Patrick understood, but now he found himself facing his wife and sisters, who heard the mention of a longship but truly had no idea what anyone was speaking of. Still, he could see the fear beginning to creep onto their features and he sought to clarify before it took over completely.
“The Scots fled not because of the brilliance of the English armies, but because of something else,” he said calmly to the women. “When the fog lifted, it revealed four longships rowing upriver. They were just south of the city when I saw them so they should be fairly close to the castle by now.”
Because he was calm, the women remained moderately calm. Still, they were clearly worried and that was natural. But the fact that the men didn’t seem overly agitated about the situation kept them from growing hysterical.
“I have not sent men to the jetty,” Hector said, referring to the walled and protected jetty on the river that was meant for boats on the river to dock at the castle in safety. “I assume it would be better to keep everyone inside. Until we know their motives, we should keep the castle locked up tightly.”
Patrick nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “Where is my –?”
He was cut off as William entered the keep and the grandchildren began to squeal, running towards him. William bent over to embrace his excited grandchildren and then stood straight, with children still clinging to his legs, to embrace Patrick.
Patrick threw his arms around his father. It was, perhaps, one of the most satisfying embraces of his life, feeling his father alive and warm and well in his arms. It was a huge relief.
“Da,” he breathed. “I am very glad to see that you are well. After I heard that the castle might have been breached, I had my doubts.”
William squeezed his son, finally letting the man go. “It was a very small breach and hardly worthy of note,” he assured him. “In fact, there were so few Scots we had to take turns throwing them off the wall. Very unsatisfying.”
Patrick grinned. “I am glad to hear that,” he said, reaching out to pull Brighton against him. He didn’t want the woman away from him, not even an arm’s length. “It took me nine days to return from London and every second of those days was filled with fear for my family, wondering what I would find when I arrived. I cannot tell you how relieved I am.”
William lifted a dark eyebrow. “Save that relief, lad,” he said. “The Northmen are at our door. We may yet have a bit of trouble today.”
Brighton, who hadn’t quite overcome her great surprise and joy at her husband’s return, was now distracted with talk of longships and Northmen. Patrick had been unruffled about it but William’s comment set doubt in her heart. “Have they truly come?” she asked, looking between Patrick and William. “But I do not understand – why are they here? What do they want?”
Patrick looked down at her, cradled against his torso. He shook his head. “I have not seen Northmen here, ever,” he said. “In fact, I cannot remember hearing of them along these shores during my lifetime. Do you, Da?”
William also shook his head. “Not in my entire life here on the border,” he said. “I have heard of them much further north and I know that some of the outlying islands of Scotland are ruled by Norse princes, but they have not been this far south since I have been alive.”
Patrick thought on the longships that, as he had mentioned, were undoubtedly close to the castle now. “Then mayhap we should go and see what they want,” he said. “It would be the prudent thing to do.”
William agreed. “Indeed,” he said. “But I would have the women and children locked in the keep as a safety measure, not to open the door to anyone but the men they know.”
Patrick looked around at his sisters, his wife. Katheryn was in Alec’s arms and Evelyn was in Hector’s. He could see the fear in the women, the comfort in the men. Then he looked down at Brighton, thinking of the longships and reverting back to the thought he’d had earlier – Magnus.
What if Magnus had come for his daughter? With all of the years that the Norse had stayed away from Berwick, he couldn’t help but feel that all of this was connected. He didn’t know how, or why, but he wasn’t willing to believe this was a coincidence. If it was, indeed, Magnus, and the man had come to collect his daughter, then there was about to be one hell of a fight, worse than anything the Scots could ever throw at them.
Patrick wasn’t about to relinquish his wife, not for anything in the world.
“You will be safe here,” he said, kissing Brighton on the top of the head before letting her go. “We must go and see why our new visitors have come. Listen to what my father said; bolt this door and shutter all of the windows. Do not open anything for anyone you do not know.”
Brighton nodded solemnly, but she was still clinging to his hands. “What will you do?”
He couldn’t help but notice that she still had him in a death grip and he lifted her hands to kiss them. “Whatever I have to do in order to keep you safe.”
Brighton was growing increasingly worried, no matter what he said. “Atty,” she said softly, “do… do you think that this might be Magnus? Would he not come in longships?”
“Possibly.”
“Do you think he was told about me?”
Patrick kissed her hands again and then peeled her fingers off of him. “Even if he was, how would he know where you were?” he said. “I have thought the same thing but there are too many questions and not enough answers. I will go and find out who our visitors are and what they want. Meanwhile, you will stay here. You will not come out of the keep no matter what. Promise?”
Brighton nodded reluctantly. “I promise.”
He winked at her, kissed her, and headed for the door, grabbing at his father as he went. “Come along,” he said to Hector and Alec, still with their wives. “We have an army to greet.”
The men filtered out of the keep, with Hector pausing to ensure the keep entry was shut and properly bolted by the women. When he was satisfied, he ran after the others, who had joined up with the incoming knights at this point. Kieran, Paris, Scott, Troy, and Apollo had entered the vast bailey of Berwick and they met William and Patrick and the others in the middle of the bailey, with hugs and handshakes going all around.
