The Marshal was listening closely. “Unlesswhat?”
“Unless we lay siege and wrest control from the Scots. I believe my father thinks we should.”
“That isexactlywhat I think.”
The voice came from the chamber door. Startled by the voice that was deep and raspy, everyone turned to see Jax standing in the opening flanked by Addax and Essien.
A smile spread across Cole’s face.
“Greetings, Papa,” he said. “I did not know you were coming. Why did you not send word?”
Jax stepped into the chamber and the first person to physically greet him was Christopher. From one old friend to another, Christopher embraced the man, happy to see him. He and Jax smiled at each other for a moment before Jax turned to his son, to the men in the chamber.
“I did not send word of my arrival because it was faster to simply come here myself rather than send a messenger,” he said, his gaze moving from Cole to The Marshal. “It is a two-day ride from Pelinom, but I thought it important to come personally to see Lord Bernicia. What I did not expect was to see the Scarlet Lion standards flying over an encampment to the west. My lord, it is agreeable to see you again.”
He was addressing The Marshal at that point, and William was thrilled to see his most fearsome warlord. Even more than The Marshal himself, Ajax de Velt was legendary. The modest solar of Alastor de Bourne, at the moment, was filled with legends. Moreover, there weren’t many men The Marshal was so terribly excited to see, but Jax was one of them. He approached the man, reaching out a hand to him.
Jax took it.
“De Velt,” The Marshal said with satisfaction. “I am pleased. I was told of your success with Fountainhall. Excellent work, as always.”
Jax held The Marshal’s hand for a moment before releasing it. “Laying siege and sowing destruction is much like riding a horse,” he said. “One never forgets, even if one has not ridden in twenty-five years or more. I am pleased with the outcome as well. It was… fruitful.”
“Fruitful, indeed,” The Marshal said. “We were just discussing the fall of Fountainhall and the death of Canmore.”
Jax nodded his head before The Marshal even finished speaking. “Aye, that was most unexpected,” he said. “But I believe we received the information we needed from him, and after Addax and Essien spent the past month in Berwick, we have even more. Thank God you are here, William, because you need to hear this.”
The mood took a serious turn as everyone looked over at Addax and Essien. Since Essien was the one who had actuallygotten the information first-hand, Addax gave his brother a gentle shove, encouraging him to speak. Everyone was looking at him expectantly.
Essien took the hint.
“My brother and I spent the past several weeks in Berwick, pretending to be sailors looking for a job aboard one of the many cogs that come into the city,” he said. Essien was an excellent orator, comfortable in a group of men. “We also pretended to be drunk every day so jobs were not forthcoming because no one wants to hire a drunken sailor, but pretending to be in that state afforded us the ability to glean information any way we could.”
“What did you hear?” The Marshal wanted to know.
Essien fixed on him. “We left Berwick four days ago,” he said. “On the last day we were there, I spent time with a woman who was known to keep company with men from the garrison at Berwick Castle. I will not tell you how I received the information from her, but suffice it to say that I did and I believe it reliable. The woman had told me things before that had come to pass, so her information has been proven. She told me that according to her lover, who is one of the commanders at Berwick, the Scots are already moving south. They are already heading for Berwick.”
That was the information they had all been looking for and every man was listening intently. The Marshal, hearing what he had hoped not to hear, at least not yet, sighed heavily.
“When?”
“Now, my lord,” Essien said. “She told me that they were coming to Berwick to join their Northman allies and that the entire city was to celebrate the arrival of the Northmen soon.”
The Marshal’s eyebrows rose. “The Northmen arealreadymoving for Berwick?” he asked, trying not to appear too surprised. “When are they coming?”
“Any day, my lord,” Essien said quietly. “Everything is happening now. I do not know when her lover received this information, but I know she was with him the afternoon that she told me all of this. It is possible he told her then, which means William the Rough’s army has been heading south from Edinburgh for days.”
“Christ,” Cole muttered. “They could be there right now for all we know. That means the Northmen’s arrival must be imminent. If they take those longships into the River Tweed, we may never get them out.”
For a moment, everyone froze, looking at each other in surprise. They had expected to have weeks, even months, before the Scots and the Northmen converged, but according to Essien’s source, that event was imminent.
The unholy alliance was coming together imminently.
With that realization, The Marshal took his empty cup and poured himself another measure of Alastor’s fine French wine. He downed nearly half the cup before turning to the group.
“The time for action, good knights, is now,” he said calmly. “We cannot wait for the rest of the armies to join us. We must move and we must do it tomorrow. Essien, did the woman tell you how many men the Scots are bringing?”
Essien didn’t look happy. In fact, he glanced at the men around him, at his brother, before answering.
