Chapter Twenty-Three
Outside of Wakefield, Yorkshire
Warwick’s encampment
It was very early in the morning when Conor barreled into Warwick’s camp, lured by the familiar crimson color of a cluster of tents surrounded by an army encampment.
He had ridden straight from Conisbrough, north through fairly open country, for most of the night, only stopping to rest the horse.
Well before daybreak he was on the road again, entering the southern outskirts of Wakefield as the sun started to illuminate the eastern horizon.
The sky was clear which meant the night had been very cold, and the colors of the east were glorious pinks and blues as Conor continued to head north.
His plan was to enter Wakefield and stop at taverns, one after another, until someone could tell him that they’d seen Warwick’s army – perhaps on the outskirts of town or perhaps even moving past it.
If he had a direction, and a witness, he was certain he could locate Warwick.
Thankfully, he didn’t need any of those things because Warwick had camped on the south side of Wakefield and Conor recognized the tents from a distance.
Warwick had very recognizable crimson tents and most of the time he flew his standards over his encampment, but he wasn’t flying the standards on this day.
The camp was already awake at this early hour and the smells of cooking fires were heavy in the air.
Vastly relieved and saying a swift prayer that Warwick had been placed right in his path, Conor charged towards the camp and straight to the sentries.
The men on guard duty didn’t recognize him, however, and Conor had been forced to raise his voice, demanding entry and arguing with the four sentries who were holding him stationary, until one of Warwick’s advisors heard the commotion and came forth to berate the sentries for not recognizing one of Kenton le Bec’s knights.
The sentries let him pass, Conor dismounted, and turned his exhausted horse over to a nearby soldier before following Lord Pollard across the encampment towards Warwick’s big tent. Warwick, having heard Conor’s shouting even from where he was, met the knight at the door.
“De Birmingham!” he gasped, reaching out to grab the weary knight. “God be praised! We heard you were at Babylon when it fell to Edward’s forces.”
Conor nodded as Warwick practically dragged him into the warm, slightly rotten-smelling tent. “Indeed, my lord,” he said, breathing heavily with exertion. “I was in command when we were overrun by Conisbrough troops.”
Warwick pulled him over to the nearest chair. “Sit, man, sit,” he commanded, hovering over him as Conor all but collapsed into the chair, which groaned dangerously under his weight. “What has happened? Why have you come?”
Conor accepted a cup of watered wine, cold from sitting out all night, from Pollard, but he hardly cared. He drank it down and smacked his lips.
“There is much to tell, my lord, and little time,” he said, handing the cup back to Pollard.
More of Warwick’s advisors were filtering into the tent now, having heard the shouting and bustle in camp, but Conor ignored the advisors and remained fixed on Warwick.
“I have come with a message from Lady Thorne. She has sent me to tell you that Kenton is being moved from Conisbrough to Doncaster where he is due to be delivered to Edward. Edward, it seems, is moving south through Yorkshire. Were you aware, my lord?”
Warwick was listening carefully. “I was aware, aye,” he said, but he was far more focused on the mention of Lady Thorne. “You say that the Lady of Babylon has sent this message? Why on earth would she send such a message about le Bec?”
Conor wasn’t quite sure how to explain the dynamics between Lady Thorne and Kenton. He wasn’t even sure of the dynamics himself and he didn’t want to divulge any information that was not his privilege to give. Uncomfortable, he shifted in his chair.
“Much has happened at Babylon since Kenton took control, my lord,” he said, trying to be truthful yet sparing with the information. “Suffice it to say that Lady Thorne is now an ally. She has risked herself to discover the information regarding Kenton.”
Warwick was greatly puzzled. “She is an ally?” he repeated in disbelief. “But Gaylord Thorne was a fanatical supporter of Edward. It makes little sense that his wife would not be the same.”
Conor had no idea how to further explain the loyalties of Lady Thorne.
“It is my understanding that her husband was a cruel and brutal man,” he said.
“Mayhap she wants to defy him. In any case, you must believe me when I say that it was Lady Thorne who discovered Kenton’s whereabouts and discovered the intention to send him to Edward. ”
Warwick found it all quite puzzling but he knew Conor was not a fool. If he said Lady Thorne was an ally, then Warwick would do the man the courtesy of believing him. He surely had good reason to say such a thing. Still, it all seemed very puzzling and shocking.
