Chapter Eighteen #2
“The wall,” he said, pointing up. “Hurry, now. My family has arrived and they’re being attacked at the gate.”
Mateo nearly beat him up the stairs. Together, they ran to the second floor of the gatehouse, gathering with Titan and Rodion as they watched the fighting below.
“Listen,” Rodion said. “Do you hear them?”
No one was quite sure what he meant. There was so much noise from the battle that it was difficult to single out one sound or word.
“What is it, Rody?” Estevan asked.
Rodion pointed to a foe fighting against a smaller dun Tarh man. “Listen,” he said. “He’s saying something every time he strikes.”
They listened. As the men exchanged blows, it became clear what Rodion was pointing out. A strange, haunting sound was coming from the attackers, like a song. A prayer.
A curse.
“I hear it,” Estevan said. “They speak before they strike. Every time.”
“What are the saying?” Mateo asked. “I do not hear it.”
Estevan looked at him. “That is because yer ears are packed due tae yer illness,” he said. “Ye should be back in the sanctuary.”
Mateo cocked a dark eyebrow. “Yet I am not,” he said. “What are they saying?”
Estevan looked around for the rope he’d used to rescue Zora. “It sounds as if they are saying doda,” he said. “It means tae kill in the language of the Northmen.”
That had Mateo and Titan and Rodion looking at the men below with realization. “Then we have confirmed the Ormsfolk,” Mateo said quietly. “I wonder if they are blaspheming us when they say it?”
Estevan shook his head. “I dunna know,” he said. “Whatever it means, I intend tae help my family.”
He tied off one end of the rope to the mechanism that raised, and lowered, the portcullis, which was exposed on this level. Gripping the rope with one hand, he went over the side, essentially rappelling down the wall until he could rappel no more.
Then he jumped.
They all did.
The drop from the end of the rope to the ground was about ten feet, but they took that easily, except for Rodion, who was shorter than the rest of them.
He had further to fall. But he leapt to his feet and, suddenly, there were four heavily trained knights now fighting off the horde of Ormsfolk who had decided to attack the dun Tarh escort.
But the fighting was quickly dwindling as the Ormsfolk rushed back into the trees, leaving their dead but taking their wounded.
There were a few wounded dun Tarh men, also, but no dead, fortunately.
When the Ormsfolk faded back into the foliage, Estevan turned around and shouted to the gatehouse.
“Open the gates!” he said. “All is clear! Open the gates!”
There was a slight hesitation, but the portcullis went up and the gates opened.
Very quickly, the dun Tarh escort moved into the safety of the bailey, and it wasn’t graceful by any means.
They simply poured in, any way they could, so the gates could be closed again.
The knights and the dun Tarh brothers tried to calm everyone down, at least moving them out of the way, so they could start focusing on assessment and recovery.
It was difficult for men who had just faced battle to ease their nerves, but ease them they did.
They had to. Kaladin and Lucan were given the task of assessing the wounded while everyone else was still trying to take care of any needs the men might have—bandages or water or just a word of praise on a job well done.
As all of this was going on, the women of St. Margaret’s, in their battle finest, watched with trepidation and suspicion.
Men.
Everything they’d been warned against.
Mother Michael met Estevan as he was walking in beside the carriage.
“How many wounded?” she asked.
Estevan turned directed the carriage to turn for the sanctuary before answering. “Four so far,” he said. “Nothing life-threatening, I dunna think. I told them tae take the wounded intae the sanctuary. I hope I did right.”
Mother Michael nodded. “Of course the wounded are welcome,” she said. “But who is this?”
“My parents,” Estevan told her. “The Earl and Countess of Torridon.”
Mother Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Ah,” she murmured. “Lucifer in the flesh.”
Estevan ignored the comment, mostly because he’d heard it before and it didn’t bother him. He’d long gotten used to what his father was called. “My mother is here also,” he said. “I’d be honored tae introduce ye.”
He was already on the move before she could answer, opening the rear door of the carriage when his father unbolted it.
Lares stepped through, hugging Estevan tightly in greeting.
Then he moved on before Estevan could stop him to find Zora to ensure she’d not been injured.
Behind him, Mabel stepped out, looking like she’d just been tossed around within an inch of her life.
She was moving slowly.
“Estevan,” she greeted him, straightening her wimple as he kissed her on the cheek. “You are well?”
