DISCUSSION FOR BATTLE
Broderick seethed. His day had started badly, waking in the early hours and unable to sleep. He felt terrible about what he had done to his wife, about his inability. He had known she would be upset and so he had slipped out of bed early and headed down to the stables.
After breakfast, his day had not improved. Duncan had planned to go riding, and Blaine had agreed to accompany him with a troop of men, all looking for escape from the autumnal confines of the castle. Broderick had been quite excited to attend, but it was not to happen. Lord Brien had other plans.
Now, Broderick stood in his office. He looked out through the back window, pointedly. He did not want to meet the old lord's eye. He knew that if he did, he would glare at him. And he could not afford to offend his newest ally. If he did, he would worsen everything.
“I am afraid I cannot let you return home yet. Not until this final raid is accomplished.”
“My lord.”
The two voices drifted out of Lord Lochlann's study. The door was solid oak and stood half-open, letting some sound drift into the corridor beyond. Broderick noticed it idly, realizing that if he were to give in and vent his temper, the whole castle would know it. What the earl was doing – treating him as if he were at his beck and call – was insulting and he could not stand for it, but at the same time, he had to address all matters respectfully.
Broderick cleared his throat. “My lord,” he began again. “I am not certain this agrees with—”
“Hush!” Lord Lochlann cut him off.
When Broderick stared at him, he rose and went to the oaken doorway, pulling it hastily shut. “I would not want to risk people overhearing this,” Lord Lochlann explained smoothly. “You can't be too careful. Important point, that.”
Broderick inclined his head, feeling a stab of irritation. He was five and thirty years of age! He had led raids before. He was not a bondsman, nor even war-chief of Lochlann! He was son of a thane, and a ruler in his own right. He found it frankly offensive to be ordered to his bidding, made to ride on raids whenever Lord Lochlann wished.
“And so?” Lord Lochlann raised a brow. “What is your answer?”
“I agree, my lord,” he said harshly. The raid was to be against the Bradleys. A powerful strike, meant to bring them down once and for all. He could not refuse to do so. This was exactly what he had always wished to do. Now the chance was finally at hand.
“Good.” Lord Lochlann smiled.
“Now, to the raid,” Broderick said quickly. “You intend to carry it out within the fortnight?”
“Never a better time... we cannot risk winter setting in. Besieging would be far too hard.”
“I agree.”
They sat a moment or two longer discussing the strategy for the raid. Though Broderick was deeply involved, he found his mind wandering.
Amabel. His wife. He had woken this morning with thoughts only of her. He hated himself for not being able to carry out consummation. He was sure she was angry with him. But she also understood. He had no idea what to make of her! He had seen her at breakfast – that was, he had seen her arrive with her sister and cousin just as he was walking out.
Her manner toward him through the day had been a mixture of reserve and disinterest. As if she had decided that, since he could not cross all barriers, he no longer cared for her.
“You are confident in your ability to take a large fortress? One as large as Loch Craigh?”
Loch Craigh. The fastness of the Bradley house. To take their primary stronghold had been all that had kept him alive. The thought that he would finally realize that dream was unbelievable. All his anger toward the earl dissolved like dew on the grass.
“Yes.” He could hear the flat, cold resolution in his own voice and was not surprised the older man smiled to hear it.
“That is good. You are willing to leave soon?”
Broderick nodded. “Yes.”
The lord raised a brow. “You have only just married, you know.”
Broderick bit his lip. “Yes, my lord.”
The earl chuckled. “Well, I suppose if you are eager for battle and prepared to say farewell readily, I cannot argue with you. Suits me.”
He sighed. He had never had many women in his life – he had no sisters or aunts and his mother had passed before he was past five. He had married Aisling when he was five and twenty, and she had been the first woman he had ever truly talked to. And nothing they had discussed had prepared him for understanding his new wife.
I do not know what to do.
“...and so, we will culminate the march at the fastness of Loch Craigh?”
“Yes, my lord,” Broderick agreed, glad he had heard the last part of what the man said. He was going over the plans already laid, and Broderick agreed with them.
“Good.”
Broderick could hear the man smiling and was sure he was aware of his distraction. Curse him!
“My lord, I have a request.”
“Yes?”
“May I ask if Blaine will accompany me again? I found his presence helpful.”
The man frowned. “I had thought to send our war-chieftain instead. Blaine MacNeil is... only seventeen years old.”
