The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He was saved by further debate and perhaps failure of his resolve by Kenneth entering the hall. Tate stood up as his knight approached.

  “I have come into possession of some information you might find interesting,” Kenneth told him. “I have sent for Stephen. He should hear this, too.”

  “What is wrong?” Tate demanded softly.

  Kenneth passed a glance at Toby, who was now rising from the bench. Tate caught the implication and turned to his wife.

  “Where are you off to now, sweetheart?” he asked casually.

  Toby stepped over the bench and smoothed out her surcoat. “The store room,” she said. “I need to see the state of our stores. I am sending Althel and his servants to the living chambers above to start cleaning out those rooms. Everything needs to be scrubbed.”

  “Aye, General.”

  She smirked at him and he kissed her on the forehead, sending her along her way. He watched her luscious figure as she went to the corner of the hall where the door was cut into the floor. She lifted the hatch and carefully disappeared down the ladder. When she was out of sight, Tate looked at Kenneth again.

  “What in the hell is going on?” he asked in a low voice.

  Kenneth lifted an eyebrow. “Our spies have located de Roche’s army, camped about six miles to the south.”

  “And?”

  “And they are entrenched into the site. They have even built temporary structures. Our spies seem to think that they are waiting for something.”

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he meant. Tate cocked an eyebrow. “Reinforcements?”

  Kenneth nodded. “Mortimer’s army from Wigmore Castle, perhaps? It would be the most logical assumption. That is where he keeps the bulk of his army.”

  Tate’s mind shuffled through all of the possibilities. As he turned back towards the fire, pensively, Stephen entered the keep and joined the huddle. Kenneth told Stephen what he had just told Tate and the two knights watched their liege closely for his reaction.

  “If that is the case and they are truly waiting for reinforcements, then that puts us in a precarious position,” Tate finally muttered. “Warkworth remains but I would suspect Mortimer would bring twice their numbers. Harbottle is marginally repaired but I do not believe it can withstand an onslaught from a thousand men, which means we either dig in or we flee.” He turned to look at his men. “If Alnwick has not arrived by now, I suspect that they are not coming. Something must have happened to the messenger.”

  Stephen and Kenneth did not disagree. “What would you propose?” Kenneth asked.

  Tate pursed his lips thoughtfully and began to pace. “We need to face the fact that Mortimer has located Edward,” he said. “We no longer have the luxury of traveling incognito. With this threat upon us, we need to make it to a larger fortress that can handle such an assault. Harbottle is not strong enough at the moment.”

  “Where do we go?” Stephen asked.

  “Alnwick. It is the closest and largest.”

  “When?” Stephen asked again.

  “Now,” Tate told them. “We will waste no more time here. And we take Warkworth’s army with us for escort. Ken, you organize the wagons, supplies, weapons, and get Harbottle’s army prepared to move out by dusk. Stephen, you have a plethora of wounded that you must mobilize. I suggest you decide your immediate course of action and get to it. I will deal directly with Warkworth and tell them our plans. By nightfall, this place will be empty.”

  The knights were on the move, a strong sense of urgency filling them. Tate went to the last place he saw his wife, preparing to tell her as gently as he could that their trip to Cartingdon was not to take place. He was dreading her reaction but it could not be helped. He could hear her voice as he descended the ladder into the storage basement.

  It was dark and dank, smelling of dirt. Two torches burned against the south wall, sending black soot to the ceiling. Tate spied Toby standing several feet away, speaking with young Edward. The lad had apparently gone into the basement when Tate had chased him out of the hall and now stood with a large piece of cheese in his hand, his cheeks full to bursting. He looked like a chipmunk. Tate cocked an eyebrow as he walked upon the two, his gaze on the fat-cheeked youth.

  “You are going to choke if you keep eating as you do,” he told him.

  Edward’s answer was to take another bite. He grinned at Toby, who grinned back. Tate rolled his eyes.

  “Enough foolery,” he snapped without force. “Edward, go into the hall and wait for me. I have something very important to speak to you about. Do not wander away; I will be up in a few minutes.”

  Edward’s brow furrowed. “You keep chasing me from room to room.”

  “And I shall be kicking you from room to room if you do not do as I say.”

  Edward made a face but dutifully did as he was told, grumbling all the way. When he was gone, Tate looked to Toby.

  “Now,” he said softly, “I must speak to you.”

  He looked serious and she grew concerned. “What is it?”

  He sighed, trying to put it as delicately as possible. “It appears as if our situation has gone from bad to worse. We think that a massive siege may be imminent and I have ordered Kenneth and Stephen to prepare to move out. We are leaving for a more fortified haven.”

  Her eyes widened. “What has happened?”

  “Nothing as of yet. But the army that attacked us two days ago has made encampment to the south and is just sitting there, waiting. The only reason they would not have disbursed is if they are planning another attack or perhaps waiting for reinforcements before doing so. We will presume it is the latter.”

  Her brow furrowed and she put her hand on his arm. “Where will we go?”