It was a moment of bonding, of reaffirming ties and friendships as one battle passed but another one possibly loomed. These were the actions of men who had faced death and lived to tell the tale, and seeing an unharmed colleague was a welcome sight, indeed. As initial small talk bounced around, Patrick sent a soldier running for his knights. He wanted his men in on any discussions that would take place. Shortly thereafter, he could see his knights heading towards them from different directions – Anson from the Douglas Tower, Colm and Damien from the wall. Now, all of the men were gathered and Patrick held up his hands, emitting a sharp whistle between his teeth to quiet down the throng.
“Gentle knights,” he said, loud enough for all to hear. “There is a great deal to do and little time to accomplish it. It seems that unexpected visitors have arrived and we must ensure that the castle is fortified against them. Anson, you will man the Douglas Tower with as many men as it will hold. I think we have had upwards of three hundred men in it before, so you may take as many men as you need from the incoming army to hold it. Uncle Paris, is that acceptable?”
Paris, standing next to William and listening to Patrick rather proudly, nodded. “It is. Take what you need.”
Patrick continued. “Damien, do the same with the donjon. Fill it with men so that anyone attempting to breach it will not have a chance to enter.” He looked at Colm, Hector, and Apollo, pointing at them. “You three man the walls. Hector, you have command. Fill the battlements with archers and men with long spears. I want projectiles on the walls.”
“Can we use Northwood archers, Papa?” Hector asked his father.
Paris waved him on. “Take them.”
With that matter settled, Patrick turned to the remaining men – Alec, Kieran, Paris, Scott, Troy, and his father. “Alec, I want you and my bro
thers in command of the bailey. See that the men are organized and prepared for anything that might come.” Then, he turned to the three older knights. “You three will come with me. I intend to head down to the jetty where the Northmen are docking. I will greet them personally and I would like you with me.”
Alec spoke out. “Why would you go down to the jetty?” he wanted to know. “We do not know why they are here, Atty. Any minute, screaming barbarians could be streaming from their ships and onto our shores. You would chance being caught in that rush?”
Patrick held up a hand to beg the man’s patience. “I have been thinking about this,” he said. “Truthfully, if they were going to attack us right away, they could have already done it. They could have used the fog to their advantage, docked downriver, and rushed Berwick. But… they did not. No hint of attack at all, which leads me to believe they may not be here simply to fight. It seems to me that their actions have been peaceful until now.”
There was truth to his statement but it was clear some of the other knights didn’t agree. “They could be attempting to lure us out,” Troy suggested, unhappy with his brother risking himself. “I would not go down to the river if I were you.”
Patrick lifted his big shoulders at the man. “So we simply sit here and make no attempt at contact?” he asked. “That makes no sense, Troy. We must discover why they are here. The wall to the jetty is fortified, as are the towers. Unless they want to scale a twenty-foot wall, they cannot climb up to where I am going to be. I will speak to them from the safety of the Water Tower.”
“Patrick is right,” William said, eyeing the dubious collection of knights. “Contact must be made. Moreover, they could have attacked the moment they entered the mouth of the river but they did not. It, therefore, stands to reason that their purpose might not be violence. The only way to find out is to engage in dialogue.”
The great Wolfe had spoken, so the younger knights seemed to lose some of their doubt. Still, there was some lingering concern. “Do they even speak our language, Uncle William?” Apollo asked. “How will they know what is said?”
William shrugged. “A good deal can be said with smiles and gestures.”
“Or swords and fists,” Alec muttered, disgruntled at the whole situation.
Some of the knights chuckled at Alec’s response, including Patrick. “Not to worry, Alec,” Patrick said. “If it seems as if they are aggressive, then I will retreat to the castle and we will lock it up tight. Have faith that I will not do anything foolish.”
There wasn’t much more to say to that. Alec still wasn’t in full agreement with Patrick’s actions but he had the respect not to say so. Damien and Anson began to turn away, to head to the towers they were tasked with protecting, but Patrick stopped them.
“Wait,” he said. He hesitated a moment. “There is something else. As many of you may or may not know, my wife is the bastard of Magnus, King of the Norse. It has occurred to me that somehow, someway, these longships could be related to that. I have no idea how they would even know to come to Berwick or how Magnus even knows he has a bastard daughter, but I must consider the possibility that these Northmen are related to that. I would be remiss if I did not tell you my thoughts on the matter.”
That seemed to put an entirely new light on the situation. It was clear that no one, save Patrick, had really considered that. Standing next to his son, William scratched his chin.
“Not knowing the circumstances of her conception, I cannot comment,” he said. “But as a father myself, I cannot imagine not knowing that I had a child somewhere in this world.”
“Then you believe he knows?” Patrick asked.
William shrugged. “As I said, I do not know the circumstances surrounding her conception,” he said, “but I suppose we shall soon find out what this is all about.”
There was no more reason to speculate now. The time for answers had come. As the knights disbursed to go about their duties, Patrick headed for the Western Tower and its fortified gate that led down a long and protected staircase on top of the wall, which ended up in the Water Tower down next to the river. It was a steep staircase, slippery at times, and Patrick had more than a few men injured on it. Just as they reached the fortified gate, Patrick came to a halt.
