Chapter Seven
Septentrion Castle
“You are certain of this? There is no doubt?”
The knight missing an eye, with white hair that stood up like straw and a heavy Nordic accent, shook his head.
“No doubt, my lord,” he said through a jumble of yellowed teeth. “Our spies have seen a substantial army settling around Langley Castle. When they grabbed a servant from the castle and questioned him, he said that it is El Vibora’s army.”
Boothe scowled. “El Vibora?” he repeated. “Who is that? What is that?”
“Mercenaries, my lord,” another man said.
He was a senior sergeant who had been with Septentrion’s army since the days of Lord Stagshaw’s father.
He didn’t much like the current Lord Stagshaw, but he was too old to start over somewhere else.
“It’s a mercenary army. We’ve seen armies like that before, when King John moved through the north lo those many years ago and brought mercenaries with him.
They have the same look about them – an army of men who do not speak our language, who do not serve an English lord.
They scavenge the countryside, stealing and looting. It is the same every time.”
Boothe stared at him. He was seated in the solar of his forefathers, one that used to be well-appointed and warm.
It had deteriorated since Boothe ascended to the Stagshaw barony.
Boothe had never been good with money and he’d thrown it all away on fine horses he could no longer afford to feed and building an army he could no longer support.
The only men who would serve him these days were those who simply wanted a roof over their heads and what food they could scrounge in their bellies, and those types of men weren’t usually good soldiers.
Once proud Septentrion was falling apart at the seams.
That was why Boothe had tried to stake a claim on Tynedale lands.
Pure and simple, it was for the money. He needed whatever money the coal mining operation could bring him and he thought it would have been a simple thing.
He thought he could chase Tynedale away from a relatively remote and barren piece of land, but Tynedale had dug in.
The land might have been impossible to farm, but the coal deposits were rich and Brian de Luci was making money by selling it to the smithies all throughout the area.
The situation had spiraled out of control more than Boothe had anticipated, especially after the injury of a de Luci knight who had turned out to be a cousin to Brian. That had raised the stakes considerably and now Boothe was hearing of a hired army on Tynedale lands.
That was… unexpected.
“God’s bones,” he finally muttered as he sank back into a chair that had seen better days. “Are they looting and stealing even now? More importantly, will they come onto my lands to do it?”
The old Nordic knight glanced at the sergeant.
They had already discussed the situation, ever since the spies had returned.
They knew for certain that it was a mercenary army and they were fairly certain why de Luci had paid for them to come to Langley.
Now it was a matter of telling Stagshaw their thoughts, for the man didn’t take kindly to a situation that didn’t go his way.
The knight cleared his throat softly.
“My lord, they are here because of you,” he said quietly.
“There are only two possibilities – either Tynedale will put them all at the mine to protect it from our raids, in which case our raids are at an end unless we use our entire army to conduct them, or they are here to lay siege to Septentrion and punish you for your aggression.”
Boothe looked at him in horror. “Do you think they will attack me?”
The knight shrugged. “As I said, it is a possibility, my lord.”
Boothe blinked as if startled by the course of the conversation and the potential future for Septentrion. Unhappy, he leaned back in his chair, putting a dirty boot on the table in front of him.
“Why is he doing this?” he hissed, bewildered. “The disputed land has been remote and unattended as long as I can recall. Is it worth so much to him that he would hire an army to protect it?”
“Is it worth so much to you that you would fight him to the death for it, my lord?” the old sergeant dared speak up. “It’s his land. He has a right to protect it.”
Boothe looked at the old man, one of the few who had experience and skill in his large and ragtag army.
“He paid it no mind until it began producing coal,” he said.
“Once we started with our raids, he should have simply left it to us. Why did he not simply leave it? Is he making so much money that it is worth that much protection?”
The old knight sighed heavily, looking at the sergeant. It was the old man who spoke again because he seemed to be able to speak honestly and not incur Boothe’s wrath.
