Chapter Twelve #3
He stared at her. Then he burst out laughing. He put his arms around her again and held her close, chuckling.
“You probably would,” he said. “And I would be proud to have you. However, I would be more worried for you than for me and distraction in my profession can be deadly. I could not have you as a distraction, a lovely one though you may be.”
She could see that he would not be swayed.
Resignation and despair filled her. “Then I hope that God will not be so cruel as to take away everyone who is close to me at the same time,” she said softly.
“My father, my mother, then Ailsa… perhaps you. Do you suppose that I am being punished for all of those years I disagreed with my father at every turn or punished Ailsa when perhaps I should not have?”
He shook his head slowly, his dark eyes glittering. “I do not believe God to be a vengeful God,” he said softly. “In fact, I see him as a kind and generous God. He brought us together, did he not?”
In spite of her fear, she smiled at him, her small hands on both of his cheeks. “I am grateful that He brought you to Cartingdon,” she whispered. “I never knew it was possible to feel such things.”
“Feel what things?”
Her smiled faded, her hands caressing his stubbled cheeks. After a moment, she shrugged. “Hope and joy,” she stumbled through an explanation, not exactly sure how to put her thoughts into words. “I did not think you liked me very much at first. You were quite cold.”
He snorted. “I was not.”
“Aye, you were,” she insisted. “But I do not blame you. I am quite difficult to tolerate sometimes. When we were ambushed in the fog near Lorbottle and you went off in search of our attackers, I was so glad to see you when you returned. But I could never tell you that. I was not even sure why I was happy to see you, but I was.”
His smile warmed. “And I was glad to see you as well, but I was not going to tell you, either.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You did indeed tell me. You took my hand and spoke kindly to me. You told me that you did not want to leave but that you had to. Do you not recall this?”
He pretended to be very forgetful. “I said no such thing. It must have been another suitor that told you such silly things.”
She pursed her lips irritably. “I have not had any other suitors.”
“Hmmm,” he scratched his cheek distractedly. “Well, then I suppose I must confess. And there is something else I must confess.”
“What is that?”
He pushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, his storm cloud eyes intense as he gazed at her.
“When I returned from chasing assassins through the fog and saw you seated at your father’s desk, it was at that precise moment that I realized I was feeling more than normal concern for you.
It must have been shortly thereafter that I realized I loved you. ”
He said it so casually that it took her a moment to comprehend what he had said. Then Toby’s eyes opened wide. “You… you love me?” she gasped.
He eyed her briefly as if she was mad for thinking otherwise before breaking down into a gentle smile. “Of course, you silly wench,” he leaned forward to nuzzle her cheek. “How could you possibly think differently?”
She closed her eyes to his gentle kisses, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly.
Of all things she imagined their relationship to be, love had not truly entered her thoughts until yesterday.
Then the notion had crept up on her so subtly that she was not surprised or afraid; just as everything else with Tate, it had seemed the most natural of things.
She could not remember when she had not loved the man.
“Oh, Tate,” she murmured. “I love you, also. With all my heart, I do.”
He laughed softly. They remained in their embrace for quite some time after the conversation died, simply content to hold one another and reflect on their unexpected confession.
It had been difficult for Tate to spit out, but he was extremely glad he had; the last person he had confessed his love to had died and to feel adoration again, to admit it, had been a huge step for him to take.
Tate rocked her gently, his cheek against the top of her head and his gaze lingering on the fire.
But his warm thoughts faded as his mind inevitably moved to the next few days and what he needed to accomplish.
More than that, he knew he was dreading their separation more than she was and it was a distressing thought.
If she had begged any longer to accompany him he might have very well brought her along, and that would not have been healthy for either of them.
He was saved by further debate and perhaps failure of his resolve by Kenneth entering the hall. Tate stood up as his knight approached.
“I have come into possession of some information you might find interesting,” Kenneth told him. “I have sent for Stephen. He should hear this, too.”
“What is wrong?” Tate demanded softly.
