The Fallen One (26 page)

Justus pulled Cathlina away from the table
as Mathias and Stephen unsheathed their weapons.
 
Sebastian threw himself at the group of men
who had thrown the pewter cup at Mathias’ head, swinging sword and fist.
 
He was an animal. Mathias and Stephen jumped
into the fray as Henry and Edward quickly moved away from the table and out of
the range of the fight.
 
They ended up
moving with Justus and Cathlina as they headed for the exit. Inside the hall,
the battle was on.

Shouts of ‘Mortimer’s dogs’ could be heard
as the room deteriorated into a full-scale brawl.
 
Evidently, there were three or four men who
had fought for young King Edward and they knew who Mathias was purely by
reputation.
 
The fact that Stephen of
Pembury was with him had no bearing; they were out for Mortimer blood and went
after Mathias and Sebastian with a vengeance.
 
Some men scattered but some stayed to fight; over near the hearth, there
was a beating happening.

Mathias had been set up on by two men,
trying to drag him to the ground and kill him. But he was faster, and better,
than they were; using his massive elbow, he smashed one man in the face,
effectively disabling him, while he pummeled the other man with an enormous
fist.
 
The broadsword, gripped tightly in
his left hand, didn’t come in to play until the man pulled a long, slender dirk
on him, and at that point, Mathias brought his sword up and gored the man in
the belly.

It was a bad fight. Pembury , with his size
and strength, had wiped through four men and was looking for more as Sebastian,
yelling and grunting, had disabled three.
 
Then he began to run after other men who were attempting to flee.
 
All the while, Cathlina and Justus were over
near the door, watching the chaos when they should have very well left; Justus
was watching because he very much wanted to be a part of it and Cathlina was
watching because she was terrified for Mathias.
  
She was very afraid something awful was
going to happen to him.

But she had nothing to worry over. Once
Mathias was finished with his two opponents, he fended off two or three more,
easily disabling or dispatching him, depending on whether or not they pulled a
weapon on him.
 
His fists were like
battering rams, destroying all they touched, and his sword, having not seen
action in well over a year and a half, glittered wickedly as it did as God and
Mathias intended. It was an instrument of death, and Mathias used it with
uncanny skill. It was truly something to behold.

“Cathlina,” Justus tugged on her. “We must
leave. If Mathias sees that we are still here, he will become angry.”

Cathlina knew that but she couldn’t seem to
tear her gaze away from him.
 
It was
mesmerizing.
 
Unfortunately, Mathias
caught sight of her, too, and his normally calm demeanor flared. He was furious
that his father hadn’t taken her to safety, furious that Justus has allowed her
to see such carnage. Storming across the hall and punching one fool who tried
to come at him, he caught Cathlina just as she and Justus were trying to make
their escape.
 

Tossing his wife up over his shoulder, he
planted a trencher-sized hand on her bottom to let her know of his
displeasure.
 
It made him feel much
better so he did it again, listening to her howl.
 
She had disobeyed him and now she was going
to pay the price.
 
Carrying his yelping
wife off across the bailey, Mathias took Cathlina to safety himself.

Justus ran back inside and joined the last
of the fight.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

    
Cathlina had only seen
the sea once in her life, and that had been when she was a small girl.
 
Her father had taken the family to the sea
near Maryport in Cumbria where they had spent a week with one of Rosalund’s
cousins.
 
Cathlina had loved the sea, the
power and majesty of it.
 
Now, as they
drew near Kinghorn, she could smell the salt in the air.
 

    
In the summer season,
the weather was beautiful and pleasant.
 
There was no need for cloaks or heavy clothing during the day; in fact,
as they drew near the coast,
 
Cathlina
was clad in a simple linen surcoat with a wide neckline and a soft linen shift
beneath, and she was perfectly comfortable.
 
The sun was warm and she would close her eyes, turning her face upwards
to bask in it. It was perfectly lovely.

    
Seagulls screamed
overhead, perhaps at Midgy who was running along beside the party from the
Devil’s Den.
 
There were all manner of
road ditches containing water, and they had passed several lochs and ponds on
their journey, and Midgy made sure to swim and frolic in every one of
them.
 
He also caught himself several
fish, gorging happily.
 
Cathlina didn’t
worry about him because he always stayed close and even if he fell behind
because he was swimming, he always caught up.
  
He was a happy boy.

    
Cathlina was happy as
well. Mathias rode ahead of her astride a big silver charger that Pembury had brought
north with him and Cathlina had found out that the horse had been .Mathias’
before he had been stripped of everything.
 