Broderick nodded. “Eighteen, sir,” he corrected and then wanted to bite his tongue. He was not improving his case.
“Oh? Well, then. Worse yet.”
“Well…” Broderick cleared his throat. “The boy is young, I agree, my lord. But he is a quick study, and I feel we work well together.”
“Well, then.” Lord Lochlann smiled thinly. “If you wish to ride with a handicap, I cannot stop you.”
Broderick felt angry but he did not feel he had the status to contradict the older man. “If I considered him a handicap, I would not take him. I prefer to ride with men I know and whom I can trust.”
The laird chuckled. “Well spoken. I see something has lit some fire under you after all.”
Broderick flushed. He had to agree that it had. And he knew what it was.
Amabel.
His longing for her, to possess her, to hold her – was a fire. And he no matter how often he tried to shut it from his mind the worse it became, a furnace to consume his soul. But then again, the only thing that had dissolved his hunger was his thoughts of vengeance. Which was stronger in him he did not know. Thoughts of his wife, or thoughts of revenge. He was not yet sure which held sway.
“Well, if you have no further suggestions,” Lord Lochlann said openly, “then I suggest we adjourn.”
Broderick nodded. He could not leave that room too soon. He stood abruptly and pushed back his chair.
“Thank you, my laird, for your support in my venture of vengeance. I will take this time to prepare before I begin training with the men.”
“Good.” Lord Lochlann blinked. “Good afternoon, then.”
“Good afternoon.”
Broderick turned and walked stiffly from the room. His heart was on fire, his loins suffused with need. But the more he felt of it, the more he hated himself. He had made his bride dislike him – again. And all because he could not let himself love her.
I cannot break my vow.
He had vowed to love Aisling forever. And he did. To allow another woman to usurp her in his thoughts for so much of an instant seemed traitorous.
But yet, ever since that day in the solar – no, if he were honest, ever since their first meeting – Amabel had captivated his soul. And, since that time, she had shown him such gentleness and understanding, such kindness, that had made him feel even more deeply.
She even forgave you on her wedding night.
He swallowed hard. He knew that what he had done had been thoughtless.
Now I have a chance to make it up to her. He was decided. He would go and find her and let her know how he felt. He was not sure if he could make himself cross the barrier of memory but he would try.
He needed to show her how he felt.
“My lord?”
He whipped around. He was in the corridor, heading downstairs with some half-formed plan to find Amabel. He found Blaine MacNeil at his elbow.
“Yes?” he sighed. Of all the things he needed, company of a talented but irritating youth was probably lowest on his list.
“Lord Lochlann said I should seek you out, sir. Said you wanted me to come with you on the raid?” The young man looked up, eyes round and earnest.
“Aye, Blaine, that's right.”
“I wanted tae tell ye. I had an idea.”
“Mm?” Broderick raised a brow. He tried to sound interested, but he was finding it hard. All he wanted was to ride out into the woods and scream. Very loudly.
“Ye told me about thinking, and how it can make you a better warrior, sir. So, I asked Father Padriag if he had any books about war, and he showed me one.”
“You can read?” Broderick said before he had time to think about it. “Sorry. I shouldn't have said that.” He did not want to insult the youth by assuming he could not read, but then it was a natural assumption. Most men-at-arms could not – for that matter, most lords he knew could not. He was grateful to his father that he had received well-rounded tutoring, not just in warfare.
Blaine flushed. “Yes, sir. I know it's not... what most warriors do. But me da... he kenned a priest. An' the priest taught me to read. For the sake of my soul, he said. Dunno if it helped.”
Broderick grinned. “Anyhow. You were telling me about this book.”
“I asked Chrissie to help me read it, an' she said it says how to besiege a town. With this thing.”
Broderick's eyebrow shot up. He looked at the page Blaine was holding. On a scrap of parchment, clearly stolen from the monks, as it had been used for writing-practice, was a drawing.
The drawing showed a complex structure of wood and string and levers.
“What is it?” he asked, already getting a sense of what it was and feeling excited.
“It was described by a feller called Julius Caesar, sir. Dunno who that was. Some clever bloke. Father Padriag said it was called a siege-engine. Sounds useful.”
It did.
Broderick ruffled the boy's hair. “Thank you, Blaine. You have been of great assistance.”
Blaine flushed. “Thanks, sir. And thanks for saying I'd come along.”
“I'm glad I did, Blaine MacNeil. I'm glad I did.”
Because now he had a sense that perhaps his vengeance was within reach.