  “To Alnwick,” he replied, putting his hand over hers. “It is about twenty miles away. We can make it there in a few hours at a fast pace.” He rubbed her hand gently. “I am sorry, sweetheart. I know I told you that we could go to Forestburn but I am afraid this latest information will prevent that for the time being. I must get Edward, and you, to safety. Harbottle cannot withstand another siege of large proportions.”

  She looked up at him, her big eyes glittering with a thousand unspoken words. He could read fear, confusion, disappointment, but most of all, she looked sad. The sorrow only increased until she finally lowered her head.

  “I understand,” she said quietly. “When do you think we will be able to return to Forestburn?”

  “I have no way of knowing. As soon as we are able, I promise.”

  She nodded her head, still looking at the ground. Then her head came up slightly. “We…,” she whispered, catching herself and then starting again. “We will have to leave Ailsa here, will we not?”

  It was not a question he had expected. With all of his troubles, he had nearly forgotten about the little girl they had buried two days ago and guilt swept him. He should not have been so insensitive to Toby’s feelings. With a gentle hiss, he pulled her into his big arms.

  “She is safe in the chapel,” he murmured. “No harm will come to her.”

  Toby broke down into more tears, still expelling grief over her little sister. Tate held her tightly.

  “I am sorry,” he murmured. “I have caused you nothing but grief since nearly the moment we met. I am sorry we have to leave your sister here. But it will not be forever.”

  “She will be all alone when we go,” she murmured, knowing it was foolish even as she said it but it was her sorrow speaking.

  “She is not alone,” Tate corrected her gently. “She is in Heaven with your mother and father and, I suspect, a host of other relatives. Perhaps she is even now annoying Red Thor, your Viking forbearer, demanding that he sing the Fairy song.”

  That brought a smile to her lips and she looked up at him. “You are right, of course,” she attempted to wipe her face clean and stop her tears. “I am sorry I am being so foolish. ’Tis just that… well, Ailsa and I have never been separated, not ever. This will be the first
time.”

  He smiled down at her before kissing her on the forehead. “It will not be permanent, I promise,” he said. “Now, I need for you to pack up everything we brought from Forestburn. Can you do that?”

  She nodded, wiping daintily at her nose. “In truth, I have not yet unpacked completely. But I will take Althel with me and make sure everything is packed and ready to leave. What about the stores?”

  “Kenneth has charge of supplies and will make sure the kitchen is cleaned out.” He kissed her forehead. “When you are finished packing, then offer to help Stephen. He has a good deal of wounded to move and could probably use your assistance.”

  Toby nodded, eyeing him as she did so. “Did you talk to Stephen, then?” she asked hesitantly. “He seemed pleasant enough this morning.”

  Tate nodded, taking her elbow and leading her towards the ladder to the upper floor. “All is well.”

  He did not elaborate and she did not press him. He helped her gather her skirts as she headed back up the ladder. Once in the great hall, he took both hands, kissed them, and went on his way. Toby’s gaze lingered on him as he quit the keep, still hardly believing she had married the man and wholly given to daydreaming when there was work to be done. But her daydreams consisted of Ailsa, of Forestburn, and of what the future held for her and Tate. So much in her life had changed over the past few days. She felt as if she was living someone else’s life.

  When Tate had left the keep and all was silent but for the sounds of the bailey coming in through the open door, Toby shook herself of her musings and went in search of Althel. They had work to do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “He is moving his army. Our spies could see great wagons being loaded and the troops being mobilized.” The general’s gaze was on de Roche, hard and questioning. “If he moves his army, we lose the advantage of an attack against a weakened fortress.”

  Hamlin digested this latest information before responding. “What would you have me do? Our numbers are not sufficient to successfully attack again. We will destroy ourselves if we do.”

  “Then perhaps we have enough men to simply keep them on the defensive inside Harbottle,” the general replied. “He cannot move his army if there is another laying siege. That would be suicide.”

  Hamlin shook his head, setting aside his cup of ale. It was his fifth cup in as many hours, whiling away the hours as the thunder above their heads rolled.

  “It would be as if we were fleas attacking a dog,” he said frankly. “We would be annoying but no threat. If he is moving his army, then we must follow him to see where he is going.”

  “Where else would he be going?” the general threw up his hands. “Alnwick is twenty miles from Harbottle. It is a massive fortress. Once he is sealed up in that place, we will never get to Edward.”

  De Roche drew in a long, thoughtful breath. After a pause, he began to pace about pensively. “Where are our spies to the south? Do they know how close Mortimer’s army is?”

  “The last we were told, Mortimer is due sometime on the morrow,” the general replied. “De Lara’s army will have departed long before then.”

  De Roche nodded slowly, still thinking. “Perhaps,” he said meditatively. “But we could move to intercept the army as it moves towards Alnwick.”

  “We are not even sure that is the destination,” the general reminded him.

  “True enough,” de Roche held up a finger. “However, where else would de Lara go? Warkworth is too far and he would not take the army to the seat of his earldom in Carlisle simply for the fact that is too far away over a good deal of treacherous country. So where else would the man go?”

  He had a point. The generals and senior soldiers inside the warm, smelly tent looked to each other, conceding the logic. The old vizier popped and creaked as the tent fell silent. All eyes were on Hamlin as he decided his next calculated move.

