Chapter Twenty-Four
They came in the late afternoon.
Three days after the warning from the Carlisle soldiers, men began emerging from the trees about a half mile from Kirklinton Castle in a solid line of legs and weapons.
Oddly enough, it wasn’t the glint of weapons that gave them away.
It was the tartan that blended into the foliage because it gave a strange rippling effect when they moved.
Kirklinton’s sharp sentries were the first to see it and the shout went up. The Scots were on the approach.
Cathlina had been with Roxane and Abechail in Abechail’s small bower, keeping her company by telling her stories and playing card games with Cathlina’s lovely painted cards that Mathias had bought her on their travels through Scotland.
Every time Cathlina held up a card to her sister or lay it upon the table in a fan pattern with others, she was reminded of Mathias and of how much she missed him.
The afternoon had been waning and they were thinking on the approach of the evening meal when the sentry’s cry went up.
Startled, Cathlina and Roxane had jumped up and run to the lancet window that faced the gatehouse only to see the Kirklinton soldiers scrambling upon the walls.
They really couldn’t see beyond the walls from Abechail’s chamber so they raced into their larger bower which had more of a view of the north and west. That was when they saw the line of men moving across the clearing towards the castle, like a tide of ants at a distance, heading in their direction.
“Look!” Roxane gasped, pointing. “Men! Do you see them?”
Cathlina did, indeed. Her heart sank, but strangely, she didn’t panic. Her big brown eyes stared at all of the men approaching the castle. The closer they loomed, the more detail she could make out as she and Roxane clung to each other anxiously.
“They are carrying clubs and axes,” she said with apprehension in her tone. “They do not look like Mathias or other knights we have seen. Remember how the knights in the tournament were dressed?”
Roxane nodded fearfully. “They were dressed in mail and armor, and….” She suddenly stopped and pointed out of the window. “Look at the knights on horseback. See them back behind the men on foot?”
Cathlina did and her fear began to grow just a little. “I do.”
“They are here to attack us!”
“It is possible.”
Together, they continued to watch the Scots come forth from the foliage, moving across the warm summer grass and trampling on the wildflowers the women had taken such delight in.
Then, they simply stopped. Confused, Cathlina and Roxane watched anxiously for them to make a move that would throw them all into the midst of a battle, but they remained still.
Then, it appeared as if someone gave a command because the men began moving.
Some of them settled in where they were while others moved back into the trees and soon they could hear the distant sounds of chopping. In short order, trees began falling.
“What do you suppose they are doing?” Roxane asked apprehensively.
Cathlina had no idea. She had never seen a battle before. “I do not know,” she said. “But Father will. He will come and tell us what is happening.”
As the women clutched each other in mounting fear, Rosalund entered the chamber. Her usually cold and austere face was flushed with exertion and fright.
“Come, girls,” she said, clapping her hands and nearly startling Cathlina and Roxane out of their skins. “Your father has asked that we remove ourselves to the vault and lock ourselves in. We must collect all the supplies we can before we do this. Hurry, there is no time to waste.”
Cathlina and Roxane rushed after her. “Lock ourselves in the vault?” Roxane repeated. “Why would we do that?”
Rosalund hustled into Abechail’s room where the girl lay, weak and ill, upon her bed. She ignored Roxane’s question as she stroked her youngest child’s pale face.
“We shall return for you,” she said calmly. “Your Father wants us to be safe and will lock us up in the vault until this is over.”
Unable to see out her window at what was occurring, Abechail was understandably frightened. She clung to her mother’s hand.
“What is happening?” she asked, verging on tears. “Have the Scots come?”
Rosalund nodded patiently. “They have, my lamb,” she said.
“Your father says that they are building ladders so that they may mount our walls. If they are able to get into the bailey, then it will only be a matter of time before they breach the keep. Your father feels that if we lock ourselves in the vault, they cannot get to us.”
Abechail’s eyes were tearing up but she nodded. Rosalund stroked her daughter’s hair one last time before returning her attention to Cathlina and Roxane.