Mathias wore his custom-made armor with the Westbury crest emblazoned in
the breastplate, also delivered by Pembury. It seemed that Stephen had held on
to Mathias’ possessions all of this time, waiting for the moment when he could
return them to his friend.
  

Now, Mathias looked like the legends of
old, the mythical knights who were larger than life. Even though he wasn’t
Baron Westbury any longer, he still wore his emblem with pride. As Midgy raced
along the road beside them and slid through great puddles of mud, Cathlina
directed her palfrey up to the front where Mathias was.

    
“Greetings, husband,”
she said.

    
He turned to her with
a smile on his face. “Greetings, love,” he said sweetly. “We should be at the
outpost within the hour. It should be over the next rise.”

    
Cathlina nodded,
inhaling the sea air deeply. “This is so beautiful,” she sighed.
 
“Everything is so… so violent and primitive
looking, like the rocks and the sea has collided here and the carnage is
scattered among the hills.
 
I have never
seen anything like it.”

    
He looked around at
the sky and rugged landscape.
 
“You
should have been a poet.”

    
Cathlina giggled. “I
do not think I would be very good at that,” she said. “I cannot write.”

    
He looked at her over
his shoulder. “But you can speak of beauty in such ways,” he said. “I will
write it down for you.”

    
Cathlina shrugged,
embarrassed, watching Midgy as the otter found
 
another small pond and dived in.
 
Even though the mood between them was light, and had been for two days,
she still felt the need to clarify something.

    
“Am I forgiven, then,
for not leaving the battle in the great hall the other night?” she asked
softly.

    
A faint smile creased
his lips. “You were forgiven the moment I spanked you,” he said. “But you will
not disobey me again.”

    
“Never,” she swore,
eyeing him in his imposing and functional protection. “You look very handsome
in your armor.
 
Does the blue and yellow
lion tunic belong to Westbury?”

    
He shook his head, fingering
the tunic he was wearing over his armor. “Nay,” he said. “This is de Beaumont’s
colors.
 
The Westbury standard is black
and white.”

    
“Do you think you will
be able to wear it again soon?”

    
He nodded, slowing his
charger down so she could ride beside him.
 
When she came close, he reached out and took her hand, gently holding it
in his massive glove.

    
“Hopefully very soon,”
he said quietly. “That is why I am here, love. It is my hope that in fighting a
war supported by King Edward to ensure my loyalty to him, a victory attained
will once again restore me in the eyes of the crown.
 
Everything I do, I do for our future. It is
important to leave a legacy for our children.”

    
Cathlina smiled a she
thought on the children they would have, sons in their father’s image and
perhaps ever a daughter or two that looked like her.
 
She prayed nightly that they would be so
blessed but as she thought on their children, she began to think of her own
siblings.
 
Those thoughts brought about
images of her father and what de Beaumont had said about him.
 
Her good humor faded.

    
“What do you suppose
de Beaumont was speaking of when he said he thought my father traveled on
campaign with a whore?” she asked. “Why would he say something so outrageous?”

    
Mathias shrugged.
 
“He is an intelligent man but not very
diplomatic,” he said. “You must understand that he has known literally
thousands of men in his lifetime.
 
It
would be so easy to mistake one for another.
 
I am certain he was thinking of someone else when he spoke of your father.”

    
Cathlina thought on
that. “He did mention that the whore’s name was Abigail,” she said, almost in
passing. “I have a sister with the same name.”

    
“A coincidence.”

    
“Are you sure?”

    
“I can always write
your father and ask him if it would ease your mind.”

    
She looked at him,
sharply, only to see that he was grinning at her. Fighting off a smile, she
shook her head.

    
“I am not entirely
sure he would take it too kindly,” she said.

    
Mathias laughed softly
and kissed her hand, letting it drop gently.
 
Midgy suddenly bolted onto the road, grunting and startling the horses,
especially the big bay stallion that Pembury was now riding.
 
The beautiful young horse had made the rounds
from St. Hèver to Mathias to Pembury.
 
As
Stephen struggled to calm the animal, the group heard a good deal of howling
off to the left.

    
Men in tartans of
orange and black were descending on them, spilling out of a grove of young
trees that backed up to a small range of rocky hills.
 
There was quite a gang of them, unorganized,
but they had significant numbers.
 
Waving
weapons and clubs in the air, their intention was obvious.

There was no delay in the reaction of the
knights; they swung around to face the onslaught, bellowing orders to the
infantry that had accompanied them from the Devil’s Den.
 
