Hamlin wasn’t sure at the moment. But he was determined to find out.
*
Warkworth’s army madeshort work of the forces that Mortimer managed to assemble. They had given chase for several miles, finally allowing whatever remained of the force to continue running, before returning to the castle. Harbottle was burning and disheveled, but the keep had held. Now it would be a matter of shoring up the main gates to re-secure the bailey.
Tate had decided that the men should rest the night before beginning reconstruction. Mortimer’s forces had beendecimated and he rightly assumed that they would not regroup for a second attack too soon. So Warkworth’s army pitched camp in and around the walls of Harbottle while several of the men went to work rebuilding the stairs that had burned. Until they had the stairs reconstructed, the keep was cut off from the ward and Tate was anxious to get inside; visions of Toby filled him until he could hardly stand the thought of being kept from her. He had to get to her, to touch her, and make sure that she was indeed all right.
Kenneth and Wallace were among the men working on rebuilding the stairs. They were going for the simplest design at the moment, something that wouldn’t take too long to build but would be sturdy enough. Tate could hear Wallace yelling at the soldiers building the steps, telling them that they weren’t doing good enough work. Then he would jump in and hammer out the iron nails himself. In the meantime, Tate stood below the keep entry, watching the activity and pondering future plans. He was in the process of determining the best course of action when young Edward marched up to him.
The lad was furious, that much was clear. He stomped up to Tate and practically threw a ring of heavy iron keys at him. Tate caught it deftly, eyeing Edward and knowing why the lad was so angry. But he didn’t particularly care.
“There,” Edward snapped as he tossed the keys to Tate. “Keep your stupid keys. And next time, do not think I will surrender to you so easily.”
Tate remained patient. “I told you many times that the safest place for you was to lock yourself up in the vault and keep the key,” he said steadily. “I was correct, was I not? They made it into the vault but were unable to reach you because you held the key. There was no way for them to take down the iron bars.”
The boy was livid. “I could have fought them.”
“And you could have died.”
He pursed his lips, unable to think of a reply that would be stronger than Tate’s argument. Still, he wasn’t finished with him. “I looked like a coward, hiding in the vault.”
“It saved your life. What are you complaining about? I’m sure there will be other opportunities to prove your worth with a sword, Edward. But right now, you are going to have to trust me to keep you safe.”
Edward huffed and fidgeted and made faces, indicative of his anger. But he knew, deep down, that his uncle was correct. Locking himself in the vault had saved his life. Whether by hook or by crook, that was what Tate had been attempting to do for the better part of two years. So far, he’d done a good job. Still, at fourteen, Edward thought himself quite the grown man and silently vowed that the next time he would determine what was best for himself. Not Tate. Well… maybe.
Attention was taken away from his temper tantrum when the door to the keep overhead shifted and creaked open. Tate and Edward looked up to see the panel opening wide to reveal Toby and Althel.
It had taken them a while to get the door open because the old iron pin locking the bolt had been jammed. With some grease, they had finally managed to get it off. Toby stood for a moment in the doorway, surveying the destruction below with some awe; everything was in ruins, shattered or burnt. The healthy men were moving the dead into a pile near the gate house while the wounded were being put near the kitchens. Stephen, no longer obligated to fight, had his hands full with all of the wounded.
As she looked about, her gaze came to rest directly below and she saw Tate gazing up at her. Their eyes locked and she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips. It was relief, joy and comfort all rolled into one. As the night wind blew her hair across her face, she knelt down, her gaze riveted to Tate.
“I see that you are still in one piece,” she said. “I had my doubts.”
Tate just took a moment to drink in the sight of her. “Never doubt me,” he told her. “You would be wrong.”
She laughed softly, noticing that Edward was looking up at her as well. “I see that you survived, sire,” she said. “I am pleased.”
It was far different from the woman who had wept and ranted two days before. She looked composed and strong. Edward wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
“Thank you,” he replied hesitantly. “I… are… are you all right in there? I can come up to help if you need…?”
Toby shook her head. “We have made do,” she said, then she looked over her shoulder briefly before turning back to the men below. “Althel has made some soup. He is trying to find some rope so that we can lower the pot down.”
Tate was still looking at her as if unable to move his eyes off of her. “That was generous of you,” he said. “Have you fed the wounded?”
“We have.”
“What is the tally?”
Her smile faded somewhat. “Twenty nine injured and eleven dead. I should like to remove the dead as quickly as possible. They are beginning to smell.”
Tate nodded, looking a few feet away to where they were reconstructing the stairs. “It should be an hour or so and we’ll have access to do that. In the meanwhile.…”
He suddenly began looking around as if hunting for something. Toby didn’t know how he did it, but as she watched, he collected two pieces of a broken ladder, somehow put them together, and climbed his way up the side of the keep to the open door. Before she realized it, he was standing in front of her.
All Toby could do was stare at him, a smile on her lips and her hands trembling with the thrill of seeing him in the flesh before her. She was so very glad to see that he was unharmed; more than that, he looked positively healthy. Other than the fact he was covered in dirt and sweat, he looked wonderful. She didn’t even see any wounds on him; not a nick.
She hadn’t realized that she was backing away from him as he moved closer. As she bumped against a wall, she found herself riveted to his storm cloud eyes, seeing emotions reflected in the dark depths that were puzzling and new. Her heart was beating so fast that it ached.
