Chapter Four
Bamburgh Castle
Even though he wasn’t the legal owner and the castle didn’t belong to him in the least, there was still a satisfaction when the mighty fortress of Bamburgh came into view. In spite of everything, it was his castle.
War breathed a sigh of satisfaction.
At the head of the Bamburgh army, about one thousand of them including fifty-one wounded, one of his lieutenants sent a runner ahead to inform the castle that the army was nearly home.
Not that they couldn’t see it for themselves, but it was good manners to announce it.
The battle at Thropton was over for good, with de Whitton buried and the castle left with a small contingent to repair and protect it until Henry could decide what was to be done with it.
The imposing bastion of stone and mortar sat on a promontory overlooking the sea, a sea that had been filled with Northmen for many centuries. A sea that was a murky gray-green, with silt churning up from the heavy currents near the shore. But on a clear day, the view was breathtaking.
War had quickly learned to love it.
The gulls were crying overhead, scouting the land for a meal, perhaps hoping for something from the incoming army.
To War, it was as if they were welcoming him home.
He’d only been at the castle a short amount of time, but already, it was home to him.
God and the king willing, he’d be here for many years to come.
In his opinion, it was one of the only fortresses in England worthy of his magnificence.
“Well?” a voice came from his right. “What’s next, War? Are we able to relax a little now? There’s much we need to do with this army, you know. We have many new recruits that need proper guidance. That was apparent during the battle at Thropton.”
War turned slightly, seeing his second in command riding near him. “Who is to the rear?” he asked. “You are supposed to be covering our retreat.”
Sir Montmorency “Monty” Vandergriff simply lifted his blond eyebrows, looking off to the meadow of seagrass to the south. “Alexei is to the rear,” he said. “You know the men are always vigilant when he is around. They’re terrified of the knight from Vilnius, so you’ve nothing to worry over.”
War grunted. “Except I told you to cover the rear.”
Monty didn’t particularly care about that. He gestured towards Bamburgh. “We are almost home,” he said. “I suppose I am simply eager to be done with this hellish traveling and warfare. We’ve had too much of it since we arrived at Bamburgh.”
“It was not exactly calm before you arrived.” Another knight spoke up, one who had been at Bamburgh and in royal service for several years.
He possessed the unlikely name of Clement de Hemmet, which caused no end of jokes at his expense, something he wasn’t exactly keen about.
“Bamburgh has been active for centuries, so do not think you’ll rest here, safe and sound. We must always be vigilant.”
War wasn’t unaware that Clement had wanted the very position that he currently held.
The knight with the odd name had made no secret of the fact that he felt slighted over the king’s choice to put War in command of Bamburgh when he had served at his post for so many years.
Because of that, Monty and Alexei had watched War’s back during the several skirmishes they’d had since they’d come to Bamburgh and, so far, Clement hadn’t made a move for War.
He’d been completely loyal in all situations.
But they still didn’t trust him.
“I think Monty meant that it would be nice to spend an extended amount of time at Bamburgh,” War said steadily. “We’ve had four instances since my arrival when the army has been called out and…”
Clement cut him off. “And after the very first one, you spent months recovering from your wounds,” he said.
When Monty shot him a withering look, Clement realized he must have sounded condescending.
“I mean no disrespect, my lord. The wounds you sustained were substantial. Had we not found you when we did…”
“There is no need to revisit that subject,” War interrupted him firmly.
“I am sorry if my survival has disappointed you, de Hemmet, but I am perfectly well and fully in command of Bamburgh. If that is something that displeases you, then I am certain you can be sent elsewhere. We do not want you to remain if you are unhappy.”
“I am not unhappy,” Clement said quickly. “I have been at Bamburgh for several years. My wife was born in the village. She would not wish to leave.”
“Then show Herringthorpe the respect he has earned,” Monty growled. “I grow weary of your veiled aggression, de Hemmet.”
