“And we could be waiting for him there.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Cullen said. “We shall cover that road daily, from Geddington to Corby, and we can set up a perfect crossfire in the trees where the road narrows, down by Weekley.”
Owen lifted his eyebrows as he saw the plan take shape. “You will be surrounded by a marsh to the north and the east, and impenetrable bramble to the west. They will have nowhere to go if they scatter.”
“That is my sense, as well.”
Owen thought it was all quite clever. But he was also considering all of the information, wondering if it sounded too convenient. Cullen wasn’t foolish by any means, but he was rabid when it came to damaging Rockingham. There was a lust for vengeance there not normally seen, and he would take any and all opportunities to inflict damage. That kind of vengeance could be reckless but, then again, Cullen hadn’t led them astray yet and they had more food, clothing, and money in the outlaw village than they knew what to do with.
Owen would, therefore, go with the big knight’s instincts.
As Owen mulled over the coming ambush, Cullen finished his wine. He could tell by the expression on Owen’s face that the man was pondering the information a bit more deeply than he let on and Cullen knew why. He knew that Owen had been questioning his motives behind the increase in outlaw activity, but never the results because they had been excellent.
They’d created much havoc for Barric Fitz Hammond.
Their tactics against Rockingham, in fact, had been complex and violent. They would hit small villages, just enough to create havoc without really creating any destruction, but they would steal things. Food mostly, but weapons and money and other items of value could be taken. Mostly, the raids were designed to draw out the Rockingham army to confuse them, to spread them out, and every time, the Rockingham army had taken the bait.
Death was involved. Cullen had lost a few men, but Rockingham had lost more. They formed ranks and were organized, while Cullen fought in the shadows like an animal. Ambushes were the order of the day and the outlaws had been true with the aim of their crossbows, although there was one tall, slender Rockingham knight in particular who always seemed to pop up where least expected, staying out of the main body of fighting and unleashing arrows from a nasty-looking crossbow.
Cullen had seen that long-legged, slender knight, thinking he reminded him of someone he knew, once, but unable to single out who, exactly, he reminded him of. All he knew was that the knight had dead-eye aim and had cost Cullen a few men. But Cullen never really got a good look at the Rockingham crossbow archer because the outlaws were always fleeing by the time the Rockingham army was engaging. They were running as Rockingham was just getting started.
Their tactics were to hit hard and run fast, but the rewards were great.
Rewards they were enjoying now, with better food and clothing as the winter settled in. As Cullen set aside the empty cup and accepted a wooden bowl of rabbit stew from Delaine, more of Owen’s men came running up, emerging from the darkened trees to the west. Cullen was slurping down the stew, but Owen looked over to see Dessa approaching with a group of younger people who had been watching the road leading in to Rockingham.
Watching the main road to Rockingham was their responsibility whilst Cullen and Jerald created bedlam in the villages. Cullen would not take Dessa into battle with him, no matter how much she begged, or how much Delaine pleaded on behalf of her sister, so the young woman was relegated to watching the roads.
But she was good at it, as she had a sharp eye, and she had been able to deliver some valuable information at times. But Cullen wasn’t paying much attention to her as she approached; he was focused on his food.
“We have news, Owen,” Dessa said to her brother-in-law, her eyes flicking to Cullen to see if the man was listening to her. “A massive army has been sighted, coming east from the road to Marketborough.”
News of an army instantly had Cullen’s attention. “How is that possible?” he demanded before Owen could speak. “I was in Wellingborough earlier and there was no talk of an army today.”
Dessa looked at him; the brave, strong knight with the big dimples that she secretly pined after. But the man had never taken any notice of her. The harder she tried, the more he ignored her. It had gotten so bad that her friends had taken to teasing her about it, much to her embarrassment.
Therefore, when dealing with Cullen these days, she was short-tempered with him, hurt that he didn’t see her the way she saw him…
A love interest.
“Wellingborough is to the southeast,” she pointed out. “This army has come directly from the west, meaning they must have come up through Northampton and bypassed Wellingborough altogether. That is the major road north from London.”
Cullen swallowed the food in his mouth, a glint of unease in his eye. “How do you know they have come from London? What banners are they flying?”
“The crimson background and three golden lions.”
Owen bolted to his feet. “The king,” he hissed. “That is the royal standard. And they are heading to Rockingham, you say?”
Dessa nodded. “I cannot imagine where else they would be going,” she said. “The road they are on leads straight to Rockingham.”
By this time, Cullen was on his feet as well. “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “So the king is coming to Rockingham to be reunited with Barric. Then mayhap the rumor of Lord Clevedon and his money means the man is delivering it directly to the king and not to Fitz Hammond for support against our raids.”
Owen didn’t look pleased in the least. “How big is the army, Dess?” he asked. “Did you see the numbers?”
Dessa glanced up at the evening sky. The sun was nearly down and a blanket of stars hung against the heavens above. “From where we were positioned, we could see them clearly coming through the trees to the northwest,” she said. “The sun was still in the sky. We saw the banners first, splashes of crimson, so I sent Alfar and Jarl to investigate.”
