muttered. “Of course, Babylon has seen much war over the past few weeks so it is quite possible that Gaylord did not survive it.”
“That is a possibility.”
Lord Saxilby rubbed his chin. “If that is the case, then it would truly be unfortunate,” he said.
“There is no man more loyal to Edward than Gaylord Thorne and only a man desperate to relay information about the enemy would be foolish enough to send a messenger in such weather. Where is the rider now, Brome? You will bring him to us to interrogate.”
Brome glanced at the group of fur-clad, cold, and weary men.
“The lad is nearly dead with cold,” he said.
“My men are tending to him to try and warm him. Give him some time to recover before you are tearing into him with your questions. Meanwhile, I would say that we have some very vital information as to the movements of Henry’s forces at Babylon.
More than that, we have the name of the man who commands them. ”
“Who?” Lord Saxilby demanded.
Brome looked at him. “Kenton le Bec,” he said, his voice low as if to emphasize the seriousness of that declaration. “Grandson of the great Richmond le Bec. He serves Warwick directly, my lord. He is known as Warwick’s attack dog.”
Lord Saxilby’s expression didn’t display the surprise nor the disappointment he felt but it came out in his tone, anyway.
“Le Bec,” he hissed, scratching his head.
“Now I understand a great deal. No wonder we could not breach the walls. Not only was Warwick inside Babylon, but so was le Bec. I do not feel nearly as humiliated as I did only moments ago. A defeat by both Warwick and le Bec is nothing to be ashamed over because, combined, they are nearly invincible.”
The group of men grumbled in both agreement and disagreement.
“I knew le Bec years ago,” another man spoke.
Hugh Fitzalan was the son of a great war baron as well and had a long history of switching sides from Henry to Edward and back again.
“He was at Towton and survived. He survived the second battle at St. Albans as well as the battle at Mortimer’s Cross.
The list goes on and on. The man cannot be defeated.
Some swear he is the devil incarnate because of his ability to survive in battle. ”
Brome looked to Fitzalan. “He is not the devil,” he said, “although his reputation would have us believing otherwise. It would be a great feat indeed to kill or capture le Bec.”
“Edward will want him,” Lord Saxilby said, moving closer to the fire where Brome was standing. “If we are able to capture the man and send him to Edward, Warwick’s war machine would be severely damaged. It would be a triumph for Edward’s cause.”
Brome knew that. He nodded his head slowly, pondering the information the half-dead messenger had given them.
“Then let us discuss this information Lady Thorne’s messenger brought,” he said.
“He said that Henry’s forces were moving quickly to Rochdale and to Manchester.
Reason would dictate that if she said they were moving quickly, then that would mean in the next few days or a week at the very least. Since the messenger took almost three days to arrive here, it would be logical to assume that le Bec and his men are moving as we speak, or at mayhap they already have.
In any case, it is imperative that we mobilize the men and march north to Rochdale to see if we can intercept le Bec’s army. ”
The group grumbled, mostly in agreement, although they were reluctant to jump out into the freezing weather so soon after having spent so much time in it as of late. Still, St. John’s logic made sense.
“If we march north to Rochdale, we can cut off the road between Babylon and Rochdale and presumably put our army between le Bec and Babylon,” Lord Saxilby pointed out.
“Let us assume that le Bec takes most of his men out of Babylon because he will need a good deal of men to capture Rochdale and Manchester. That being the case, he would leave a skeleton army at Babylon. If we position ourselves between his army at Rochdale and Babylon, we could block him from returning whilst we lay siege to Babylon and reclaim her for Edward.”
It was a reasonable and sound plan, one which the men in the room agreed with for the most part. Still, going back out to fight in this weather did not appeal to them, especially if victory was not assured.
“What of Warwick?” one of the men wanted to know. He was skinny and shaggy-haired. “He was at Babylon all during the siege and then when we retreated, he chased us for a day until turning away and heading northeast. Do we know where he is? Could he not easily return to help defend Babylon?”
Brome shook his head. “My spies tell me that Warwick has moved on to Wakefield,” he said.
“He is gathered there with a group of Henry’s supporters.
Even if he is told that Babylon, and le Bec, are compromised, he cannot move fast enough to assist. It is my belief that we can destroy le Bec’s army and regain Babylon before Warwick can arrive. ”
Lord Saxilby shook his head. “That is a bold assumption,” he said. “We laid siege for a week at Babylon and were unable to take her. What makes you think this second attempt will be successful? We will still be fighting le Bec.”
Brome’s gaze was intense. “Because neither I nor my men were with you the first time,” he said.
“You brought nine hundred and eighty-seven men to my doorstep, Saxilby. I carry eleven hundred men at this garrison. Even if I leave three hundred men here, that still gives us almost two thousand men to go after le Bec once he has separated himself from Babylon. We will split the army in half and send half after le Bec and half to Babylon to breach her. We cannot fail.”
Saxilby wasn’t convinced by the arrogant knight’s assertion.
“We have no way of knowing just how many men le Bec is commanding,” he said.
“There could be a couple of thousand men in Babylon we were not aware of. The walls are so tall that we could not see. If le Bec brings a sizable army out of the castle, we would be foolish to split our forces against him.”
Brome would not be discouraged. “Mayhap,” he agreed vaguely.
“But we will not know until we see what le Bec has to offer. It is my suggestion that we mobilize the men and move out as quickly as we can. If le Bec is already marching to Rochdale and Manchester, then we must keep the element of surprise on our side. He will not know we are coming until it is too late.”
Lord Saxilby couldn’t disagree. In fact, it was a perfect opportunity to regain Babylon and defeat one of Warwick’s best knights. They had failed in their first attempt to regain Babylon. God willing, they would not fail in their second.
Interrogation of the messenger an hour later revealed that Gaylord Thorne had not been at Babylon throughout the successive siege, which begged the question as to the man’s whereabouts.
Surely he knew his castle has been compromised.
But neither Brome nor Lord Saxilby could give any consideration to the missing Gaylord Thorne.
They had a task to accomplish and little time to do it for time, it would seem, was of the essence.
Lord Saxilby gave great thanks for the loyal Lady Thorne and her half-frozen messenger.
*