Fire Dance (11 page)

"Then I should consider the one?"

"I said only that I might trust him. But he will go with Strathclyde."

"Wallis?"

"I say the same."

"Then we must not waste time. Have the holdings seized."

Chrétien cleared his throat as a deep frown etched itself into his brows. "It is one thing to check the lay of the land, Alain, but quite another to seize it. You weaken the defense of the castle to send men out."

He had been expecting Chrétien's natural caution to resurface, once the bravado from his wound wore off. "Aye, Chrétien. But we must also protect Rufus's rear when he passes through. And we must do what can be done to clear the way north. Those excess men who worried you can be put to good use keeping Anwealda and Dougal from securing their holdings."

Wallis folded his long arms over his chest. "Do you trust Saxons to do this for you, lord?"

"As you know you cannot unseat us, aye. I think so."

"And when does Rufus come?"

"Soon. A fortnight, mayhap a little more."

"I do not like it, Alain. To divide our forces at such a time– "

"Anwealda's fortress is easily within a day's return trip," said Thomas. "Dougal's, barely farther. With luck, both could be had within a few days."

"Then, Thomas, you must mind the castle. You, too, Robert, for you must see to Jean Nobel. We shall ride out, see what we can, do what we can. At the least, we must make a plan to contain them. Beyond, that is Rufus' job."

"How far does he go?" Thomas asked.

"To the Solway Firth. This will fix his border from Northumberland, across. The Solway makes for a natural defense, along with the Cheviot Hills."

"Does he not covet Scotland?"

"Every monarch covets all of the Isle. But Rufus is prudent. Mayhap, Scotland tomorrow. Why do you laugh, Chrétien?"

"I have never heard Rufus described as prudent."

"In this respect, only."

"And what will Malcolm do?" asked Gerard. "He is not prudent. In this respect or any."

Thomas nodded his agreement. "He will certainly do something, lord. Mayhap he would counter Rufus at Carlisle. But he would more likely come south through Durham and swing west to cut off Rufus from the rear."

"Little impedes Rufus before Carlisle," said Hugh. "Mayhap he should hold back men to close like pincers upon Malcolm."

"Aye, 'tis a good thought," said Robert. "Mayhap we'll let them pass, come in behind, let Rufus turn on them."

"Nay, but you are not far off," Alain replied. "We will do as much, but hold them here. Then Rufus will turn on them and catch them between us."

"I like it," said Thomas.

"As do I," Gerard agreed.

Edyt watched the Saxon knights closely. "You have no love for Strathclyde, then?"

To this, Thomas grinned. "We are not Strathclyde. It is long defunct, and naught more than a buffer for Malcolm's Scotland. He does naught to stop Scottish raids."

"Aye," agreed Wallis. "We have been Saxon too long for the Scots to change us."

Alain was not satisfied. There was still that last concern. "And what of the Lady Melisande? Does she wait in ambush?"

"Nay." Thomas shook his head along with his denial.

"And you, Gerard?"

"She will not fight you. Lady Melisande is not your enemy."

"Mayhap. Will she also learn that I am not hers?"

Thomas and Gerard looked at each other, but made no reply.

Alain gave out an impatient sigh. "Well, then, we ride."

Chrétien held back as the Saxons and other Normans left the chamber, and stood aside while Alain's squire worked the hauberk over Alain's head and shoulders.

"I like it not, Alain. Too much depends on your trust of these Saxons."

"Gerard is not Saxon, but Norman."

"His skin, only."

"Mayhap. But if he chose to deceive us, he would not show his loyalty for his lady so openly. We have naught without them, and they have naught without us, so what do we risk?"

* * *

The way north led through the Eden River's valley that was a lush green, with the eagerness of early spring forcing up through the still cold earth even before the mountains gave up their caps of snow.

The horses breathed great frosty plumes in the cold air as they trod along a road that was hardly worth the name. Mud oozed wherever it ran too low or spanned some tiny rill. Only where it crossed over hard stone was the footing sound.

Gerard rode at the lead, for he knew the land ahead. Wearing his heavy helm and Norman mail, Alain could tell little difference between Gerard and the men who had been under his command through the Normandy and Brittany campaigns. Gerard was Norman, Norman in his battle gear, Norman in the way he sat a horse, forward and straight-legged. Yet, Chrétien was right. Norman in skin only.

Like Chrétien, he pondered the limits of the man's trustworthiness. Yet he gave the man authority. He could not defend his decision with reason, for it was but instinct. The sort of decision he was likely to make, unlike Chrétien, who would never make such a gamble.

If he was wrong, Rufus would fail.

Before the sun reached its zenith, they rounded the curve of a steep hill that led them from one wide dale into an even wider one.

