Dragonblade Trilogy - 01 - Dragonblade (30 page)

It was not a question
he had expected. With all of his troubles, he had nearly forgotten about the
little girl they had buried two days ago and guilt swept him. He should not
have been so insensitive to Toby’s feelings. With a gentle hiss, he pulled her
into his big arms.

“She is safe in the
chapel,” he murmured. “No harm will come to her.”

Toby broke down into
more tears, still expelling grief over her little sister. Tate held her
tightly.

“I am sorry,” he
murmured. “I have caused you nothing but grief since nearly the moment we met.
I am sorry we have to leave your sister here. But it will not be forever.”

“She will be all alone
when we go,” she murmured, knowing it was foolish even as she said it but it
was her sorrow speaking.

“She is not alone,”
Tate corrected her gently. “She is in Heaven with your mother and father and, I
suspect, a host of other relatives. Perhaps she is even now annoying Red Thor,
your Viking forbearer, demanding that he sing the Fairy song.”

That brought a smile
to her lips and she looked up at him. “You are right, of course,” she attempted
to wipe her face clean and stop her tears. “I am sorry I am being so foolish.
‘Tis just that… well, Ailsa and I have never been separated, not ever. This
will be the first time.”

He smiled down at her
before kissing her on the forehead. “It will not be permanent, I promise,” he
said. “Now, I need for you to pack up everything we brought from Forestburn.
Can you do that?”

She nodded, wiping
daintily at her nose. “In truth, I have not yet unpacked completely. But I will
take Althel with me and make sure everything is packed and ready to leave. What
about the stores?”

“Kenneth has charge of
supplies and will make sure the kitchen is cleaned out.” He kissed her
forehead. “When you are finished packing, then offer to help Stephen.  He has a
good deal of wounded to move and could probably use your assistance.”

Toby nodded, eyeing
him as she did so. “Did you talk to Stephen, then?” she asked hesitantly. “He
seemed pleasant enough this morning.”

Tate nodded, taking
her elbow and leading her towards the ladder to the upper floor.  “All is
well.”

He did not elaborate
and she did not press him. He helped her gather her skirts as she headed back
up the ladder. Once in the great hall, he took both hands, kissed them, and
went on his way. Toby’s gaze lingered on him as he quit the keep, still hardly
believing she had married the man and wholly given to daydreaming when there
was work to be done. But her daydreams consisted of Ailsa, of Forestburn, and
of what the future held for her and Tate. So much in her life had changed over
the past few days. She felt as if she was living someone else’s life.

When Tate had left the
keep and all was silent but for the sounds of the bailey coming in through the
open door, Toby shook herself of her musings and went in search of Althel. They
had work to do.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“He is moving his
army. Our spies could see great wagons being loaded and the troops being
mobilized.” The general’s gaze was on de Roche, hard and questioning. “If he
moves his army, we lose the advantage of an attack against a weakened
fortress.”

Hamlin digested this
latest information before responding. “What would you have me do? Our numbers
are not sufficient to successfully attack again. We will destroy ourselves if
we do.”

“Then perhaps we have
enough men to simply keep them on the defensive inside Harbottle,” the general
replied. “He cannot move his army if there is another laying siege. That would
be suicide.”

Hamlin shook his head,
setting aside his cup of ale. It was his fifth cup in as many hours, whiling
away the hours as the thunder above their heads rolled.

“It would be as if we
were fleas attacking a dog,” he said frankly. “We would be annoying but no
threat. If he is moving his army, then we must follow him to see where he is
going.”

“Where else would he
be going?” the general threw up his hands. “Alnwick is twenty miles from
Harbottle. It is a massive fortress. Once he is sealed up in that place, we
will never get to Edward.”

De Roche drew in a
long, pensive breath. After a pause, he began to pace about pensively. “Where
are our spies to the south? Do they know how close Mortimer’s army is?”

“The last we were
told, Mortimer is due sometime on the morrow,” the general replied.  “De Lara’s
army will have departed long before then.”

De Roche nodded
slowly, still thinking. “Perhaps,” he said pensively. “But we could move to
intercept the army as it moves towards Alnwick.”

“We are not even sure
that is the destination,” the general reminded him.

“True enough,” de
Roche held up a finger. “However, where else would de Lara go? Warkworth is too
far and he would not take the army to the seat of his earldom in Carlisle
simply for the fact that is too far away over a good deal of treacherous
country. So where else would the man go?”

He had a point. The
generals and senior soldiers inside the warm, smelly tent looked to each other,
conceding the logic. The old vizier popped and creaked as the tent fell
silent.  All eyes were on Hamlin as he decided his next calculated move.

“If de Lara takes the
road to Alnwick, he must swing south for a distance before trekking out towards
the sea,” he said thoughtfully. “If we send word to Mortimer’s army to move
towards Alnwick instead of straight to Harbottle, there is a good chance we can
intercept de Lara’s army on the open road. That would be a far better scenario
than laying siege to Harbottle again. The odds will be much more in our favor.”

“You are sure?”

“Sure enough.  We must
send word to Mortimer immediately so that he knows to hurry.”

The general was
already calling for a messenger. Orders were relayed and memorized and soon,
the man was along his way. Hamlin stood out of the chaos, watching his men make
plans for the eventual battle. Unlike a siege, battle on open ground was
something of a dance; it had to be carefully choreographed or one might end up
attacking one’s own men. De Lara was such a clever battle commander that he
could quite possibly make it happen. They would have to be very astute in order
to avoid the situation. 

Hamlin would have to
anticipate every move.

***

“I fear I have made a
gross tactical miscalculation.”

