“It would not be wise to leave now, my lord.”
“Why not?”
The sergeant shook his head to emphasize his point. “You must not risk transporting your family over miles of open road,” he said. “We have no idea where the Scots army is. They could be upon us tomorrow for all we know. You would be safer to stay here and reinforce your lines.”
By this time, Cathlina had turned around and was looking at her father with some fear. He caught her expression, immediately thinking of the grandchild she carried. Nay, he could not risk her. He could not risk any of them. His instincts told him to get to Carlisle Castle for safety but he wouldn’t go with his instincts. He would remain at Kirklinton because he couldn’t chance getting caught on the open road. Resigned, he was reluctant to agree.
“Then I shall do that,” he said. “Who is in charge at Carlisle?”
“Sir Kenneth St. Héver has come home with Justus de Reyne’s body. He is in charge of Carlisle’s defenses until the earl returns.”
St. Héver was a superb military commander. Saer knew that from his days fighting with the young king. Nodding curtly, he waved the sergeant on.
“Tell St. Héver we shall hold tight here,” he said. “I will await word from Carlisle when the threat has passed.”
The sergeant saluted smartly and turned on his heel, taking the other Carlisle soldiers with him. As he went, Cathlina went to stand next to her father, watching the party from Carlisle mount their horses and depart. She lifted a hand, shading her eyes from the sun as she watched them fade in the distance. Once they were gone, she looked up at her father.
“Are you concerned?” she asked him.
He was but he didn’t want to tell her that. It would only upset her. Forcing a smile, he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her squeeze.
“Nay,” he said, brushing off the suggestion. “The Scots always bypass Kirklinton in favor of attacking the larger target of Carlisle. But just to be safe, we will lock ourselves up tightly until the earl tells us the threat has passed.”
Cathlina began a slow trek back across the bailey, thinking of Justus and feeling very saddened by his death. The sergeant said that he had succumbed to a wound from a previous battle. It must have been the axe wound to the chest. Perhaps it had become infected. Whatever the case, his body had given out and now he was dead. Her heart truly ached for the old man she had become so fond of. She was sure Mathias and Sebastian were deeply grieved.
As she thought on Justus, she could hear her father in the gatehouse, shouting orders to the soldiers to secure everything tightly. So much for her journey with Abechail to see the flowers. She had a feeling it would be a very long time before they were allowed out of the castle. But her husband was alive and well, and that was all she truly cared about. She was deeply grateful.
The keep loomed before her and as she headed into the big stone structure, she thought of all of the things she could do for the day to keep busy. She was looking forward to some pleasant time with her sisters and mother as she awaited Mathias’ return.They had sewing and other things to occupy their time. Aye, it would be time well spent.
She had no idea that in a very short while, boredom would be the least of her worries.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Iam sure,given your role in de Beaumont’s victory at Dupplin Moor, that the king will restore everything to you and then some,” Tate said, his mouth full of well-cooked mutton. “You have earned it and I will vouch for the fact. If I have not said this before, then I will say it was a pleasure to see you in action once again, Mat. I have missed you.”
Seated around a fire in the midst of the southern Scottish moors, Mathias, too, was stuffing himself with mutton. They had two of the big beasts roasting on an open pit, sending succulent-smelly greasy smoke into the night air.
It was two weeks after the victory of Dupplin Moor and finally, they were returning to England. Mathias had voiced his thoughts on whether or not Edward would be receptive to allowing him to resume his knighthood for good and Tate had responded. In fact, Pembury, de Lara, and even Sebastian seemed to think it was a certainty that the Westbury barony would once again be Mathias’ before the year was out.
“As I have missed you and the smell of battle in the air,” Mathias said humbly. “Let us hope that the king is receptive to my petition to regain my honor, for I truly do not know what else I can do to prove my worth and loyalty to the king if my showing at Dupplin is not enough.”
“There is nothing more to do. You have done more than any one man should be expected to. You have once again proved your superiority as a knight and as a tactician. Edward will gladly welcome your fealty.”
Mathias was hopeful but tried to keep it contained. “I hope he will. I will eagerly give it.”
Tate nodded as he shoved more meat into his mouth. It was the first time they had stopped in two days, following the trail of Scots heading south. Word had come a week prior when they were in Scone with de Beaumont, tying up the loose ends from the battle of Dupplin Moor, that an army of Scots led by the Earl of Mar were heading south into Carlisle lands. Tate had promptly rounded up his men and, with nine hundred additional men from de Beaumont including an entire fleet of longbow archers, quickly headed south.
Scouts had brought back regular reports as they had thundered south. First, they had been four days behind the Scots army, then it was three, and then it was two. But now, they were still a day behind and the Scots army had crossed the border into England. Carlisle was a mere day’s ride from the border, shorter if the ride was swift. No one wanted to mention the fact that there was no way to catch the Scots. They would reach Carlisle before the de Lara army did. No one wanted to send the earl or Mathias into a state of panic with their wives and children bottled up in a castle under siege.
Therefore, Sebastian and Stephen drove the army like slave masters, hardly stopping to rest or eat. Tonight was a rare occurrence because the men had been on the road for almost a week without stopping more than a couple of hours to rest. Even now, they knew that this rest would be short also. They would eat, they would try to catch what rest they could, and then they would continue.
Mathias could hardly eat even though he knew he should. The battle, the campaign, and his father’s passing had taken away his appetite and tried to take away his spirit. Sebastian had taken Justus’ death even harder and was more brusque and violent than usual. He had been positively fearsome in battle.The man had no idea how to deal with his feelings but when he and Mathias were alone, he would speak of his grief as if it was of little consequence. Mathias wouldn’t speak of his at all. Together, they were trying very hard to deal with something that was greatly impacting their lives and neither one was sure how to soldier on without their father. It was an impossible concept.
Meanwhile, Mathias was also dealing with his performance at Dupplin Moor and the Scot’s army heading towards Carlisle where he had sent his wife to safety. That, more than anything, was fracturing his control. The calm and consummate commander was sometimes as brusque and brittle as Sebastian, which was unusual. Several times he had asked to ride ahead to Carlisle Castle but Tate had held him back, sending Kenneth instead. He wanted someone there without an emotional investment in the place, someone who would hopefully make decisions based on reason and not emotion. Even so, Mathias and Tate were following Kenneth’s trail to Carlisle at a maddening pace. The sense of urgency filled the very air they breathed.
After supper on this warm August night, Mathias found himself lying down on his bedroll, gazing up at the blanket of stars across the night sky. He could see Cathlina’s face in the diamond night, the glistening of her brown eyes in every twinkle of the stars. As he lay there thinking about the texture of his wife’s skin, something hit the ground beside him and he looked over to see Sebastian flat on his back, staring up at the night sky. Mathias returned his attention to the stars.
“All will be well, you know,” Sebastian said after a moment. “Even if the Scots make it to Carlisle Castle before us, we are not far behind them. They will barely have time to lay in an attack before we box them in against Carlisle’s walls and destroy them.”
