Chapter Fourteen
“Are we ready?”
The question came from Gar, spoken to Andreas, Tor, Maksim, and Atreus, who were acting as his commanders because Reed and Linus, usually the men to handle his army, were on duty at Andreas’ castle.
Therefore, the organization of the men had fallen to them and they took the duty happily.
In truth, it was more Tor and Atreus because Maksim wasn’t hugely experienced when it came to forming an army for an offensive, so he mostly watched and pitched in where he was directed.
He was eager, but also somewhat timid. He had about fifty de Reyne men that he’d brought from Hensingham, but the troops, as a whole, weren’t his and he was uncertain when it came to directing them.
As this was going on, Andreas had mostly been at the gatehouse, monitoring the village burning in the distance.
Everything seemed to be in flames.
“The men are ready, Gar,” Atreus said, answering his question. “Give the word and we shall move them out.”
Gar nodded. He could see his troops near the gatehouse, about eight hundred of them, ready to move out and into the village.
According to the old villager who had escaped the devastation, there were Scots in the little town, burning and stealing.
He wasn’t sure how many, but there were several.
They were terrorizing everyone. The old villager lived on the south side of the settlement and he seemed to be one of the first hit, barely able to remove his possessions from his home before the fire closed in and burned everything.
A fire that had seemingly taken over the entire village.
Gar was focused on that glow in the distance.
“This could be a simple raiding party or it could be a ruse,” William said, coming to stand beside Gar. “Have your men checked the trees off to the west and the north?”
Gar nodded. “They have,” he said. “The problem is that it is night, with only a half-moon, so it is difficult to see.”
“But they checked for signs of men?”
“Aye, Poppy, they did,” Gar said. Then, he looked at him. “Does something have you concerned?”
William shrugged. “Every move by the Scots has me concerned,” he said. “I would not have lived as long as I have if I had not been concerned about everything.”
“True,” Gar said. “Do you want me to send more men into the trees to check again?”
“Not if you are confident your men were thorough.”
“As thorough as they can be,” Gar said. “We’ve had patrols out all day, but not to the south. The Scots must have slipped past my patrols and made it to the village.”
“Then you must be extra vigilant,” William said. “They want something, badly enough that they’ve circumvented your patrols. It’s possible that the village was the intended target, but it’s equally possible it wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
William shrugged again. “They might be trying to draw you away from the castle,” he said.
“Mayhap the castle is their true target, or mayhap it is the army itself once it is removed from the safety of the curtain walls. In any case, you should leave your father or one of your uncles behind. You will need a competent knight in command while we are out tending to the village.”
Gar glanced over his shoulder at his father, Uncle Scott, and Uncle Blayth in full battle gear.
It took him a moment to realize that his grandfather was also dressed in battle protection from head to toe, which was William de Wolfe’s usual uniform.
The man might be exceedingly old, but given his decades of experience on the Scots border, he knew what they were capable of and he knew how to handle them.
But that didn’t mean Gar wanted his extremely elderly grandfather going to battle with him.
William was too valuable for that.
“Poppy,” he said. “I would be honored if you would remain. If the Scots are going to be wily, there is no one in England with more experience in dealing with them. You are most valuable to me here.”
William, who was still eyeing the glow of the burning village in the distance, turned to look at him. “I would serve you better in the field,” he said. “Leave Blayth behind to command Gleann na Fola. I will go with you.”
Gar truly didn’t want that. Unfortunately, William had a habit of riding with the army, still, and Gar wasn’t entirely sure he could keep him away.
He looked beseechingly at his father, who understood the dilemma because Troy dealt with the same thing—his elderly father wanting to battle.
All of the sons and grandsons with garrisons did. No one could tell him otherwise.
Except one.
Troy knew they needed help.
As Troy headed to the keep to seek reinforcements, Gar returned his attention to the army before him.
They were ready to move out, but the portcullis had yet to be lifted.
The gates were open, however, and the drawbridge was down, spanning a moat that was filled with more dead things and filth than any moat Gar had seen, ever.
