It wasn’t as if she could have him,but still…
“’Tis as bright as the sun,” Maitland said after a moment, trying to sound pleasant when the truth was that her protected heart was filled with disappointment. “I enjoy nights such as this when the weather is good. There is something soothing about them. They bring about an easy sleep.”
Before Thomas could reply, somewhere on the other side of the hall, a soldier with a lute struck up a tune. It was a lively melody and men began clapping as a few drunken soldiers stood up to clumsily dance around. Seeing this, Jordan suddenly stoodup from the table and headed over to the hearth where Caria was buried in puppies. Drunken dancing men were too close to the child, even though they were several feet away, so she moved Caria away from men who might step on her and not even see her.
Thomas watched his mother collect the little girl, and two of the puppies, but his attention was drawn to the music. It wasn’t unusual to hear music in the hall of Wark. In fact, Thomas had a beautiful baritone singing voice and he liked to sing quite often, but since the arrival of Adelaide, he hadn’t really sung at all. He hadn’t felt like it. Singing, to him, was joyful, and he hadn’t felt joyful since Adelaide had joined his household.
But looking at Maitland, the urge to sing again struck him.
“Do you know that tune, my lady?” he asked, holding up a finger as he caught the tune and hummed a few notes. “’Tis an old song, usually sung by soldiers after a victory.”
Maitland turned her head in the direction of the playing, catching a glimpse of the man with the lute and soldiers as they danced about. She shook her head.
“I do not know if I have heard it,” she said. “My father was not much of a warrior and even when I fostered at Alnwick, I was kept away from the men. All of Lady de Vesci’s wards were.”
More men were starting to sing the song now as the man with the lute played on. It was a low hum of words but soon grew in volume as the drunkards began to join in. Quickly, nearly half the hall was singing, and as Maitland tried to make out the words, she heard Thomas’ deep voice in her ear.
We came to battle, for to see,
An enemy tide a’wait for me.
A song of bravery filled my soul,
I held my sword, I rushed to and fro.
The end of the battle, and still I stood,
Friends and warriors, men who could
Still face the enemy, soon fell away,
And in my glory, I now shall stay.
Fight on, men of iron,
Fight ’til the day has passed.
Glory awaits you,
Your honor shall last.
Maitland had turned to watch him as he sang, a twinkle in his hazel eyes as the melody came forth in a gorgeously rich voice. Across the table, William began to sing towards the end of the song, unable to carry much of a tune, grinning at his son across the table as fighting men joined in something that only fighting men were allowed to sing. It was a man’s song, something that those who had faced death together understood.
“Astonishing,” Maitland said, clapping her hands when the song was over. “You have a remarkable singing voice, my lord.”
“He does,” Jordan agreed from across the table. “I’ve not heard Tommy sing in quite some time. Ye did my heart good, lad.”
Thomas grinned at his mother. “I’ve not had much to sing about,” he said. “I don’t just walk around, bursting into song, you know. That would look rather foolish. I have to feel the song in my heart before I can sing it.”
Jordan opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted when the doors to the hall flew open, slamming back on their hinges. A burst of cold wind blew in, snuffing out half of the tapers that were lit near the tables, and smoke billowed out from the hearth. Thomas looked to the door with annoyance, only to see several soldiers rushing in. A couple of them were heading straight for him.
“My lord,” one of the men shouted as he came near. “Trouble across the river. Coldstream is being raided.”
Thomas, as well as William, moved to his feet. “How do you know?” Thomas demanded. “Is there a messenger?”
The village of Coldstream, a rather large burgh, was to the northeast just across the River Tweed. In fact, Wark Castle protected a bridge crossing over the river, one of the main crossings between Kelso and Berwick, so it was an important access point. The soldier, breathless from having run all the way from the gatehouse, spoke quickly.
“We don’t need a messenger, my lord,” he said. “The moon is so bright it might as well be day. We could see the torches coming from the north and entering the village, but we held station until we began to see people running for the bridge. Our sentries on the bridge returned to tell us that the Scots are in the village. ’Tis a night raid, my lord.”
