Chapter Fifty-Five
Never was a mightier army to be assembled.
Christopher, Marcus and Richard intercepted the army riding from Somerhill and took command of the nine hundred man force. With the additional fifteen hundred men riding north from Windsor, they would not only lay siege to Nottingham; they would mow it to the ground.
Richard made the decision to wait for his army from Windsor.
Christopher highly disapproved of the conclusion, but he was unsuccessful to convince his king otherwise.
Marcus actually became quite irate and he and Richard had exchanged angry words.
For a change, Christopher had had to separate the two of them.
Richard’s logic was simple; he believed Dustin to be fairly safe and saw no need to go charging in and risk a great number of casualties.
With the troops from Windsor, mayhap the casualties would be minimal simply because of the sheer number of men.
Additionally, Dustin was not the primary concern; he intended to regain Nottingham for the crown and he knew he must show overwhelming force.
When mercenary French soldiers returned to Philip Augustus after seeing battle with the returned King of England, he wanted the French king to know that Richard the Lionheart would not tolerate the French meddling in his country.
So they waited outside of the village of Grantham, a little over twenty miles to the east of Nottingham.
Somerhill was over a half day’s ride, and within a day after discovering where Dustin had been taken, they had their nine hundred troops.
Camp was set up and the wait for the army from Windsor was met with impatience by all.
Christopher was nearly insane with grief and worry, but he knew that within two days, they would be marching for Nottingham and for his family. Until then, he was helpless.
Marcus got a grip on himself and was handling the wait better than Christopher.
He and Christopher would talk of items that related to the battle, but that was the extent of their contact.
For two men who had shared a tent for three years, it was a little strange being without the camaraderie and support of one another.
They would gaze at each other across the compound, eyes meeting sometimes, but with no emotion.
Yet even with the hurt and jealousy and anger, each man sensed an unfillable void the other had left within him, although they would not admit it.
The pain of losing one’s best friend was too deep for words.
On the second day of camp, an army was sighted riding in from the south and immediately the battle cry went up. Marcus expertly set up skirmish lines under the eagle eyes of Richard and Christopher as they studied the incoming troops.
“Now who in the hell could this be?” Richard mumbled.
Christopher could see colors being flown, but they were too far away. He tightened his reins. “We shall soon find out.”
The dark brown destrier charged forward, kicking up great clods of dirt as Christopher ran at breakneck speed down the slight incline before leveling out on the flat, grassy land.
As Christopher drew closer, he could see that there were no more than three hundred men and he was truly curious.
Who would be riding with a small army this far north?
The answer came to him when he spied the yellow, gray and black of Lord Lyle Hampton, Earl of Canterbury. David. His little brother had come.
David met Christopher well in front of his army, the familiar white destrier he rode catching Christopher’s eye.
Christopher was so damn glad to see his brother that he was off his destrier before the horse even came to a halt, pulling his brother into a great bear hug in spite of the bulky armor they both wore.
His anger, his grief, his disgust with David was dissolved in an instant.
“David,” he managed to choke after an emotional minute. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
David wiped at his eyes, not ashamed to let his brother see how caught up he was. “Here to support you, of course,” he said, then gestured to the massive army on the rise. “What is all of this?”
Christopher was so emotional he was ready to crack. He cuffed his brother affectionately on the side of the head.
“Dustin was taken to Nottingham,” he said hoarsely. “How did you know we were here?”
“Because I rode to Somerhill, knowing you would be heading there to collect Dustin, and they told me what had happened,” he replied, his blue eyes drinking in his brother’s face. “I came to help.”
Christopher laughed softly. “And so you have,” he murmured, his hand still on his brother’s shoulder as if incapable of letting him go. “We are waiting for reinforcements from Windsor before we go charging in and raze the place. Christ, David, you do not know how good it is to see you.”
David’s face was lit up like a candle. “What about you? Jesus, you were dead. What in the hell happened to you?”
