The Fallen One (25 page)

“Mathias!” she called. “I need your
assistance!”

Mathias had just removed his broadsword,
the prized possession that Pembury had returned to him.
 
Setting it down on the table, he disappeared
into the smaller chamber and they could hear his deep, steady voice and her
excited one. When it became clear he was helping his wife with her dressing,
Justus turned to Sebastian and Stephen.

“Well?” he asked. “Is Henry agreeable to
our service?”

Stephen planted his bulk on a small chair.
“He is,” he said. “In fact, he is very happy to have us. It would seem he has
an important outpost he wants us to man, one in Fife near Kinghorn.
 
He has a small contingent there now but it
has taken a beating. He is hoping by putting more seasoned men there, the area
might know some peace. More than that, he would like us to work on an alliance
with the neighboring laird.
 
He wants the
man’s support.”

Justus lifted his bushy eyebrows, thinking
that Henry was about to throw them all into the fire at a border outpost.

“That is no place for a woman,” he hissed.

Stephen shrugged as if he had no say in the
matter. “What else is he going to do? Leave her here? You know he will not.”

Justus fussed, knowing it was a moot point.
Instead of complaining, he went to sit down and wait for Lady de Reyne and her
husband to make an appearance.

Inside the smaller chamber, Mathias had
helped his wife from her plain yellow surcoat and helped her don a deep, rich
scarlet brocade, the nicest surcoat she had brought with her from
Kirklinton.
 
The bodice laced up the
front, emphasizing her slender torso, and she tied and re-tied it until she had
it correct.
 
By that time, Mathias had
wandered back out into the other room to await her and she could hear soft
conversation between the men.
 
She was
very excited to be supping in another castle because other than Lincoln Castle,
Carlisle Castle, and two or three others she had visited while fostering at Lincoln,
she had rarely supped away from familiar venues.
 

With her clean surcoat secured and Midgy
rolling around on the small bed behind her, Cathlina pulled forth her comb and
small polished bronze mirror.
 
She missed
Abechail and her talented fingers, for she was not nearly as clever as her
little sister, so she ended up braiding her hair and wrapping it around her
head like a halo.
 
Big iron pins held her
hair in place and in truth she looked quite lovely.
 
Collecting her dark blue cloak, she emerged
into the room where the men were.

“I am ready,” she declared to the host of
expectant and appreciative eyes that turned in her direction. “But what shall
we do with Midgy while we are gone?”

Mathias could hear the otter grunting and
playing in the other room.
 
He looked
around the chamber and spied a big bucket near the hearth, used to clean out
the ashes.
 
He picked it up and tossed it
at his brother.

“Go and get some water,” he said. “Hurry;
we will wait for you.”

Sebastian was outraged. “I do not even like
that hairy rat,” he declared. “Why must I go?”

Mathias simply pointed at the door.
 
Sebastian made faces, mostly at Cathlina, who
bit her lip to keep from laughing as he stomped from the hut.
 
Midgy came out of the chamber at that point,
skittering around on the floor looking for something to find mischief
with.
 
He ended up jumping on to
Stephen’s lap and the knight shoved him back onto the floor.
 
Cathlina came to the rescue with his favorite
smooth rocks, distracting him, and in a short time, Sebastian returned with the
bucket of water.

Cathlina had him set it down near the
hearth, whereupon Midgy jumped into it and, being too big for it, splashed most
of the water out onto the floor. But he was happy and it was time to leave.

“Off we go,” Mathias said, ushering
everyone from the hut.
 
He eyed the otter
as he closed the door. “Behave yourself, beast.”

Big brown otter eyes blinked back.

***

The great hall of the Devil’s Den was
filled with smoke and loud men. From the moment Mathias escorted his wife inside,
he was coming to think it was a very bad idea to have her here because the only
other women were serving wenches and the moment they walked into the hall, they
passed a pair having sex behind a pillar.
 
Cathlina looked away quickly and pretended not to notice while Mathias
didn’t acknowledge it.
 
He knew fighting
men and he knew how they were; sex in a hall, in a stable, or in any other
convenient place wasn’t unheard of in the least.
 
They took it where they could get it but
Mathias didn’t want his wife exposed to that kind of debauchery.

Mathias directed Cathlina over to the great
feasting table that was crowded with men.
 
All of them were drinking heavily.
 
De Beaumont and Balliol sat at the far end of the table and, seeing
Mathias and the other knights, waved them over.
 
They had to walk the entire length of the hall to get there and there
was increasing attention on Cathlina as they went.
 
One drunk man even went so far as to reach
out and grab a fistful of skirt, prompting Mathias to land a blow so heavily
into the man’s face that blood gushed from every facial orifice.
 
Like a dog guarding his bone, the territory
of Cathlina was readily established.

Cathlina was rightly terrified by the time
she reached the end of the table and Henry introduced himself and Balliol.
 
She was polite but stiff, taking a seat on
the bench between Mathias and Justus as servants swarmed around them to bring
them food and drink.
 
It was so loud in
the hall that it was seriously difficult to hear any conversation they might
attempt.

“I was unaware that Mathias had brought his
wife,” Henry said with a hint of disapproval. “Where were you born, Lady de
Reyne?”

“Near Brampton, my lord,” she replied,
startled when two men down the table started a fight. She tried not to watch it
as she focused on Henry. “My father is a cousin of the Earl of Carlisle and
commands the garrison of Kirklinton for him.”

Henry’s eyebrows lifted. “You are the
earl’s cousin?” he repeated. “How interesting. Now de Reyne is related to de
Lara by marriage. An arranged one, I am sure. What is your father’s name?”

