CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
‡
The day shall end and the end shall be known
Kidderminster was a dusty dirty town that was quite crowded, Bartholomew and Kye discovered. It was a market town, which meant farmers from all over the area brought their wares to town to find buyers for them and even at this hour, past midday, the streets were clogged with farmers, carts, animals, buyers, and everyone else in between.
In fact, Bartholomew and Kye were very surprised to see such bustle but, given the fact that they were enemy knights in Saxon territory, they didn’t want to call attention to themselves as they milled through the town. The River Severn ran near Kidderminster and there was a big wooden bridge that crossed the road into the town. Down below the bridge on the riverbanks were thick trees and foliage, so the knights left their horses hidden in the undergrowth. Covering themselves with their cloaks to hide not only their mail and tunics, but also conceal their Norman haircuts and shaved faces, they headed into town.
The side of town they entered was the marketing side and it was full of people as the knights mingled with the crowds inconspicuously, keeping their eyes opened for any bulk movement of men coming through. The town itself seemed to be dirty, run-down, with collapsing buildings and people that were dressed in rags. As they moved, they saw several destitute citizens begging on the edge of the street, but the knights passed them by. They were not without sympathy for the poor but giving coinage to people who had none would attract attention they didn’t want. They moved on.
Heading deeper into the town, they were struck by the smell of baking bread mingled with the smell of human waste. The road was lined with houses, with people conducting their business from their homes, and off to the north they could see the church steeple framed against the deep blue sky. They walked past a woman carrying chickens in two big cages, and passed yet another woman and her family who were herding pigs through the town.
Passing into what appeared to be the center of the town, they came upon the town well where people were drawing their water from a great pool. There was also a man selling big hollowed-out stale bread bowls filled with boiled peas and ham, and the smells lured them in. They purchased two big bread bowls and wolfed down the food, thinking Saxon food to be quite tasty. Wellesbourne managed to get it all over the front of his cloak, which made him look rather slovenly. St. Hèver rolled his eyes at him and accused him of eating like one of the many pigs they’d passed by.
Bellies full, the knights continued past the church and through the city that was really little more than clusters of wooden houses with heavy sod roofs. They seemed to be walking against traffic for the most part and as they continued walking, they could see another entrance to Kidderminster in the eastern portion of the town’s wall. St. Hèver pulled Wellesbourne aside.
“Look,” he hissed from behind one of those short wooden houses. “An entry into town from the east. I have been looking around but have not seen another entry, so when Alary comes through, that must be where he will come from.”
Wellesbourne was looking around as well. “As I recall from being here once as a child, there is also an entry to the north on the other side of the church, but I do not think Alary would come from that direction”
“This is where he shall enter.”
“Exactly.”
St. Hèver scouted their location, seeing the houses spread around, the stockyards, even a cemetery across from the church. He tugged on Wellesbourne.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll hide over by the eastern entrance. You find a spot near the church where you can catch a glimpse of the northern entrance just in case Alary comes in that direction. I’ll get as close to the eastern entrance as I can so I can see what is coming up the road. If I see something, I’ll signal you.”
“How?”
“Listen for my whistle.”
St. Hèver could whistle between his teeth loudly enough to puncture eardrums. Wellesbourne nodded and they split off, going to find a place to wait for a sighting of Alary’s army. But it would be an uncertain wait. The army’s appearance could be today, tomorrow, or even another day. Still, they were going to dig in. They were the advance team and the entire operation of rescuing Kristoph would depend on just how alert they were. Therefore, they selected their vantage points carefully and settled down.
Now, all they could do was wait.
Unfortunately, Kye realized early on in the waiting process that eating that huge meal had been a mistake. The knights were suffering from a lack of sleep and now with a full belly, it was a perfect time to sleep the afternoon away. Kye was seated against the perimeter wall of the town, a wooden wall about as tall as a man with a spiked end, and struggling to stay awake. He was wedged between a pig sty and a winter garden that had many rabbits in it, which a dog would come and chase off every so often. Then the dog would come over and sniff him before he would chase it off. That went on for a while until the dog eventually left him alone.
