Chapter Ten
It took Julian about ten minutes to assess what was happening.
Along with Ashton and the three senior sergeants, one of whom had been part of the escort from Berwick, Julian assumed that the Scots had come to raid the vineyard and the gardens for stores.
His stores.
When he married Lista, all of this would become his, so already he was protective over it.
Mostly, he was protective over Lista. These Scots bastards who had come down from the border, bypassed Northwood Castle, which was a massive castle along the River Tweed and quite accustomed to border raids, had come straight down to Felkington nestled in her little valley.
They’d deliberately avoided Northwood and her enormous army.
That made Julian particularly angry.
Given that he had just been in that vineyard in the afternoon, he didn’t want the Scots ruining it or the gardens that had a variety of vegetables and flowers.
It was all so tranquil and beautiful and to think about the Scots damaging that infuriated him.
The Scots seemed to be focused on raiding anything contained within that ten-foot wall and weren’t particularly focused on the castle itself, which gave Julian time to form an army.
Never one to simply stay idle while there was an attack going on around him, Julian took one hundred and fifty men with him and left the safety of the castle, leaving Ashton to seal it up behind him.
Out into the field he went.
When the Scots saw the Felkington army coming, they moved to meet them.
But Julian noticed something particularly strange going on in the middle of the road that led to the gatehouse.
There was a mounted knight, all by himself, fighting off a gang of Scots that were clearly trying to dismount him and steal his horse.
Julian was mounted, of course, and charged towards the English knight who was ably keeping the Scots at bay, but once Julian joined the fight and cut off a couple of heads, the Scots fled in terror.
Julian and the other knight went after them.
They were swarming the garden and the vineyard.
Since the gate was closed, Julian couldn’t get his horse through, but he pulled the animal alongside the wall and climbed over it.
Fully armed, wearing armor that weighed more than a ten-year-old child, he began plowing through the Scots as they stole vegetables and ripped young trees out by the roots in order to steal what fruit they were bearing.
Julian wasn’t even trying to chase them away.
He was out to kill them and the Scots realized that very early on.
He had a massive sword, serrated on one side, that could slice through a man’s neck as easily as a hot knife through butter.
When he started leaving headless bodies amidst the carrots and apples, the Scots couldn’t get back over the wall fast enough.
Worse still was the other English knight who had followed him, a big knight who was beating men with crushing blows.
He didn’t seem to be killing like Julian was, but he was definitely thrashing men as they tried to flee.
On it went into the night.
The storm, which had been lighting up the sky overhead, had eased up by midnight.
There were still Scots around, men who were hiding out and then trying to steal goats and chickens, but Julian found them and the body count piled up.
The other English knight was rooting out any who might be hiding and driving them straight to Julian.
In truth, they made a very efficient team, as men often did who had experienced a great deal of battle in their lifetimes.
There was intuitive behavior and tactics that helped them work well together, teamwork that continued until dawn.
When the sun finally began to rise and the storm clouds cleared out over a wet and verdant land, Julian found himself out of the garden, standing by the open portcullis leading into the courtyard of Felkington.
There were many soldiers in the garden and vineyard, cleaning up, taking inventory of what had been damaged or lost. Julian thought that the English knight had departed sometime towards the dawn because he hadn’t seen the man in the last hour, when he suddenly emerged from the garden leading a scruffy Scotsman by the neck.
He came right up to Julian and tossed the man on the ground.
“I thought you might like to find out where the Scots came from,” he said in a smooth baritone voice. “You can also send this fool back with a message to his clan as a warning to those who try to raid this castle again. What castle is this, by the way?”
Julian pulled off his helm, handing it to a nearby soldier. His hair fell over his right eye as it always did, especially when facing someone he’d never met before.
“Felkington Castle,” he said. “I am Julian de Velt and my comrade is Ashton de Royans. Who are you?”
The knight pulled off his helm, revealing a younger knight with dark eyes and black hair, sweaty against his pale skin. He grinned.
“Louis de Rhos,” he said. “I was traveling through the valley and saw the lights of Felkington, so I thought to get out of the storm. I was just coming up the road when I saw the Scots and they attacked me, so I had little choice but to engage them.”