Cathlina already didn’t like the man; he
spoke quite condescendingly, as if she was no more than an ant beneath his
feet.
 
He seemed quite aloof to her.

“Saer de Lara, my lord,” she replied.

Henry cocked his head. “Saer de Lara,” he
repeated as if attempting to remember something buried deep in his memory.
“Saer… Saer… why does that sound familiar to me?”

“More than likely because her father served
the earl in the wars against Mortimer,” Mathias replied, claiming a metal cup
full of rich red wine. “They called him The Axe because that was his weapon of
choice.”

Henry’s brow furrowed. “The Axe,” he
hissed. Then, his face washed with recognition. “I seem to remember a Saer de
Lara on campaign for young Edward’s father. The Axe, did you say? I do recall
him, I believe, but this man traveled with a whore wherever he went.
 
In remember this because when he was done
with her, he would hire her out to other knights. I think her name was Abbey.
Could it be the same man?”

Cathlina’s mouth flew open in outrage.
Mathias could see the storm coming and he clamped hand over hers, silently
begging her to be still. He could feel her trembling with rage and shock.

“Even if it is, do you think it entirely
appropriate to discuss those details with his daughter?” he said in a tone that
conveyed his displeasure. “I believe you owe my wife an apology. That was most
tactless.”

Henry looked surprised by Mathias’
statement and even more surprised by Cathlina’s red-faced expression.
 
When he realized what he had said, he started
to chuckle.

“Aye, I suppose it was,” he said, taking
another drink of his wife. “My lady, I do apologize. Sometimes I speak before I
think, especially when I have had a half a bottle of wine. I pray I did not
offend you overly.”

Cathlina didn’t say anything; she averted
her gaze, staring at her lap. She was afraid that she was going to blast the
foolish man with insults so it was best not to say anything at all.
 
As a large trencher of mutton and gravy was
put in front of her, and then the others, Henry continued on as if nothing
slanderous had occurred.
 
He focused on
Mathias.

“You will leave on the morrow for Kinghorn
Castle,” he said. “As I told you earlier today, it is a small outpost near the
sea, only a Pelé tower and enclosure really, but it is strategic. It stands at
an important port and is a two day’s ride to the east.”

Mathias and Stephen were listening
carefully. “Aye, my lord,” Mathias replied. “We shall be prepared to depart at
dawn.”

Henry nodded his approval, his gaze moving
between Mathias and Stephen.
 
Today had
brought unexpected reinforcements to his upper command structure and he was
deeply pleased.
 
He glanced at Balliol
before he spoke.

“There is something more that we did not
discuss with you earlier,” he said, lowering his voice. “I wanted to be quite
sure with Balliol before telling you, but know this; we are not sending you to
Kinghorn simply to man an outpost. We are sending you there to be the first
contact for the rebel force with is due to land at Kinghorn within the next
month.
 
With King Edward’s approval, we
have more than eighty ships in several Yorkshire ports awaiting word to sail to
Scotland to once and for all claim the throne for the House of Balliol.
 
The armada is under orders to make port at
Kinghorn, where they will be met by you.
 
You will lead the army into Scotland under the flag of Balliol and take
them straight to Perth, where I will be waiting with the majority of my army.
 
The infant David and his regent, the Earl of
Moray, are in Perth.
 
It is time to end
this once and for all.”

So it was a battle march. Mathias and
Stephen understood all too well.
 
“The
king made no mention of this to me, nor did de Lara,” Stephen said.

“It has been in the process for some time,”
Henry said confidently. “Mayhap they wanted me to tell you directly. In any
case, you now fit quite nicely into those plans.”

Mathias digested the information. “How many
men will sail?”

“Two or three thousand.
 
It will be a sizable force.” Henry sat back
in his chair, his somewhat amused gaze passing between Mathias and Stephen.
“You have both done this before, on a much greater scale.
 
Before me I have the two sides of the
greatest battle for the English throne our country has ever seen – Mortimer’s
forces against young Edward’s.
 
With your
skill and knowledge, victory for Balliol is assured.”

So there it was, all of it.
 
The discussion they’d had earlier in the day
didn’t allude to what the true purpose was for sending them to Kinghorn.
 
Now they knew.
 
Mathias couldn’t even think about what he had
brought Cathlina in to; certainly, when he’d decided to flee to Scotland to
join de Beaumont’s forces, he knew he would be exposing her to some level of
danger but he had been confident he could protect her in all aspects.

Now, there was a massive battle on the
horizon and at some point he was going to have to leave her to fight. He
already knew he would have to leave either his father or Sebastian behind to
protect her, and he knew neither one of them would take it very well.
 
Unless, of course, he sent her back to
Kirklinton.

He sighed heavily, realizing that sending
her home was the only safe thing to do. He was getting in over his head here in
Scotland and he could not lose control of the situation where it pertained to
his wife.
 
As he mulled over the
circumstances and what he must do about it, something suddenly whizzed by his
head.

Startled, he grabbed Cathlina and forced
her to get down as Sebastian and Stephen bolted to their feet.
 
Across the table from them stood several men,
all of them glaring daggers at Mathias.
 
Before Mathias could say a word, Sebastian unsheathed his broadsword and
leapt onto the table.

“You bastards,” he snarled, kicking aside
food and drink, and splashing a nearly full cup of wine on to Cathlina. “You
will answer for that.”

Broadswords were being unsheathed. Mathias
thrust Cathlina at his father. “Get her out of here,” he commanded. “Take her
back to our rooms and bolt the door.”