Mathias was still rattled by the scout’s report and struggling not to show it. He was his usual cool and collected self, but inside, he was a mess.
“Send Pembury to Kirklinton,” he suggested. “Cathlina is at Carlisle and I….”
Tate cut him off. “I need Pembury with me,” he said. “You are better suited to the kind of siege Kirklinton will need. You will crush them, Mat. I am depending on your emotion in this case to send a clear message to the Scots. Moreover, it will put you in good with Saer if you save his castle. He would forgive you everything.”
“But….”
Tate put a big hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “No more talk,” he said, though it was not unkind. “You have your orders. Go now and prepare for our ride. It will be hard and fast through darkness, so be vigilant. If all goes well, you should see Kirklinton come the morning.”
Mathias wasn’t pleased but he didn’t argue. “Sebastian goes with me,” he said.
Tate nodded firmly. “Absolutely,” he said, slapping him on the back before heading off into the darkness. “Have the perimeters of the camp broken down and I will see you at the head of the column in an hour.”
Mathias watched Tate fade off into the darkness. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling at the moment other than terror and disappointment. He wanted to ride with Tate to Carlisle because that was where he left his wife, but on the other hand, he had his orders. He would be seeing Cathlina a little later than he had hoped.
With a heavy sigh, this time one for courage, he stalked off into the darkness, shouting orders to the men around him as he went. Soon, the entire camp was scrambling to assemble and by the light of the three-quarter moon, the Earl of Carlisle’s army moved south. By morning, he did indeed see the walls of Kirklinton but it was not as he had expected or hoped.
Kirklinton was in flames.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
They came inthe late afternoon.
Three days after the warning from the Carlisle soldiers, men began emerging from the trees about a half mile from Kirklinton Castle in a solid line of legs and weapons. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the glint of weapons that gave them away. It was the tartan that blended into the foliage because it gave a strange rippling effect when they moved. Kirklinton’s sharp sentries were the first to see it and the shout went up. The Scots were on the approach.
Cathlina had been with Roxane and Abechail in Abechail’s small bower, keeping her company by telling her stories and playing card games with Cathlina’s lovely painted cards that Mathias had bought her on their travels through Scotland. Every time Cathlina held up a card to her sister or lay it upon the table in a fan pattern with others, she was reminded of Mathias and of how much she missed him.
The afternoon had been waning and they were thinking on the approach of the evening meal when the sentry’s cry went up. Startled, Cathlina and Roxane had jumped up and run to the lancet window that faced the gatehouse only to see the Kirklinton soldiers scrambling upon the walls. They really couldn’t see beyond the walls from Abechail’s chamber so they raced into their larger bower which had more of a view of the north and west. That was when they saw the line of men moving across the clearing towards the castle, like a tide of ants at a distance, heading in their direction.
“Look!” Roxane gasped, pointing. “Men! Do you see them?”
Cathlina did, indeed. Her heart sank, but strangely, she didn’t panic. Her big brown eyes stared at all of the men approaching the castle. The closer they loomed, the more detail she could make out as she and Roxane clung to each other anxiously.
“They are carrying clubs and axes,” she said with apprehension in her tone. “They do not look like Mathias or other knights we have seen. Remember how the knights in the tournament were dressed?”
Roxane nodded fearfully. “They were dressed in mail and armor, and….” She suddenly stopped and pointed out of the window. “Look at the knights on horseback. See them back behind the men on foot?”
Cathlina did and her fear began to grow just a little. “I do.”
“They are here to attack us!”
“It is possible.”
Together, they continued to watch the Scots come forth from the foliage, moving across the warm summer grass and trampling on the wildflowers the women had taken such delight in. Then, they simply stopped. Confused, Cathlina and Roxane watched anxiously for them to make a move that would throw them all into the midst of a battle, but they remained still. Then, it appeared as if someone gave a command because the men began moving. Some of them settled in where they were while others moved back into the trees and soon they could hear the distant sounds of chopping. In short order, trees began falling.
“What do you suppose they are doing?” Roxane asked apprehensively.
Cathlina had no idea. She had never seen a battle before. “I do not know,” she said. “But Father will. He will come and tell us what is happening.”
As the women clutched each other in mounting fear, Rosalund entered the chamber. Her usually cold and austere face was flushed with exertion and fright.
“Come, girls,” she said, clapping her hands and nearly startling Cathlina and Roxane out of their skins. “Your father has asked that we remove ourselves to the vault and lock ourselves in. We must collect all the supplies we can before we do this. Hurry, there is no time to waste.”
Cathlina and Roxane rushed after her. “Lock ourselves in the vault?” Roxane repeated. “Why would we do that?”
Rosalund hustled into Abechail’s room where the girl lay, weak and ill, upon her bed. She ignored Roxane’s question as she stroked her youngest child’s pale face.
“We shall return for you,” she said calmly. “Your Father wants us to be safe and will lock us up in the vault until this is over.”