They were trained for war, cool in a crisis,
and none calmer or more succinct than Mathias.
 

    
“Father!” Mathias
yelled at Justus. “Take my wife and ride as hard as you can for the outpost.
Go
!”

    
Cathlina was swept up
in the panic but she was only concerned for one thing at the moment. “Midgy!”
she cried. “Where is he?”

    
No one could tell her.
 
The otter was nowhere to be found and
furthermore, Mathias was more concerned about people and not pets.
 
He grabbed the reins of her horse, forcing the
animal to move as Justus thundered up and smacked her palfrey on the
behind.
 
Both horses took off, tearing
down the road towards the outpost while Mathias, Stephen, and Sebastian charged
out to meet the incoming Scots.

    
As soon as Justus and
Cathlina crested the rise in the road, they could see the outpost about a mile
ahead.
 
The sea was on the horizon, a
glistening band of water that was clear and inviting.
 
Had the circumstances not been so harrowing,
the view would have been gorgeous and peaceful.
 

As it was, Cathlina hardly noticed. By the
time they reached the outpost, the heavy iron gates were open and men were
coming out to assist.
  
She was weeping
for her husband’s safety and for her otter, which seemed to have
disappeared.
 
Justus quickly ushered her
inside the enclosure and towards the small keep.
  
When they reached the door, he practically
shoved her inside.

“Stay here,” he ordered, throwing her
satchel at her in his haste.
 
“Bolt the
door and do not open it for anyone you do not know. Is that clear?”

Fearful, sniffling, Cathlina nodded.
 
“It is.”

Justus turned and ran back to his charger
as Cathlina slammed the door.
 
It was an
old door, warped from the salt air, but very heavy and braced with big iron
bars.
 
She threw the massive iron bolt
and stood there a moment, hugging her satchel and leaning against the door
trying to catch her breath.
 
 
She could hear shouts and movement out in the
bailey, feeding her sense of fear.
 

Struggling to calm, she backed away from
the door, holding her satchel tightly against her chest as if it would bring
her some comfort and protection.
  
Then
she started to look around, at the dark and dreary stone prison with tiny
lancet windows cut into the walls.
 
The Pelé
tower was small, smelling of mold and damp earth, and as her eyes grew
accustomed to the darkness, she could see green moss growing at the base of the
walls. There were water stains everywhere.
 

She was standing in a small entry with a
low ceiling. Immediately to her right, she could see through the darkness a
very steep and narrow flight of steps built into the thickness of the wall that
led up to the dark first floor.
 
The
ground floor
 
had just one room, it
appeared, with a hard packed dirt floor, a table and a few chairs, a cold
hearth, and possibly a well in the corner. She couldn’t really tell but it
didn’t matter at the moment.
 
It looked
as if it had been well lived in.
 
There
was a single tiny lancet window cut high in the wall to allow for some
ventilation and light.

Timidly, Cathlina mounted the narrow steps
to the first floor.
 
It was one big, open
room with two small windows, a broken down rope bed, and other bedding strewn
about the floor. It smelled like a sewer.
 
There was also a small alcove that protruded over the stairwell and she
peered from it, realizing it was a small watch tower of some kind.
 
There were windows, very narrow and long, cut
into it and she could see very well to the north and to the west.
 
She could see the bailey below and how men
were scrambling to the walls and how the great iron gates were now closed.
 
Unable to see over the walls clearly, she took
the second flight of steps cut into the wall and ended up on the second level.

This level also only had one big room and a
privy cut into the same small alcove that was above the watch tower on the
first floor.
 
The privy had an even
better view of the landscape and she could clearly see the battle going on to
the west.
 
Shocked, she stood up on the
privy seat to watch the happenings.
 
Having
never seen a battle before, it was a frightening and awesome sight.

Cathlina stood there for a very long time
watching the battle.
 
It was far enough
away that she couldn’t make out any individuals, but she could clearly see the
chargers, including the big silver beast, and that was how she started keeping
track of her husband.
  
Mathias was a
very busy man.

Every so often he would disappear into a
sea of men only to reemerge and then plunge back in again.
 
For the first hour or so, men seemed to be in
a big boiling mass and she could hear the cries over the wind.
 
Then, the battle seemed to weaken somewhat
and it became clear there were dead and dying on the ground as the bulk of the
fighting moved closer to the outpost.
 
Men on the walls of the castle watched the battle but no one made a move
to assist, mostly because those they could spare were already in the fight and
they didn’t want to open the gates again and risk a breech.