A succinct explanation of what had happened. Julian smiled faintly. “Your assistance was most welcome,” he said. “You have my thanks. Where are you from, de Rhos?”
The knight threw a thumb in a southwardly direction. “Herrington Castle.”
Ashton, listening to the conversation, cocked his head thoughtfully. “That’s near Sunderland, isn’t it?”
Louis nodded. “Aye,” he said. “My father is the Earl of Sunderland.”
“Ah,” Ashton said. “So we have the high nobility among us. Your father may be the Earl of Sunderland, but Julian’s father was Ajax de Velt. The Dark Lord of legend. Surely you’ve heard of him.”
Louis looked at Julian with some surprise. “Of course I have,” he said. “Your father is indeed legend. I heard he was killed a few years ago.”
“He was,” Julian said.
“You have my deepest sympathies,” Louis said. “John, wasn’t it?”
“Unfortunately.”
Louis grunted in disgust. “An unworthy man against your father’s greatness,” he said. “My father never liked John, either.”
“Your father is a man with good taste.”
Louis grinned. “I think so,” he said. “Speaking of taste, would it be too much to ask for a meal and a bed for a few hours? I’ve not eaten since early yesterday.”
Julian motioned to him. “It would be my honor to eat with you,” he said. “Ash, deal with this prisoner. Find out what he knows and send him back with a message that further raids at Felkington will not be tolerated. I will take our guest inside.”
As Ashton nodded and grabbed the prisoner by the hair, Julian escorted Louis through the long entry passageway and emerged into the courtyard in the center of the castle, with the tall walls all around.
In fact, he had to pause because Louis had come to a halt.
The man was looking at the walls around him with awe.
“God’s Bones,” he muttered. “This place is enormous. How is it I have never even heard of Felkington Castle?”
Julian smiled weakly. “Impressive, is it not?” he said. “Evidently, it used to be quite important about a hundred years ago, but now the main road takes travelers away from it. It did not, however, take you away from it. Where are you coming from?”
Louis finished his inspection and started walking again. “I was in Berwick on business for my father and continuing on to Kelso, but the storm threw me off track. Which road am I supposed to be on to reach Kelso?”
Julian’s grin widened. “North, about three miles,” he said. “You must have taken the wrong road to end up on this one. If you continue on, it should take you south to Wooler.”
“I do not want to go to Wooler.”
“No one does.”
They shared a laugh as they entered the main entry of the castle.
Before them was a large mural stairwell that led to the upper floors and Louis followed Julian up two flights before reaching a common room that had a fire burning.
The door to the chamber, which had been so recently bolted, was wide open and the fire was inviting.
Louis immediately went to the fire and began removing his gloves and helm.
“I’ll find the lady of the keep,” Julian said. “Meanwhile, I’ll have servants bring you some wine. After a night like that, I’m sure you can use it.”
Louis was holding his hands out to the fire. “Will you join me?”
Julian nodded. “Certainly,” he said. “But first let me…”
He wasn’t able to finish before Lista was rushing through the door, plowing into him in her haste. “Julian!” she gasped. “I heard your voice! Are you well?”
She’d hit him in the arm, teetering him sideways. He reached out to steady her, to steady them both, as he chuckled.
“I was fine until that moment,” he said. “Now I think I am gravely wounded, all thanks to you.”
Lista laughed, her hands on him as if to make sure he was indeed all in one piece. “Stop whining like a woman,” she teased. “A big man like you? It would take a building to fall on you to hurt you.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders, planting a kiss on her cheek. It was a sweet gesture, and a bold one, but Lista didn’t seem to mind. She put her soft, warm hands on his face, looking at him before tucking the hair back over his right eye so she could see both eyes. She inspected him closely.
“Swear to me that you are well,” she said suspiciously.
He grinned lazily. “I am perfect,” he said. “With you, I could be nothing else. But I have brought a visitor so that is the most you will get out of me at the moment.”
Lista had been so focused on Julian that she hadn’t seen the knight next to the hearth that was taller than he was. Julian had her by the hand, leading her over to the handsome, black-haired knight.