Chapter Thirteen
“He is moving his army. Our spies could see great wagons being loaded and the troops being mobilized.” The general’s gaze was on de Roche, hard and questioning. “If he moves his army, we lose the advantage of an attack against a weakened fortress.”
Hamlin digested this latest information before responding. “What would you have me do? Our numbers are not sufficient to successfully attack again. We will destroy ourselves if we do.”
“Then perhaps we have enough men to simply keep them on the defensive inside Harbottle,” the general replied. “He cannot move his army if there is another laying siege. That would be suicide.”
Hamlin shook his head, setting aside his cup of ale. It was his fifth cup in as many hours, whiling away the hours as the thunder above their heads rolled.
“It would be as if we were fleas attacking a dog,” he said frankly. “We would be annoying but no threat. If he is moving his army, then we must follow him to see where he is going.”
“Where else would he be going?” the general threw up his hands. “Alnwick is twenty miles from Harbottle. It is a massive fortress. Once he is sealed up in that place, we will never get to Edward.”
De Roche drew in a long, thoughtful breath. After a pause, he began to pace about pensively. “Where are our spies to the south? Do they know how close Mortimer’s army is?”
“The last we were told, Mortimer is due sometime on the morrow,” the general replied. “De Lara’s army will have departed long before then.”
De Roche nodded slowly, still thinking. “Perhaps,” he said meditatively. “But we could move to intercept the army as it moves towards Alnwick.”
“We are not even sure that is the destination,” the general reminded him.
“True enough,” de Roche held up a finger. “However, where else would de Lara go? Warkworth is too far and he would not take the army to the seat of his earldom in Carlisle simply for the fact that is too far away over a good deal of treacherous country. So where else would the man go?”
He had a point. The generals and senior soldiers inside the warm, smelly tent looked to each other, conceding the logic. The old vizier popped and creaked as the tent fell silent. All eyes were on Hamlin as he decided his next calculated move.
“If de Lara takes the road to Alnwick, he must swing south for a distance before trekking out towards the sea,” he said thoughtfully.
“If we send word to Mortimer’s army to move towards Alnwick instead of straight to Harbottle, there is a good chance we can intercept de Lara’s army on the open road.
That would be a far better scenario than laying siege to Harbottle again.
The odds will be much more in our favor. ”
“You are sure?”
“Sure enough. We must send word to Mortimer immediately so that he knows to hurry.”
The general was already calling for a messenger.
Orders were relayed and memorized and soon, the man was along his way.
Hamlin stood out of the chaos, watching his men make plans for the eventual battle.
Unlike a siege, battle on open ground was something of a dance; it had to be carefully choreographed or one might end up attacking one’s own men.
De Lara was such a clever battle commander that he could quite possibly make it happen.
They would have to be very astute in order to avoid the situation.
Hamlin would have to anticipate every move.
*
“I fear I have made a gross tactical miscalculation.”
It was mid-afternoon and most of Tate’s army was ready to depart.
Hundreds of men filled the bailey of Harbottle and spilled from the gates into the countryside beyond.
It was a break in between storms and weak sun shown onto the bailey, struggling to dry up the prolific mud.
The army was ready to move out but Tate’s quietly uttered words caught the attention of both Stephen and Kenneth.
“What miscalculation?” Stephen asked.
Tate was in full armor, standing upon the battlements, watching his army mingle with Warkworth’s forces.
Stephen was already loaded with weapons, his helm atop his head, and Kenneth had enough armor and weapons strapped on to single-handedly conquer half of England.
A wicked-looking crossbow lay slung across one of his enormous shoulders.
All three men were ready to ride out but Tate’s words gave them pause.
Tate didn’t reply immediately to Stephen’s query. It was obvious that he was pondering something serious. When he spoke, his focus remained on the bailey below.
“First of all,” he said softly, “I would apologize for my short-sightedness.”
Stephen shook his head, perplexed. “For what?”
Tate took a long breath before turning to his men.
“For my mind not being where it should be,” he said quietly.
