Chapter Twenty-Eight
May
These were not days of hope.
It was a gloomy, misty morning, one that reflected the mood of Babylon as of late. Days upon days of gloom, of sadness, and of uncertainty.
As Nicola gathered eggs in the kitchen yard and the twins played with their increasingly large lamb, she didn’t even have the energy to tell them to stay away.
She simply let them do as they pleased, getting butted by the lamb and falling on their arses until Teague ended up tearing his breeches.
But still, she didn’t stop them. She let it go on.
St. John had come…
Such a heavy, weighty burden his visit had been this time.
The first time he’d come, about two weeks after Kenton had left, it had been to see if she had reconsidered his marriage proposal but when she told him that she had married Kenton, St. John’s entire attitude seemed to change.
His shock turned to outrage and his outrage to bitterness.
He tried to hide it but Nicola had clearly seen it.
Embarrassed, rejected, he’d politely excused himself and had returned to Conisbrough where Nicola hoped he would stay.
But he hadn’t.
Three days ago, he’d come back with news that had traveled up from the south.
It was very big news, indeed. Warwick was killed at a place called Barnet, he’d told her.
Warwick’s forces were scattered and defeated once and for all.
His body and the bodies of his generals are in London, exhibited for all to see.
Nicola had listened with such horror that she’d nearly collapsed with it, accusing St. John of lying and ordering him to leave Babylon by screaming it at the top of her lungs.
Her screaming had brought Tab who, fearful his mother was being assaulted by a knight he’d only seen once before, grabbed the fire poker from the great hall and went after St. John with it.
Brome had been chased from Babylon by a little boy with a fire poker, but Nicola knew it would not be the last she saw of him.
He’d come to gloat, to tell her of Warwick’s death, knowing Kenton and his knights had more than likely been with Warwick when the man was killed.
Kenton had been with Warwick….
Nicola hadn’t slept since St. John had come with the news.
Usually one to recall great detail in a conversation, Nicola could only seem to remember bits and pieces of what St. John had told her.
She remembered that he’d told her of the location, a town just north of London called Barnet, where Warwick’s massive force had met with Edward’s very large army.
Something had happened in it… men were confused and Warwick’s forces ended up fighting each other…
Warwick had been killed in the melee. Then his forces scattered.
That had been in the middle of April, nearly a month ago, and Kenton had not yet returned.
St. John intimated that perhaps he wouldn’t, that perhaps it was his body on display in London along with Warwick’s.
She’d been crying since St. John’s visit even though at the moment, she was relatively calm.
Still, her face was puffy and swollen, unnaturally pale.
She felt dead inside, so very dead. Her sweet, noble Kenton dead and on display for all to see. It was too sickening to even think of.
How could a man like that, a man so loved, end up laid out like a slaughtered animal?
God, she was so very miserable. The tears she’d cried for days had dried up simply because there weren’t any left.
All that was left now was a great hole in her chest where her heart used to be.
Why did God allow her to become so happy only to rip it all away, like ripping a fingernail off and leaving nothing but excruciating pain in its wake?
She didn’t know and, at the moment, she wasn’t on speaking terms with God.
She had prayed for Kenton’s safety and those prayers had done little good.
Perhaps she should have allowed Kenton to be taken by Edward those weeks ago because at least he might still be alive.
Instead, she had schemed for Warwick to save him and now Warwick was dead.
They were all dead. Edward had taken the throne of England, now for good.
There was no one left to fight him. Henry was finished and England was now in the hands of the Yorkists.
Nicola should have been happy but she found that she hardly cared.
Putting Edward on the throne had cost her far too much.
She simply couldn’t think any longer. With an aching head and aching heart, she collected the last of her eggs and sat down to watch the boys play with the lamb. She couldn’t even find any joy in it.
“My lady?”
Nicola turned, sluggishly, to see Raven standing a few feet away.
The girl was noticeably pregnant these days, with a gently rounded belly beneath her apron, but Nicola couldn’t even become upset over it.
At least she had something to remember the man she loved.
Nicola wasn’t even sure she had that, although it was still fairly early to tell.
