CHAPTER FOURTEEN
War could seewhy William de Wolfe was considered England’s greatest living knight.
Even at the man’s age, which could be considered elderly by some, he was still the most skilled warrior War had ever seen. When they’d fought at Thropton, War hadn’t actually done battle side by side with William, but during the raid at Coldstream, he’d never left the man’s side.
It was truly something to behold.
It also did something to War’s psyche.
His entire life, he’d been an overachiever. He’d always been the best, the strongest, the smartest in everything he did. Even at Blackchurch, where all of the trainees were the best of the best, he stood out among them. There was nothing deficient about War Herringthorpe, but in fighting next to the Wolfe of the Border, he felt awed. As if he still had more to learn. As if the man who had given him life was everything he’d ever wanted to be.
And he couldn’t tell him.
Wouldn’ttell him.
At least, not yet.
While William used skill and talent rather than raw power in most instances, War was young and beastly. He sliced off arms and heads and, at one point, ending up in a fist fight because he and William and a few other men had been ambushed by some wily reivers and he’d been dismounted at the time. There was punching and kicking and neck wringing going on and through it all, War found himself watching William when he wasn’t fighting for his own life.
Watching the man who fathered him was like watching a mythological god from old.
And War couldn’t decide how he felt about it.
He’d wrestled with it all through the battle, which was fortunately short-lived because the reivers were badly outnumbered. When the knights brought up the rear of the army that had been sent to Coldstream and they descended on the reivers in earnest, that was when the fighting began to dwindle. Before that happened, however, the battle was quite vicious.
And quite eye opening.
The Bones.
They’d heard the name of that horrible band of reivers the moment they’d entered the village and they kept hearing it from everyone around them. Even the soldiers were speaking of The Bones, men who dressed in finery that wasn’t easily found or cheaply purchased, but men who fought brutally and terribly. They were the most feared outlaws on the border.
Their tactics were barbaric. Men on horseback were in danger of losing their lower legs because rather than try to fight a man who was on a horse, the men of The Bones would go for the legs and feet, trying to disable them. They also went after the horses themselves but, in the case of the knights, they were met with beasts that were as trained as their masters.
War’s black and white stallion was particularly brutal against a man in fine silk and expensive leather protection who had triedto go for the horse’s legs. The man came away missing part of his hand when the horse snapped at him. After that, the men of The Bones stayed away from the distinct stallion and the powerful knight astride him. War found himself chasing men, beating them away from soldiers on foot who seemed to be targeted more than most. Rather than running away from the men from Castle Questing, The Bones ran in circles, trying to confuse and disorient the English.
But the English held firm.
It wasn’t an easy fight to win, however, and it continued for most of the afternoon. When the evening began to set and the sun’s last rays disappeared in the west, the men of The Bones decided their time was finished and they began to disappear. The English weren’t going to give up Coldstream and although The Bones had done damage, they hadn’t really run off with anything substantial. No stores, no valuables.
For The Bones, the incursion into Coldstream had not been successful.
The English garrison from Castle Questing was victorious.
When William realized the enemy had retreated, leaving behind several wounded who were put under restraints and taken back to Wark Castle, he left about three hundred soldiers in Coldstream to guard the village for the night. In the morning, he’d send more men over to help the cleanup. The villagers of Coldstream had been through battles before so they were a hearty bunch, capable of rebuilding, but William’s men offered extra protection.
It was protection much appreciated.
War remained in Coldstream with the men while William and Kieran took the rest of the army back to Castle Questing. Troy, who had been stationed at Wark Castle, also remained in Coldstream to command the de Wolfe men and help with the cleanup. But the old knights like William and Kieran headedhome. They’d put in their time in the past, as young knights who took posts for the night or helped cleaning up after a battle, but no more. They’d long since proved their worth.
The old men were looking forward to a warm meal and a warm bed.
The de Wolfe army heading for Castle Questing was being led by dozens of torches even though the moon overhead was fairly bright. Castle Questing was less than an hour from Coldstream, so it would be a short journey this night that seemed oddly still after the bedlam of the day. William found himself looking into the night sky, to the dusting of stars that spread across the heavens, when Kieran spoke up beside him.
“You did not have a chance to see Herringthorpe fight at Thropton, did you?” he asked.
William shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “There were moments when we were near each other, but I never saw the heavy fighting that I heard tale of. Why do you ask?”
Kieran sighed faintly. “I am going to tell you what you have already heard,” he said quietly. “Tonight only confirmed it.”