“I have been focused on other things when I should have been focused on our strategy. For every move Mortimer and de Roche make, I must be five steps ahead of them and I fear that I have failed to do that.”
Kenneth unslung the crossbow from his shoulder and stepped closer, curiosity on his face. “What are you talking about, Tate?”
Tate’s gaze moved to the army again and beyond that, the Northumberland landscape. He was facing south, studying the storm that was just leaving. Another was following on its heels and he glanced to the east, watching the dark horizon.
“As I stood here and watched the mobilization, it occurred to me that if we have sent spies out to assess the army to the south, then they most certainly have sent spies to assess our current status as well,” he leaned forward on the parapet.
“And, just as we have seen them camped several miles south, they have undoubtedly seen our army preparing to move out.”
Stephen and Kenneth were following his train of thought, nodding in agreement as he reached the end of his sentence. But then he abruptly stopped and the knights looked at him expectantly.
“And?” Kenneth pressed.
Tate turned to look at them. “Think about it,” he hissed.
“If Mortimer’s army approaches from the south to reinforce the troops that laid siege to Harbottle two days ago, then what would you, as the commander of Mortimer’s forces, do if you knew that your enemy was about to leave the safe haven of a moderately fortified compound and head onto the open road? ”
Kenneth stared at him. “I would move my army to intercept.”
“Which is exactly what I suspect Mortimer will do if, in fact, he is close enough.” Tate shook his head.
“I should have realized this but I was so concerned with moving Edward and Toby out of a compromised fortress that it did not occur to me, until now, that Mortimer’s army might be close enough to intercept us before we reach Alnwick. It was stupid and short-sighted of me.”
“So what do you suggest?” Kenneth asked.
Tate’s dark eyes were stormy. “We will continue along this path. But if Mortimer engages us on the open road, Edward has a greater chance than ever before of falling into his hands.” He looked between his two knights.
“It stands to reason, then, that Edward and the three of us will stay behind as the rest of the army moves to Alnwick.”
Kenneth cocked an eyebrow as the light of understanding dawned. “A diversion?”
“A ruse,” Tate confirmed. “Let Mortimer pursue the army while we remain at Harbottle. While Mortimer is distracted with our army, we will move west to Carlisle. I have eight hundred troops stationed there. We will be amply protected.”
Stephen, listening to the entire exchange, emitted a low whistle. “I refuse to believe that this was not your scheme all along. It is a brilliant plan.”
Tate gave him a lop-sided smile. “You are too kind, old friend. While I do not regret that I have had a new wife occupying my thoughts, I should have seen the situation clearly enough to realize the long-term implications of exposing our army.”
Stephen scratched his forehead. “Not to have realized the folly would have been to allow it to proceed until Edward was compromised.”
Tate merely lifted an eyebrow and moved to the ladder that led down to the bailey. There he would find the Warkworth commander and let the man in on their plans. And then they would remain at Harbottle and wait for the right moment to travel into the west.
It was, in fact, a brilliant scheme as Stephen had said. Tate only hoped it would work.
*
Another storm had rolled in by the time Tate’s troops, mingled with Warkworth’s, moved out of Harbottle.
This time, however, the rain turned to snow.
As the black clouds belched great waves of white powder, Tate, Stephen, Kenneth, Edward and Toby watched the army trickle from the bailey from their posts on the second and third floors of the keep.
Tate deliberately had his soldiers remove any hint of de Lara colors so that any onlookers would not be able to identify de Lara men from Warkworth men.
Warkworth knights rode up at the front of the column, specifically in groups of three.
That was because Mortimer’s men would be looking for de Lara plus St. Héver and Pembury.
Groups of three knights would confuse them even more.
Wallace, Althel and four men at arms, including the seasoned Morley and Oscar, had also stayed behind.
The men at arms were in the great hall below while the others made their way between floors, making sure to stay clear of the windows in case they were spotted by anyone who might be peering at the castle.
For all intents and purposes, the castle must be deserted.
Tate arranged to have a provision wagon and seven horses left about a mile north of the castle, to be collected by Tate and his party when they determined the time was right to flee the keep.
Now they would wait for the cover of darkness.