Kenneth passed a glance at Toby, who was now rising from the bench. Tate caught the implication and turned to his wife.
“Where are you off to now, sweetheart?” he asked casually.
Toby stepped over the bench and smoothed out her surcoat. “The store room,” she said. “I need to see the state of our stores. I am sending Althel and his servants to the living chambers above to start cleaning out those rooms. Everything needs to be scrubbed.”
“Aye, General.”
She smirked at him and he kissed her on the forehead, sending her along her way.
He watched her luscious figure as she went to the corner of the hall where the door was cut into the floor.
She lifted the hatch and carefully disappeared down the ladder.
When she was out of sight, Tate looked at Kenneth again.
“What in the hell is going on?” he asked in a low voice.
Kenneth lifted an eyebrow. “Our spies have located de Roche’s army, camped about six miles to the south.”
“And?”
“And they are entrenched into the site. They have even built temporary structures. Our spies seem to think that they are waiting for something.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant. Tate cocked an eyebrow. “Reinforcements?”
Kenneth nodded. “Mortimer’s army from Wigmore Castle, perhaps? It would be the most logical assumption. That is where he keeps the bulk of his army.”
Tate’s mind shuffled through all of the possibilities. As he turned back towards the fire, pensively, Stephen entered the keep and joined the huddle. Kenneth told Stephen what he had just told Tate and the two knights watched their liege closely for his reaction.
“If that is the case and they are truly waiting for reinforcements, then that puts us in a precarious position,” Tate finally muttered.
“Warkworth remains but I would suspect Mortimer would bring twice their numbers. Harbottle is marginally repaired but I do not believe it can withstand an onslaught from a thousand men, which means we either dig in or we flee.” He turned to look at his men.
“If Alnwick has not arrived by now, I suspect that they are not coming. Something must have happened to the messenger.”
Stephen and Kenneth did not disagree. “What would you propose?” Kenneth asked.
Tate pursed his lips thoughtfully and began to pace.
“We need to face the fact that Mortimer has located Edward,” he said.
“We no longer have the luxury of traveling incognito. With this threat upon us, we need to make it to a larger fortress that can handle such an assault. Harbottle is not strong enough at the moment.”
“Where do we go?” Stephen asked.
“Alnwick. It is the closest and largest.”
“When?” Stephen asked again.
“Now,” Tate told them. “We will waste no more time here. And we take Warkworth’s army with us for escort.
Ken, you organize the wagons, supplies, weapons, and get Harbottle’s army prepared to move out by dusk.
Stephen, you have a plethora of wounded that you must mobilize.
I suggest you decide your immediate course of action and get to it.
I will deal directly with Warkworth and tell them our plans.
By nightfall, this place will be empty.”
The knights were on the move, a strong sense of urgency filling them.
Tate went to the last place he saw his wife, preparing to tell her as gently as he could that their trip to Cartingdon was not to take place.
He was dreading her reaction but it could not be helped.
He could hear her voice as he descended the ladder into the storage basement.
It was dark and dank, smelling of dirt. Two torches burned against the south wall, sending black soot to the ceiling.
Tate spied Toby standing several feet away, speaking with young Edward.
The lad had apparently gone into the basement when Tate had chased him out of the hall and now stood with a large piece of cheese in his hand, his cheeks full to bursting.
He looked like a chipmunk. Tate cocked an eyebrow as he walked upon the two, his gaze on the fat-cheeked youth.
“You are going to choke if you keep eating as you do,” he told him.
Edward’s answer was to take another bite. He grinned at Toby, who grinned back. Tate rolled his eyes.
“Enough foolery,” he snapped without force. “Edward, go into the hall and wait for me. I have something very important to speak to you about. Do not wander away; I will be up in a few minutes.”
Edward’s brow furrowed. “You keep chasing me from room to room.”
“And I shall be kicking you from room to room if you do not do as I say.”
Edward made a face but dutifully did as he was told, grumbling all the way. When he was gone, Tate looked to Toby.
“Now,” he said softly, “I must speak to you.”
