Chapter Four #4
The lad was frightened, that much was evident.
The big knight looked as if he was about to do the youth serious harm.
Having no idea who the man was, she instinctively took a defensive stance.
She was enraged that someone would violate the sanctity of her home, no matter what the circumstances.
Staggering over to the hearth, she grabbed the fire poker, the only weapon-like instrument in the room.
De Roche was soon aware of a poker staring him in the face.
“How dare you enter my home without permission,” Toby hissed. “Leave this boy alone. Get out of here.”
De Roche’s gaze drifted over her in a way that made Toby feel dirty and exposed. “Lady, this matter does not concern you. I shall leave your home gladly as soon as young Edward lets go his sword and comes with me.”
Toby’s mind was fogged with illness and she did not comprehend that the man had called the squire by a different name. She lowered the poker as if she meant to attack him.
“Get out. I will not tell you again.”
“And I will not tell you again that I am not ready to.”
She swung the poker at his head. He easily sidestepped the blow, grabbed the poker from her, and tossed it over the side of the stairs. Toby heard it clatter on the floor below. Keeping Edward behind her, she made sure to stay between the boy and the knight as they slowly backed away.
“You would make this far easier for yourself if you would simply move out of the way,” de Roche told her.
“I am not moving,” Toby replied, firm but frightened. “Why would you want to harm this boy?”
“I already told you: I do not want to harm him. I have simply been sent to retrieve him.”
“He does not want to go with you; can you not see that?”
They had reached the top of the steps. De Roche was finished debating with her and reached out to move her aside.
He truthfully had no intention of hurting her.
But the moment he laid his hands on her, Toby turned into a wildcat and began kicking and biting.
She nipped de Roche on the hand and he grunted, shifting his grip so she could not reach him with her sharp teeth.
He was about to toss her aside when he suddenly lurched forward.
It was a violent move that pitched him onto the floor.
He let go of Toby somewhere in the process and she stumbled back.
Only the terrified king had saved her from falling completely.
The two of them looked at the knight on the ground, dumbfounded.
But the large body standing where de Roche had once been ended their confusion.
Tate stood on the top of the steps holding the poker he had picked up off the floor down below.
His expression was grave as he inspected the man on the floor.
Unlike de Roche’s handiwork, Tate knew Hamlin would not be regaining lucidity any time soon.
The whack to his head had been for damage.
For his part, Tate had a slight headache but was none the worse for wear.
He rubbed the back of his skull as he looked at Toby.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, though in truth, she wasn’t. She was horribly weak and still very ill. When she tried to speak, she suddenly felt very faint and would have collapsed but for Edward. He broke her fall and Tate picked her up.
“Edward, rouse the family,” he ordered. “The manor is afire and there is little time to waste. Tell them to gather what they can and get out.”
“My mother,” Toby breathed, struggling weakly to remove herself from Tate’s hold. “She cannot move by herself. She will need help.”
“Then I will send a man up for her,” Tate said. “We need to get you out of here.”
While Edward disappeared into one of the rooms, Tate carried Toby back into her chamber. Ailsa, awoken by the commotion, sat up on the bed and rubbed her eyes.
“What is happening?” she asked. She saw Toby as her vision cleared. “Toby! What is wrong with her?”
Tate sat Toby very gently on the end of the bed. “Bravery is exhausting,” he said simply, but there was no time for idle chatter. “Ailsa, we need to leave right away. Where are your traveling cases?”
Ailsa blinked as if she did not understand the question. Then she pointed to the wardrobe against the wall. Tate went to the bureau and quickly pulled out two large leather trunks. He started throwing clothes in them at random.
Ailsa ran over to him. “Why do we have to leave? What is the matter?”
She was verging on tears. Tate paused, putting his hands on her slender shoulders. “You must be brave, little one. I need your help.”
Her lip was trembling. “Aye?”
“Help me pack. Quickly.”
“Why are we hurrying?”
He threw the green damask gown that Toby had worn the eve they supped together into the trunk. “Because some men have come. They have set fire to the manor. We must get out of here. Do you understand?”
Her eyes were full of fear but, to his surprise, she did not panic. She began flying around the room, collecting items and throwing them into the second trunk. With the next gown he grabbed, Tate went over to Toby, still sitting on the bed.
“Put this on,” he said gently. “Do you need my help to do so?”
Toby shook her head and, with quivering hands, began to pull at her night shift.
Tate turned away, back to the packing. It seemed as if any doubt he had ever had about her had fled the moment he saw her standing at the top of the steps, defending Edward against a man three times her size.
He had no idea how she had managed it, but her courage and strength astonished him.
The trunks were full in short order and he sealed them both.
Then he turned to see how Toby was faring.
She was still sitting on the bed, pale and sickly, but had managed to somehow pull her wet shift off and put on a linen shift and heavy brown broadcloth garment.
Ailsa had found a pair of woolen hose and was trying to pull them on her sister’s feet.
Edward and Balin came into the chamber, both wide-eyed at what was happening around them, and Tate put them to work.
“Take these trunks out of here,” he directed the king. “Balin, take Ailsa out. Do not let her out of your sight.”
“But… my home,” Balin gasped. “These men… dead in my hall. What is happening?”
Tate took the hose from Ailsa and threw propriety to the wind; he deftly rolled a stocking on to one of Toby’s legs. “I fear that my visit has brought you bad fortune,” he said quietly. “Get your wife and get out of this place. Be quick about it.”
“This place is all that I have!” Balin wailed. “I will not go, I tell you!”
“You must or it will burn down over your head.”
“Then let it burn. I will not leave!”
He ran off and they heard a door slam. Ailsa, confused and frightened, began crying. Tate rolled the other stocking onto Toby’s leg, trying not to think of how soft and shapely it was. “Ailsa, sweetheart, find your sister’s shoes,” he commanded softly. “We must hurry.”
She did as she was asked, sobbing. In little time, they had Toby dressed and Tate collected her in his arms once more.
The three of them moved down the smoky stairs; de Roche still lay upon the landing and they stepped over him.
On the first floor, the great hall was filled with heavy smoke and some flame.
The fire was gaining. Tate carried Toby out into the yard.
The Harbottle troops that had been encamped on the eastern side of the manor house were trying to douse the fire that had consumed most of the northern section of the house; the kitchens and solar were completely engulfed. Toby, only semi-conscious, nonetheless realized what was happening.
“My father,” she whispered. “Where are my father and mother?”
Stephen and Kenneth met Tate in the yard.
All of Mortimer’s men had been either subdued or killed and were no longer a threat.
The men-at-arms had taken young Edward back to the garconnaire, which was still standing.
Mortimer’s men hadn’t tried to burn it. With all of the men running about trying to put out the fire, the environment was chaotic.
“I must go after the father and mother,” Tate deposited Toby into Stephen’s big arms. “Ask me later how she stood up against de Roche.”
“I already heard,” Stephen replied. “Edward told us. Where is de Roche?”
“Lying unconscious at the top of the stairs.” Tate motioned to Kenneth to follow him but he gave Stephen a pointed look. “Take care of her.”
“With all that I possess, I swear it.”
By the time they returned to the manor, the majority of the structure was completely engulfed. The troops from Harbottle had given up trying to douse the flames and were simply standing around, watching it burn.
Tate was about to enter the front door when the roof collapsed, crushing everything beneath it in a horror of ash and flame. The force of the collapse blew out the doors and windows, nearly scalding Tate and Kenneth as they attempted to gain access.
Sparks and smoke flew into the late morning sky until all that was left of Forestburn Manor was cinders and sorrow.