The fight was over in a relatively short amount of time.
In fact, from the time Cole left Jax and Atreus at the smaller gatehouse until Jax’s men subdued the Scots in the castle, about an hour and a half had elapsed. The first thing Jax did was rip down the banner of MacHeth that had been flying over the battlements and raise the black and red de Velt standard.
He swore he could hear the men cheering in the distance.
With Berwick Castle in the hands of Jax de Velt, his men went about securing the castle against any counterattack. Berwick was a massive place, but they left no chamberunexplored, even down to the vault and the tunnels beneath the bedrock that led out to the river.
Everything was explored and the Scots were rounded up.
By that time, it was well into the night. The Scots manning the castle, and they counted forty-three, were put on poles that had been cut down in the heavily wooded areas to the west of Berwick. Jax had told The Marshal he intended to take Berwick his own way and take it he did. The poles started going up on the road leading to the bridge like a macabre forest of dead bodies for all the world to see. MacHeth’s son, the garrison commander, had the distinction of being nailed to a cross which was then hung from the castle walls.
All of it meant to terrorize the Scots.
Even as the castle itself was secured, the fighting continued with de Winter and Savernake taking the bulk of the casualties until de Lohr, Teviot, and de Bourne returned from the Ord Crossing. It was a premature return, which concerned The Marshal. After a brief conference with Christopher, he called back his forces to the city and the bridge only, allowing the Scots to leave the city and run north to their encampment.
Jax, of course, had been watching it all from the battlements of Berwick. He’d done his job and captured the castle, and he had no intention of leaving it as he watched the English and the Scots do battle. But when the English seemed to withdraw prematurely and the Scots flee, his curiosity was piqued.
It was piqued even more when he saw knights riding for the castle with banners flying.
Jax’s army had every aspect of Berwick secure, including the double-gatehouses, which were opened for the incoming English. Torches were lit because a mist was rolling in from the sea, greatly diminishing visibility, and the effect of the torches against the fog was eerie. So were the bodies of the dead Scotslining the bridge and the street leading to the castle, as The Marshal and others discovered.
They had the distinct feeling of riding into hell.
Jax was there to greet them when they thundered into the bailey.
“Excellent work, Jax,” The Marshal said as he drew his horse to a halt. “You managed to capture Berwick when I was fairly certain it was going to take you much longer. How did you do it?”
“Cole and Julian went by way of the river and managed to gain access through the river gate,” he said proudly. “There were only forty-three Scots manning the castle, so it was a short-lived battle once we breached the walls.”
William had been looking around the vast bailey of Berwick, but turned to look at Jax when he mentioned the short-lived battle. “I saw the results of that battle as we rode here,” he said. “You do realize that is going to infuriate the Scots.”
Jax smiled faintly, but it was not a pleasant gesture. “I hope so.”
The Marshal snorted, finally slapping Jax on the arm. “I would laugh with you but, unfortunately, what you have done may work terribly against us,” he said. “We have a problem. Where are Cole and the Kitara princes?”
Jax glanced at Christopher, who looked more solemn than usual. So did Teviot and David, who were with him. Alastor looked positively ashen, as did his sons. They all appeared sick.
Jax frowned. “They are securing the river gate,” he said. “I will send for them. What has happened?”
The Marshal waved him off. “Not yet,” he said. “Bring Cole here. We’ve something to do and we need him.”
Jax had no idea what was going on. Beyond Christopher and Teviot and David, he could see Peter and Alexander, Kress and Achilles, Bric and Dashiell. They were away from their armies.
That puzzled Jax greatly.
He turned to The Marshal.
“Whatis happening?” he hissed.
Alastor couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Before The Marshal could reply, he pushed forward, shoving men out of the way until he came to within a few inches of Jax.
“The Scots captured some of our ancillary wagons, including my surgeon’s wagon,” he said, close to tears. “My daughters were in that wagon and now they are prisoners of the Scots. And you put their soldiers on poles for them to see? If the Scots see what you have done to their men, they will put my daughters on poles in retaliation!”
Jax scowled at the man in disbelief. “Theywhat?” he hissed. “They have… Christ, they have Corisande?”
Alastor was white with fury, with despair. “They do,” he said, his entire body trembling. “I do not think the Scots will take kindly to what you have done to their men. If they punish my daughters for your actions, I will blameyoufor their deaths. Damn you to hell, de Velt!”
Christopher had to pull Alastor away from Jax, shoving him back towards his sons, who gripped their father tightly. They were all upset, saying things they didn’t mean. Alastor began weeping, low and mournful, adding to the already horrific situation.