  “If de Lara takes the road to Alnwick, he must swing south for a distance before trekking out towards the sea,” he said thoughtfully. “If we send word to Mortimer’s army to move towards Alnwick instead of straight to Harbottle, there is a good chance we can intercept de Lara’s army on the open road. That would be a far better scenario than laying siege to Harbottle again. The odds will be much more in our favor.”

  “You are sure?”

  “Sure enough. We must send word to Mortimer immediately so that he knows to hurry.”

  The general was already calling for a messenger. Orders were relayed and memorized and soon, the man was along his way. Hamlin stood out of the chaos, watching his men make plans for the eventual battle. Unlike a siege, battle on open ground was something of a dance; it had to be carefully choreographed or one might end up attacking one’s own men. De Lara was such a clever battle commander that he could quite possibly make it happen. They would have to be very astute in order to avoid the situation.

  Hamlin would have to anticipate every move.

  “I fear I have made a gross tactical miscalculation.”

  It was mid-afternoon and most of Tate’s army was ready to depart. Hundreds of men filled the bailey of Harbottle and spilled from the gates into the countryside beyond. It was a break in between storms and weak sun shown onto the bailey, struggling to dry up the prolific mud. The army was ready to move out but Tate’s quietly uttered words caught the attention of both Stephen and Kenneth.

  “What miscalculation?” Stephen asked.

  Tate was in full armor, standing upon the battlements, watching his army mingle with Warkworth’s forces. Stephen was already loaded with weapons, his helm atop his head, and Kenneth had enough armor and weapons strapped on to single-handedly conquer half of England. A wicked-looking crossbow lay slung across one of his enormous shoulders. All three men were ready to ride out but Tate’s words gave them pause.

  Tate didn’t reply immediately to Stephen’s query. It was obvious that he was pondering something serious. When he spoke, his focus remained on the bailey below.

  “First of all,” he said softly, “I would apologize for my short-sightedness.”

  Stephen shook his head, perplexed. “For what?”

  Tate took a long breath before turning to his men. “For my mind not being where it should be,” he said quietly. “I have been focused on other things when I should have been focused on our strategy. For every move Mortimer and de Roche make, I must be five steps ahead of them and I fear that I have failed to do that.”

  Kenneth unslung the crossbow from his shoulder and stepped closer, curiosity on his face. “What are you talking about, Tate?”

  Tate’s gaze moved to the army again and beyond that, the Northumberland landscape. He was facing south, studying the storm that was just leaving. Another was following on its heels and he glanced to the east, watching the dark horizon.

  “As I stood here and watched the mobilization, it occurred to me that if we have sent spies out to assess the army to the south, then they most certainly have sent spies to assess our current status as well,” he leaned forward on the parapet. “And, just as we have seen them camped several miles south, they have undoubtedly seen our army preparing to move out.”

  Stephen and Kenneth were following his train of thought, nodding in agreement as he reached the end of his sentence. But then he abruptly stopped and the knights looked at him expectantly.

  “And?” Kenneth pressed.

  Tate turned to look at them. “Think about it,” he hissed. “If Mortimer’s army approaches from the south to reinforce the troops that laid siege to Harbottle two days ago, then what would you, as the commander of Mortimer’s forces, do if you knew that your enemy was about to leave the safe haven of a moderately fortified compound and head onto the open road?”

  Kenneth stared at him. “I would move my army to intercept.”

  “Which is exactly what I suspect Mortimer will do if, in fact, he is close enough.” Tate shook his head. “I should have realized this but I was so concerned with moving Edward and Toby out of a compromised
fortress that it did not occur to me, until now, that Mortimer’s army might be close enough to intercept us before we reach Alnwick. It was stupid and short-sighted of me.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Kenneth asked.

  Tate’s dark eyes were stormy. “We will continue along this path. But if Mortimer engages us on the open road, Edward has a greater chance than ever before of falling into his hands.” He looked between his two knights. “It stands to reason, then, that Edward and the three of us will stay behind as the rest of the army moves to Alnwick.”

  Kenneth cocked an eyebrow as the light of understanding dawned. “A diversion?”

  “A ruse,” Tate confirmed. “Let Mortimer pursue the army while we remain at Harbottle. While Mortimer is distracted with our army, we will move west to Carlisle. I have eight hundred troops stationed there. We will be amply protected.”

  Stephen, listening to the entire exchange, emitted a low whistle. “I refuse to believe that this was not your scheme all along. It is a brilliant plan.”

  Tate gave him a lop-sided smile. “You are too kind, old friend. While I do not regret that I have had a new wife occupying my thoughts, I should have seen the situation clearly enough to realize the long-term implications of exposing our army.”

  Stephen scratched his forehead. “Not to have realized the folly would have been to allow it to proceed until Edward was compromised.”

  Tate merely lifted an eyebrow and moved to the ladder that led down to the bailey. There he would find the Warkworth commander and let the man in on their plans. And then they would remain at Harbottle and wait for the right moment to travel into the west.

  It was, in fact, a brilliant scheme as Stephen had said. Tate only hoped it would work.