“Cease!” Mortimer roared.
De Roche came to a halt, though it was evident that he wished to follow through with his attack against Kenneth. Toby was plastered in front of Kenneth as if to protect the man while he had her around the shoulders, intending to shove her out of the way. But Mortimer’s order brought the action to a grinding halt and all parties concerned, including the men at arms, looked at Mortimer as if expecting more sharp commands. Roger, for his part, was finished with pleasantries. His blood was beginning to boil at the very lovely, but very disobedient, Lady de Lara andhe intended to gain a handle on her before she caused further chaos.
His dark brown eyes focused on her. “Now,” he said, quietly now that the pandemonium had settled. “If you disobey me again, no matter what the issue, St. Héver will receive your punishment. If you so much as refuse a request, I will take it out on St. Héver’s hide. Any infraction by you will result in severe punishment to him. Am I making myself clear?”
Toby’s face was dark. “You bastard,” she hissed. “How dare you threaten me.”
Mortimer didn’t reply; he nodded his head to one of the men at arms standing behind Toby and Kenneth. The man produced a sword and smashed the butt end of it across the back of Kenneth’s neck. The man went down, taking Toby with him. As Toby screamed, de Roche swooped down and pulled her free. He wrestled her all the way over to where Mortimer sat astride his big warmblood. Toby fought like a wildcat.
“That is only a foretaste, my lady,” Roger told her as she struggled against de Roche. “If you continue to fight, I will see to it that St. Héver is quite incapacitated.”
Furious, terrified and bordering on tears, Toby looked over at Kenneth as he struggled to pick himself off the ground.
“You are a beast,” she growled before she could stop herself. “You are the most hateful beast that….”
Another cue from Mortimer had the men at arms kicking Kenneth savagely as he lay on the ground. Toby knew that, this time, her opinions and fearless tongue would not be forgiven. Mortimer had shown her twice. She stopped struggling and looked up at him, tears on her cheeks.
“All right,” she said quickly. “Please stop. Do not hurt him anymore. I will be cooperative, I swear it.”
Roger lifted his hand and the kicking immediately stopped. He smiled thinly at Toby. “Very good, my lady,” he said. “As Isaid, now that you are feeling better, I should like your company as we ride. Hamlin, find her a palfrey.”
De Roche let her go and Toby instinctively moved towards Kenneth to help the man. But Roger stopped her.
“Nay, my lady,” he said almost casually. “You will not go to him. You will come with me.”
Toby could see that Kenneth was struggling to push himself up off the ground. Even though he was in armor, he had been pummeled mostly in the head because his helm had come off. His lips were bloodied and there was blood coursing out of his nose. But his ice-blue eyes were open, looking at her.
“I am well enough, my lady,” he told her so that she would not disobey again; he wasn’t concerned for himself but, at some point, they were going to start punishing her and he was fearful for that moment. “Go along. I will be all right.”
Toby’s face screwed into unhappy tears. “I am sorry,” she mouthed to him.
He winked a bloodied eye at her, propping himself up on his left elbow. “Run along. I will see you later.”
Wiping furiously at her eyes, she turned for Mortimer, who dismounted his steed. He held out a hand to her and without looking at him, she took it. Together, Toby and Mortimer walked towards the front of the column, awaiting the palfrey that de Roche was preparing.
Kenneth watched her go, the smile fading from his lips.God help her, he thought.
*
February had beena brutal month of heavy winter weather. Tate, Stephen, Wallace, Edward and a thousand troops had made the trip from Cumbria to London in just over two weeks. Tate had taken five hundred men from Carlisle and another five hundredsplit between his castles of Whitehaven and Grayson. It was an impressive sight, the Earl of Carlisle moving a thousand men down the throat of England and into London. But Tate had a purpose and had all intention to show his power. And there was still more to come; like a man possessed, he knew no boundaries.
The night before they arrived in London, they camped on the outskirts of the town in a giant encampment with great bonfires that lit up the sky. It had snowed for a week before their arrival to the area and the land was blanketed in white. But this night was clear and a full moon shone bright upon them, creating a silvery-gray landscape. Tate and his men sat outside his tent, spread around an enormous fire and eating one of the black and white cattle they had brought with them from Whitehaven. The air was full of the smell of roast beef and Edward was so full that he had promptly passed out before the flames.
Stephen sat next to the boy, pushing his booted feet closer and closer to the fire. When his feet grew hot enough to start smoking, Edward would awaken, sleepily wonder why his feet were in the fire, pull them out and then swiftly fall back asleep. Stephen did this three times before Edward realized what was going on and grumpily moved away from the snickering knight. Wallace and Stephen had a good laugh at Edward’s expense.
But not Tate; he had remained relatively silent and emotionless, watching the comedy but not feeling light enough to laugh at Stephen’s jokes. Normally Kenneth and Stephen would play the jokes together, but the absence of Kenneth was painfully obvious. If Stephen felt it, he did not let on. Still, there were times when a trained observer could tell that he missed his comrade. He missed the man’s quiet reserve, his strength, his solid wisdom. He missed his friend.
But Tate was glad Kenneth was not there. He thanked God every day that the man had surrendered himself to Mortimer inorder to play protector to Lady de Lara. A greater sacrifice Tate had never seen and as he prayed for his wife’s safety, he also prayed for Kenneth. He was sure that Toby would be relatively safe in Mortimer’s custody but Kenneth was another matter. As a knight sworn to the king, Mortimer would not look upon him kindly. For that, and so many other reasons, they were on the outskirts of London. Tate had a mission and even as Mortimer seemed to be holding all of the power, Tate would not let the man gain the upper hand. He would do all he could to undermine him.
“Will there be anything else tonight, my lord?” Wallace asked as he rose from the fire; the old priest was fatigued by the weeks of travel and it showed.
Tate shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “Be ready to ride before dawn.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Wallace moved to rouse young Edward but the king would not be stirred. After much shaking and a couple of gentle kicks, Wallace reached down and picked the lad up. When Edward realized he was being carried like an infant, pride alone woke him from his food coma and he irritably chastised Wallace for man-handling him. Tate and Stephen could hear Wallace laughing as the two disappeared into the night.
The fire crackled and spit, filling the silence in their wake. Stephen drained the last of his wine and set the cup down.
