Chapter Eleven #3
After slaying a soldier with a missing eye and wounding two others, more soldiers spilled out of the tower, armed.
Because it was dark, they really couldn’t see what was going on other than men fighting and killing in silver moonlight.
That made it confusing, and chaotic, and Markus and the knights had to shout to the men pouring from the tower to drop their weapons so they wouldn’t kill each other.
But that didn’t work very well.
It took Markus and the others a short time to realize that the men holed up in the southeast tower were those loyal to Roget.
They didn’t want to stop fighting. When they saw their colleagues down, they went after Markus with a vengeance, and Atlas was forced to run for reinforcements from the de Wolfe troops.
Reinforcements weren’t long in coming and the sheer number overwhelmed those from the tower. In short order, the situation was under control, but Markus had his men enter the tower to clean it out, once and for all, of any remaining soldiers who happened to be loyal to Roget.
The time had come to merge the army or purge it.
Some men didn’t seem to want to fight and surrendered immediately, but there were those who were quite vocal about the situation and the way they’d been treated.
Between the de Wolfe troops and the four knights and Atlas, they managed to sequester those who surrendered easily and those who seemed to want to fight until the death.
When all was said and done, there were four wounded, two dead including Mickleton, and about forty men who had been separated into two groups. The dissident group was herded to the gatehouse while the group that surrendered was kept outside of the tower where Atlas had a few words to say to them.
Atlas gave them the opportunity to leave in peace with the others who were being thrown out or remaining at Trastamara under supervision.
All of them chose to remain with supervision, which meant they would probably be reduced to serving the quartermasters or even in the kitchens, but it was better than being thrown out into the cold, cruel world.
Their loyalty to the Roget faction only went so far.
When the men were finally allowed to return to the southeast tower under guard, Markus turned to Atlas.
“You did well,” he told the young man. “I will admit that I suspected something like this might happen. There are men who are still quite loyal to your father, so this was not unexpected.”
Atlas watched as the men were directed back to the tower for the night, with Cassius and Damien and Kieran shouting at them and shoving them when they did not move fast enough.
“I am not entirely sure I want to keep them on,” he said. “Men are hard to change sometimes. I remember hearing Tobias say that. I wonder if those men are capable of giving me their loyalty at all. I will not be like my father.”
Markus shook his head, but his expression was one of pride. Atlas wasn’t his son or brother or even a relative, but he found pride in the young man and how well he’d handled the situation.
“Nay, you are not like your father,” he said quietly. “Thank God for that. But you did the benevolent thing by giving those men a chance to change their loyalties. That was quite lordly of you.”
Atlas looked at him, a smile flickering across his lips at the compliment. “I hope they will take the chance.”
“You have done all you can do.”
“I have been thinking about something else, Markus.”
“What is that?”
Atlas turned in the direction of the keep and Markus followed.
“Mordrington,” he said. “As you are aware, my father took it from my mother and kept his mistress there. I want it back and I want her out of it, and anyone else who is living there. They, too, are loyal to my father. I must purge them and let my mother have the manse returned to her.”
“That is a good decision.”
“But there is something more.”
“What is it?”
Atlas cocked his head. “If those at Mordrington are loyal to my father, and Shand is loyal to my father, do you think he might go to Mordrington?”
“I suppose anything is possible.”
“It seems to me that he might,” Atlas said. “You mentioned other Trastamara properties and there are a few, but I do not know if he would go to them. Mordrington is the biggest and he would know that everyone there is loyal to Roget.”
Markus was listening. “How many men did your father keep stationed there?”
“I do not know.”
As they both pondered what the possibility could be, Markus scratched his head.
“I saw the deeds in your solar when we were discussing your holdings and making them profitable,” he said.
“Mordrington was one, Kirkbank Tower another. I think our next order of business should be to make the rounds to these properties and determine how many men your father kept stationed at each one. We must ensure they are loyal to you.”
“Agreed. I’ll find the maps and deeds so we know as much as we can before we proceed.”
It seemed like a good enough plan, something that needed to be done sooner rather than later given the near-revolt they’d just had.
