Chapter Eleven #4
De Royans’ brows furrowed in concern, in horror, as Adam filled in the details.
“As near as we can determine, the Duke of Norfolk somehow contacted the pair,” he said.
“In exchange for money, or lands, or both, he somehow coerced them into attempting to persuade Northumberland’s entire knight corps into swearing fealty to Edward.
The first knight they approached was Titus and when the man refused, they murdered him.
Then they fled south, undoubtedly to flee Atticus’ wrath. ”
De Royans sipped at his hot wine. “The Lion of the North,” he muttered. “Where is Atticus?”
Adam accepted his own hot wine from the nearest servant. “He took Titus back to Wolfe’s Lair for burial,” he replied, sipping at the steaming brew. “The man is bent on vengeance, Juston. He wants de Troiu and de la Londe. You say that my father has them both captive at Wellesbourne?”
“He does indeed.”
“Then Atticus must know. He will want to go to Wellesbourne Castle to dispense justice.”
“And I will go with him,” Maxim declared. “Titus was my mentor. I wanted to go with Atticus from the start but Thetford would not allow it.”
Adam held up a hand to the hot-headed young knight. “Because Atticus was volatile enough without emotional knights tagging along with him,” he said, bordering on scolding. “But Atticus must know that de Troiu and de la Londe are at Wellesbourne and someone must ride to tell him.”
“Let me go,” Alec said, standing over de Royans’ shoulder. “I would consider it an honor.”
Maxim stood up, his unhappy focus on Alec. “I told you that I wanted to go with Atticus,” he said. “Why should you be allowed to go?”
Adam put up his hands between the pair before someone threw a punch, which had been known to happen between the cousins. They loved each other dearly but didn’t hesitate to fight one another if the situation called for it.
“Cease,” he commanded, glaring at Maxim before turning his attention to Alec.
“I have a feeling that each one of us will volunteer to go to Wolfe’s Lair to inform Atticus that the very men he seeks are at Wellesbourne Castle, so it is my inclination that only de Royans should go since he has seen de la Londe and de Troiu personally.
He can verify with his own eyes to Atticus that those men are prisoners at Wellesbourne.
Moreover, you know that we cannot leave Alnwick, not now. There is too much at stake.”
Maxim growled unhappily. “Because Edward will march upon us,” he said.
“That will not happen for months, Adam. Do you truly believe Edward will march an army up here so soon after Towton? Men are wounded and battle lords scattered. Edward is in London. He has better things to do than worry about Alnwick!”
As Adam and Maxim started to argue, caused by the stress of being bottled up in Alnwick awaiting Edward’s proverbial axe to fall on their heads, de Royans put up his hands to interrupt them.
“We heard news of Towton,” he said loudly, distracting the two knights, “but we heard it from de la Londe’s point of view. What has happened?”
Adam was still glaring at Maxim but answered de Royans out of politeness.
“It was a rout for Edward’s forces,” he said, sounding weary and unhappy.
“Edward soundly defeated us. We lost Henry Percy among others. However bad de la Londe made it sound, the reality is that it was much worse. Be glad you were not there, de Royans. I have never seen such carnage or death in my life. It was hell.”
De Royans listened seriously. Pondering the destruction, he shook his head in sorrow. “Then I am saddened to hear this,” he said. “But I fail to understand why Henry was so badly defeated. He had superior numbers, did he not?”
Adam shook his head and spent the next hour explaining to de Royans the tactics of Edward against Henry. By the time he was finished, de Royans was counting his blessings that Wellesbourne had not been at the fight. He more than likely would have been one of the dead, too.
When tempers calmed, the evening was spent in a quiet meal with the knights of Alnwick, including Tertius, and also including the new earl, young Henry.
The older knights deliberately kept the conversation away from Towton, or Atticus or Titus, or any reference to death in general.
They told stories of past adventures, laughing at their foolishness or their cleverness, and passed the evening in a rare, jovial mood.
As of late, there had been little to be jovial over and the meal had been a welcome respite in the midst of their stressful existence.
But the evening inevitably ended and there were tasks to be completed.
Before dawn, de Royans was once again on the road, heading for Wolfe’s Lair and the news that the very men Atticus wanted were safe and sound, locked up in the vault of Wellesbourne.
He left behind several disappointed knights, a fearful young earl, and a castle that was once again sealed up to await her fate as the tides of the throne had shifted against them.