Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Conor had been listening to both Warwick and Pollard, who seemed more concerned with Edward than anything.
“Whatever you do, my lord, it must be done immediately,” he interjected, stressing that Kenton was the issue here.
“You must get to Kenton before Edward does and, that being the case, you must move now.”
Warwick couldn’t disagree. An old male servant entered the tent at that moment with Warwick’s morning meal, but Warwick only took the steaming wine from the tray and had the man give the rest to Conor, who wolfed down the meal of bread and cheese.
All the while, as Conor gorged himself, Warwick was thinking of the easiest way to free Kenton le Bec from his captors.
“Do you have any idea how many men are moving Kenton?” he asked Conor.
Mouth full, Conor shook his head. “I do not, my lord,” he said. “I am sure if Lady Thorne knew, she would have told me.”
Before Warwick could reply, the tent flap flew back and two very big knights entered the tent. Conor nearly choked on his food when he saw de Russe and Wellesbourne enter the tent. He shot to his feet.
“De Russe!” he gasped. “Wellesbourne! You are alive!”
Odd how men who had been adversarial only weeks before were now acting like long-lost friends. The bonds of the knighthood could be odd that way. Wellesbourne was the first to reach out and grasp Conor’s hand, a smile on his fair face.
“So you survived,” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “When last we saw Babylon, she was greatly overrun.”
Conor squeezed the man’s big hand. “So you saw Babylon as it was attacked?” he clarified. “I thought you were in Manchester?”
Wellesbourne nodded. “When Manchester was overrun by Conisbrough, we retreated back to Babylon but came upon it as it was under siege,” he explained. “When we realized we could not find refuge at Babylon, we came on to Warwick to tell him what was happening.”
Now, a good deal was making sense to Conor on how Warwick had known what had happened with Manchester, Babylon, and even Kenton. “I understand,” he said. “Thanks to God that you both survived.”
“Le Mon is with us, too.”
The statement came from de Russe, who now had a hand extended to Conor. With a smirk, Conor took his former enemy’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly. “So le Mon survived,” Conor said, looking between the pair. “That is good to know. What of Forbes?”
The smiles faded from their faces. “He did not survive Manchester,” Wellesbourne said. “What of Kenton? Have you heard anything about him?”
Warwick interjected. “De Birmingham has come to tell us that Kenton was captured,” he told them. “The garrison at Conisbrough is moving him to Doncaster to deliver him to Edward. Good knights, we must make sure Kenton never makes it to Edward.”
De Russe and Wellesbourne were startled by the news but, nonetheless, they were already prepared to move. Knights often had to make instantaneous decisions and they were therefore ready and eager to ride to Kenton’s aid.
“Now, my lord?” Wellesbourne asked.
Warwick held up a hand to cool the enthusiastic warrior, at least for the moment.
“We will waste no time,” he said. “The word is that Kenton will be moved very soon, mayhap even today, so we must make sure we are in position to stop the escort from delivering Kenton to Edward. I will need two men to ride forward and select an excellent spot for an ambush on the road between Conisbrough and Doncaster. Will you two volunteer?”
Warwick knew he didn’t even have to ask, for both knights were virtually out of the door already. “Of course, my lord,” de Russe said. “I know the land around Doncaster fairly well. We will find a suitable position.”
Warwick nodded. “Excellent,” he said. “I want a contingent of fifty men for this task, fifty of our best. We must get Kenton at all costs. Make sure the men are well-armed because you know the contingent guarding Kenton will be.”
“Aye, my lord,” de Russe replied.
“Prepare a mount for de Birmingham as well,” he said. “I suspect he will want to go with us.”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Get about your business.”
The knights quit the tent immediately, leaving Conor standing with Warwick. Exhausted, but determined not to be left behind, he struggled not to look completely spent.
“My lord, if you have no further need of me for the next hour, I should like to rest,” he said.
Warwick shook his head. “Rest while you can,” he said. “It is my intention to leave as soon as de Russe and Wellesbourne have the men prepared.”
Conor nodded. “Very well, my lord,” he said. “Is there a place to lay my head?”
Warwick shook his head. “There was, but I have a guest occupying that space,” he said. Then, he looked at Conor with a strange gleam to his eye. “Do you know anything about St. John receiving a missive from me?”
Conor gave him a half-grin. “I do,” he said. “With the news about Kenton I’d almost forgotten to tell you. I have a missive that St. John himself personally wrote to you in response to the exchange you offered – his sister for Kenton.”
Warwick’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Ah,” he said. “So he did receive it? But he chose to send Kenton to Edward in spite of the fact he knew that I had his sister?”
Conor shrugged. “Apparently he fears Edward more than he fears you,” he said. “Moreover, the missive contains a counterproposal – with Lady Thorne’s blessing, St. John is offering you the return of Babylon in exchange for his sister.”
Warwick was not expecting that counteroffer, struggling not to appear off-guard. “Is that so?” he asked with great interest. “That is surprising considering I threatened to send his sister back to him in pieces if he did not comply with my terms.”
“Are you planning on doing that, my lord?”
Warwick shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “A dead young woman is of no use to anyone. At least, that is what I told her. But I also told her I would marry her off to the highest bidder if her brother refused me. Are you looking for a wife, de Birmingham?”
Conor shook his head vigorously. “Nay, my lord.”
“Are you certain? She is quite pretty.”
Conor moved to shake his head again but the mention of beauty had him naturally intrigued. “Is she?”
“She is,” Warwick said, sensing the man’s curiosity. “She is in the tent right next to me if you care to see her.”
Conor lingered on that suggestion for a moment. “Mayhap I will, my lord,” he said. “But I will determine the price, not you.”
Warwick grinned. “She is worth a great deal.”
“Then am I to understand you will refuse St. John’s offer of Babylon for his sister returned?”
Warwick laughed softly. “I am not entirely certain yet,” he said. “I would like Babylon returned, that is true, but you deserve a reward for risking yourself to deliver the message regarding Kenton. If you do not want the girl then mayhap I will take the castle in exchange for her.”
Conor simply grinned as Warwick moved away to discuss the latest events with his advisors, who had overheard most of the conversation.
As Warwick went into conference with the group of rather vocal men, Conor found himself wandering from Warwick’s tent.
He didn’t know why he had any interest in seeing St. John’s sister, but for some odd reason, he did.
Perhaps because he wanted to see the woman whose life was worth an entire castle.
For whatever reason, he was curious. And curiosity drove him to her tent.
Lady Katryne was sitting on the floor of the tent, on a woolen hide perched before a small but red-hot brazier, when a very big knight with red hair stuck his head into the tent.
He seemed to be searching for something and when his eyes fell upon her, Katryne felt something like a jolt, as if she’d been slapped.
But it wasn’t a fearful sensation. It was, in truth, an exciting one.
She’d never known anything like it and when the knight smiled at her, she felt another shock run through her. Most unusual.
Conor, in fact, felt the same sensations when he first beheld the vision of St. John’s beautiful sister. He, too, had never experienced anything like it.
He soon came to think that Warwick might never get Babylon back, after all.