"There, lord," said Gerard. "There lies Anwealda's holding, against the slope, close by the beck."

"Not an imposing one," replied Alain. Hardly what he had expected.

"It is not. But if any thinks to take Fyren's place, it would be Anwealda. His holdings are spread out, but large. It is not the same here as in the south. Here, the folk live scattered about on their lands. Villages are not so common, and manors tend to be small and isolated."

"Aye, I had noticed that. Mayhap folk will consider castles to be more to their liking if they may be better defended."

"Aye. Things are changing. But change comes slowly here."

Alain strained his eyes to observe the holding below. He should have been able to see it better. He blinked, squinted, focused again. Ah, that was better. Nay, it blurred again. He shook his head, but the haziness would not dislodge.

"Chrétien," called Alain. "What do you see?"

"I?" Chrétien cocked his head at a curious angle. "I see little of what I expected. Either the knights are hidden, or they are gone. I do not think we could have surprised them."

"Unless there was none to warn them we are coming. Caution, Gerard."

"Nay, lord, look."

As if a maw had sprung open and disgorged itself of its contents, a mass of horses with riders leapt out from the confines of the holding, and dashed toward the far slope. The forest's dark green swallowed up the knights. Only an occasional flash of armor betrayed their path up the hill.

"Go!" shouted Alain.

Gerard sped ahead. Chrétien's grey charger already hurled itself forward to vie for the lead. Down the hillside the knights raced, Saxon and Norman, toward the gaping gate.

"Caution," urged Chrétien as they approached. The great stallions danced within their reins, impatient for a brawl.

Gerard spurred his white horse through the gate, Alain close behind, for he had given this charge to Gerard. The wooden gate hung unevenly, a sign of an unkempt hold. He signaled to Chrétien to chase the fleeing knights. Chrétien bolted away, his knights close behind him.

"What think you, Gerard?"

"That we will find none but villeins. They have fled."

"And a second time, no battle. This country is puzzling."

"Aye."

"Leave some men, and let us join the chase. We may have caught them unprepared. We outnumber them."

"Mayhap. Or they could lead us to more of their kind."

"All the better for us."

Alain spurred away toward the hill. By the time they reached the point where the valley floor met the steeper slope, Gerard joined them again.

"We found no knights within the hold, lord."

Alain nodded and concentrated on the climb ahead as they raced to catch up to Chrétien and the other Normans.

The knights followed the rough trail that paralleled the river as it wound through the woods until it rose from the valley onto the dale's steep slopes. And only the occasional hoof mark showed where a metal shoe struck rock to leave a powdery scar.

The momentary blurriness in his eyes had passed, and Alain focused his attention on the higher slopes and valleys beyond. For all that he could see, the refugees had put sufficient distance between them that they would not be caught.

He was about to call halt to the chase when Gerard raised his hand.

"Wait," called the knight.

Alain's curiosity piqued, he reined in his bay stallion, bringing the animal to a stop beside Gerard.

"It is a trap," said Gerard. "I know this land."

"How so?"

"Beyond the next ridge, the trail narrows beside a steep cliff. There, we must go singly for a ways, and cannot turn around, for the way is barely wide enough for one horse to pass through. Then a wide and shallow slope opens up. They would lay in ambush there. They could pick us off one at a time, and there is naught we could do."

"There is no other way?"

"Aye, there is, but it requires a risk."

"Go on."

"There is another route that takes us around the other side of the mountain, then over the low pass where they will wait. They will not expect you to know that."

"But they may know you are with us."

"Truly said. I could take my men around, while you wait here. You could pretend to look for signs, as if you have lost them, then perhaps give the look that you have left. But you must wait for us to chase them into your hands."

"It requires you to divide your men once again, Alain," said Chrétien.

"Aye. We could all circle around, but then would have none to catch them as they come out."

Gerard's gauntleted hands tensed around the reins and his brown eyes burned with energy. "You must keep them confined to the path near the cliff, and turn their advantage against them."

Alain studied Gerard's intense face, weighed the risks. If Gerard was right, and followed his plan, they would soon have Anwealda's men in their hands, if they had not gone elsewhere instead. But that presented no risk for the moment.

"As it is Anwealda, he knows you well, does he not? Will he not know how you will act?"

"To some extent. But he will not think the great Norman lord will put confidence in the plan of one of my ilk. Yet, he might guess my thinking. And then he will wait at the top of the pass and bear down on us when we are most vulnerable."

"Wallis?" asked Alain, turning to face the sullen Saxon.

"Mayhap he will. Anwealda is clever, and his force is strong. Those who fled his compound were only a portion of his men. Yet he could not have planned an ambush in advance. He had not the time."