It was a horrific trap of muck and disease, one that protected Gleann na Fola quite ably.
It was time to get on with it.
“We’ve delayed long enough,” Gar finally said, turning to Andreas, Tor, Maksim, and Atreus. “Prepare to lift the portcullis and move out. Get the men moving.”
The four knights headed down to the gatehouse where their horses were waiting.
Scott and Blayth moved past Gar, following the others, and Gar knew that they were looking forward to the fight.
They were knights to the bone and any skirmish with the enemy was something that fed them.
It had been part of their lives since they were small children.
As Gar put his helm on, adjusting the mail around his neck to ensure it was covered, he could hear Troy behind him.
“Papa!” Troy called. “Mama has great need of you. You must come!”
William put his own helm on, turning to Troy. “What is it?”
Troy shook his head, coming alongside his son. “I do not know,” he said. “But she has asked me to fetch you.”
William shook his head. “I cannot,” he said. “The army is moving out.”
“If you do not go to her, she will follow you all the way to the village. You know that.”
William did. With a heavy sigh, he turned around and headed for the keep while Gar and Troy made haste down to the gatehouse.
When their reached their horses, they saw William’s dark steed standing quietly off to the side and they told the soldier holding the animal that William would not be coming, so the man turned back for the stables.
It might not stop William completely, but it would slow him down if Jordan couldn’t manage to keep him inside.
Mounting their horses, they decided to wait until the rest of the army was through and then bring up the rear so that the back of the army wasn’t left vulnerable. No one was sure what the Scots were doing, but no one trusted them, either.
This could be a simple raiding party or it could be a ruse.
Gar was about to find out which very quickly.
Things were about to turn deadly.
*
Mattie was watching.
From the roof of the keep, which was flat, she could see the gatehouse and the burning village in the distance.
Caria was with her, and together the two of them watched the activity below.
Jordan, Rhoswyn, and Avrielle were down in the hall because they didn’t want to watch the army leave.
They’d seen it too many times, watching their husbands ride to battle, and they didn’t want to see it again.
It was too anxiety-inducing. But Mattie had never seen such a thing, so she very much wanted to watch it.
Her husband was down there as well as her brother.
Maksim had expressed his wish to stay at Gleann na Fola so he could do what he was trained to do, but he probably hadn’t expected it so quickly.
It was a clear night above, icy, with a scattering of stars across the night sky.
Caria was cold, so she pressed against Mattie to keep warm as they watched the army trickle out.
What they didn’t know was that William had been recalled to the keep by his wife and, even now, was arguing with her about riding out with the men.
Jordan wanted him to remain and help her should the need arise and he wanted to do his duty.
That was where the rub was because Jordan was convinced that he’d already done his duty—many times over and for many years—and didn’t need to ride out in a skirmish.
He thought she was wrong and she thought she was right.
It was an argument they’d had before.
But Mattie and Caria weren’t aware of it.
They were simply watching the spectacle below.
The night was dark and spooky and the distant fires in the village had phantoms rising out of the smoke.
Even if Mattie had never seen her husband or brother ride to battle, the impact of the moment wasn’t lost on her. It was a night of ghosts.
She was frightened.
“What do you suppose will happen?” Caria asked, shivering against Mattie. “Will they return soon?”
Mattie had her arms around the girl, mostly for warmth. “I hope so,” she said. “It is a cold night and they must all get back to their beds.”
Caria lifted her head to look at Mattie. “Will everything be well, do you think?”
Mattie nodded, her focus still on the gatehouse. “I think so,” she said. “They are all very brave and strong. They will chase the Scots away in no time. I think—”
She was cut off by an abrupt action at the gatehouse.
The last of the army had just trickled out and the portcullis was still up, but suddenly, men were running through it.
There were soldiers in the bailey, on the inside of the wall, and the men running through were attacking the soldiers.
Abruptly, there was a fight going on, but some of the men running in through the gatehouse were heading for the keep.
And they were armed.