Christopher waved at him. “It is a long story. I was severely wounded and it took me three months to find my way back home again, but we shall delve more into that later,” he said. “What matters now is retrieving my wife and daughter.”
David shook his head, still reeling with emotion. “What about Marcus?”
Christopher shrugged. “A truce, for now. At least until we get Dustin back.”
“That’s why I came, you know,” David said. “I thought you were going to have an all-out war with Marcus, and I wanted to fight with you; even if you did not want me.”
“Did not want you…?” Christopher repeated, realizing how very foolish they had both been. “You are my brother, David. My only brother. What happened….well, we both said and did things in the heat of anger that we should not have.”
David shook his head hard. “I am all to blame, Chris. You did nothing but protect your wife.” His voice lowered regretfully.
“You were right when you said I was jealous. I was jealous of everything you had. When you first married Dustin, it was a sort of game to try and get you to like her. But when you came to love her, I felt left out. I guess I had to find something wrong with her to make you not love her so that things would be as they had been. Can you ever forgive me?”
Christopher’s eyes were warm. “I understand you returned to Lioncross to act as her protector. That proves to me how sorry you were for what happened.”
David snorted ironically. “A lot of good I did. She married Marcus anyway.”
“Richard said you tried to kill Marcus in a sword fight,” Christopher said. “Very brave of you, little brother. I spent half the day yesterday trying to do the same thing.”
David shrugged, not voicing what he was thinking. That their friendship had come to this still bothered him greatly. He glanced back at his troops after a moment.
“I have got three hundred men to reinforce your ranks,” he said, “if you shall have me.”
Christopher smiled broadly. “I would have no other.” He slugged his brother again and moved toward his destrier. “What is this I hear that you have taken a wife?”
David snickered at his brother’s disbelieving tone. “I did, and a lovely woman she is. But she came with two sisters and they are driving me crazy.”
Christopher crowed with laughter as he mounted. “You deserve all that and more. You never could handle a woman.”
David mounted his dancing animal. “They are not women. They are the spawn of Satan.”
“Not Nathalie,” Christopher said. “She is an obedient, thoughtful girl.
“That is what she wants you to believe,” David sneered.
“She puts on a prim and proper front, and then when your guard is down – boom. And Elise, the youngest, is even worse. Do you know that they put honey on my pillow? And charcoal in my helmet? I went for half a day with black hair and had no idea why my men were laughing at me.”
Christopher laughed heartily at the mental picture of his high-strung brother dealing with two disobedient children. “David, I think I like these girls. You must tell me more sometime.”
David made a face. “Later.”
Christopher waved at him and they turned tail on one another, returning to their respective armies. For them both, the world suddenly seemed a little brighter, a little more hopeful.
David’s men set up camp and it was truly like old times.
Richard had his inner circle of knights about him and he could not have been more pleased.
In spite of the tension in the air, David and Marcus had barely acknowledged one another and kept their distance, dampening Richard’s mood a bit, but it could not be helped.
He would have rather had them ignoring each other than trying to slit one another’s throats.
The army from Windsor was expected on the morrow and Richard took leave of his men and went to bed early.
Christopher and David were standing around the massive pyre, watching the sparks fly into the dark night and speaking of insignificant things.
Christopher wanted to know more of his new sister-in-law, Emilie, and was eager to hear of David’s exploits with her younger sisters.
He laughed until he cried picturing his brother trying to handle two spirited young girls.
They were laughing about something or another when Marcus strolled past the fire, eyeing the two brothers impassively. Christopher gazed back, as did David, and immediately the tension rose. Harold, at Christopher’s feet, rose and snarled menacingly.
“Marcus,” he greeted formally.
Marcus merely nodded his head, crossbow strung over his shoulder, and continued on his way. David watched him disappear into the night before letting out a hissing sigh.
“Be mindful that he doesn’t use that thing on your back,” he referred to the crossbow. “Marcus is the best archer in the realm.”
Christopher nodded. “I am well aware of his skill,” he looked at his brother and slugged him playfully. “That is why I have you here, to cover my back.”