“You can see what is happening from here,” he said to his father, Paris, and Kieran. “I will go down alone to see if I can determine why they are here. You three will wait here.”
The three older knights didn’t even respond. Suddenly, they were shoving past Patrick, nearly bowling him out of the way as they began taking the stairs down to the jetty. Patrick was left bringing up the rear, frustrated that the old men would not do as he asked. Truth be told, he had a bit of Alec’s concern in him. What if this was all a trap? If it was, he wanted to be the only one affected by it. He didn’t want his father and uncles involved.
But the old knights had other ideas. They were not about to let him go at it alone.
As the group descended the stairs to the Water Tower, the top of which sat nearly twenty feet above the riverbank, they could see all four longships now neatly arranged along the shore. Men were out of the ships, making sure they were grounded enough so they would not float away on the rise of the tide. It was a very curious sight to see the Northmen walking the shore of the river, shouting to one another in their strange language.
It was also a bit concerning.
When they were about halfway down the stairs, the Northmen began noticing the knights and the shouts grew in earnest. They began pointing at the men upon the wall, and more men came up on the decks of the ships, looking to see what was going on. By the time the knights reached the bottom of the stairs, they paused to simply watch the activity. It seemed as if there was a good deal going on but they couldn’t figure out if it was delight or anger.
“What do you suppose has them so excited?” Paris muttered, leaning in to William. “They are either thrilled to see us or eager to cut our heads off.”
William was baffled by the behavior as well. “They have not produced any weapons,” he said. “As long as they do not, I will assume they are happy to make new friends.”
Paris rolled his eyes, completely in doubt of what William was saying, but he kept his mouth shut. Meanwhile, Patrick pushed through to the front of the group and made his way to the edge of the Water Tower where he could clearly see the shore below. Protected by the parapet, he peered between the crenellations.
“It does not look as if they have brought hundreds of men with them,” he said, scrutinizing the men, the ships, and searching for any concealed weapons. “In fact, it does not look as if there are more than one hundred.”
William, Paris, and Kieran were watching as well. “They could have more men below decks,” Kieran said. “Or there could be more longships coming.”
That was a distinct possibility. They continued watching as several Northmen came towards the Water Tower, a group of them in fact, and William suddenly pointed.
“Look, there,” he said, trying to point but not wanting the Northmen to see it. “See the man in the ecclesiastical robes? They have a monk with them.”
Patrick, Paris, and Kieran all jockeyed for better positions to see what William was talking about and they quite clearly saw a very small man with his hair cut in the tonsure style, wearing rough woolen robes. He was surrounded by Northmen but one man in particular had him by the arm, pulling him towards the tower. As Patrick and the older knights watched curiously, the man thrust the monk to the forefront.
The monk was a tiny and slender man, not particularly old, but frail looking from poor nutrition and, perhaps, a sickening trip across the sea. He seemed to be asking questions of the men around him, evidently quite nervous, until one man thumped him on the shoulder and pointed to the Water Tower where the English were huddled. It was a hint and the monk took it.
“I am Able,” he said, his thin voice quivering as he yelled. “I have been brought to translate for these men who do not speak your lan
guage.”
Patrick looked at his father with great surprise and curiosity before calling back. “Who are they?” he boomed. “Why have they come?”
Overhead, gulls screamed, flying over the riverbanks in search of a meal now that the fog had lifted. But their cries startled the monk. He cringed as the birds flew over before answering.
“I was sent from Coldingham to find the king of the Northmen,” the monk said, wringing his hands and clearly in distress. “I had a missive for Magnus. It took me weeks to travel to the land of the Danes, and many water crossings, but I came to him and gave him the missive from Mother Prioress of Coldingham Priory. But Magnus would not permit me to leave. He said that I must come with him to Berwick to seek his child, a daughter. He has come in search of her. Do you know where I may find her?”
Patrick felt as if he’d been hit by a load of stones, thousands of pounds bearing down on him, crushing his chest, rendering him unable to breathe. He actually stumbled back, against the wall, turning to his father with a look of utter astonishment. He was as pale as the mist that had so recently lifted.
“It is him!” he gasped. “God’s Bones… my suspicions were correct!”
William was only mildly less astonished, his years and experience giving him the ability to be more logical about the situation. Still, he was having difficulty grasping it as well.
Magnus had come!
“Jesus,” he hissed. “’Tis true. My God, how astonishing. The mother prioress sent him word? Why, in God’s name, would she do that if she was in collusion with her brother to murder your wife?”
Patrick didn’t have an answer. Taking a deep breath, he struggled for calm, feeling Paris’ hand on his back in a comforting gesture as he turned to the monk once again.
“Let me understand this plainly,” he called back. “The mother prioress of Coldingham Priory sent you with a missive for Magnus?”
The monk nodded. “It was a missive that told Magnus his daughter was at Berwick and in danger,” he said. “He seeks his daughter and is prepared to pay for her freedom. If you will not accept his money, then he will burn your city and destroy your castle. He has told me to tell you this.”
Nighthawk: Sons of de Wolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 7) Page 34