“I am,” he said. “And ye?”
“Well enough,” she said, though she was more disheveled than she would have liked from the rough ride. “I must say, I’m surprised to find you here.”
His brow furrowed. “What do ye mean?”
“I was certain I would find you at The Butcher’s.”
Estevan’s expression shifted to one of complete innocence. “Of course not,” he said. “Ye dunna like us tae gamble. I wouldna disappoint my favorite mother.”
“Your only mother,” Mabel said, eyebrow cocked. But then she started to look around. “Where is Zora?”
Estevan pointed to the sanctuary. “In there,” he said. “Papa has gone after her, but she is without a scratch, I swear it.”
Mabel exhaled in relief. “Praise the saints,” she said. “I would see my daughter, please.”
Estevan could see that she was shaken, but he needed to make an introduction before he connected his mother with Zora and the scolding began.
“In a moment,” he said, taking her by the arm and gently pulling her with him. “Mama, this is Mother Michael. She is the mother abbess of St. Margaret’s.”
Mabel straightened up, unwilling to show weakness in front of another woman of power. “Your Grace,” she greeted her. “I hear we have you to thank for giving my sons and the others shelter when one of them became ill. You have my gratitude.”
Mother Michael dipped her head in acknowledgment. “My lady,” she said. “We are honored by your visit.”
Mabel grunted. “’Tis not a visit,” she said. “From the welcome we received just now, I would say you have a problem. May I be of assistance?”
Mother Michael wasn’t sure how to take that. Criticism? Or was the countess simply stating the obvious? There was something strong and icy about the woman, something Mother Michael recognized.
She, herself, had those very same traits.
“It is possible,” she finally said. “Your son brought an injured women to us and, evidently, she has a past.”
“So I was told,” Mabel said. “And those men we just saw?”
Mother Michael shrugged. “The very men who held her captive, we think,” she said. “I am grateful for your assistance in sending them away, but I suspect they may be back.”
“May I see the woman they seek?”
Mother Michael led her away, toward the sanctuary, where Zora also happened to be so Mabel could also see to her daughter. She was nearly to the door when someone else caught her attention over near the carriage. Her eyes narrowed at the sight.
“Mateo de Wolfe!” Mabel called. “Come to me this instant.”
Mateo had been helping with the horses who had been pulling the carriage, but a command from Lady Torridon was not meant to be disobeyed. Promptly, he went to her, smiling as he bowed his head respectfully. He genuinely liked Lady Torridon, who was a friend of his mother’s.
“My lady,” he said. “It is good to see you.”
“Cease your flattery,” Mabel snapped softly, putting her hand gently on his forehead, his cheek, feeling for a fever. “Kal said you were ill. Well? What are you doing out here?”
On the spot, Mateo cleared his throat quietly in preparation for speaking but ended up coughing a little. His chest was very congested. Mabel heard it and so did everyone else within earshot.
“You are not well enough to work,” Mabel said, taking him by the arm. “Come inside with me this very moment.”
Mateo didn’t want to go, but he didn’t dare dispute her. “Truly, Lady Torridon, I sound worse than I feel.”
“You sound like you’re dying.”
“I am not dying, I assure you,” Mateo said, his protests falling on deaf ears. “I am well enough to fight, my lady.”
Mabel fixed on him. “Get inside before I do something you will regret,” she said sternly. “Your mother would never forgive me if I did not tend to your health, so you will do as you are told. Go.”
Mateo did. Lady Torridon was known to spank full-grown men who displeased her, and he didn’t want that embarrassment, so he went inside, followed by Mabel and Mother Michael. What he left in his wake were a bunch of grinning men, glad it was Mateo in trouble with Lady Torridon and not them.
That included Estevan.
“That is your mother?”
The question came from behind him and he turned to see Anaxandra standing there. He nodded.
“That,” he said, “is the famous Mabel, Countess of Torridon. I will introduce ye.”
Understandably, Anaxandra was timid after what she’d just witnessed. “Mayhap later,” she said. “Is it safe to go outside the walls and collect any bolts that we find?”
“Now?”
She nodded. “We will need them if they attack again.”
She had a point. Estevan wasn’t keen on her going outside of the walls so soon, but he conceded. “Quickly, then,” he said. “I’ll send men tae stand guard while ye do it. Grab a few lasses tae go with ye, but move swiftly.”