War held up a hand before the conversation veered out of control. “I do not care what you say to each other in private, but in front of the men, we are united,” he said. “The moment it seems that we are not united is the moment I send you away, de Hemmet. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, my lord.”
“Good.”
Monty was still glaring daggers at Clement, who was trying not to let his frustration show.
He wanted to be a good knight and do his duty.
He thought he’d been doing an excellent job of it until War had been sent to assume a command he had expected.
But even he knew that War was more than qualified.
In fact, he was surprised a Blackchurch-trained knight of Herringthorpe’s caliber should even want a remote command like Bamburgh.
A man like War needed to be in the heart of the action, in London with the men who would make or break the country. That was where he belonged.
But instead, he was in the wilds of the north, battling the Scots and disloyal neighbors.
It made little sense to him.
“War,” Monty said, satisfied that his nasty glares had put Clement in his place. “When are we going to pay a visit to Castle Questing? You said that de Wolfe invited you. That kind of invitation does not come frequently or easily. The man is a god in the north.”
The conversation was shifting from Clement’s coveting to the Wolfe of the Border.
War had to admit that he was looking forward to spending more time with de Wolfe, learning from him and working with him.
Usually, War was the most seasoned and well-educated man in the room, but not when de Wolfe and his allies were around.
The captain from Northwood, de Norville, and de Wolfe’s second, Hage, were all part of this great group of experienced knights like nothing War had ever seen before.
That was saying a lot.
Montmorency was correct about one thing – an invitation to Castle Questing was a coveted one. Bamburgh was allied with de Wolfe and his garrisons – Berwick, Wark, and Roxburgh included – so War saw the trip to Castle Questing as a valuable opportunity.
One he intended to take advantage of.
“I suppose it would be wise to leave as soon as possible,” he said after a moment. “De Wolfe asked me to. I need to build a relationship with him, so the sooner, the better.”
Monty agreed. “If you do not move swiftly, he may take it as an insult.”
“Agreed.”
“Then we depart within the week?”
War nodded. “I would say in the next few days,” he said. “Let us reach Bamburgh and settle the men, see what the damage is to our stores and weapons, and once we’ve a plan in place to replace and repair what we spent on campaign, we can depart for Castle Questing.”
Monty nodded. “Who will go with you?”
War glanced at Monty before turning further to look at Clement.
“All of the knights,” he said loudly enough for Clement to hear.
There was no chance of him leaving the knight behind to possibly engage in insurrection against him.
“We can leave the senior sergeants in charge while we are away. They know what to do better than we do. And my father will not come with us, so they can seek his counsel if needed.”
Monty turned to look at the castle looming closer. “Are you sure he will not come with us?” he said. “Edmund Herringthorpe has spoken of de Wolfe with great reverence in the past. He might challenge you to a fight if you deny him the opportunity to meet the man.”
War smiled weakly. “If my father had the strength to challenge me, I would gladly concede,” he said. “But… I do not think he will. Even he knows a journey like that, as mild as it will probably be, will be too taxing on his health.”
He sobered greatly as the conversation turned to his father, a man who had been quite ill for a few years with a weakened heart.
It had grown steadily worse since War had taken command of Bamburgh, but Edmund would not be left behind in Suffolk with his son taking a glorious position for King Henry.
The man had traveled north and it had nearly killed him, but he was at Bamburgh, reveling in the pride he had for his magnificent son.
Knowing he was more than likely not long for this world, he didn’t want to miss a moment of War’s triumph.
“Mayhap that is true, but you should at least give him the opportunity to refuse,” Monty said, knowing that the subject of War’s father was a touchy one. “Give the man his dignity in the matter.”
“You are right.”
Bamburgh loomed ever closer. War found himself looking at the walls, the keep that towered above the outer walls, and the general imposing presence before him.
He’d seen many castles in his life but never one as magnificent as Bamburgh.
He found that he was most eager to return home and he had the knights pick up the pace with the army, closing in on the last few hundred yards quickly.
It seemed that everyone was eager to go home.