They were nearing the keep and Markus looked up, seeing the warm light emitting from the windows against the starry sky.
Taking the stairs up into the softly glowing innards, Atlas headed straight to the solar, but Markus stopped him.
“You should see to your mother, Atlas,” he said quietly. “She and your sister should have been your first thought when you came through the door. They have had quite a fright tonight.”
Atlas paused at his table, looking at Markus with some chagrin. “I was going to look at the map that shows Kirkbank and Mordrington,” he said. “I will see to them in a moment. I promise that I shan’t be long.”
But Markus shook his head slowly, pointing a big, gloved finger towards the stairwell. “Your maps can wait,” he said. “Go see to the women. They should be your priority.”
Atlas sighed heavily but he didn’t argue. He knew that Markus was right. Sheepishly, he headed up the stairs with Markus behind him.
The doors on this level were all closed and, as Atlas discovered when he tried to open one, they were bolted from the inside. He knocked softly on his mother’s solar door.
“Mother?” he said. “It is me. You need not be afraid anymore.”
They could hear the bolt being thrown and the door slowly creaked open. Amabella stood there, her eyes riveted to Atlas.
“Are you well?” she asked. “You were not hurt in the fight, were you?”
Atlas shook his head. “I am well,” he said, glancing at Markus. “We are all well. I wanted to make sure you were well also.”
“You were his first thought, Lady de Sauque,” Markus said as if praising the lad.
That only made Atlas feel more guilty. “Are you unharmed, Mother?”
Amabella nodded. “I am,” she said, her gaze moving between Atlas and Markus. “But those men… they probably would have tried to harm me had you not come when you did. They said that they were loyal to Roget and they blamed me for Shand leaving.”
This time, it was Markus who answered. “We know,” he said. “As I was telling your son, I suspected it was only a matter of time before the men loyal to Roget made a move. I am just sorry they made their move on you.”
Amabella nodded wearily, opening the door wider and moving aside so that Atlas and Markus could enter the warm, fragrant solar. As they entered, they could see Aleanor curled up in a ball on one of the big, cushioned chairs. She appeared quite unsettled, still.
“You were quite brave tonight, my lady,” Markus said to her. “You quite possibly saved your mother and are to be commended.”
Aleanor wasn’t used to praise of any kind coming from a man, but having spent this past week coming to know Markus just a little, she was more receptive to speaking to him. His words had some effect on her and she lifted her head, perhaps just a little less fearful.
“I… I ran as fast as I could,” she said.
Markus smiled faintly. “And you did a fine job.”
Amabella picked up on Markus’ kindness, turning to look at her daughter. “I have always told her that she is very courageous,” she said. “Tonight, she had the opportunity to prove it.”
That seemed to bring Aleanor out of her balled-up state, just a little.
She sat up straight and unwounded her legs, comforted in the words of praise.
Something terrifying had happened, that was true, but she’d survived it.
Perhaps she was a wee bit stronger for it.
Amabella smiled encouragingly at her daughter before returning her attention to Markus and Atlas.
“Thank you both for coming to my aid,” she said. “May… may I speak with you privately, please? Outside on the landing, if you will.”
Atlas backed out of the chamber, followed by Markus. Amabella was the last one out, shutting the door softly behind her so her daughter would not hear.
“Atlas,” she said quietly. “I believe your father had documentation about all of the soldiers he kept here at Trastamara so that he could pay them regularly. You may want to go look for that, as it might help you determine just how many men he has and who might be loyal to him. There have always been two factions at Trastamara – one loyal to your grandfather, one loyal to Roget. What happened tonight has happened before, but not in many years.”
Atlas nodded quickly. “I will see if I can find the documents.”
“They should be kept with the financial documents of the castle. Can you remember seeing them at all?”
Atlas looked at Markus, who shook his head. “We’ve not come across them yet, but I will go now and see what I can find.”
As he began to descend the stairs, Markus moved to follow, but Amabella put a hand on his arm to stop him.
When he looked at her, questioningly, she put her finger to her lips in a silencing gesture.
Markus understood and he kept still. When Amabella was certain Atlas was out of earshot, she turned to Markus.