Startled, she grabbed a staff with a very sharp point and hastened down the stairs. By the time she reached the bottom, she could see a man in mail climbing through a solar window. The shutters lay in pieces on the ground, having been shattered by the morning star that the soldier was carrying in one hand. Without delay, Toby leveled the staff and charged at the man with all her might.
The soldier wasn’t quite through the window and unable to defend himself as she rammed the spear tip into his shoulder. He screamed and lost his grip on the windowsill, tumbling two stories to the bailey below. Terrified, Toby jammed the staff at the next man on the ladder and stabbed him in the eye. He fellback on his comrades and the entire line of soldiers climbing the ladder tumbled to the ground.
Toby was in survival mode; nothing mattered but preserving her life and the lives of the men inside the keep. She grabbed the edge of the ladder and struggled to push it away, only to notice that below her, Tate had a hold of the ladder and yanked so hard that he almost pulled her from the window. The ladder crashed and splintered. Toby looked down at Tate just as he looked up at her. Their eyes met and Toby felt a strong sense of joy at seeing him alive.
“Are you all right?” she yelled down at him.
He gazed up at her, the visor of his helm lifted, and smiled wearily. “Now that I have seen you, I can move mountains,” he called up to her. “Are you well?”
Exhausted but elated, she met his smile. Her cheeks were flushed with fear, giving her a delightfully rosy appearance. “I am fine,” she replied. “Are we winning this battle, then?”
He gestured towards the gates, now breached and burning. “Warkworth has been sighted on the horizon. We should be done with this in short time.”
Toby felt a distinct sense of relief at the news. “Where is your squire?” she wanted to know.
“Safe,” was all he said. Then he blew a kiss at her. “Go back inside. It should not be long now.”
She nodded, but not before saying what was foremost on her mind. “Please take care.”
He winked at her and trudged off, slugging a man in the face that came at him. Toby watched him slog off across the bailey, now muddy with blood from all of the wounded men. It was a grim and horrible sight. She watched him until he disappeared behind a group of fighting men before pulling herself inside and settling, once more, against the solar wall. But the staff wasin her hand, waiting for the next fool to try and breach her sanctuary. She wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.
CHAPTER NINE
Hamlin de Roche’sforces had been forced to regroup when reinforcements from Warkworth arrived. De Roche recognized the colors and knew that they were outnumbered by the fresh army. His men had been fighting almost a full day and night. He may have been a ruthless man, but he was not stupid. He knew when to quit. As soon as Warkworth drew near, he gave the order to retreat and his men fled to the south.
Warkworth gave chase for several miles, managing to kill a good many of them as they fled. The fresh army simply overwhelmed them. But soon enough, they drew back as de Roche’s army continued on. After several more miles of running, they finally regrouped near the small town of Hesleyside.
Baron Keilder from Keilder Castle had been the one to supply troops to de Roche so he could move on Harbottle. Many of Keilder’s men trickled back home, but about one hundred remained encamped with de Roche and his generals. Fires had been lit and tents pitched. Hamlin and his men took rest and food in a larger tent, reviewing the battle and plotting their next move. As the wind blew and a rain storm moved through the area, the men around the crackling fire conspired.
“Now that we know where the king is, we can assemble an even larger force and attack,” an old general who had servedWarwick was resolute. “Harbottle was greatly compromised during the siege.”
Hamlin chewed on his bread wearily, gazing into the flicker of the fire. “They will move him,” he replied. “Dragonblade is no fool. If we return to Harbottle, Edward will not be there. They will take him someplace far more fortified.”
“Then we must strike again,” the general asserted, “before they can move the boy.”
“With Warkworth’s troops occupying the place?” Hamlin shook his head. “It would be foolish. We do not have the strength of numbers now. But we will.”
The men around the fire looked curiously at Hamlin; they were all seasoned men, having served kings and kingmakers in their time. Many of them had served Longshanks and viewed his grandson with the same fear that they had felt for Edward the Second. Like father, like son.
“Be plain,” one man, a balding advisor, demanded softly. “What do you mean?”
Hamlin swallowed his bread. “Mortimer is on the march,” he said quietly. He looked to the men, noting their confusion, and proceeded to explain. “When it was clear we were on young Edward’s trail, I sent word to him. He has known our every move for quite some time. We used Keilder’s men to attempt to breach Harbottle because it was the fastest solution at the time. I did not want to lose the opportunity. Even as we speak, Mortimer himself rides from Wigmore. He is determined to capture the king once and for all.”
“But de Lara has other plans,” the old general spoke again. “The man is cunning and powerful. I do not take opposition to him lightly.”
De Roche nodded slowly. “He is his father’s son,” he muttered. “And, no doubt, he has more reinforcements arrivingto Harbottle. Antony Bec’s thousands from Alnwick Castle cannot be far behind Baron Warkworth’s troops.”
“So what do we do?” the old general demanded.
Hamlin was staring into the flames, thinking of how close he had come to young Edward at the manse back in Cartingdon. All that had stood between him and victory was a lovely lady. He cursed the woman for her bravery, furious and admiring it at the same time. He vowed not to make the same mistake twice; next time he had Edward in his grasp, he was going to snatch him.
“We will continue to watch de Lara,” he said. “We wait and we watch. There will be another opportunity to capture Edward. But brute force is not the answer right now. Until Mortimer arrives, we will plan something more… cunning.”
“Against de Lara?” the general snorted. “Best of luck, my friend.”
Hamlin lifted an eyebrow at the man, seeing his humor. “We may call him Dragonblade, but the truth is that de Lara is human with human weaknesses,” Hamlin looked back to the fire. “All we need do is exploit his weakness and Edward will be ours.”
“How do we find de Lara’s weakness?”
