Tate drew in a long breath, pondering his words, knowing he was correct in theory. But it did not stop him from feeling the guilt. After a moment, he scratched his head and turned back for the ladder.
“I am going to check on Mistress Toby and then I am going to sleep for a couple of hours. Wake me before dawn; sooner if you need me.”
“I would not worry about Mistress Toby,” Kenneth told him. “Stephen is with her.”
Tate paused on the first rung of the ladder. “How do you know?”
“He was here a little while ago. As he left, he told me that he was going to check on her.”
“He is supposed to be with Ailsa.”
“There is nothing he can do for Ailsa.”
Tate took the first two rungs of the ladder before pausing. He looked up at Kenneth. “Tell me something, St. Héver, and be truthful.”
“I have never lied to you, my lord.”
“I did not mean that. I meant be truthful in your opinion.”
“Opinion of what?”
“Why would Stephen be so solicitous of Mistress Toby?”
Kenneth shrugged, not sure what Tate was driving at. “Because she is stricken with grief, I am sure. He is a healer and she, at the moment, is in need of help. Why else?”
“It could not be because he is interested in her, could it?”
“Interested in her in what way?”
“As a man is interested in a woman.”
Kenneth understood then. For the first time, he seemed to lose some of his stoic demeanor. “Why would you ask?”
Tate shrugged. “I am not sure. Something in his expression at times. I have never known the man to show interest in any woman. What do you know of it?”
Kenneth shook his head. “You will have to ask him.”
“I am asking you. He is close to you. Has he said anything?”
“Said anything? Nay, he has not.”
“But you believe there is something more to it.”
Kenneth sighed reluctantly. It was clear that he did not want to say what was on his mind but he knew that Tate would pester him until he did. So he confessed.
“His manner suggests that perhaps he shows more concern than normal towards her.” He lifted an eyebrow at Tate. “Then again, so does yours.”
Tate digested the statement and descended the ladder without another word. Leaving Kenneth on the wall walk, he was halfway across the bailey when a shout suddenly went up from the sentries on the eastern wall. Jolted into action, Tate barreled up the ladder to the battlements, thundering along the stone walkway just behind Kenneth as they made their way to the eastern wall. And there they saw it.
There was a line of torches and men that stretched a quarter of a mile in length. It was ominous in the silver moon glow, like a black tide of ants on the march. Tate knew without a word spoken that it could not be a good sign; any army that would approach by torchlight in a massive front was not there on a social call. He felt the familiar fire of battle fill his veins, rousing the warrior instincts.
“Rouse the men,” he growled at Kenneth. “Everyone to battle.”
Kenneth was gone to do his bidding. Tate remained on the wall, watching the army approach, knowing they were in for a siege. He could only pray that Harbottle’s old walls held and Warkworth had indeed received his call for reinforcements.
Mortimer was upon them.
CHAPTER EIGHT
