Ivy knew her brother had men inside York. Spies. Men who reported back to him and offered up information for a few coins regularly. They would surely tell him if they arrived. But by then, it would be too late. He would have to stop them before they reached the gates. To that end, he and Hollis had been alternating turns to go out on patrol and see how the situation was unfolding.
“I did not hear you get up to hunt this morning,” she said.
“Aye. Got up with Hollis and sent him out on a ride,” he said. “Should be comin’ back with news anytime now.”
Part of her figured the news would be the same as it had been the day before - Castor’s men still patrolling the roads. Ivy was a little frustrated by her brother. All she wanted was a hot bath, a nice meal, and some fresh silks to wear. And Castor was getting in the way of that. It was just one more reason for her to resent him.
Fin pulled one of the sticks of meat off the fire and handed it over to her. She took it with a grateful smile.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Tis nae a rasher of bacon and fresh bread with jam, but it should fill the void in yer belly ‘til we get tae York.”
She gave him a grin. “You will never let me live that down, will you?”
Fin shrugged. “Nay. Probably nae.”
She laughed. “You are a beast.”
Their laughter was interrupted by the sound of a horse approaching. Fin’s hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger, but a moment later, Hollis came around a thick copse of trees. He slid down off his horse and tied it to the picket line, then walked over to them. Fin handed him a skewer of meat, and Hollis tore off a chunk of it, popped it into his mouth and chewed on it. Ivy did not know how he did that because the meat burned her fingers to touch.
Hollis’ face was grim, and his usual jesting demeanor was absent. He had not even looked around for Mira yet. The change in his personality put Ivy on edge because she could tell something was not right. Fin sat down next to her and started tearing strips of meat off his skewer, chewing on them thoughtfully as he studied his friend. She knew he could tell something was wrong as well. But he had not yet said anything. Perhaps he wanted to let Hollis get a little food into his belly first, but the anticipation was killing her.
“What is it, Hollis?” she asked, unable to stand it any longer.
Hollis swallowed what he was eating and then took a long swallow from his waterskin. He gave her a tight smile and looked pensive as if he were afraid of saying what he needed to say in front of her.
“Out with it, mate,” Fin said. “Anythin’ ye need tae say tae me, ye can say in front of her.”
Hollis nodded. “Yer braither… he’s assemblin’ his army.”
Ivy’s eyes widened as she looked at him, unsure that she had heard him correctly. What he said made no sense. Elix did not have an army that could stand up to the forces at York. He knew that.
“Truly?” Fin asked. “He’s goin’ tae march on York?”
Hollis shrugged. “I cannae say yet where they’re marchin’ tae, but he’s puttin’ together a war party, for sure,” he said. “I’d say it’ll take another day or two for him tae be ready tae march. But it’s happenin’.”
“That is insane. He will be wiped out,” Ivy said. “It makes no sense for him to do that.”
“Mebbe his arrogance is gettin’ the better of him,” Hollis said.
“Or mebbe he kens that the Duke already knows of his treachery and wants tae meet him on the battlefield than be cornered in his castle like a rat,” Fin offered. “Mebbe he thinks he can get the drop on York by marchin’ first?”
“My brother is a fool,” Ivy added. “But I did not think he could be that big of a fool.”
“I suppose he thinks he’s got nothin’ tae lose. If he thinks we’ve already made it back tae York and have told the Duke everythin’, all he can dae is fight,” Fin said.
Ivy nodded. His logic made sense. If there was one thing she knew about her brother, it was that he was a proud man. Too proud by half. His pride made him arrogant. Reckless. Stupid.
And if he truly believed they had already gotten to York and had told Duke Hamilton he was the one behind the attempts on his life, it made sense that he would prefer to go down in a fight, rather than wait to be rooted out of Cherrythorn Manor like a weed.
“Makes sense. A cornered rat is goin’ tae bite,” Hollis said.
Fin turned to her. “How many fightin’ men does yer braither have?”
She shook her head. “I do not know for certain,” she replied. “Offhand, I would say a couple hundred, perhaps?”