It was mid-afternoon
and most of Tate’s army was ready to depart. Hundreds of men filled the bailey
of Harbottle and spilled from the gates into the countryside beyond.   It was a
break in between storms and weak sun shown onto the bailey, struggling to dry
up the prolific mud. The army was ready to move out but Tate’s quietly uttered
words caught the attention of both Stephen and Kenneth.

“What miscalculation?”
Stephen asked.

Tate was in full
armor, standing upon the battlements, watching his army mingle with Warkworth’s
forces. Stephen was already loaded with weapons, his helm atop his head, and
Kenneth had enough armor and weapons strapped on to single-handedly conquer
half of England. A wicked-looking crossbow lay slung across one of his enormous
shoulders.  All three men were ready to ride out but Tate’s words gave them
pause.

Tate didn’t reply
immediately to Stephen’s query. It was obvious that he was pondering something
serious. When he spoke, his focus remained on the bailey below.

“First of all,” he
said softly, “I would apologize for my short-sightedness.”

Stephen shook his
head, perplexed. “For what?”

Tate took a long
breath before turning to his men. “For my mind not being where it should be,”
he said quietly. “I have been focused on other things when I should have been
focused on our strategy. For every move Mortimer and de Roche make, I must be
five steps ahead of them and I fear that I have failed to do that.”

Kenneth unslung the
crossbow from his shoulder and stepped closer, curiosity on his face. “What are
you talking about, Tate?”

Tate’s gaze moved to
the army again and beyond that, the Northumberland landscape. He was facing
south, studying the storm that was just leaving. Another was following on its
heels and he glanced to the east, watching the dark horizon.

“As I stood here and
watched the mobilization, it occurred to me that if we have sent spies out to
assess the army to the south, then they most certainly have sent spies to
assess our current status as well,” he leaned forward on the parapet. “And,
just as we have seen them camped several miles south, they have undoubtedly
seen our army preparing to move out.”

Stephen and Kenneth
were following his train of thought, nodding in agreement as he reached the end
of his sentence. But then he abruptly stopped and the knights looked at him
expectantly.

“And?” Kenneth
pressed.

Tate turned to look at
them. “Think about it,” he hissed. “If Mortimer’s army approaches from the
south to reinforce the troops that laid siege to Harbottle two days ago, then
what would you, as the commander of Mortimer’s forces, do if you knew that your
enemy was about to leave the safe haven of a moderately fortified compound and
head onto the open road?”

Kenneth stared at him.
“I would move my army to intercept.”

“Which is exactly what
I suspect Mortimer will do if, in fact, he is close enough.” Tate shook his
head. “I should have realized this but I was so concerned with moving Edward
and Toby out of a compromised fortress that it did not occur to me, until now,
that Mortimer’s army might be close enough to intercept us before we reach
Alnwick. It was stupid and short-sighted of me.”

“So what do you
suggest?” Kenneth asked.

Tate’s dark eyes were
stormy. “We will continue along this path. But if Mortimer engages us on the
open road, Edward has a greater chance than ever before of falling into his
hands.” He looked between his two knights. “It stands to reason, then, that
Edward and the three of us will stay behind as the rest of the army moves to
Alnwick.”

Kenneth cocked an
eyebrow as the light of understanding dawned. “A diversion?”

“A ruse,” Tate
confirmed. “Let Mortimer pursue the army while we remain at Harbottle. While
Mortimer is distracted with our army, we will move west to Carlisle. I have
eight hundred troops stationed there. We will be amply protected.”

Stephen, listening to
the entire exchange, emitted a low whistle. “I refuse to believe that this was
not your scheme all along. It is a brilliant plan.”

Tate gave him a
lop-sided smile. “You are too kind, old friend. While I do not regret that I
have had a new wife occupying my thoughts, I should have seen the situation
clearly enough to realize the long-term implications of exposing our army.”

Stephen scratched his
forehead. “Not to have realized the folly would have been to allow it to
proceed until Edward was compromised.”

Tate merely lifted an
eyebrow and moved to the ladder that led down to the bailey. There he would
find the Warkworth commander and let the man in on their plans. And then they would
remain at Harbottle and wait for the right moment to travel into the west.

It was, in fact, a
brilliant scheme as Stephen had said. Tate only hoped it would work.

***

Another storm had
rolled in by the time Tate’s troops, mingled with Warkworth’s, moved out of
Harbottle. This time, however, the rain turned to snow. As the black clouds
belched great waves of white powder, Tate, Stephen, Kenneth, Edward and Toby
watched the army trickle from the bailey from their posts on the second and
third floors of the keep. Tate deliberately had his soldiers remove any hint of
de Lara colors so that any onlookers would not be able to identify de Lara men
from Warkworth men.  Warkworth knights rode up at the front of the column,
specifically in groups of three.  That was because Mortimer’s men would be
looking for de Lara plus St. Héver and Pembury. Groups of three knights would
confuse them even more.

Wallace, Althel and
four men at arms, including the seasoned Morley and Oscar, had also stayed
behind. The men at arms were in the great hall below while the others made
their way between floors, making sure to stay clear of the windows in case they
were spotted by anyone who might be peering at the castle. For all intents and
purposes, the castle must be deserted. Tate arranged to have a provision wagon
and seven horses left about a mile north of the castle, to be collected by Tate
and his party when they determined the time was right to flee the keep. Now
they would wait for the cover of darkness.

Toby had been lingering
in the master’s chamber, sitting in a chair next to the hearth that they had
let die. There was to be no smoke from the fires to give away their presence. 
Wrapped in the only cloak she had brought from Forestburn, she sat and listened
to Tate converse quietly with Stephen. Kenneth was downstairs, watching the
landscape from his post in the solar, and young Edward with him. Dusk was upon
them, made even darker with the storm.