Chapter Nineteen #2
Atticus had been asking himself that same question for fifteen days.
Would he take immediately to his task? Or would he wait, planning his attack, making sure that when he faced them that he had a plan so that he was guaranteed ultimate victory?
The truth was that he saw no reason to wait.
The sooner he finished with what he must do, the sooner he and Isobeau would be able to move on with their lives.
For Titus’ sake, he didn’t want to wait.
Titus deserved justice and he wanted de la Londe and de Troiu dead before sunset, which was fast on the approach. Nay, he didn’t want to wait at all.
“I will greet Lord Andrew and then see to my task,” he told her. “You will retreat inside with Lady Wellesbourne. I will come to you when it is finished.”
Isobeau came to a halt and he along with her. When he turned to look at her, curious as to why she had stopped, he could see the unhappiness in her expression.
“Nay, Atticus,” she said firmly. “You said this would be vengeance for us both. I will be present when you administer justice to these men.”
“Nay, you will not.”
“It is my right to see this ended just as much as it is yours!”
Now he was the one frowning. “You may see their bodies when I am finished,” he said. “Why should you want to see the actual punishment?”
She looked at him as if he were daft. “Why wouldn’t I?
I have come a very long way, too, and it was not to be shut up in a keep whilst you face life and death against men who killed Titus.
Moreover, I want to be here… with you… whilst you administer justice.
I want you to know that I am here to support you in everything you do. ”
Atticus didn’t want to enter into a confrontation with her, not now.
If she felt so strongly about it, then he would not deny her.
But she had to know that what she was about to see what going to be very brutal.
In fact, he thought to scare her a bit so that she might decide on her own to retreat inside until it was over.
“Very well,” he said, although it was clear he was unhappy about it. “If you choose to watch, then know this will be a fierce event. These men will die, right in front of you, and not in pleasant ways. Are you willing to watch that?”
She was unmoved by his attempt to frighten her. “I hope they suffer tenfold any pain that Titus felt,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “I hope they feel his pain and beg for your mercy to end it. For what they did, they deserve nothing less.”
Atticus was a bit taken aback at her passion when she spoke of the suffering of men. He could see that she meant every word. Before he could respond, however, Andrew Wellesbourne came upon them, reaching out to grasp Atticus in the joy of greeting.
“Atticus,” he said, great satisfaction in his voice.
“You have come. Adam and Juston just explained everything to me, why you have come and what de la Londe and de Troiu mean to you. So they killed Titus, did they? Somehow, I am not surprised. They told me that Titus was killed at Towton but they did not say how, the bastards. Now I know. They are traitors at the dirtiest and most unsavory level. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your brother, Atticus. My heart grieves for him.”
Atticus greeted Adam’s father fondly. “As does mine,” he said, turning to indicate Isobeau. “Meet my wife, Lady Isobeau de Shera de Wolfe. She has accompanied me from Wolfe’s Lair. Isobeau was born and raised at Isenhall, which is not far from here. Surely you know her father.”
Andrew turned his attention to her, surprise and pleasure registering on his face. “My lady,” he said. “Of course I know your father, Calpurnius. He is a friend and ally. I remember you, too, but it has been years since I last saw you.”
Isobeau smiled at the man, looking rather chagrined. “I am sorry to say that I do not remember you, my lord,” she said. “I was a foolish child and remember little from my childhood. Pray forgive me.”
Andrew laughed. “I am a forgettable old fool,” he said, looking between Atticus and Isobeau. “But please come inside and allow me to show you some Wellesbourne hospitality. You must surely be exhausted from your journey.”
Atticus shook his head. “I will not sample Wellesbourne hospitality until my reason for coming here is complete,” he said quietly. “Where are de la Londe and de Troiu?”
Andrew wasn’t surprised that Atticus would not relax until the men who had killed his brother were appropriately punished. He was a knight, and he understood the heart of a knight. Therefore, he understood Atticus’ position very well.
