Chapter Nineteen
It was another icy night.
Maksim found himself looking up at the sky as he walked the berms of Gleann na Fola’s bailey, seeing the stars as brightly as if they were within arm’s reach. If he reached up, he could probably capture one.
Ironic how everything just seemed brighter now.
He was going to remain at this warring castle, fulfilling the hopes he’d relayed to his sister.
He was quite excited about it. As he headed along the east side of the keep, gazing up at the stars, he reflected on his life at Hensingham versus the life he hoped to have at Gleann na Fola.
He knew his father wouldn’t be pleased with his decision, mostly because Reece wanted his son and heir at home, with him.
He wanted Maksim presiding over the peaceful castle just as generations of de Reyne heirs had done before him.
But Maksim wanted more.
As he’d told his sister, he hadn’t realized what “more” he wanted until he came to Gleann na Fola and saw a completely different life led by knights who were entrenched in struggle every day of their lives.
They were doing what they’d been trained for, and Maksim had the same training, only his life was safe and boring.
He didn’t want safe and boring any longer.
He wanted purpose.
Now, he was going to get it and he was genuinely pleased at that.
He was pleased to become part of a group of seasoned knights.
Maybe that meant he wasn’t the prince of his domain any longer, like he was at Hensingham, but he could live with that.
Maybe he’d even find a de Wolfe bride somewhere among the dozens of granddaughters of William de Wolfe, as Mattie had suggested.
His sister had just married a grandchild.
Why couldn’t he?
The thought brought a smile to his face.
Mattie seemed genuinely happy and he didn’t realize that he wanted that, too, until he saw how well she’d taken to this marriage.
Now, he wanted what his sister had. He’d never realized what he was missing until the introduction of the House of de Wolfe into their lives.
As it turned out, he’d been missing a great deal.
He intended to catch up.
Shaking himself from his train of thought, he began to focus on the world around him.
Gar was willing to give him the night watch, but he at least needed to know what he was watching.
Every nook, every seam, every stone. Therefore, he paid strict attention to the berms inside the walls and the slope of the hill that the keep sat upon.
He paid attention to the fact that the walls were downslope from the keep and in some places, that made the top of the walls almost level with the keep itself.
It was a good strategic position because if anyone ever mounted those tall walls, archers could easily pick them off from this level.
Maksim digested what he could of the slopes and angles on this first pass before moving on.
The kitchen yard was to the rear of the castle, as the kitchen itself was underground, in the sublevel.
There was a door leading into the kitchens from the yard and there seemed to be a good deal of activity in the yard itself as two enormous cauldrons bubbled away on open fires.
There were people milling about, filling up bowls or small pots with whatever was steaming in those cauldrons, and Maksim observed the activity for a minute or two before something else caught his attention.
A small gate downslope.
The little gate was in the shadows of the wall, away from the torches that had been lit to stave off the night, and could have easily been missed.
As Maksim’s vision adjusted to it, he could see some kind of activity at the gate.
Curious, he left the kitchen yard and went down the slope, approaching the little gate just as someone pushed it open.
It was so dark that he couldn’t see who it was, never imagining it wasn’t a soldier or someone else associated with the castle.
By the time he reached the gate, another man came through behind the first one, both of them standing tall and seemingly startled to see him.
He only saw the flash of a weapon as it was raised, reflecting the weak torchlight, but by that time, it was too late for him to react.
It wasn’t anyone associated with the castle.
It was the enemy.
A dirty, sharp ax plowed into Maksim’s chest before he even realized what had happened.
Whoever landed it tried to remove it, but it was wedged deep into his sternum.
They left it in the bone. But that same person pushed Maksim out of the way, so he fell down, rolling down the slope and ending up at the base of the wall as a steady stream of Scots poured in through the open postern gate.
But Maksim was still conscious, at least for the moment. That wasn’t going to last and he knew it. With his dying breath, he bellowed the only thing he could. The only alarm he could give.
Maksim de Reyne spent his final moments on earth as a true warrior.
Just the way he’d wanted.
“Breach!”
*
“Scots are in the compound!” a panicked soldier shouted into the hall. “To battle stations!”
The knights on the dais heard the cry and suddenly, everyone was on the move.
They had been sitting around, enjoying a fine meal of pork and beans and good conversation, when the alarm came.
Gar bolted to his feet, pulling Mattie with him, and the men with wives at the table immediately began escorting the women to the stairwells that led to the upper floors.
Jordan took charge of Mattie because Gar had to go, and together, the women raced up the stairwell to the master’s chamber while Rhoswyn, Caria, and Avrielle went up a separate staircase.
The great hall cleared in seconds.
Unfortunately, the fight was right at their door.
The Scots had indeed breached the compound and were trying to get into the hall, into the castle itself.
Yet again, they were trying to take the fight straight into the hall.
With the entry door open because people were going in and out, they managed to make it inside, but there was a massive fight at the door.
Unfortunately, the knights weren’t armed.
No one had come to the hall with weapons simply because no one had expected they would be needed.
The castle was well manned, and Gar’s men were vigilant, so there was no reason to come to the hall armed for war.
