A smile spread across Cole’s face. “Truly, Papa?”
“Truly,” Jax said, looking between the pair. “In fact, I will go tell Alastor that the de Longley obstacle is removed and we may have a wedding as soon as he wishes.”
With that, he turned and walked away, heading back down the stairs as Cole swept Corisande into a powerful embrace, one of joy and delight.
The last Jax saw of them as he descended the stairs, they were locked in a passionate kiss.
Jax grinned all the way back to the table.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Scots werewaiting for them.
The battle for Berwick started at sunrise when the enormous English army, flying the standards of several powerful warring houses, approached Berwick from the southwest, over the fields slick with morning dew as a frosty mist hovered over them.
Earl of Pembroke…
Baron Blackadder…
Earl of Hereford and Worcester…
Earl of Teviot…
Descendants of Bloodaxe, Lords of Bernicia…
Earl of Savernake…
Earl of Canterbury…
House of de Winter…
Great warring houses who brought hell and fire with them, unleashed just after dawn as the archers let loose and rained flaming bolts onto the Scots who had set up a defensive perimeter to prevent them from coming close to Berwick.
The bolts flew before the siege engines began to let loose.
Jax and Teviot brought two siege engines each, meaning there were four big catapults to use against the Scots, who had dug trenches. Not deep ones, unfortunately for them, but they’dbeen given enough notice of an approaching army that they’d been able to give themselves some protection from the coming storm.
Until the siege engines began flinging rocks and boulders at them. The land around Berwick was rocky, so there was no shortage of projectiles to load into the buckets and sling at the Scots. Even a small rock could do damage hitting a man in the skull, so after a morning of bombardment, the Scots were forced to pull back or risk being pummeled to death.
The English moved closer.
“We need to take the bridge,” The Marshal said to the commanders around him. “Once we control that, we can control this battle, so we must move forward to secure the bridge.”
The men listening in were Christopher, David, Alexander, and Jax. Everyone else was spread out with the armies, including Cole. He was in charge of loading up his father’s catapults, which were still doing spectacular damage. Next to The Marshal, Christopher was wrestling with a warhorse who was eager to chomp down on some Scots flesh.
“There is another bridge upriver about a mile to the west,” Christopher said. “They call it the Ord Crossing. Our support wagons have been gathered near it, away from the heart of the fighting.”
“I know,” The Marshal said. “I do not see the Scots using it to counter us at this time but, at some point, we must control that bridge, too.”
Christopher nodded his head. “I would say we should control it now,” he said. “If this is the beginning of our three-pronged attack, then we must evaluate this situation carefully.”
The Marshal looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Christopher gestured to the ridge north of the town. “Let us start with that,” he said. “It seems to me that not all of the army is between us and the bridge into Berwick.”
The Marshal knew that. He was looking to the north, too, where hills overlooked Berwick, and they could see smoke rising in those hills. Where there was smoke, there was an army.
They were lingering up there, waiting and watching.