The afternoon continued on and the comings and goings at the wall entrance began to lag greatly. In fact, it seemed rather deserted as people returned home after a day of business. But Kye remained vigilant, watching those who were entering, on the lookout for soldiers or men with weapons. He had even stood up, several times, to peer between the slats in the wall, looking at the road that was leading into the village only to be met with a deserted scene. The road, at that time of day, remained empty.
But as time passed, Kye tried not become discouraged by the lack of an army. The knights were so terribly worked up for Alary’s appearance that expectations were admittedly high. But it was very possible Alary would not show today. Perhaps he was two or three days behind them just as Gaetan had suggested. The man was traveling slowly with an army, far more slowly than knights without encumbrances were, so to expect them on this day was more than likely unreasonable.
At least, that’s what Kye told himself. He had to force himself to be patient. But he settled back on his bum, leaning against the wall, and continued to watch the entrance. As the sun began to wane and the sky began to turn shades that suggested a coming sunset, he was thinking on finding Wellesbourne to see if the man had seen something worth reporting. Clearly, nothing more was going to happen this day. Just as he stood up, he thought he heard a distant rumble.
Looking up in the sky, there were clouds but nothing that implied a coming storm. But the rumble was still there, growing louder, and he turned to peer through the slats in the wooden fence. Immediately, he was met with armed men on foot, and armed men on horseback, and two wagons from what he could see coming up the road. The rumble had been from the wagons bumping over the rough road.
An army was approaching.
Kye fell to his knees again, huddling back behind the pig sty which provided him with a shield against anyone coming in through the wall entry. Certainly, this could be another army, and the truth was that he had no idea what Alary of Mercia looked like. But he did know what Kristoph looked like. It was his task to search each and every face in that approaching army to see if he spied a Norman knight he had known for several years.
Excitement filled his veins as he lay low, waiting. Meanwhile, he was praying that Wellesbourne saw the same army and was doing exactly the same as he was – laying low and trying to spot Kristoph. This was the moment they’d been waiting for. From his position behind the pig sty, Kye had a perfect view of the incoming army and it wasn’t long before the leading edge of the army began to enter.
Men dressed in heavy tunics, with axes slung on their backs as well as crudely made shields, passed through the entry and continued onward. They were followed by other foot soldiers, some with helms, more than a few with what looked like Norman helms and shields. That was St. Hèver’s first clue that these men might have been at the battle between Harold Godwinson and the Duke of Normandy; stolen Norman protection seemed to be peppered throughout the lines. Even one of the men on horseback, who was very well dressed with a fur cloak and well-made clothing had a sword at his side that was most definitely not Saxon.
Kye recognized the Norman workmanship.
More of the army passed through, moving at a good pace but still looking rather weary, as if they had walked a very long way. When the first of the wagons passed through, Kye struggled to see inside of it but all he could see on the flat bed were sacks and weapons and other things an army on the move might need. But then the second wagon came through. It had men around it, which blocked Kye’s view of what was inside. The sides were high, also, and there were provisions piled in it; he could see barrels and sacks, food needed for the men.
Kye had to move around the pig sty so he could see what was in that wagon because the men and the provisions were blocking most of his view. As the wagon moved past him and he changed positions, he could suddenly see a man chained up in the back of the wagon and, as his heart leapt with glee, a blonde head he recognized very well. Kristoph de Lohr was chained in the back of the wagon, looking unshaven and shaggy-haired, but it was definitely him. And he was alive.
Their missing brother had been found.
Kye was so excited that he was quivering. He had to get to Wellesbourne and tell the man what he saw. And then they had to race to Gaetan and tell him that Kristoph was alive and that Alary’s army was on its way. But the army was still trickling in and he didn’t want to give himself away by emitting a piercing whistle. Yet, he knew the longer he waited, the more chance there was of him not being able to make his way to Gaetan before Alary did. He was almost certain that Wellesbourne was seeing the same thing from his vantage point across the road so he had to assume that the man was preparing to race back to Gaetan as well. Any delay might cost them a great deal.
Therefore, Kye began to run. Skirting through yards, over fish ponds, through horse dung, and through alleys, he raced as fast as he could, making it to the end of town well before Alary’s army did and flying across the wooden bridge and to the river bank below where the horses had been left.
