He would…
Even though she’d known him her entire life, meeting him today was like meeting someone she’d never known before. The young Edward and the mature Edward were two different people, a young boy versus a man who was seasoned, accomplished, and honorable. As a member of the de Wolfe family, he shared in a reputation that was one of the very best in all of England, and as a member of Edward’s court, he had established his own solid reputation and grandeur.
He wasn’t anything like that serious boy she used to torment.
Edward had grown up.
Down below, the women could hear fighting again as more Scots rushed onto the paved courtyard, only to be met by de Wolfe and de Norville knights. It was apparent that they were protecting the access points to the keep, and as the women jockeyed for position to watch what was unfolding below, Cassiopeia had an idea. It was probably a foolish one, but an idea nonetheless. She grabbed Penelope and pulled the young woman away from the windows, away from the others.
“Do you know this place very well, Penny?” Cassiopeia whispered quickly. “What I mean to say is that I heard Lord de Royans speak about how the keep was self-sufficient in the case of a siege and he spoke of the defensive features. Do you remember that?”
Penelope nodded firmly. “I do,” she said. “So much of The Lyceum is both well and poorly thought out when it comes to the defense of the place. I have heard my father speaking of it before.”
Cassiopeia was hesitant to continue because she didn’t want to sound like an idiot, but in case Penelope thought it was also a good idea, she came right out with it.
“Your father told you to find any weapon you could to defend the women of the keep,” she said. “I heard him. I also heard you ask Lady de Royans if there were weapons in the keep and, somewhere, you found the sword in your hand.”
She was pointing to the heavy weapon that Penelope was holding, one she’d found somewhere when the stairwells were first locked up. Penelope looked at the sword in her grip.
“There is a small armory up on the roof,” she said. “It is small, but there are weapons there. My father did not know that when he told me to hunt for a fire poker, but Lady de Royans knew.”
“What other weapons are there?”
“I saw more swords, a few pikes.”
“Are there any crossbows?”
Penelope stared at her for a moment before her eyes widened in realization. “Aye,” she hissed. “Those Scots out in the courtyard…”
Cassiopeia finished for her. “We can shoot them from the windows.”
Penelope’s mouth popped open. “I am ashamed that I did not think of it before,” she said excitedly. “But… surely you do not know how to use one, Cassie?”
Cassiopeia cast her a long glance. “There was a knight I was fond of once,” she said. “He was quite good with a crossbow and in order to come to know him, I asked him to teach me.”
“And?”
“And I became better than he was, so he refused to talk to me ever again.”
Penelope burst out laughing. “It is his loss,” she said, reaching out to grab Cassiopeia by the wrist. “Come with me.”
Cassiopeia ran after Penelope as the young woman took those narrow spiral stairs all the way to the roof. The heavy door opened to the platform on the roof and they were greeted by a clear night and the brilliant moon. It seemed beautiful and peaceful until one remembered what was going on down below. Penelope ran over to a small alcove that had a door on it and she yanked it open to reveal the weapons she’d told Cassiopeia about, including four crossbows and several bolts, or arrows, that were metal-tipped.
There were probably ten bolts in all, and then three more that Penelope found that had somehow rolled away and were beneath the pikes. She pulled all of the bolts out as Cassiopeia inspected two of the crossbows.
“Good,” she said. “They have a lever to draw back the cord. That means we do not need a hook to pull back the bow string.”
Penelope nodded, quickly looking over the crossbows. “There is longbow in the armory, too,” she said. “But I do not see any arrows for it.”
Cassiopeia handed one of the crossbows to Penelope. “Then let us be true with our aim on these,” she said. “I do not like the idea of my father or brothers fighting off a horde of Scots who want to get their hands on poor Alys. And her husband is fighting them off, too.”
Penelope deftly handled the crossbow. “Then let us help if we can,” she said. “Hurry, now. We must get back to the windows.”
Cassiopeia collected her skirt with one hand, trying to hold it up and hold the crossbow as she made it down the narrow stairs and onto the level where the women were huddled. They pushed through a crowd of ladies, including Alys and her mother, Alyx, as they made their way back to the catwalk where their family members were still watching from the windows.
But the women from the chambers had followed them, curious to see what they were up to. Alys was the first one to voice that curiosity.
“Cassie?” she asked fearfully. “What are you and Penny going to do?”
Cassiopeia realized she wasn’t tall enough to adequately stand in the window and aim with accuracy. “We are going to help the men by shooting down any Scotsman who comes close to the keep,” she said quickly. “Alys, we need something to stand on. A stool or a chair. Can you find two of them? Quickly, please. There is no time to waste.”
Alys may have been timid and fearful about what was going on, but she did as she was told. Women who heard the request began to scramble, including Rhoswyn, who came to look over Penelope’s crossbow.
“Where did ye find that?” she demanded.
Penelope pointed to the stairwell. “Up in the armory on the roof,” she said. “There are two more, Rhos. You can use one, can’t you?”
“I was born with one in my hand, lass.”
“Then go get one. And hurry!”