“York has more than twice that number,” Fin considered. “He’s leadin’ his men straight intae death.”
“Aye,” Hollis agreed. “Unless Elix has some secret weapon we daenae ken about. Dae thae fighters in Elix have some sort of God-given special powers?”
Ivy laughed softly. “Not that I am aware of.”
“So, Castor’s on a suicide mission,” Fin said. “Or he’s so arrogant; he thinks he can beat York, nay matter thae odds.”
“I would imagine it is the latter,” Ivy offered.
“He’s a bleedin’ nutter is what he is,” Hollis said.
“If Castor is goin’ tae be on the march soon, we need tae warn York,” Fin said. “If a fight is comin’, we have preparations tae make.”
“Agreed,” Hollis said.
Fin turned to her. “I need yer help.”
“Anything,” she said. “What can I do?”
“I need ye and Mira tae ride tae Westmarch-”
“Ride to Westmarch?” she growled, cutting him off. “You are sending us away?”
Ivy clenched her jaw and glared at him hard, and Fin let out a deep breath. She was upset and felt like he was treating her like a child, and she did not appreciate it. She knew she was a woman, and as such, he might think her delicate. But she was far stronger and tougher than he apparently thought she was.
“I would have expected my brother to send me away like a child,” she spat. “I honestly believed you thought better of me than that.”
“Are ye finished?”
Ivy pursed her lips and huffed as she folded her arms over her chest, but she nodded.
“Good. Because I’m nae sendin’ ye away like a child,” he explained. “Gettin’ ye tae Westmarch is important and-”
“How is sending me away from the fighting important?”
She watched as Fin clenched his jaw. He drew in a deep breath and let it out again slowly, doing his best to remain calm.
“If ye’d let me finish, I’d tell ye why tis so important ye get to Westmarch.”
“Fine. Finish,” she fumed.
“Because if we’re goin’ tae win this fight, we’re goin’ tae need all the help we can get,” Fin said. “We’re goin’ tae need Col and his fightin’ men down here.”
“But if York has twice the soldiers as my brother, why would you need Col and his men?”
Even Hollis nodded along with her, obviously not understanding Fin’s logic any better than she was. Though she could tell he was frustrated, Fin remained patient and spoke slowly. Calmly.
“Because yer braither is a lot of things,” he said. “But stupid isnae one of them.”
“That might be the only thing you have said in the last few moments that I agree with,” she scoffed.
“Good. I’m glad we agree,” Fin said, rolling his eyes. “What I’m gettin’ at is that I daenae trust yer braither. If he’s marchin’ on York, tis nae because he’s lookin’ tae die. He’s got somethin’ up his sleeve. He’s got a plan. And I think we’re goin’ tae need more men tae counter it.”
Hollis looked at Fin, concern on his face. “Assumin’ Castor goes on the march tomorrow, even if she leaves right now, Col and his men may nae make it back in time.”
“Mebbe not. But we need tae take the chance,” Fin replied, his voice suddenly tight. He turned to Ivy. “With Castor’s eyes on York, the road tae Westmarch should be
clear. Ride like the wind.”
Ivy nodded, finally understanding how important the role she was playing in all of this was. She suddenly felt bad for questioning Fin or thinking he was treating her like a child. She took him by the hand and gave it a squeeze.
“I am sorry I-”
He cut her off by pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. “Ye have nothin’ tae be sorry about,” he said. “Now, go wake Mira and mount up. Ye need tae ride.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Fin
“I seen ‘em with me own bleedin’ eyes,” Hollis said. “Castor Welton’s puttin’ his army together. They’re marchin’ on York and assumin’ he doesnae force ‘em tae march in the dark, he could be on the move as early as the morrow.”
Henry ran a hand through his hair. He looked skeptical, and yet, at the same time, Fin could see a note of alarm in his eyes.
“You say that Elix is marching on York?” Henry asked.
Fin and Hollis nodded. “Tis what we’ve been sayin’.”
“That would be madness.”