His horse was still where he left it, having eaten its fill of the plump grass and was now standing lazily, napping. That all ended when Kye vaulted onto the horse’s back and spurred it up to the road, heading off to the east where he knew Gaetan and the others were waiting. They would have a very short amount of time to prepare their ambush and they needed all of the advance notice they could get.
Kristoph was coming. And they had to be ready.
Sunset was on the approach.
Gaetan stood on the side of the road, looking up at the sky through the canopy of trees and wondering if Ghislaine was still asleep. Perhaps she was awake by now, supping with Antillius and his three daughters, eating a good meal with a fire to keep her warm and a roof over her head.
That was the way it should be with her; the life of a fine lady and not a warrior. He knew he was going to have a fight on his hands when he told her that he didn’t want her to fight any longer. He wanted her to become the wife of a great warrior, to run his household and bear his legitimate children. He hoped he could explain all of that to her before she took a stick to him.
The thought made him grin. The most beautiful woman in all the land was a ruffian in disguise. Well, not exactly a ruffian, but definitely a trained warrior. He had enough of those and didn’t need another. What he wanted from her was something far less violent. He knew it would be difficult for her but he suspected she would want to please him.
Truth be told, she already did. God had been good to bring her into his life.
Forcing his thoughts away from Ghislaine, Gaetan turned back to his men who were still wandering in and out of the trees on the north side of the road. The land was relatively flat all around them but there was excellent ground cover, easily enough to hide them until they decided to come forth and ambush Alary’s army.
“Gate!”
De Winter was several yards away from him to the east, now calling his name. As Gaetan headed in his direction, Denis was pointing down the road.
“Riders,” Denis said. “I cannot tell who it is yet, but there are two of them. Mayhap it is Marc and Lance.”
Gaetan, too, could see riders coming around the curve in the road about a half-mile down. “And it just as easily could not be them,” he said, waving to the men standing on the road and trying to get a look. “Into the trees.”
They scattered, disappearing into the foliate to hide themselves. Gaetan was well off the road, back behind a broad tree trunk, peering around it to see if the riders were his own men coming down the road. Soon enough, the pair came within range and he could see that it was, indeed, de Moray and de Reyne. Gaetan and the other knights wandered back out to the road.
“Well?” Gaetan demanded. “What about Tenebris? What did you see?”
As de Reyne dismounted his sweating horse, de Moray spoke. “You are not going to like this,” he said. “We saw a rather small fortress with a tall wooden wall around it, a moat that we could smell from a mile away, and when we used the trees as cover to get a closer look at it, the forest around it was filled with corpses.”
Gaetan’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” he asked, confused. “As if an army had not taken away their dead?”
De Moray wearily dismounted his horse. “This, I cannot tell you,” he said. “It did not look like an army to me. It was a pile of bodies, some of them so old and moldering that grass had grown up all around them and they had become part of the earth. Although the clothing remained on them, anything of value was stripped.”
It sounded ghastly and Gaetan did, indeed, make a face of distaste. “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “Dead everywhere?”
“All around the front of the fortress from what we could see. Once we made it to the rear of the fortress, there were no more bodies.”
That made absolutely no sense at all but it reminded Gaetan what Ghislaine had said of the place. “She said it was a dark and terrible place,” he muttered. “Ghislaine, I mean. She said that Tenebris was very dark.”
De Moray nodded, still trying to shake off what he’d seen. “More than you know,” he said. “I have never seen anything like it.”
The state of the fortress hinted at the darkness of the mind behind it, the man who had Kristoph’s life in his hands. Gaetan couldn’t shake off that sense of horror. “But what about the fortress itself?” he asked. “Is it well guarded?”
De Reyne entered the conversation. “We saw just a few men,” he said. “No more than a handful, really. There is a small motte and a keep atop it, but the fortress itself is very small.”
“Is it something we can breach if needed?”
De Reyne nodded. “I have no doubt,” he said. “It seemed to me that the moat flowed beneath the walls and into the compound, so that could be a relatively simple way to enter it.”
De Moray grunted. “Simple, aye, but that moat was filled with unspeakable filth. I should not like to crawl through that.”
Gaetan echoed that thought, but he was more pragmatic. “If we must, then we must,” he said. “But you saw no evidence of an army inside of it?”
