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 realizedthis 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.
*
Another storm hadrolled in by the time Tate’s troops, mingled with Warkworth’s, moved out of Harbottle. This time, however, the rain turned to snow. As the black clouds belched great waves of white powder, Tate, Stephen, Kenneth, Edward and Toby watched the army trickle from the bailey from their posts on the second and third floors of the keep. Tate deliberately had his soldiers remove any hint of de Lara colors so that any onlookers would not be able to identify de Lara men from Warkworth men. Warkworth knights rode up at the front of the column, specifically in groups of three. That was because Mortimer’s men would be looking for de Lara plus St. Héver and Pembury. Groups of three knights would confuse them even more.
Wallace, Althel and four men at arms, including the seasoned Morley and Oscar, had also stayed behind. The men at arms were in the great hall below while the others made their way between floors, making sure to stay clear of the windows in case they were spotted by anyone who might be peering at the castle. For all intents and purposes, the castle must be deserted. Tate arranged to have a provision wagon and seven horses left about a mile north of the castle, to be collected by Tate and his party when they determined the time was right to flee the keep. Now they would wait for the cover of darkness.
Toby had been lingering in the master’s chamber, sitting in a chair next to the hearth that they had let die. There was to be no smoke from the fires to give away their presence. Wrapped in the only cloak she had brought from Forestburn, she sat and listened to Tate converse quietly with Stephen. Kenneth was downstairs, watching the landscape from his post in the solar,and young Edward was with him. Dusk was upon them, made even darker with the storm.
At some point, Stephen left Tate to see to things downstairs. Tate remained by the window as the snow blew in, hitting him in the face as wind whipped it into whirlpools in the bailey below. He could see nothing in the fields beyond Harbottle and only a faint line in the distance as his army faded into the night. He knew they were being watched by enemy eyes and his senses were highly attuned.
As Tate watched the nightscape, Toby watched her husband. She inspected the broad lines of his body and felt the power that seemed to radiate from him. It was like the first time she had ever seen him, when the man was in pure battle mode. She was apprehensive but would not let him know; he was edgy enough and she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to distract him. So she amused herself with a stick, using the ashes in the hearth as a drawing board. She drew flowers and birds and animals with no distinct shape. When she tired of her drawings, she would erase them and start again. It was a process that had been going on for hours.