Rhoswyn was off, rushing to the stairwell as a few of the women brought over a couple of stools they’d found. Both were sturdy, three-legged stools, used as seats or as footrests. Cassiopeia put one next to the window she and her mother had been standing by and climbed onto it.
The level was perfect.
As Penelope climbed on her stool and situated herself, Cassiopeia cocked the draw string on the crossbow with the metal lever built into it. The bolt slipped down into the groove, ready to fire, and she lifted the weapon, bracing herself against the thick stone wall of the windowsill so she wouldn’t be launched off her stool when she released the bolt. Both she and Penelope settled in, taking aim at a fairly good skirmish that was going on in the courtyard below.
Hell was about to rain down from above.
“Be careful, Cassie,” Penelope warned. “I see my father and your brothers out there. Do not hit the wrong man.”
Cassiopeia could see that. There were pockets of fighting more than there was one big battle, but she could clearly see her brother, Hector, as he fought off two Scotsmen who were intent to do him harm. Furious that the Scots should attack her sweet oldest brother, and fearful for his life, she took aim at one of the Scotsmen, waiting for a good angle.
It wasn’t long in coming.
In the shuffle, the Scotsman moved so that he was perfectly presented as a target and Cassiopeia let the bolt fly. It had quite a kick, and she grunted as the impact shook her, but the bolt sailed right into the Scotsman, hitting him in the top of the shoulder. As he went down, screaming, Penelope released her arrow at a Scotsman who was trying to do her brother, Thomas, great bodily harm.
She caught the Scotsman in the chest.
As the men hit the ground, dead or dying, the knights turned to the keep in shock to see small figures in the windows overhead. They couldn’t see who was firing but they wrongly assumed it was the soldiers they’d left to protect the women. Now, with support from above, they returned to the fighting with renewed vigor.
Cassiopeia was the first one to reload, although it took great effor
t, and she fired off another bolt at a Scotsman who was just entering the courtyard from the area back by the stables. It caught him in the hip and down he went. Penelope, who had quickly reloaded right behind her, took aim at a Scotsman who was now looking up at the keep with great confusion.
She aimed for his head and that was what she hit.
As a fourth victim teetered over, a bolt through the cheek, the Scots around them were seeing that arrows were now flying from the keep and they began to back off, fearful of being hit. Not all of them moved, however, and when Rhoswyn finally joined Cassiopeia and Penelope, she was able to take out two more men before the rush of Scotsmen began to back away, out of the range of the arrows.
There was another catwalk on the western side of the keep, the one that faced the gatehouse. Once the women saw that the Scots were starting to back off from the paved courtyard, they raced for the other catwalk, helped by several women who carried bolts and the stools, helping them get everything placed so they could climb up on them and take aim at the invaders.
Unfortunately, they were down six bolts, with only seven left, so the targets were chosen carefully on this side and could only be in the inner bailey. It was too dark and there were too many men in the outer bailey to be effective, so the three women took careful aim at their targets, hitting four out of five, but the sailing of arrows was enough to send the Scots rushing back into The Lyceum army in the outer bailey, who began to seriously cut them down.
And that was when Cassiopeia saw Edward.
He was by the inner gatehouse, trading sword blows with a Scotsman who also had a short sword. With one of the last two precious bolts, Cassiopeia loaded up and took careful aim, following the pair who were pounding on each other. Edward wore no armor, and neither did the Scotsman, but the Scotsman was bigger than Edward and fairly strong.
It was a brutal battle.
Fists were flying as well as the swords, and when Edward took a step back to avoid a fist that came at him right after a sword thrust, he took a bad step and stumbled. The Scotsman took advantage by kicking Edward in the knee, causing the man to fall back onto his hip. As he raised his sword to bring it down on Edward’s head, Cassiopeia let the bolt fly.
It hit the Scotsman in the side of the torso, sending him toppling over onto his side.
Edward leapt to his feet with catlike agility, eyeing his mortally wounded opponent before looking up to the keep with astonishment, seeing a dozen faces looking down through the windows. Penelope waved at him as Cassiopeia watched, and Edward did nothing more than turn away and head to the outer bailey.
No acknowledgement, no thanks.
“Ye did fine, lass.” Jordan was standing with Cassiopeia and had seen her son turn away from the keep ungratefully. “If we had more bolts, we would show the Kerr a thing or two.”
“They seem to be retreating, Mama,” Penelope said from the other window. “Can you see them? They seem to be running away and the fighting has lessened.”
The older women were straining to look through the windows now, seeing that the enemy was retreating away from the keep now that they knew arrows were flying from the windows. The Scots were angry, but they weren’t stupid. They fell back into the outer bailey where The Lyceum army was making short work of those who weren’t running away. The knights who had been protecting the keep were filtering into the outer bailey, too, and they must have felt confident enough to do it because the inner gatehouse portcullis closed behind them.
The battle was dwindling, indeed.
Jordan turned away from the window, seeking out Lady de Royans.