Owen knew the young men she was referring to, slender and fast and quiet. They made perfect outlaws. His focus moved to them, standing in the darkness with branches and leaves sticking out of their hair.
“Well?” he asked them. “How big is the army?”
The taller of the pair, a lad with a crown of curly red hair, spoke. “About a thousand fools and men, m’lord,” he said. “I counted at least six wagons, probably more toward the rear. I did not wait to see for certain.”
Owen grunted unhappily, turning to Cullen. “He must have come to reinforce Rockingham,” he said. “Would that not be your assumption, too?”
Cullen hated to agree with him but he could see no other alternative. “Fitz Hammond must have sent word to the king for assistance against our raids, for I can think of no other reason.” He shook his head regretfully. “It would seem that our days of trouncing Rockingham’s army may be over.”
“There’s something else, m’lord.” The red-haired youth was looking at Owen. “We got close enough to see the army and these are not regular soldiers. The standards were from the king, but the army was a mix of men and armor and animals. They were wearing different tunics or no tunics at all, and they had strange and great weapons. I heard one man yelling to another in a language I did not understand. They seemed… different. They are not from England.”
Cullen knew what that meant; he’d seen it before, many times in his years as a knight. He knew exactly what the lad was speaking of.
“Mercenaries,” he growled. When Owen looked at him questioningly, he sighed heavily and plopped back down on the stump he’d been sitting on. “In my past life, I served a man who supported John, and the king is known to engage mercenary armies from time to time, especially when he feels as if the barons are beginning to pull against him. He does not have enough support from English barons, so he pays for Flemish and Teutonic mercenaries. My liege has long tried to talk John out of hiring foreign mercenaries but, still, he brings them to Eng
land and gives them the run of the land. He pays them, but not enough, and they are encouraged to take spoils from those who oppose the king.”
Owen appeared very concerned about the latest turn of events. “So John has sent mercenaries to Rockingham?”
Cullen could only nod his head. “It appears so,” he said. “And these are not well-disciplined soldiers. They are barbarians who will strip entire fortresses clean. If he decides to send them into Blackthorn Forest to look for us, then they will come and they will not stop until they locate us.”
Owen was feeling a good deal of trepidation. “Do you think that is why they have come?”
“I think it is a reasonable assumption.”
“Then what would you suggest?”
Cullen had been thinking on that very thing. After a moment, he simply lifted his shoulders and looked to Owen as if there was only one possible answer to all of this.
“We must get away from Rockingham,” he said. “These woods are not endless, Owen. If a thousand-man army is sent to find us, find us they will. We can move several miles to the east – there is a large forest on the other side of Brigstock village, one that stretches all the way into Norfolk.”
Owen nodded, but his movements were sullen. “I know it,” he said. “Fermyn Forest is what it is called. ’Tis said to be haunted.”
It wasn’t as if they had a choice. “Considering I do not believe in spirits, it is the perfect place,” Cullen said. “Mayhap legends of ghosts will keep the mercenaries out of it should they stray so far east.”
Owen drew in a long, deep breath, indicative of his sorrow in this situation. “Hopefully,” he said. “Beyond Fermyn, there is not much more until we reach Thetford, and that is a wild place. I should not like to live there, I think.”
Cullen could hear the sadness in the man’s tone. “Mayhap, we will not need to go to the wilds of Norfolk,” he said. “Mayhap finding shelter at Fermyn will be enough, at least for the time being. But for now… now, we need for everyone to prepare to move out.”
“Wait,” Dessa said. Having stood by and listened to Owen and Cullen surrender to the situation had her on edge. “Why must we leave? Mayhap the mercenaries will not even come to Blackthorn. I do not want to leave, Owen. We have already had to leave Geddington, and now we must leave Blackthorn because Monty says we must?”
By this time, they were attracting quite a group, including Delaine, who hissed at her sister.
“Still your tongue, girl,” she said angrily. “Do you think Owen wants to leave? Of course he does not. But if a thousand mercenaries are going to come pouring through this forest, we would not survive such a thing. You must trust that Owen knows what is best for us.”
Dessa looked at her sister, somewhat contritely, but she didn’t shut her mouth. She had an opinion about this and she was going to be heard.
“Why not stay and fight?” she wanted to know. “Or are we going to run for the rest or our lives? First from Fitz Hammond and now from mercenaries who may or may not come into our forest? I do not want to leave, I say, and I am sure there are many who feel as I do. We should stay and fight.”
Owen frowned at her as if she were being utterly ridiculous, but as the man shook his head and turned away, Cullen stepped forward, facing the young woman. He seemed to remember that shutting Teodora down when she felt strongly about something had never ended well, so he felt some obligation to explain the situation to Dessa.
More and more, she reminded him of Teodora and her bold, unruly ways. When he used to flee from those memories, oddly enough, now he found some comfort in it. He could see that same fighting spirit in a homeless young woman.
“My father is a very great knight who has fought many battles, and I along with him,” he said to her. “I have fought with the greatest knights England has ever seen and I have learned from each and every one of them. Now, I shall pass some of their knowledge on to you. Do you know what makes some of England’s fighting men so great?”