“He’s willing to hire an army, so it must be worth something to him, my lord,” he said. “If the army has come simply to protect the land, then we can stay away. We can protect our men and stay out of their reach. But if he’s brought the army to attack us and punish us, we must prepare.”
Boothe began to chew on the nail of his right thumb. It was a nervous habit he had and he’d chewed the nail down to the nub. He gnawed furiously as he pondered the situation.
“Mayhap I should send word to de Luci,” he said. “Mayhap I should offer a truce. He has gone to great expense to hire an army to reinforce his ranks, which are already substantial, I might add. I do not think he would hire a band of highly skilled professional soldiers simply to guard the mine.”
“Then there is your answer, my lord,” the old sergeant said. “If he is reinforcing his army, then it must be to attack us. He would not have hired an army simply to let it sit idle.”
Boothe eyed him. “Then I shall offer him a truce and he will not have to attack.”
“I believe we are beyond a truce, my lord,” the knight said in his heavy accent. “That time is past. You must send word to your allies and ask for help. Tynedale has a bigger army than we do and now with the reinforcements, he can overwhelm us.”
Boothe looked at him curiously. “And that statement brings about a question,” he said. “Why did de Luci hire a professional army? Surely he has allies who would help him, so why pay for mercenaries?”
No one had an answer. The knight and the sergeant simply shook their heads.
“I would not know, my lord,” the knight said.
“But the fact remains that he has them. You must send word to Throston Castle. Ask your cousin for assistance. Or send to another ally, a closer ally. If de Luci’s paid army has arrived, then action will be soon.
We cannot wait too long to ask for help. ”
Boothe was still trying to figure out why de Luci had hired mercenaries. Truth be told, he always thought he had the upper hand in their disagreement. He still couldn’t believe this situation had turned against him.
And now this.
Mercenaries on his doorstep.
“We must defend ourselves,” he finally said. “But let us be truthful – I have not maintained my relationships with my allies. Not nearby Prudhoe Castle, not the royal garrison at Newcastle, and not any number of barons that my father was allied with.”
“What of sending word to your cousin at Throston?” the knight asked again. “Creed de Reyne would surely come to your aid.”
Boothe snorted softly. “I’ve not kept that relationship, either,” he said.
“Cousin Creed is a man of principle and character. I do not think he would help defend me against a man whose lands I have coveted. Moreover, his wife is a Scottish bitch and I am sure she will not let him help me. She has never liked me and I have never liked her. Nay, we must forget about Baron Hartlepool.”
“What of Ashington?” the old sergeant said. “Your father was close to the earl. Mayhap he will consider helping you if you ask him.”
Boothe was back to chewing his thumbnail again.
“The Earl of Ashington,” he said slowly.
Then he stopped chewing and cocked his head.
“Four daughters with a rich earl for a father. I do not know why I’ve not thought about this before.
Mayhap I should rekindle my alliance with Ashington.
It might even lead to a wife who would undoubtedly have some wealth from her father.
Of course, if I offer to take one of those daughters off his hands, then Ashington would be obligated to help me.
The women should all be of marriageable age now. ”
That wasn’t exactly the way the knight and the old sergeant had planned for the conversation to go. When Boothe should be thinking of protecting Septentrion, he was thinking about a wealthy earl with four daughters – with dowries. That was far away from de Luci and his mercenary threat.
As the knight and the old sergeant watched, Boothe produced a scrap of vellum and a broken quill and managed to scratch out a request for assistance.
Given that he was barely literate, it looked as if a child had scrawled the words, but he signed it with Stagshaw’s seal and had a messenger depart Septentrion within the hour.
Once the rider was gone, Boothe returned to what Boothe did best – drinking and pondering why the entire world was against him, now with de Luci failing to surrender the coal-rich lands.
As far as Boothe was concerned, the man had gall by seeking to protect what was his.
The knight and the old sergeant went back to work, trying to prepare Septentrion’s useless army against a professional band of mercenaries.
The odds, to them, did not seem to be in their favor.