Toby wasn’t particularly shocked by his statement. She had seen Stephen wrapping the ribs of men wounded in the siege and those men had been naked from the waist up. While Kenneth very gently helped her sit, she and Timothy managed to remove her cloak and surcoat. She was in so much pain that she could do nothing more than lean against Kenneth as Timothy tightly wrapped the linen around her torso. Although it hurt tremendously, it also felt strangely better. By the time the physic was finished, she was exhausted with stress and pain and Kenneth lay her gently back down on the pallet. Timothy helped her to drink a strong willow bark potion and quite soon, she drifted off into a heavy sleep.
Kenneth sat near her head as the physic packed his medicaments back into his big bag. “I will return in a short while,” he said. “If she awakens, do not let her move around overly. She must be still for the next few days.”
Kenneth nodded as Timothy quit the tent. When all was still and quiet, his gaze drifted to Toby and thoughts of Tate inevitably followed. He wondered if his liege had indeed made it to Carlisle Castle and how long it would be before the man was at Mortimer’s doorstep. He knew for a fact that Tate would not let Toby’s captivity go unanswered. But the method in which the man chose to respond was the question; knowing Tate and his connections, an army of unfathomable proportions was not out of the question and Mortimer might find himself seriouslyoverwhelmed. Mortimer, however, held the advantage no matter how large of an army Tate assembled; he held Toby.
Kenneth lay down between Toby and the tent entry, thinking he should probably get some rest. But he spent the next hour staring up at the ceiling, wondering what course their lives would take in the next few days. He wondered if he would be strong enough to endure it.
*
Tate had Edwardand, at the moment, that was all he was concerned with. He didn’t even bother trying to fight de Roche and his men when they surprised them just outside of the postern gate. All he could think of was getting clear of the skirmish. To stay and fight, when he was clearly outnumbered, was not the wiser choice. He had to run.
So they fled through the woods as de Roche and his men tried to pursue, being seriously hampered by Stephen, Wallace and the four men at arms. It was a blessing that the snow and trees slowed the pursuit, as Tate and Edward were on foot. It had been tricky to cross the frozen River Coquet, which bordered the northern edge of the castle, but they had used the old footbridge and then dislodged one end of it when they were across. As the bridge collapsed and floated away, they tore through the snowy foliage until they came to the horses and wagon that had been left for them. Each man had grabbed a horse and sped away.
Edward kept tight pace behind Tate as they tore through the forest. Since the bridge was gone, they did not expect pursuers but kept up a fast pace. Tate fleetingly wondered what would become of Stephen and the others, with no way across the river to their mounts, but he had to put that thought from his mind. Unless the man was dead or dying, Stephen would find his wayto Carlisle Castle and Tate fully expected to see him there in a few days. He was too strong to fail.
The journey to Carlisle would be a difficult one. It would take them at least two days but with the snow and bad weather, perhaps longer. Tate’s thoughts inevitably moved to Toby, wondering where she was and praying that she was well. He trusted Kenneth and knew the man would do all in his power to keep her safe, but he could not help himself from worrying to the point of being overwhelmed by it. Now that he and Edward were away and presumably safe, his mind was occupied with thoughts of his wife. Although he had only known the woman a week, he felt as if she had been with him his entire life. No greater bond nor love nor admiration could he have felt for her had he known her for a thousand years. He was desperate to see her safe, to hold her and to tell her how much he loved her. He could think of nothing else.
As the snowfall eased and the clouds began to clear, the moon soon emerged to bathe the land in its eerie white light. Tate and Edward pushed on into the night, determined to put as much distance as they could between them and de Roche, waiting for the day to dawn in the hopes that it would bring good news and a brighter outlook.
In hindsight, if he had known at that moment what he would later come to discover, he would have sent Edward on alone to Carlisle and turned his horse for Mortimer’s camp. But when he and Edward finally reached Carlisle Castle on the morning of the third day and found themselves quite alone but for eight hundred troops, he spent two additional days not eating and not sleeping, waiting for any sign of Toby and Kenneth.
On the sixth day since leaving Harbottle, Stephen, Wallace and two men at arms, Morley and Oscar, arrived at Carlisle. They were exhausted and haggard but alive. The rest of their party, including Althel, had perished in the flight. Tate was gladto see them but they knew nothing of Toby or Kenneth. The despair he felt deepened tenfold.
It was then on the seventh day since fleeing Harbottle that an escort arrived at Carlisle Castle bearing a missive from the Earl of March. It came during the first meal Tate had eaten in four days. Fatigued and on edge, he knew what the missive said before he even read it. He just had a gut feeling. And even after he read the carefully scripted words, he continued to stare at the parchment as if hardly believing what he had read.
Young Edward’s response to the message was to rage while Stephen stood in brooding silence, finally quieting the young king who was verging on a tantrum. All eyes were on the Earl of Carlisle as the missive in his hand eventually fell to the floor. As Tate walked away in stunned disbelief, the words on the parchment screamed forth from the dingy and dusty floor.
Your wife is my guest and St. Héver with her. The Lady was injured in her adventure and has required the constant attention of a physic. Should you wish to have her returned, you and I must come to terms at Wigmore Castle.
Tate made it out to the bailey before vomiting.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
For someone whohad never traveled out of Cartingdon, Toby was doing a lot of traveling as of late. Seven days as a guest of Roger Mortimer now saw her moving with his army for Wigmore Castle in the Welsh Marches. She was seeing more of England than she had ever seen in her life but she wasn’t enjoying it in the least.
Her ribs were much better thanks to a good deal of rest and Timothy’s skilled care. But she was still too uncomfortable to ride a horse so she sat in one of Mortimer’s provisions wagons, tightly bundled up against the winter weather. Surrounded by a massive army of hundreds and hundreds of men, the troop movement was an impressive sight and a master scheme of tactical planning.
Kenneth rode beside her on a big Belgian warmblood that Mortimer had graciously loaned him. It was a young horse, mean and muzzled, but Kenneth handled him with skill. He had been allowed to regain his armor but not his weapons, including his beloved crossbow. Mortimer had taken that from him. But Kenneth was nonetheless allowed the dignity of his station as a knight, riding as if he had not been stripped of his broadsword and bow.
Toby would have been more at ease if Hamlin de Roche hadn’t been so close to her. The dark, ugly knight rode just in front of the wagon. She had recognized him as the same man who had invaded Forestburn, remembering how he had tried to get his hands on Edward. He would turn around every so often, glance at her and then cast a challenging glare at Kenneth. But the big blond knight kept his eyes straight ahead or on Toby and ignored the man who was trying to bait him.
Seated on the wagon bench next to the soldier driving the team of horses, Toby eventually grew bored and motioned Kenneth towards her. He reined the big stallion next to her, struggling with the animal as it tossed its head and tried to fight him. Toby watched with a frown, trying not to get bumped.
“They could not have given you a more docile animal?” she wanted to know. “I do not believe this horse has ever been ridden.”
Visor raised, the corner of Kenneth’s mouth twitched. “He is as gentle as a kitten.”
“A raging kitten, you mean.”
Kenneth lost his struggle against the smile. “Did you call me over here to complain about my horse?”
She pursed her lips at him, shifting on the bench to a more comfortable position. “I did not,” she snapped without force. “I called you over here to find out where we are.”
Kenneth looked around, drawing in a thoughtful breath as he did so. “Somewhere to the west of Leeds, I believe,” he said. “Given our rate of travel, that would be my best guess.”
“How much further?”
Kenneth looked at her. “Another week or more. It is difficult to move this many men in this weather.”
