“The Scots,” the wounded soldier said. He was being propped up by Peter, who had leapt off his warhorse to help the man stand. “The Scots came over the bridge and out of the trees and took what they could. They drove several wagons back over the bridge.”
Alastor turned white as he started to look around. “De Bourne,” he managed to say. “Where are the de Bourne wagons?”
“They were the first ones taken,” the wounded soldier said, looking at Alastor with great sadness. “These dead are mostly de Bourne. They drove off with the wagons and took Teviot and some Savernake wagons, too. They came so quickly, out of the trees, and started jumping on wagons and driving them off. Those closest to the bridge were the first to be hit and de Bourne was the closest.”
Alastor thought he might vomit. Ares, next to him, suddenly charged out towards an area where several men were laying dead in the grass and began calling for his sisters. He was followed by Atlas and Anteaus, who began shouting for their sisters as well, begging for a reply.
“My God,” Alastor breathed as Christopher grabbed him for support. “My daughters… Cori and Gaia… where are they? God help me,where are they?”
Adam, whose own Teviot wagons were taken, sent his son to look for their men, but Christopher passed a concerned glance at Peter, who let go of the wounded soldier and jumped onto his charger. He followed Ares in the search for the de Bourne daughters, but Christopher turned to his brother, next to him.
“Search the trees for them,” he hissed. “Hurry!”
David thundered off with about thirty men behind him. They plunged into the woods and began searching all around the road that led to the bridge. All the while, Alastor sounded as if he were gasping.
“Not my daughters,” he breathed, trying not to panic. “God, please. Not my daughters.”
“We will find them,” Christopher reassured him. “The Scots would not take them simply to kill them. They make valuable hostages and hostages are not treated poorly. Remember that, Alastor. I am sure they are quite well, if not a little scared.”
But Alastor found no comfort in that. He put a gloved hand over his face, trying very hard not to weep. He could hear his sons calling for their sisters, and the guilt and terror he felt was overwhelming.
“She did not want to come,” he whispered tightly. “My youngest, Gaia. She did not want to come. She wanted to stay at home, but I forced her to come with her sister. Dear God, what have I done?”
Christopher had his hand on the man’s shoulder in a supportive gesture, watching as men rushed about the scene, looking for the wounded and searching for the women.
It was a chaotic situation, but one that couldn’t take priority. He knew that. The Scots were watching them, closely enough to use the Ord Crossing to capture some of their wagons and women along with them, which changed the dynamics of the situation.
Now, the Scots had English hostages.
That changed things considerably.
Christopher waited a few minutes, watching the de Bourne brothers search in vain for their sisters. Some of his men, including his brother, were already helping the wounded, while still others were dragging the dead into an organized pile.
He sighed faintly.
“Your daughters are not here, Alastor,” he said quietly. “Recall your sons.”
Alastor was leaning forward on his saddle horn as if he had no strength left. Grief threatened to overwhelm him. He nodded, but he didn’t make any effort to call to his sons, so Christopher sent men to round everyone up. He would leave a few men behind to collect the dead and attend the wounded, but The Marshal had to know what had happened. He turned to Adam, riding off to his left.
“You are missing wagons, too, are you not?” he asked.
Adam nodded seriously. “It seems so,” he said. “But I also saw wagons belonging to me with the group that we just passed, the one moving up to follow the rest of the army at Berwick, so I did not lose all of them. At least I did not lose my daughters…”
He trailed off, an expression of pain across his face. He was feeling greatly for Alastor, who was weeping silently and trying not to show it. The knights began returning to the main body of the army and Christopher raised a fist to gain their attention.
“This situation changes our objective,” he said. “Our original intention was to decimate the Scots army, but now they evidently hold the de Bourne sisters as hostages. Mayhap that was their intention all along, so it seems to me that we must reconsider our orders. I do not want to go rushing headlong into the Scots only to have them hurt the women.”
That was a very real possibility and they were all quite aware. David reined his horse next to his brother.
“They could use those woman to keep us at bay, Chris,” he said, hoping Alastor wouldn’t hear him. “We cannot let this entire battle be dictated by two women hostages. You know this. There is too much at stake. Hell, they could use them to keep us off the Northmen when they come, too.”
“I’ve considered that.”
“Mayhap they’ll threaten to kill them if we advance against them.”
Christopher held up a hand to quiet his brother. David had a point– they couldn’t let two women dictate their actions, as unfortunate as it was. But they also couldn’t let the women be harmed.
He looked around to the men surrounding him– David, Peter, the three de Bourne brothers, Alastor, Adam and John de Longley. Fine men and fine knights. But his gaze mostly moved to Peter.