“You are certain of this?” he asked Conor, just to be sure. “You believe her?”
Conor nodded firmly. “I do, my lord. She has risked much to help Kenton.”
Warwick glanced at Pollard, who appeared equally puzzled.
Still, the man shrugged as if to give Conor the benefit of the doubt as well.
So they had an ally in Lady Thorne. Warwick wanted to know more about that alliance when time permitted, but at the moment, he was fixated on the information Conor was delivering about turning Kenton over to Edward. He resumed his focus.
“If you say she is an ally, I will accept that for now,” he said after a moment.
“But let us return to the subject of Edward and his movement south. I am aware of such a thing, as my scouts have been watching Edward’s movements.
I, too, will be moving south, back to Warwick Castle.
We were planning on preparing for our departure today and leaving tomorrow.
But you say that Kenton is being moved to Doncaster? ”
Conor accepted a second cup of wine from Pollard. Now, there were a half-dozen men standing around him, in various stages of dress, listening to his message. Conor recognized all of them but he continued to stay focused on Warwick.
“He is, my lord,” he said, gulping at his second cup of wine.
“Allow me to explain the circumstances if you have not already been told. Kenton was taken prisoner at Manchester when Conisbrough troops overran the city. They took him to Conisbrough Castle where he has been a prisoner ever since. Brome St. John, the garrison commander at Conisbrough who is loyal to Edward, sent Edward word that Kenton was his prisoner. Of course, Edward wants Kenton, so it has been arranged to meet Edward in Doncaster where Kenton will be delivered to him.”
Warwick understood everything now and his features were grim. “I did not know all of the circumstances behind the fall of Babylon and Manchester,” he said. “I only knew of certain things, but not all. When is Kenton being moved?”
Conor swallowed the wine in his mouth. “Soon,” he said. “Lady Thorne, who has been acting as a spy on Kenton’s behalf, told me that they plan to move him very soon. Within days. She says that it is imperative you intercept Kenton in Doncaster so that Edward cannot take him.”
Warwick processed what he was being told.
Lady Thorne seemed to have a big part in all of this, which was increasingly puzzling to him.
A foe’s wife was assisting them, the very woman who once nearly beat him senseless when he made a grab for her back at Babylon.
Warwick still laughed at the memory. But all laughter aside, it was quite early in the morning for such madness yet there was little choice but to digest it.
De Birmingham had obviously ridden all night to deliver the message and it was clear that there was no time to waste.
With a grunt, Warwick turned away, found the nearest chair, and lowered himself into it. His manner was pensive.
“Doncaster is not far to the south,” he muttered. “If Edward is passing through Doncaster, then he must be passing fairly close to my camp.”
Lord Pollard, standing next to Conor, spoke. “That is very possible, my lord,” he said. “There are two roads to the east of us that pass fairly close. It is entirely possible he will see the smoke from our fires.”
Warwick stroked his chin in a worried gesture. “Is it possible he will engage me if he sees me?”
Lord Pollard shrugged. “It is more possible that he will not,” he said.
“You have a few thousand men and I cannot imagine Edward has more than we do at this time. Moreover, he is moving south towards London. Oxford and his very big army are between Edward and London. It is my guess he will continue to gather men on his journey south and will forego engaging you at this time.”
Warwick trusted Pollard for the man was correct much more than he was incorrect. But Edward’s army passing so close to him gave him an idea.
“Wait,” he said, holding up a finger as he began to formulate a plan.
“If Edward sees my army here, camped, he will not be expecting any manner of confrontation when he reaches Doncaster, at least not from me. He will only be expecting the delivery of Kenton le Bec. But if we move a small force down to Doncaster, mayhap to the west of the town on the road leading from Conisbrough, we can snatch Kenton away from his Conisbrough escort before he even reaches Doncaster. Edward will be left wondering where Kenton is and what has happened.”
Pollard lifted his eyebrows. “He will know it is you,” he said. “If he sees the camp and knows you are near Doncaster, then of course he will know it was you who took Kenton.”
Warwick looked at him. “But you said he will not engage me,” he reminded him. “Even if he suspects it is I who has Kenton, he will not waste the effort of trying to gain Kenton back. Kenton will be protected by my entire army.”