Her menses were due but hadn’t come and if she did say a prayer to God, it was for that alone.
If you are going to take Kenton from me, at least give me his son….
“What is it?” Nicola answered without any enthusiasm.
Raven pointed to the inner ward beyond the kitchen yard. “Lewis wishes to speak with you, my lady,” she said. “He is waiting outside of the gate. Can I show him in?”
Nicola nodded; Lewis, one of the prisoners who had been returned from Conisbrough, was a sergeant whom Kenton had put in charge of Babylon while he was away.
Camden Lewis seemed like a good man and he was very polite to Nicola, so she nodded feebly to Raven’s question.
The girl scooted over to the kitchen yard gate and opened it, motioning forward the sergeant, who had been waiting there patiently.
He approached Nicola with great respect and when she turned her attention to him, unenthusiastic, he bowed politely.
“Lady le Bec,” he said. “I thought to tell you… I know that the knight from Conisbrough came to tell you that Warwick was killed, but….”
Nicola turned away. “I do not wish to discuss it,” she snapped, but just as quickly realized she sounded terrible and rude.
She took a deep breath. “I am sorry, Lewis, ’tis simply that…
it is a painful subject these days so if you wish to discuss it, I am not one to do it with.
I am sure there are a number of other soldiers who would willingly speak with you about it. ”
Lewis was shaking his head the entire time she was speaking only she couldn’t see him because her head was turned away.
“My lady,” he said, rather urgently. “I came to tell you that we can see men approaching through the mist, remnants of an army bearing the colors of Warwick. They must be Sir Kenton’s men returning to Babylon. ”
Nicola looked at him, stricken. She was so startled that she stumbled as she tried to stand up, dropping all of the eggs in her apron.
Raven, who had been listening, began squealing with excitement as Nicola grabbed hold of Lewis before she collapsed completely.
The world was rocking dangerously as she stared at the man in astonishment.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
Lewis was already moving, trying to pull her along so that he could take her to the gatehouse, but her legs wouldn’t seem to move. He called over to the boys, playing with the lamb.
“Young masters!” he bellowed. “Come and help me with your mother! She must come with me!”
Teague and Tiernan looked over to the sergeant, who was frantically waving them over.
With their mother standing there, looking as if she were about to faint, they ran over and began pushing her from behind at the sergeant’s prompting.
Lewis pulled while the twins pushed, and Nicola began to gain control of her legs.
She started to move, slowly at first, but by the time they hit the kitchen yard gate, she was running.
“Where are they?” she demanded again.
Lewis, running alongside her, was pointing off to the east. “They are coming from that way,” he told her. “Huddersfield, more than likely. All of the big roads to the south cut through Huddersfield in this area.”
Nicola wasn’t listening anymore. She broke away from them, running to the gates of Babylon, which were just starting to open. When the gap between the gates was wide enough for her to slip through, she did, tearing down the road as fast as her shaking legs would take her.
It was cold and misty still, with the sun struggling to break through, as she raced down the rocky, muddy road.
There was water everywhere; in puddles in the middle of the road or alongside the road, and she plowed through the puddles without missing a beat.
She never bothered to ask how far out the army was, but if the men on the walls had sighted them, in mist no less, then they couldn’t be too far out.
Nicola ran and she ran until her chest felt like it was about to explode and then she came to a stop, but only momentarily, coughing and struggling to clear her lungs, before taking off again, but this time much more slowly.
Her legs were on fire, her chest was swelling, but she had to keep going.
She had to make it to the incoming army, men bearing Warwick’s colors.
They would know what happened to Kenton.
Oh, God…Kenton! Suddenly, she came to a halt, unable to run any further.
Weak, dizzy, she stood in the middle of the road, in the middle of the mist. It was like a nightmare; she couldn’t run anymore but she so desperately wanted to.
She had to know what happened to Kenton.
Kenton….
“Kenton!” she screamed. “Kenton!”
There was no reply other than the birds in the trees. Oh, God… please let him be coming home! Please let it be him!
“Kenton!” she screamed again. “Kenton, answer me!”