“It looks as if things are dyin’ down,” she said to the woman, “but it may take hours before the men feel safe enough tae let us return tae the hall. There are undoubtedly wounded and a few of us can tend tae them, but I would suggest the rest of the ladies retire for the night. I dinna believe there will be much celebration left after this.”
Alyx, Lady de Royans, wasn’t unreasonable. On the contrary, she was sensible and intelligent. She looked to her daughter, who was clinging to her, to see that the girl was tearing up because her wedding celebration had been ruined. She patted her daughter on the cheek.
“We’ll celebrate tomorrow, love,” she told the girl. “Or we’ll have a big party when the weather grows warmer and invite everyone. Would you like that?”
Alys was wiping the tears from her eyes. “But tonight was supposed to be my celebration,” she sniffed. “And what happened? The stupid Scots attacked our home and now my husband is out there, fighting them. I do not even know if he has been injured!”
Alys was young and dramatic, although she had every reason to be dramatic this night. Her mother cast Jordan a knowing look as she put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and turned her around.
“Come along,” she said quietly. “I will tend to you while Lady de Wolfe will be gracious enough to tend to the wounded. We are very fortunate to have such family and friends.”
As Alys burst into quiet tears as her mother led her away, Cassiopeia came to stand between Jordan and Caladora, watching Alys as the girl walked away.
“Poor Alys,” she said softly. “If the Scots attacked me upon my wedding celebration, I would be so angry that I would run out there and fight them myself.”
Caladora turned to her daughter and put a finger on the crossbow still in her hands. “Ye did that and it wasna even yer own fight,” she said, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “I had no idea ye learned such skills in London.”
Cassiopeia fought off a grin. “As I told Penny, there was a certain knight I was fond of and I asked him to teach me how to use a crossbow.”
“And he did, did he?”
“She was better with it than he was!” Penelope declared, laughing when Cassiopeia flushed. “You saw how skilled she was with it. I cannot wait to tell Papa!”
With that, she tugged on Cassiopeia and the pair returned to the windows, watching the activity from above and prepared to launch bolts again even though they only had one left between the three of them. Rhoswyn was still there, watching vigilantly for Troy, and the older women left the younger women at the windows as they went about to prepare for the inevitable wounded.
The excitement for the night seemed to be over, so they hoped.
It was an unfortunate ending to what had been a lovely evening.
CHAPTER SIX
As the first rays of dawn licked against the cold stone of The Lyceum’s keep, the soldiers inside the hall finally opened the doors to welcome the new day.
The battle was finally over. Edward was standing with Patrick and James in quiet conversation as the doors were pulled open wide and men began flooding in as women stood there anxiously, looking for their loved one. As the brothers watched, their father and mother came together in a tender embrace, something they, as children, had seen from their parents a thousand times over.
William and Jordan loved one another deeply and that was evident in everything they did. There was no greater love story anywhere on the borders, and it was something the children of William and Jordan strived to achieve themselves.
Patrick and James eventually broke away from Edward to greet their wives, adoring women who were adored in return. Patrick, as tall as he was, embraced his wife, Brighton, but her head only came to his sternum. Scott and Avrielle were reunited, and James and Rose came together in a passionate embrace. Troy and Rhoswyn found each other somewhere in the crowd of people, and it was a sweet reunion, indeed.
The relief, the gratitude of a battle well-ended, was palpable.
Edward watched the reunions, feeling those odd pangs of loneliness again. He had no one to embrace, something that had never bothered him until arriving at The Lyceum. It was strange, really, but not so strange considering he was surrounded by his parents, his brothers and sisters, all of whom had married for love. That kind of happiness was everywhere, something he couldn’t escape, so perhaps that was why he felt those things so strongly.
He didn’t like the feeling.
The sun was just starting to rise on the eastern horizon as he stood there, feeling a body come up alongside him. He turned to see Thomas, a burly young knight with a big gash on his cheek. Edward peered at it.
“You had better have Mother examine that,” he said. “It may need some stitching.”
Thomas gingerly fingered the wound. “She’ll douse it with wine and stick needles in me,” he said unhappily. “Is it so bad?”
“I would have her tend to it. How did it happen?”
Thomas glanced up at the keep. “Whoever was firing those bolts grazed me. But at least it hit the man I was fighting with.”
“Kill him?”
“Aye.”
Edward nodded, giving Thomas a shove towards the keep so the man would find some attention for his gash. But the way Thomas was begrudgingly moving made Edward grin, watching as his little brother walked sideways mostly, any direction but forward, unhappy at the prospect of his mother “sticking needles” in him.
But Edward’s smile soon faded.
Looking around at the mild destruction and few wounded, he couldn’t help but think that this was all his fault. He thought he was so clever in the way he’d negotiated with Niven Kerr, but the truth was that he’d failed. All around him was his failure. He didn’t want to go into the keep with the others. He wanted to find Torston and apologize for what he’d done. Surely this was God’s punishment for the third leg lie. There could be no other explanation.
Turning away from the keep, he went to find the man.
As Edward headed towards the inner gatehouse, he was met by Daniel, who was coming in from the outer bailey. Daniel smiled weakly at him when their eyes met.
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