De Reyne shook his head. “Nothing at all. It seemed deserted.”
There was relief in that knowledge. “Then Alary has not returned yet,” he sighed, pleased. “It means he must pass along this road to get there and when he does, we shall be ready.”
“Is it possible he has another property somewhere that he has gone to?” de Reyne asked. “I never heard the lady mention any other property, but it concerns me that Alary may not be returning to Tenebris at all.”
Gaetan could only shrug. “That has occurred to me also, but Ghislaine seemed positive that Alary would return here and she made a point of stating that he has no other properties. Even Tenebris belongs to Edwin, but I suppose there is always a chance Alary could have stopped somewhere else or gone on to an ally’s property.” He paused, thinking that possibility was most disheartening. “All we can do now is wait and see. If Alary does not appear within the next week, then we may have to consider other options.”
No one wanted to do that, not when they had come so far. Just as de Reyne and de Moray moved to take their horses off the road, the sounds of thundering hooves caught their attention. All eyes turned to the east to see St. Hèver riding towards them at breakneck speed.
Suddenly, everyone was on edge as St. Hèver came to a halt, kicking up rocks and dirt. His manner bordered on frantic. “Alary is coming through Kidderminster now,” he said, out of breath. “He will be on us in half an hour at the very most.”
The news electrified the knights. Any fatigue, or disappointment, or doubt abruptly fled as they realized the target of their search, the very bastard who had evaded them for weeks, was only minutes away.
Alary is coming!
“Did you see Kristoph?” Gaetan demanded.
St. Hèver smiled, a smile of utter relief and joy. “I did,” he said “He is in the provisions wagon, surrounded by armed men. I have a feeling he may have tried to escape once or twice because he was chained to the wagon. Bless the man; he has surely given them a difficult time.”
Everyone smiled at that, proud that their brother, their fellow warrior, had resisted his captors. It was such joy in a journey that had seen such fear and doubt. But it wasn’t over yet. The worst of it was yet to come and they all knew it.
No one knew it more than Gaetan.
“Where is Wellesbourne?” he asked. “Did he not come back with you?”
St. Hèver shook his head. “We were separated but I know he saw the incoming army as I did,” he said. “He should be coming along very shortly.”
Gaetan was satisfied by that but his attention naturally swung back to the approaching army. He needed all of the information he could get in order to plan the ambush.
“Tell me everything you saw,” he said. “The strength of the army, infantry and mounted warriors – everything you can think of.”
St. Hèver nodded as he dismounted his steed. “It is as we were told,” he said. “At least two hundred men, but what we were not told was that some of those men were mounted. I saw at least thirty mounted men, many of them carrying Norman weapons and armor. The men on foot seem to be well armed, also. There are two wagons and, as I said, the one carrying Kristoph is guarded. Moreover, they have him chained. Even when we get to him, we will have the encumbrance of those chains before we can free him completely.”
Gaetan absorbed the information. “I see,” he said, his mind working quickly. “Mounted cavalry, did you say?”
St. Hèver pulled off a glove so he could scratch his blonde head. “I did,” he said. “I know you wanted to ambush them, Gate, but from what I saw, they have enough to repel us and then some. They could make short work of us if we go at them head-on.”
Gaetan drew in a long, pensive breath and turned away. He had expected an army to have weapons, but what he hadn’t counted on was the mounted warriors. That made the situation a little trickier. Now, his plans had to change in order to accommodate this news and it wasn’t going to be easy. There was little time to plan a new strategy, but that’s exactly what he had to do.
God help him, he had mere minutes to make a new plan to save all their lives.
Gaetan glanced at the men around him, his Anges de Guerre; St. Hèver “The Hammer”, de Russe with his fearsome double-blades, de Reyne with his limitless bravery, and de Moray with his spear. De Winter carried l’Espada, the blessed blade of his Visigoth ancestors, and de Lara fought with an ax that all men feared. He was unbreakable. Finally, there was Téo, his friend and wise counsel, who wielded a morning star that decapitated enemies. These were his comrades, brothers he shared such a tremendously deep bond with, and brothers he knew would stand with him even against insurmountable odds.
This might be one of those times.
