Chapter Thirty-Five #3
Problem was, that only one man at a time could enter through it.
This would lay them open to snipers by the greater forces inside, when and if the breach was discovered.
It was Guy’s hope that he could lead enough men through the opening to effectively quell de Russe’s men and reach the greater goal of opening the portcullis and drawbridge.
Keith Botmore was more than eager to mount two hundred men for the reclamation of Mt.
Holyoak. After Guy convinced the man that they both had suffered so terribly at the hand of de Russe, and after they had drunk a good deal of wine and discussed Derek’s entire life, Keith was over-anxious to go to war against the Duke of Warminster.
He was a foolish man, rash to seek revenge before stopping to think of what he was doing.
He knew full well of de Russe’s reputation, of his strength in aiding Henry.
He knew de Russe led an army of a thousand and he furthermore knew the man wielded mayhap the greatest military power in all of England.
But he was still eager to overrun Mt. Holyoak and regain it for his ally, escaped prisoner though he might be.
He simply saw that he was exacting revenge for his son; Guy saw it for what it was, and that was regaining what was morally his.
Guy was using Botmore for what the man could do for him; as long as Botmore agreed to Guy’s demands, Guy was his very best friend. But any refusal on Botmore’s part, and Guy would turn on him like a viper.
In armor that had once belonged to Derek, Guy sat astride a powerful gray destrier next to Keith as the lord’s army was assembled.
He felt a distinct pull of power, the days of old when he led his own army against the Tudor.
In a sense, he was doing it again, only this time the adversary was far more powerful.
He would rid de Russe from his keep once and for all.
Guy and Keith led Botmore’s army from the confines of Knaresborough, edging the town of the same name on their trek northeast to the Vale of York.
The peasants turned out en masse to witness the army mobilizing, wondering if the War of the Roses had not yet ended, in fact, and they were due for another series of battles.
The fact that their liege was moving to overtake another Yorkist keep never occurred to them.
The army moved along the vacated road, not a town nor an obstacle between them and their destination. They veered northeast just south of Boroughbridge, trampling the early summer grass in the fertile vale. The closer they drew, the more Guy’s adrenalin began to flow.
Mt. Holyoak would soon be in his grasp. He predicted no more than twelve hours before the fortress fell and her gates opened wide for the invading army.
The design was rudimentary; Botmore would create a diversion and lay siege to the bridge of the keep, drawing the attention of the army inside.
Meanwhile, Guy and 75 men would build ladders to straddle the moat.
When the makeshift bridges were complete, they would lay them across the deep moat and crawl across to the small footpath that bordered the wall.
From there, they would breach the small wall gate and file in.
Simple enough, but Guy knew they were likely to lose a great many men against de Russe’s skeleton force.
Moreover, he wondered if de Russe wasn’t already there; spies had returned stating that activity was normal, which meant additional men led by the duke had not arrived.
If, in fact, de Russe was bringing a massive army to rescue Remington, he could quite possibly have come alone, the idea of which intrigued Guy.
Why would he come alone to rescue his whore?
Why would not he bring all of bloody England to assist him?
He still could and Guy knew it, which was why the quick recapture of Mt. Holyoak was imperative. Guy wanted to be in complete control when de Russe arrived.
The very top of his revered keep came into view shortly after noon.
Men moved into battle-heightened positions, shields raised and swords drawn, as they continued to march.
The knights, only six of them, slung their shields over their left knee for quick access.
Guy felt the familiar surge of battle flush through his limbs, the excitement that finally, he would regain his home.
Even as they drew nearer to the keep and they could see the drawbridge hastily rising, he felt the thrill of the fight like a potent aphrodisiac. It excited him like none other.
There was no pretense, no words exchanged. Botmore led the majority of his army up the narrow road to Mt. Holyoak and let loose a barrage of Welsh archers, flame arrows to the drawbridge. Most fell, a few stuck, and the burning began.
Down in the surrounding trees, Guy was whipping his smaller army into a frenzy cutting down trees and stripping saplings. He could smell the smoke from the bridge and he could hear faint shouting and he smiled; battle always made him smile.
Finally the time was upon him and his redemption was at hand; the redemption of his pride. Turning back to his sweating soldiers, he whooped words of encouragement.