“Tis also what we’ve been sayin’,” Hollis said.
“I think that tis madness, aye,” Fin added. “But I also think Castor’s got a plan. There’s more goin’ on than meets the eye and York needs tae be ready.”
“And you are basing this on what?” Henry asked.
“On me instincts,” Fin admitted. “Castor Welton’s nay fool. He’s nae goin’ tae march into yer army kennin’ he’s goin’ tae be cut tae ribbons.”
“And what is it you believe he has planned?”
Fin shook his head. “I daenae. But I’m sure tis somethin’,” he said.
Henry pursed his lips and looked around the bailey, taking in all of the men around him and, no doubt, pondering the idea of what it would take to assemble the army and put York on a war footing. The massive effort alone, when combined with the idea of relying on nothing more than Fin’s instincts seemed to be swaying Henry’s opinion toward mounting a casual defense, rather than a full call up of all of York’s resources.
“Why would Castor Welton march on York to begin with?” Henry asked. “He is in good standing with the Duke-”
“He tried tae murder yer bleedin’ Duke,” Hollis nearly shouted.
“The Irishman in thae dark cells is his man,” Fin said more evenly. “Tis been confirmed by the Lady Welton. The plot tae assassinate Duke Hamilton and Col - Castor’s the one behind it all.”
Despite his words, Fin could see that Henry remained largely unmoved. Perhaps afraid to do the wrong thing. And based on second-hand information that was mostly uncorroborated, some part of him understood. But he was still frustrated by having to try and convince the head of the Duke’s guard that the threat was real, and it was imminent. Fin caught Henry’s gaze and held it firmly, showing the man just how serious he was.
“Would ye rather tell the Duke you planned for an attack and it didnae come,” Fin said. “Or that ye didnae take the threat seriously and did nothin’ as York is overrun?”
“I have a difficult time believing Elix could ever overrun York,” he replied. “I know the number of soldiers he can call on, and it is barely worth calling more than our household guard.”
“Aye. But if I’m right and Castor’s got a nasty surprise for ye…”
“I take your point,” he said, holding up his hand to stop him. “And you are correct. I would rather be overprepared and have it turn out to be for nothing than be caught with my breeches down. The Duke would not be… forgiving.”
Fin did not bother correcting him by saying if he did nothing and let Castor run wild through York, he would not have to worry about the Duke’s temperament because he would likely be dead. Instead, he clapped Henry on the shoulder and nodded.
“Good lad,” he said. “Hollis and I will go and look at the field around us. See if we can plan a few surprises of our own. We may need tae use some of yer builders.”
“Everything will be at your disposal.”
“Thank ye,” he said. “For now, what I need is a scout. I want tae ken where Castor is and when he’ll be here.”
“Done.”
“Good,” Fin said with a nod.
Fin and Hollis turned away, but Henry’s voice stopped them. They turned back, and Henry gave them both a formal bow. He rose and straightened his back.
“I know this is not your fight,” he said. “So, I appreciate what you are doing here. Doing for us.”
Fin gave him a nod. “Tis me duty. Just as doing what yer doin’ is yers,” Fin said. “We’ll get through this. We’ll be all right.”
“Indeed.”
“We’ll check in with ye later.”
And with that, he and Hollis turned and strode across the bailey, heading for the gates to survey the land around the castle. Fin was far from a military tactician, but he had fought in plenty of battles. And he needed to draw on all of that experience right now.
* * * * *
Dawn broke the following morning, the sky an ominous shade of gray overhead. A light sprinkle fell, and a thick fog curled around Fin’s ankles as he surveyed what was going to be their battlefield. They had chosen a spot well away from the castle and the surrounding town, not wanting to risk inflicting damage or unnecessary casualties on the innocent people of York.
Fin, Hollis, Henry, and a team of builders had worked through the night to prepare the field as best they could with what time they had - their scout had returned in the small hours to tell them Castor’s army would be here at daybreak and that it was considerably larger than expected.