But he couldn’t give up, not with Kristoph’s life at stake. Still, Gaetan was starting to wonder if it was worth risking all of these lives so unfairly. These were great men, of great deeds, and he would die first before seeing any of them meet their ends. But hopefully, they wouldn’t have to. His quick, experienced mind had come up with a last-ditch plan.
He could only pray it would work.
“Get into the trees on either side of the road,” he told his men. “And when I say get into the trees, I mean climb into them and take your crossbows with you. Make sure you have a clear field of fire to Alary’s army and make sure the knight across the road from you is not in your line of fire.”
He was moving with a purpose and his men began to follow him. “What do you have in mind, Gate?” Téo asked eagerly.
Gaetan was moving into the foliage, far back where the horses were tethered. He headed to his horse in order to claim his own crossbow. “It is nearing dusk and the darkness will work to our advantage,” he said. “I alone will stand on the road and block Alary’s army with you men in the trees. I will tell Alary to release Kristoph or I will unleash my army, lying in wait in the trees. It will be dark enough that no one will be able to see what lies beyond the tree line, and that will be their downfall. Alary will not know that I only have eight men with me and not a thousand, and it is that fear that will force him into obeying.”
“A bluff?” de Moray said as he pulled his horse in behind the others as they entered into the trees. “A brilliant suggestion, Gate. Alary will not know if you are telling the truth or not.”
Gaetan reached his saddle and began to unstrap his crossbow. “Exactly,” he said. “If we do not have an army with us, then we shall create one. If Alary refuses my demands, then one or more of you place a few well-aimed arrows from the trees to convince him otherwise. Listen to the conversation carefully; if it seems we are going to battle, then take out Alary and his mounted men first. If we remove the head of the beast, then hopefully his men will be directionless and scatter. I will go for Kristoph so cover me as much as you can. Is that clear?”
It was a desperate move they were planning for but there was no other choice. The situation had changed and they would have to change with it or all would be lost. The knights began preparing for the upcoming fight, removing crossbows, arrows, and making sure their broadswords were strapped to their sides. Shields, strapped to the horses, were also removed and brought forth; they would be unusable with the crossbows but if they entered into close-quarter fighting, they would be needed.
The knights were businesslike and methodical in their preparation. There was a sense of anticipation but no sense of fear; this was simply what needed to be done, the moment they had been preparing for on the long journey north. Each man was ready, willing, and able to fight to the death for Kristoph’s freedom. And if Gaetan had been feeling some guilt over risking the lives of many for just one man, he needn’t have worried – to each one of them, this was what needed to be done. A brother needed to be rescued and they were going to fight to the death to do it.
As they finished collecting their gear, more hooves were heard out on the road and St. Hèver rushed to the edge of the tree line to see Wellesbourne approaching. He waved the man into the trees and, together, they headed back to the rest of the men, buried deep in the shielding foliage. Wellesbourne approached and saw the preparations for battle.
“You have seen him,” Wellesbourne said to St. Hèver. “Thank God you came before I did. The army was blocking my path to leave town and I had to rush round the walls to get to my horse. It took valuable time.”
Gaetan, in full armor with his shield slung across his back, faced Wellesbourne. “Where was the army when you left?”
Wellesbourne was winded from his wild ride. “They were just heading to the west side of town,” he said. “They are not moving slowly, as I suspect Alary wishes to make it to Tenebris by nightfall, so their pace is quick. They are more than likely thinking of the warm meal and bed that awaits them at Tenebris and not of any dangers on the road ahead.”
Gaetan nodded as he digested that information. “That is good,” he said, “because we intend to surround him with an army.”
Wellesbourne’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What army?”
Gaetan glanced at St. Hèver. “Explain it to him,” he said. “I must go take my position out on the road.”
Kye nodded. “Aye.”
Gaetan paused before he left, looking at his men once more. Eight of the best knights in the world and he was exceptionally proud of them. He could have very well felt apprehension at this moment but he refused. He could only feel pride, honor, and determination. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
Men of such bravery were surely immortal.