He looked serious and she grew concerned. “What is it?”
He sighed, trying to put it as delicately as possible. “It appears as if our situation has gone from bad to worse. We think that a massive siege may be imminent and I have ordered Kenneth and Stephen to prepare to move out. We are leaving for a more fortified haven.”
Her eyes widened. “What has happened?”
“Nothing as of yet. But the army that attacked us two days ago has made encampment to the south and is just sitting there, waiting. The only reason they would not have disbursed is if they are planning another attack or perhaps waiting for reinforcements before doing so. We will presume it is the latter.”
Her brow furrowed and she put her hand on his arm. “Where will we go?”
“To Alnwick,” he replied, putting his hand over hers.
“It is about twenty miles away. We can make it there in a few hours at a fast pace.” He rubbed her hand gently.
“I am sorry, sweetheart. I know I told you that we could go to Forestburn but I am afraid this latest information will prevent that for the time being. I must get Edward, and you, to safety. Harbottle cannot withstand another siege of large proportions.”
She looked up at him, her big eyes glittering with a thousand unspoken words. He could read fear, confusion, disappointment, but most of all, she looked sad. The sorrow only increased until she finally lowered her head.
“I understand,” she said quietly. “When do you think we will be able to return to Forestburn?”
“I have no way of knowing. As soon as we are able, I promise.”
She nodded her head, still looking at the ground. Then her head came up slightly. “We…,” she whispered, catching herself and then starting again. “We will have to leave Ailsa here, will we not?”
It was not a question he had expected. With all of his troubles, he had nearly forgotten about the little girl they had buried two days ago and guilt swept him. He should not have been so insensitive to Toby’s feelings. With a gentle hiss, he pulled her into his big arms.
“She is safe in the chapel,” he murmured. “No harm will come to her.”
Toby broke down into more tears, still expelling grief over her little sister. Tate held her tightly.
“I am sorry,” he murmured. “I have caused you nothing but grief since nearly the moment we met. I am sorry we have to leave your sister here. But it will not be forever.”
“She will be all alone when we go,” she murmured, knowing it was foolish even as she said it but it was her sorrow speaking.
“She is not alone,” Tate corrected her gently. “She is in Heaven with your mother and father and, I suspect, a host of other relatives. Perhaps she is even now annoying Red Thor, your Viking forbearer, demanding that he sing the Fairy song.”
That brought a smile to her lips and she looked up at him. “You are right, of course,” she attempted to wipe her face clean and stop her tears. “I am sorry I am being so foolish. ’Tis just that… well, Ailsa and I have never been separated, not ever. This will be the first time.”
He smiled down at her before kissing her on the forehead. “It will not be permanent, I promise,” he said. “Now, I need for you to pack up everything we brought from Forestburn. Can you do that?”
She nodded, wiping daintily at her nose. “In truth, I have not yet unpacked completely. But I will take Althel with me and make sure everything is packed and ready to leave. What about the stores?”
“Kenneth has charge of supplies and will make sure the kitchen is cleaned out.” He kissed her forehead. “When you are finished packing, then offer to help Stephen. He has a good deal of wounded to move and could probably use your assistance.”
Toby nodded, eyeing him as she did so. “Did you talk to Stephen, then?” she asked hesitantly. “He seemed pleasant enough this morning.”
Tate nodded, taking her elbow and leading her towards the ladder to the upper floor. “All is well.”
He did not elaborate and she did not press him.
He helped her gather her skirts as she headed back up the ladder.
Once in the great hall, he took both hands, kissed them, and went on his way.
Toby’s gaze lingered on him as he quit the keep, still hardly believing she had married the man and wholly given to daydreaming when there was work to be done.
But her daydreams consisted of Ailsa, of Forestburn, and of what the future held for her and Tate.
So much in her life had changed over the past few days.
She felt as if she was living someone else’s life.
When Tate had left the keep and all was silent but for the sounds of the bailey coming in through the open door, Toby shook herself of her musings and went in search of Althel. They had work to do.