Fin cut a glance over his shoulder at the soldiers lined up in precise formation. The sound of horses whickering and the clink of armor as the men adjusted themselves seemed muted. No doubt, the heaviness of the air and the fog that hung over the soon-to-be battlefield helped to muffle it. The faces of the men were strained, pinched, as the world around them seemed to be
“What’s the final count?” Fin asked.
Henry looked back at his men. “Three hundred and twelve.”
His expression was grim, and he was tense. Fin could sympathize. If what the scout reported was accurate, it was York that would be outnumbered nearly two-to-one. And they were on their own. They could not get word to London in time for the Crown to summon their northern forces to aid in defense of York. That would take days they did not have. Not with Castor and his army on their doorstep already.
“What in the bleedin’ hell are the Irish doin’ fightin’ for Castor in the first place?” Hollis grumbled.
“Elix’s gold is as good as anybody’s,” Fin replied.
Hollis grunted, and Henry nodded. It was then that Castor’s forces began to appear, marching over the rise that lay a couple of hundred yards from them. At the head of Elix’s army were the Irish. Nearly four hundred all told. Fin guessed that Castor had cleaned out Elix’s treasury and gone into substantial debt to pay for this mercenary force.
“Bloody hell,” Henry whispered, then turned to Fin. “It appears that you were right, and I owe you an apology for doubting you.”
“Ye summoned yer army anyway. Tis all I can ask for,” he replied, never taking his eyes off Castor’s battle lines. “But it all may be for nothin’.”
“Do not doubt the skill and courage of these fine-”
“Tis nae their skill or courage I doubt,” Fin interrupted. “Tis only thae bleedin’ numbers arrayed against us.”
Henry frowned and seemed to accept the grim reality of the situation before them. Castor had the superior numbers that could not be denied.
“Here he comes,” Hollis noted.
As his forces lined up and got into position, Castor and two of his men rode out for a parley. Fin cut a glance at both Henry and Hollis and nodded. Together, they rode out to meet him. They all stopped at a point midway between the two converging armies. Castor sat high in his saddle, chin up, a smug smile on his face.
“It would seem that I have the numbers today,” he said.
“Who do you think you are, Baron Welton?” Henry demanded. “Why do you march on York? On your Lord, whom you are oathbound to serve?”
“That Lord of yours broke his oath long ago when he bedded and then killed my mother,” Castor spat back.
“Yer mother took her own life,” Fin said. “Killin’ the Duke willnae change that.”
“Perhaps not. But it will make me feel better,” Castor growled. “And when I want the opinion of a brutish Scotsman - a commoner at that - I will ask for it. Until then, you will be silent.”
“Watch your tongue, Welton,” Henry warned. “Finlay is the Duke’s emissary. Any insult to him is the same as an insult to the Duke himself.”
Castor shrugged. “If he chooses to consort with such rabble, so be it,” he said, then turned his eyes to Fin. “I do not suppose you know where my dear sister is, do you, Scotsman?”
A grin pulled a corner of Fin’s mouth upward. “Did ye misplace her?”
Hollis chuckled, earning a dark glower from Castor. Hollis, though, just gave him a wink and a smile.
“Where is Ivy?” Castor snarled.
“She is nae here,” Fin said. “Other than that, I couldnae tell you.”
Castor sighed and looked as if he was struggling to hold his temper in check. Fin could see the muscles in his jaw working as he tried to keep himself under control. He blew out a long breath and looked up at Fin.
“Have it your way. Once I am done with you here, I will be sending my army to Westmarch to deal with that upjumped Scottish rabble once and for all,” Castor said. “I know my sister will be one of two places - here, behind the walls of York or at Westmarch. I will find her, and rest assured, when I do, I will exact my pound of flesh for the inconvenience she has caused me.”
“Ye willnae touch a hair on her head,” Fin growled.
“You poor simple creature,” Castor laughed. “You do not understand. You do not get to have her. You will never get to have her. She has been promised to Baron Weedler of Northwalk already.”
Siren of the Highlands: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance (Highlanders of Cherrythorn) Page 22