“Alary of Mercia cannot best us,” he told them in a tone that suggested pure confidence. “Although we cannot know what the end of this battle shall bring, suffice it to say that it shall end and whatever that end shall be, know that I look to each and every one of you as the bravest men I have ever known. It has been a privilege to fight at your side, good knights. It is you who have given me a sense of purpose and I shall always be grateful, no matter what comes. Et pro Gloria dei.”
The knights were looking at him by this time, pride and loyalty reflected in their expressions. They knew, as he did, that they were facing terrible odds. There was a very good chance that one or more of them would not make it through. But still, they were willing to risk their lives for their brother, for their comrade. There was nothing more worthwhile or noble in life.
It was the most important battle they had ever faced.
“Et pro Gloria dei,” Téo whispered to him.
Instead of the usual handshake, he embraced him as a brother would. In fact, all of the knights embraced Gaetan and each other. That was not usual with them but, in this case, it was vitally important to make that contact because if any of them met their deaths, then it was important for the parting to be well-made with embraces of brotherhood and of love. And those words, For God and Glory, were a blessing to each and every one of them, for if the end was near, then God would certainly be waiting for them. If they died, it would be with the love and devotion of their fellow knights.
It was time.
Gaetan headed out to the road, knowing that his men were taking positions in the trees behind him. Once he came through the trees and onto the road, it was dim with the setting of the sun but he knew, at any moment, he would not be alone.
He had a man to meet.
Gaetan was standing right in the middle of the road as he began to see shades of Alary’s army. The sun was setting and the scenery around him ever-dimming and, true to what Wellesbourne had said, the army was moving at a clipped pace, clearly wanting to make it to Tenebris by nightfall.
Gaetan wasn’t sorry he would have to disturb those plans. With his crossbow in one hand, though not raised, he simply stood there as the army entered the portion of the road where there was a dense collection of trees on both sides.
As Gaetan watched them approach, he couldn’t help but notice they hadn’t slowed down. He knew they saw him because men had pointed in his direction but, still, the pace remained swift. The men were noisy, kicking up dirt as they went, and the sheer rumble of many feet, hooves, and wheels gave the army a steady roar.
Wellesbourne and St. Hèver had been correct; there were many mounted warriors, heavily armed. But Gaetan held his ground, even when they came closer and he began to see facial features of the men. Not knowing what Alary of Mercia looked like since he didn’t have Ghislaine to identify him, he would have to ask. As the army drew nearer still, he raised his crossbow.
The gesture was unmistakable.
“Halt!” he bellowed.
The men in the front of the army heard him and were looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. But they didn’t slow down; they kept coming. Gaetan was forced to encourage them to obey his command; he released his crossbow, landing the arrow right in front of one of the men on horseback. A split second after he launched his arrow, several more came sailing out of the trees, all of them landing on the road in front of the advancing army.
It was enough of a startling move to cause horses to rear up and men to come to a halt purely out of fear. But the middle and rear portion of the army kept coming, running into those who had stopped, and now there was a great commotion as the army folded up on itself because they couldn’t go any further. When those in the rear tried to back up, more arrows hit the ground on the road behind them, blocking their escape.
Effectively, the army had been trapped.
Gaetan reloaded his crossbow and began to advance on the uncertain huddle of men. “Give me Alary of Mercia!” he shouted.
The men looked at each other fearfully, hissing and whispering, but Alary was not immediately produced. Gaetan advanced on them until he was about twenty feet in front of them. He leveled off his crossbow at one of the warriors on horseback.
“Give me Alary of Mercia or you men will die in a hail of arrows,” he said, looking to the well-armed warrior. “And you shall be the first.”
The warrior sat tall in the saddle. “I am not afraid to die.”
Gaetan’s answer was to let the arrow fly, right into the man’s throat. He hit the ground, dying a slow and agonizing death as Gaetan reloaded.
“Know that I have a thousand men in the trees with their arrows sighted on all of you,” he said loudly. “I would speak with Alary. That is all I wish. But if you do not produce him, then be prepared to die.”
The confusing situation, for Alary’s army, had just become deadly serious. There were more whispers about as Gaetan pointed his crossbow at another mounted warrior, who turned to run but there were so many men behind him that he couldn’t. Therefore, he leapt from the saddle and hid behind his horse to protect himself. Gaetan cocked an eyebrow at the cowardly warrior.