Dessa looked at him for a moment before shaking her head. “Nay,” she said. “But I suppose you are going to tell me.”
Cullen’s lips twitched with a smile. “I am,” he said. “They are great because they know how to fight smartly. That means that they know when the odds are too great. You seem to think that fleeing from a larger army is cowardice, but I am here to tell you it is not. It is the smart thing to do so that you can fight another day. A dead warrior is of no use to anyone and, in this case, your death would be in vain. It would not stop the mercenaries; they would keep going until nothing was left. Alterum diem vivere pugna.”
“What does that mean?”
“Live to fight another day, Lady Dessa. That is the warrior way.”
He made sense but Dessa didn’t want to admit it. She was unhappy about moving from their little village in the forest, a place she was very fond of. She felt useful here and she didn’t want to leave it. But Cullen was speaking to her civilly for the first time in a very long time, not the usually annoyed tone he used with her, and she wished that he would always speak to her this way. Naturally, she succumbed.
It was difficult not to.
“If you say so,” she said reluctantly. “Should my men and I return to the road to see where the army goes?”
Cullen nodded. “Go ahead, but be very careful,” he said. “Return once you know where they have stopped for the night.”
Dessa nodded, motioning to the gang of youths she prowled around with, and they ran off into the darkness, heading back toward the road that was a goodly distance away. The moon was rising, three-quarters in the night sky, so there was some light to move by, but Cullen wasn’t thinking about that.
He was thinking about what needed to be done.
“We should be ready to leave by evening, Owen,” he said to Owen. “I would not chance staying any longer than that. I will spread the word.”
As he turned away, Owen stopped him. “What about Lord Clevedon and his bags of money?” he asked. “Do you still intend to lay a trap for him?”
Cullen nodded, turning to walk backwards even as he walked away from Owen. “Indeed, I do,” he insisted. “My guess is that Lord Clevedon is going to be paying for that mercenary army John has sent to Rockingham. What a pity it would be if the money did not make it and he could not pay his army.”
Owen smirked. “So you intend to deliver a parting shot to John, his mercenaries, and Rockingham?”
Cullen nodded. “If we are being forced to leave, I am going to make it as painful as possible for them.”
“I am not surprised.”
Cullen grinned, turning to face forward as he picked up the pace and began to jog across the clearing, disappearing into the trees to the southeast and in the direction of the hut he shared with the blind old woman who was healthy these days.
But even as Owen turned to his wife, who was still standing beside him, his thoughts lingered on the strong knight he had in his service, but a man who was tortured by the great demons of vengeance. He wasn’t going to let an opportunity to hurt Rockingham slip by, even as the rest of them were fleeing from the great mercenary army. For the man he knew as Monty, he was going to fight until there was nothing left to fight.
What was it he had told Dessa? Live to fight another day?
Owen wondered if Monty would ever take his own advice when it really counted.
He doubted it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Rockingham Castle
“A mercenary army,” Willa muttered fearfully. “The king has come with a mercenary army!”
She probably shouldn’t have said anything given she was helping her mistress dress, and Teodora was edgy enough, but she couldn’t help herself. Outside the walls of Rockingham, an army of hellions had arrived.
John and a dirty, raw, and brutal mercenary army of a thousand men had appeared at sunset, surrounding the eastern walls and gatehouse of Rockingham as they settled in and began to make camp. The inner and outer baileys of Rocking
ham weren’t big enough to accommodate them but, more than that, when de Lara saw all of the thieving, lawless mercenaries, he shut the portcullis and would only allow the king and his advisers in. Everyone else, no matter who they were, was left out.
It was a tense and disturbing situation.
News of the arrival spread quickly to everyone in Rockingham, including Teodora, and she could see the gatehouse from the keep entry. She’d stood there for quite some time, watching de Lara move around in the inner bailey as he monitored the situation. Knowing the man as she did, she could tell simply from his movements that he was edgy, and she saw, clearly, when the king and his advisers entered in a procession of silks and fine weapons.
That was when she had retreated to her chambers.
But it had been to no avail to hide. The king knew she was at Rockingham and, very quickly, the summons for her to join him at supper was delivered. Even now, Teodora stood apprehensively as she dressed, though she tried to pretend otherwise. Willa’s nervous chatter wasn’t helping.
“I am well aware of the mercenary army at our doorstep, Willa,” Teodora finally said as Norma laced up the side of her surcoat, a beautiful garment the color of a sunset-orange sky. “But they are not inside the walls, so take comfort. Hurry, now. Help me finish dressing.”
As Willa grabbed a scarf for her lady’s shoulders, Teodora realized that she was very quickly becoming a quivering wreck. She’d tried so hard to be calm, but it simply wasn’t working. The last time she had seen the king was when he’d tried to assault her, the night that Cullen had burst in and ruined his entire life.
So many feelings were stirring about in her breast – memories of Cullen, of that horrible night, and of the drastic turn her life had taken since then. Teodora was terrified that now that the king was here, he would try to finish what he started and given the fact that she was obviously pregnant with her clothing off, she was afraid he would see her belly if he forced her to submit. Then, her secret would be out.
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