“In the vault,” he said. “I have held them in that hellish, black hole since the day they arrived here last month. I have seen them twice since then and they knew that I had sent word to Alnwick to discover the truth of the madness they were trying to tell me. Imagine my son swearing fealty to Edward. I knew it was a lie! But now I have been told that their presence in my vault means much more to you, Atticus. I am privileged to deliver them to you so you may exact justice for Titus’ death. ”
Atticus thought on that a moment. He looked around the bailey of Wellesbourne; it was cluttered with men, and a few animals over by the stables, but there was a great open area right in front of the gatehouse where their horses were gathered after having just arrived.
The area in front of the gatehouse was open, with soft earth, and it was easily viewed from both the keep and the wall.
He must have paused in thought too long because Isobeau nudged him gently.
“Atticus?” she said. “What are you thinking?”
Atticus’ gaze lingered on the soft earth near the gatehouse. “I am thinking that I will wait no longer to seek justice for my brother,” he said, turning to Andrew. “Bring de la Londe and de Troiu to me, my lord. I will wait for them here.”
Andrew looked at the man, trying to gauge his mood and also what he intended to do. “You want me to simply bring them out to you?”
Atticus nodded. “Aye.”
Andrew looked to Isobeau for a moment as if she could clarify the demand, but she seemed as puzzled as he did. He returned his attention to Atticus. “And what will you do?”
Atticus’ expression was serious, deadly.
“What needs to be done,” he said. “Have weapons standing by so that they might defend themselves. This will be finished now, my lord. I have come a very long way and I will wait no longer. For my brother, I will dispense justice as quickly and as painfully as possible.”
The Lion of the North had spoken. Andrew simply nodded, glancing somewhat ominously at Isobeau as he walked away, but Isobeau had no discernable reaction to her husband’s words. It was clear that she agreed with him.
As Andrew moved, he gathered Adam, Jasper, and Juston, relaying Atticus’ orders.
They appeared a bit surprised but nonetheless resigned as Juston and Jasper headed to the vault on Andrew’s heels but Adam remained behind.
Kenton made a point of asking Adam where his father and de Royans were heading and when Adam told him, Kenton understood.
He gathered Maxim and Alec, and together, the four knights moved to Atticus’ side.
Already, it would begin. There would be no delays, no pleasantries, no relaxation for those who had traveled so far. Atticus had come with a purpose and that purpose would begin.
The time for reckoning was swiftly approaching.
*
The light was blinding. He couldn’t see.
His eyes, from weeks in darkness, couldn’t tolerate the sunlight at all.
As de la Londe emerged from the black vaults of Wellesbourne and out into the daylight, he had his hands over his eyes because he couldn’t see in the least. Next to him, de Troiu was actually folded over, eyes closed and head down.
De Royans and de Llion had brought them up from the vault, roughly, shoving them up the moss-covered steps until they reached the blinding white light at the top.
De la Londe was fairly certain that the brightness had burned holes in his eyes as he blinked rapidly, covering his eyes, struggling to acclimate. De Royans and de Llion were still shoving him, out into the dirt of the bailey, and both he and de Troiu were staggering blindly.
De la Londe had no idea how far they actually staggered until de Royans and de Llion stopped shoving.
At that point, de la Londe was able to see a little bit but he kept his eyes shaded.
He saw dirt and he could see the legs of men standing around him.
Off to his left was the gatehouse; he recognized the old iron portcullis.
There were more soldiers standing over there, looking at him.
Still blinking rapidly, he tried to lift his eyes to see more of what was surrounding him.
The first face he saw was that of Atticus de Wolfe.
Suddenly, de la Londe wasn’t so blind. He found himself gazing at Atticus with astonishment, his mouth gaping as he beheld the stubble-bearded vision of a knight he knew very well.
But in that split second of recognition, he knew why Atticus was here; at least, he thought he did.
He knew that Andrew Wellesbourne had sent word to Alnwick to try and straighten out the lies that he had been told, so the truth was that de la Londe wasn’t surprised to see Atticus.
In fact, he was prepared. Armed with the fabricated story he’d had a great deal of time to concoct in the black depths of Wellesbourne’s vault, de la Londe reached out an arm in Atticus’ direction.
“Atticus,” he breathed. “Thank God you have come. You can help straighten out the misunderstanding with Wellesbourne.”