His entire purpose was to kill at this point. It wasn’t even to chase men away. He knew if he chased the reivers away, they would simply regroup and return. The only thing he could do was try to decimate their numbers, so he gave the order to kill on sight– not defend, not capture, but to kill.
His men took the order seriously.
When the clans who had chased the reivers realized what the better-armed English from Wark Castle were doing, they backed away, concerned they would be caught mixing with the reivers and be confused for the enemy. They didn’t want to die in a hail of sharp blades and arrows. Thomas and Desmond and three hundred angry English soldiers drove the reivers east, past the tall bell tower of St. Cuthbert’s, and towards the slick, green cliffs overlooking the River Tweed.
When Thomas had been a young boy, his father and uncles had taken him to this area of the river where they would fishfor the massive salmon that populated the river. He hated to eat the fish, but his mother and father loved it, so there were nights he had been forced to eat the orange, oily fish. His Uncle Paris would tell him Irish folk tales of a fish called the Salmon of Knowledge, and whoever ate the fish would be very wise, but that still didn’t make the stinky fish more palatable. Thomas didn’t care how smart the fish made him; he simply didn’t like it.
Odd how Thomas thought on those peaceful days when he was a boy, fishing with his family, as he wielded a sword and drove men to their deaths. He had a purpose for driving them to these cliffs, with a fairly serious drop to the river below, and his men began to form a net around the reivers, pushing them to the cliffs.
When the reivers realized what was happening, they tried to break free and some seriously heavy fighting occurred, but Thomas and his men held them off. It was not without casualties on their side, but the lines held. The wounded were moved to the rear of the fighting, and subsequently sent on ahead back to Wark, but Thomas and Desmond and those who were still capable of fighting drove about fifty or sixty reivers straight off of the cliff, watching them fall into the river below.
It was an impressive sight.
Men and horses tumbled over the cliff, rolling and rolling down into the water below with great splashes. There were some hysterical screams mingled with the sounds of fighting but, gradually, Thomas drove them all over the side. Even those who begged for their lives. Coldly, he either ran them through with his sword or kicked them over the side of the cliff.
The screams, the carnage, and the drowning went on for the rest of the night as the StormWolfe turned lethal.
CHAPTER FIVE
Men had beentrickling into the great smoky hall of Wark Castle for most of the night, telling tales of the battle in Coldstream. There was a big clash going on between wily reivers and an English army, but Maitland and Jordan were ready for the results. At least, Jordan was. Maitland truly had no idea what to expect, but she faced it bravely.
So she thought.
The first men returning from the battle had fairly serious wounds, indicative of the brutal level of fighting. One man returned missing several fingers on his right hand and his companion had found those fingers, presenting them to Jordan to sew back on again, but she couldn’t do it. No one could reattach fingers or limbs. Calmly, she had the man toss the fingers in the fire, and the smell of burning flesh began to fill the great hall where the wounded were gathering.
Maitland smelled the acrid, oily smell but she had no idea what it was until one of the soldiers told her. Sick to her stomach and trying not to think about burning fingers, she was focusingon cleaning and bandaging some of the less serious wounds. Truth be told, she didn’t have any experience at all tending wounded, as she’d never been involved in an active siege or battle. This was all quite new to her, but rather than become fearful or upset at the bloodied men around her, she simply focused on what needed to be done. Men needed help and she was determined to render aid.
But then, more men started filtering in.
Now, there were about twenty men and only two women and a few servants to tend them. Maitland left the hall briefly to go rouse her companion, Tibelda, and brought the woman into the hall to help. Tibelda was calm and helpful, and it was she who began to oversee the boiling of linen strips, taken from servants who had stripped off some bed linens, to be dried before the fire and then used to bandage the myriad of battle wounds they were seeing.
Still, it was just three women and several servants for all of the wounded they had, and Maitland thought that Lady Adelaide should, indeed, be part of this. She’d been bold enough to announce that she would be chatelaine of Wark Castle someday, and part of those duties would include tending her husband’s wounded.
Her husband.
Thinking of Thomas as the woman’s husband brought disappointment anew to Maitland. She had no right to feel this way. It was foolish! She’d spent the better part of the night trying not to think about the union between Thomas and Adelaide, but the more she tried not to think of it, the more she couldn’t seem to shake it.
Something inside her was changing.
Until she’d met Thomas de Wolfe, Maitland had never entertained the thought of marrying again much less marrying someone she could actually like. She hadn’t liked Henry. In fact,towards the end of their marriage, she couldn’t even stand the sight of him. When he would bed her, it was all she could do not to become physically ill and she thanked God that their union hadn’t produced any children. But to actually be married to someone she liked and respected… well, she’d never allowed herself to entertain such a thought.
She never wanted to get her hopes up.
And now, she’d met a man she genuinely liked, but he was too far out of her reach. A de Wolfe, in fact. Maitland felt rather sorry for Thomas, knowing he was about to marry a woman he couldn’t stand. She could very much relate to that. But there was nothing she could do about it, though she was coming to wish she could.
Life was a cruel thing, sometimes.
Telling Lady de Wolfe she would return very shortly, Maitland fled the hall and rushed up the stairs to the keep, which was heavily manned. The soldiers allowed her to pass and the keep entry was unbolted for her. Inside the cold, dark entry, she had to ask the soldier stationed inside the keep where Lady Adelaide was but the man didn’t know. He simply pointed to the top floor, assuming she was in the master’s chamber, and Maitland made her way up the narrow spiral stairs until she reached the top floor.
It was dark and spooky on this floor, and there were two heavily-fortified doors, and she knocked on the first one, which was opened after a few knocks to reveal Caria and her nurse. Caria wanted to know where “Matha” and “Poppy” were, and Maitland pacified the child by telling her they would come to her shortly.
After the nurse shut the door again and bolted it, Maitland went to the second door and rapped on it several times. When a man demanded to know who had come, she answered truthfully. She expected the door to open, but it didn’t. She had to knockseveral more times and invoke the name of Lady de Wolfe before the bolt was finally thrown.
Edmund de Vauden’s sweaty face appeared in the cracked doorway.
“What does Lady de Wolfe want?” he asked suspiciously.
Though Edmund’s face was filling up the doorway, Maitland caught a glimpse of the cowering lady in the background.