Now, they were wishing they had.
The younger knights were at the forefront of the battle at the keep entry.
Andreas, Tor, and Atreus managed to hold back a tide of Scots as the older knights behind them—William, Troy, Scott, and Blayth—caught anyone who slipped past their net.
Gar had managed to make it outside, racing to the small armory where he and Mattie had made love, and grabbed what weapons he could.
Racing back to the entry, he speared two Scots immediately, clearing the way for him to provide swords to Andreas and Tor.
As those two began cutting through Scots, he was able to get weapons to the rest of them, which left him without a weapon.
But that didn’t matter.
Gar was fighting with fists and feet at that point.
Suddenly, a wave of armed soldiers descended on the keep entry because that seemed to be where the majority of the Scots were concentrated.
There were dozens of them. They were wet and smelly and it occurred to Gar that, somehow, they had crossed that horrific moat and made it in.
If they hadn’t come through the gatehouse, then they’d either gone over the wall or come through the postern gate because those were the only ways they could have entered.
Gar cursed himself for being caught off guard, but he couldn’t dwell on it.
He had to stem it. However the Scots had managed to do it, the breach was probably still open.
It was imperative that they close it.
“Atreus!” Gar boomed. “Find the breach!”
Atreus was a madman with a sword. He sliced through men, kicking and stabbing and punching, and finally made it outside.
As Atreus took off, taking soldiers with him, Gar retreated to the armory and collected a big broadsword.
Returning to the entry, he could see that the fight had spread out more now.
There was fighting both inside and outside the keep and that included William doing battle with a particularly large Scot just outside the keep door.
Gar wasn’t going to tolerate that.
He knew his grandfather would be furious with him for interfering, but watching his elderly grandfather fighting for his life wasn’t something Gar could ignore. No one was wearing mail or protection, him included, so they were all particularly vulnerable. That was what concerned him the most.
He didn’t want to see an old knight get carved up.
Gar had his focus on William as he approached the keep entry.
He was several feet away, preparing to swing wide and come around, approaching his grandfather’s opponent from behind, when the big Scotsman suddenly thrust a fist right into William’s throat.
He was a tall man, with a long reach, and with fighting in such close quarters, it wasn’t surprising that he was able to get close enough to William to strike him.
But that move had Gar rushing the man as William staggered back and stumbled to one knee.
Gar was so focused on bringing his broadsword to bear on the Scotsman’s neck, which he did ably, that he failed to see a second Scotsman coming up behind him.
But he certainly felt it when a big, dirty blade plowed into the right side of his torso.
Instinct had him whirling around, using his own blade to slice his attacker at the throat.
As his enemy fell away, nearly decapitated, Gar put his hand to the gash in his side and came away with an extreme amount of blood.
He turned, trying to get a look at it, and all he could see was his patchwork breeches covered in it, all down the right side.
It was a bad wound.
But he wasn’t going to stop. His castle had been violated and he was going to fight until he could fight no more. He was just about to go after another Scotsman when he felt hands on his arm, stopping him from proceeding.
“You’re wounded, lad,” William said calmly. “Come back inside. Let me take you to your grandmother.”
Gar refused. “I cannot,” he said. “I must defend my castle.”
He tried to pull away but William held him fast. “Lad, you must come with me,” he said. “You are bleeding heavily. Let your grandmother tend your wound.”
Gar looked at him, his face already pale as the blood loss was starting to weigh on him.
“I am wounded because you are out here doing something you should not be doing,” he said angrily.
“No one wants you fighting any longer, Poppy, but still, you insist. That means we must all watch you in battle to ensure you are not killed. The great William de Wolfe must be protected at all costs, so you go inside. Go inside where it is safe and let the younger men do the fighting.”
He tried to pull away again, but William wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t going to let Gar’s furious words hurt him, true though they might be.
“Come along,” he said, moving toward the door and trying to drag Gar with him. When William saw Scott nearby, he shouted to him. “Scott! To me!”
That was a cry that was never disobeyed, not by any knight or member of the de Wolfe family. When William gave an order, men obeyed. Therefore, the command had Scott immediately rushing to his father, seeing the horror of a very bloody and pale Gar.
Scott was instantly at Gar’s side.
“Let me see the damage,” he said, lifting Gar’s tunic. What he saw had his features tightening with concern. “We must get him inside, Papa. Now.”
Gar was weakening. “I cannot,” he said, his voice with less force than it usually had. “My castle is under siege.”
“There are many men to defend it,” Scott said. “You need help, Gar.”
Between Scott and William, they managed to pull Gar inside the keep, but he was still resisting.
“I will survive,” he insisted. “My castle may not. I must command this battle.”
“I will have Andreas do it,” William said calmly. “He knows the Scots. Your castle will be safe.”
Gar was starting to fail. He seemed unable to move his legs adequately as the blood drained from him. “T-tell him I…” he stammered, feeling extremely lightheaded. “He must… My wife is here… Tell him he must…”
That was as far as he got before he passed out completely.
The battle for Gleann na Fola raged on.