“Roxane,” she said. “You will collect as much water as you can from the well and take it to the vault. Use buckets and pitchers and anything else you can find. Have a house servant assist you. Go, now, there is no time to waste.”
When Roxane fled, she turned her attention to Cathlina. “And you, my dear, will collect blankets and bedding and take it down to the vault. I will also have you bring chamber pots. I am having the servants stash as much food as we can collect. Hurry on with your task, now.”
Cathlina had been moderately calm until Rosalund had revealed the plan to hide in the vault. If her father was already making such preparations, then the impending battle must be a terrible one indeed. That knowledge made it most difficult to remain calm.
“If Father wanted us to stay to the vault, then shouldn’t we have stored supplies earlier?” she asked. “It seems foolish to do this at the last hour. We have known for days that the Scots could come.”
Some of Rosalund’s patience left her. “We knew nothing for certain,” she snapped. “Your father prepared as he saw best. You will not question his decisions.”
Cathlina shook her head, exasperated and afraid. “I am not questioning his decisions,” she said. “I am simply asking why we did not do this sooner. Now we must rush about while the enemy is building ladders against us.”
“Psh,” Rosalund shushed her. “Go now and do as you are told.”
With shaking legs, Cathlina rushed off. She could hardly believe this was happening, that the Scots were preparing to knock down her front door.
She had moved beyond thoughts of her father’s lack of preparation and on to Mathias.
Hadn’t he sent her back to England to prevent this?
Confused, terrified, and praying that Mathias would somehow know of her danger and come to her aid, she raced in and out of bedchambers, collecting what she could carry before taking it to the vault.
The dungeons of Kirklinton were built under the great hall. The hall itself was built using one of the curtain walls for its northern perimeter wall and on the western portion of the hall were alcoves for the servants and a small doorway that led down a flight of stairs into the great vault.
Originally used as storage, Saer had converted it into the prison because the gatehouse had a tiny bottle prison that was barely big enough for three men.
The vault had two great iron grates, one at the top of the stairs and one at the bottom.
The vault itself had a dirt floor and big barrel ceiling, the stones carefully placed to support the weight of the hall above.
It was big, and cold, and branched off on a ninety degree angle from the staircase so anyone coming down the steps could not see into the room.
They could only see a very small portion of the entire vault.
That would hopefully work to their favor.
Cathlina worked steadily gathering bed linens and fashioning four relatively comfortable pallets down in the vault.
She placed them as far away from the door as she could get them in order to keep them as great a distance from danger as possible.
Furthermore, she had the cook hunt down large sheets of oilcloth sometimes used to protect the rabbit hutches in the kitchen yard from the elements.
She lay those down on the ground underneath the pallets to keep the cold away.
As she emerged from the vault and headed out into the bailey towards the keep, she could see that there was a good deal of activity upon the walls.
Men were shouting and she could see a rush of soldiers heading for the wall turrets.
It was nearing the nooning hour by this time and as she neared the keep, her father and mother suddenly emerged.
Her father was carrying Abechail in his arms and her mother was running along beside.
“Cathlina, come!” her father said briskly as he ran past her. “There is no more time. Into the vault!”
Cathlina’s terror surged as she followed after them, nearly tripping on her skirts in her haste. “Where is Roxane?” she cried.
“At the well,” her father said. “I will fetch her. You must come with me now.”
Cathlina ran after them without another word.
Truth was, she was too frightened to speak.
This was her first siege, her first battle, and she fought back the tears of terror.
Dear God, if only Mathias knew of her plight.
He would let nothing stop him from protecting his wife.
A wife who happened to be carrying the child he did not yet know about.
As Cathlina ran through the great hall and down the stairs into the vault after her parents, she wiped the tears off her cheeks.
She prayed she would have the opportunity to tell Mathias of his son. It was all she prayed for.
Saer handed Abechail over to Rosalund, who bedded her daughter down gently on one of the pallets Cathlina had made. Swiftly, he turned to Cathlina, who was panting with fright and exertion behind him.
“Come with me,” he said, taking her arm.