“It has been in the process for some time,” Henry said confidently. “Mayhap they wanted me to tell you directly. In any case, you now fit quite nicely into those plans.”
Mathias digested the information. “How many men will sail?”
“Two or three thousand. It will be a sizable force.” Henry sat back in his chair, his somewhat amused gaze passing between Mathias and Stephen. “You have both done this before, on a much greater scale. Before me I have the two sides of the greatest battle for the English throne our country has ever seen– Mortimer’s forces against young Edward’s. With your skill and knowledge, victory for Balliol is assured.”
So there it was, all of it. The discussion they’d had earlier in the day didn’t allude to what the true purpose was for sending them to Kinghorn. Now they knew. Mathias couldn’t even think about what he had brought Cathlina into. Certainly, when he’d decided to flee to Scotland to join de Beaumont’s forces, he knew he would be exposing her to some level of danger but he had been confident he could protect her in all aspects.
Now, there was a massive battle on the horizon and at some point he was going to have to leave her to fight. He already knew he would have to leave either his father or Sebastian behind to protect her, and he knew neither one of them would take it very well. Unless, of course, he sent her back to Kirklinton.
He sighed heavily, realizing that sending her home was the only safe thing to do. He was getting in over his head here in Scotland and he could not lose control of the situation where it pertained to his wife. As he mulled over the circumstances andwhat he must do about it, something suddenly whizzed by his head.
Startled, he grabbed Cathlina and forced her to get down as Sebastian and Stephen bolted to their feet. Across the table from them stood several men, all of them glaring daggers at Mathias. Before Mathias could say a word, Sebastian unsheathed his broadsword and leapt onto the table.
“You bastards,” he snarled, kicking aside food and drink, and splashing a nearly full cup of wine onto Cathlina. “You will answer for that.”
Broadswords were being unsheathed. Mathias thrust Cathlina at his father. “Get her out of here,” he commanded. “Take her back to our rooms and bolt the door.”
Justus pulled Cathlina away from the table as Mathias and Stephen unsheathed their weapons. Sebastian threw himself at the group of men who had thrown the pewter cup at Mathias’ head, swinging sword and fist. He was an animal. Mathias and Stephen jumped into the fray as Henry and Edward quickly moved away from the table and out of the range of the fight. They ended up moving with Justus and Cathlina as they headed for the exit. Inside the hall, the battle was on.
Shouts of “Mortimer’s dogs” could be heard as the room deteriorated into a full-scale brawl. Evidently, there were three or four men who had fought for young King Edward and they knew who Mathias was purely by reputation. The fact that Stephen of Pembury was with him had no bearing. They were out for Mortimer blood and went after Mathias and Sebastian with a vengeance. Some men scattered but others stayed to fight. Over near the hearth, there was a beating happening.
Mathias had been set upon by two men, trying to drag him to the ground and kill him. But he was faster, and better, than they were. Using his massive elbow, he smashed one man in the face, effectively disabling him, while he pummeled the otherman with an enormous fist. The broadsword, gripped tightly in his left hand, didn’t come in to play until the man pulled a long, slender dirk on him, and at that point, Mathias brought his sword up and gored the man in the belly.
It was a bad fight. Pembury, with his size and strength, had wiped through four men and was looking for more as Sebastian, yelling and grunting, had disabled three. Then he began to run after other men who were attempting to flee. All the while, Cathlina and Justus were over near the door, watching the chaos when they should have very well left. Justus was watching because he very much wanted to be a part of it and Cathlina was watching because she was terrified for Mathias. She was very afraid something awful was going to happen to him.
But she had nothing to worry over. Once Mathias was finished with his two opponents, he fended off two or three more, easily disabling or dispatching him, depending on whether or not they pulled a weapon on him. His fists were like battering rams, destroying all they touched, and his sword, having not seen action in well over a year and a half, glittered wickedly as God and Mathias intended. It was an instrument of death, and Mathias used it with uncanny skill. It was truly something to behold.
“Cathlina,” Justus tugged on her. “We must leave. If Mathias sees that we are still here, he will become angry.”
Cathlina knew that but she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from him. It was mesmerizing. Unfortunately, Mathias caught sight of her, too, and his normally calm demeanor flared. He was furious that his father hadn’t taken her to safety, furious that Justus has allowed her to see such carnage. Storming across the hall and punching one fool who tried to come at him, he caught Cathlina just as she and Justus were trying to make their escape.
Tossing his wife up over his shoulder, he planted a trencher-sized hand on her bottom to let her know of his displeasure. It made him feel much better so he did it again, listening to her howl. She had disobeyed him and now she was going to pay the price. Carrying his yelping wife off across the bailey, Mathias took Cathlina to safety himself.
Justus ran back inside and joined the last of the fight.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cathlina had onlyseen the sea once in her life, and that had been when she was a small girl. Her father had taken the family to the sea near Maryport in Cumbria where they had spent a week with one of Rosalund’s cousins. Cathlina had loved the sea, the power and majesty of it. Now, as they drew near Kinghorn, she could smell the salt in the air.
In the summer season, the weather was beautiful and pleasant. There was no need for cloaks or heavy clothing during the day. In fact, as they drew near the coast, Cathlina was clad in a simple linen surcoat with a wide neckline and a soft linen shift beneath, and she was perfectly comfortable. The sun was warm and she would close her eyes, turning her face upwards to bask in it. It was perfectly lovely.
Seagulls screamed overhead, perhaps at Midgy who was running along beside the party from the Devil’s Den. There were all manner of road ditches containing water, and they had passed several lochs and ponds on their journey, and Midgy made sure to swim and frolic in every one of them. He also caught himself several fish, gorging happily. Cathlina didn’t worry about him because he always stayed close and even if he fell behind because he was swimming, he always caught up. He was a happy boy.
Cathlina was happy as well. Mathias rode ahead of her astride a big silver charger that Pembury had brought north with him and Cathlina had found out that the horse had been Mathias’ before he had been stripped of everything. Mathias wore his custom-made armor with the Westbury crestemblazoned in the breastplate, also delivered by Pembury. It seemed that Stephen had held on to Mathias’ possessions all of this time, waiting for the moment when he could return them to his friend.
Now, Mathias looked like the legend of old, the mythical knight who was larger than life. Even though he wasn’t Baron Westbury any longer, he still wore his emblem with pride. As Midgy raced along the road beside them and slid through great puddles of mud, Cathlina directed her palfrey up to the front where Mathias was.
“Greetings, husband,” she said.
He turned to her with a smile on his face. “Greetings, love,” he said sweetly. “We should be at the outpost within the hour. It should be over the next rise.”
Cathlina nodded, inhaling the sea air deeply. “This is so beautiful,” she sighed. “Everything is so… so violent and primitive looking, like the rocks and the sea has collided here and the carnage is scattered among the hills. I have never seen anything like it.”
He looked around at the sky and rugged landscape. “You should have been a poet.”
Cathlina giggled. “I do not think I would be very good at that,” she said. “I cannot write.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “But you can speak of beauty in such ways,” he said. “I will write it down for you.”