“Is this how a Saxon fights?” he asked. “Hiding from his enemy?”
“What madness is this?”
A man suddenly came up through the center of the army but he had a very big shield in front of him. Obviously, he’d seen the arrow take down the first mounted warrior and he was smart about his approach. He looked at the man dying on the ground, his features contorted with anger.
“By what right to you kill my men?” he demanded. “Who are you?”
Gaetan focused on the man; he was moderately tall, and slender, with a massive scar across his face running from his left temple, across his nose, and ending by the right side of his jaw. His hair was dark and he was rather unattractive. More than that, he had a sinister look about him. Gaetan took several long moments to digest the appearance of Alary of Mercia.
“Your men,” he said. “You must be Alary.”
Alary was in no mood for whatever this man wanted. He was positively enormous, dressed in mail and heavy tunic, with a sword on his side, a kite-shaped shield slung across his back, and a wicked-looking crossbow in hand. It took him a moment to realize he was looking at a Norman knight, for no Saxon warriors dressed as this man did. The light of recognition went on and the anger on his face changed to astonishment.
“He was right,” he said as if a great idea had just occurred to him. “His brethren were about!”
Gaetan heard him and he was fairly certain he knew what he meant. “You have something that belongs to me, Anglais,” he said. “You took him. I want him back.”
Alary kept the shield up but he took a few steps in Gaetan’s direction as if to get a better look at him. “So it is true. You have come for my Norman.”
“I have.”
Alary seemed to be both impressed and amazed by the fact. “How astonishing that you made it this far,” he said. But his eyes glittered rather knowingly. “Let me guess; my sister is with you. It was she who told you were to find me and, consequently, the prisoner I took from her. Is that it? She has asked you to avenge her?”
Gaetan wasn’t surprised that Alary could figure out what was happening. The man knew he was being followed as far back as Westerham and Lady Gunnora’s messenger those weeks back had clearly mentioned Ghislaine. It didn’t take a great intellect to figure out that the Normans and Ghislaine must have been working together. But Gaetan didn’t want to give the man any more information than he’d already guessed. They’d entered into a deadly game and Gaetan didn’t want to give Alary any more ammunition against him. The man probably already knew too much.
Therefore, he played it cool.
“There is no vengeance involved,” he said. “I have simply come to take my man. You will bring him forth.”
Alary didn’t move. He had a smirk on his face, as if he knew exactly why Gaetan was here and all of his secrets, besides. In fact, he was almost jovial.
“We will get to your man in a moment,” he said. “I want to know how you and my sister found one another. Did she come to you for help? Please, tell me everything. I am most curious to know how my sister has betrayed me.”
Gaetan wasn’t pleased with the man’s stalling tactics. He suspected there was some end to it but, at the moment, he couldn’t figure out what that could be. Still, he wouldn’t put it past Alary to try and undermine him somehow. He had to be vigilant.
“Your curiosity will have to wait,” he said. “It is growing dark and, soon, we will be standing here in total darkness and my army in the trees will not be able to see who they are hitting with their arrows. You will lose many men if I give the word so it would be in your best interest to give me my man. That is all I have come for.”
Alary looked around to the dark trees lining both sides of the road. Clearly, there were men in them, men with crossbows, but an entire army? He returned his attention to Gaetan.
“I told you not to follow me,” he said. “My scouts reported that we were not followed, but your man was certain his comrades had not given up. He told me so. How did you move an entire army north and I did not know of it?”
Gaetan smiled thinly. “My men have arrows trained on you at this very moment,” he said, “and that shield will only protect one side of you. If I were you, I would do as I have asked. Bring me my man. I will not ask you again. Next time, I will let my army do the asking.”
There was truth to that statement. Alary could only protect one side and he lost some of his smug appearance. He backed up a bit, so there were men behind him and around him, but even those men started to move away out of fear that Alary was an arrow target. When Alary saw what was happening, his humor vanished completely. He eyed Gaetan with nothing short of pure hatred, realizing he had no choice but to bring forth his prized prisoner. If he didn’t, he suspected very bad things were about to happen.
“Bring me the Norman!” he bellowed. “Bring him now!”
Back in the lines, men began to scramble. As Gaetan and Alary gazed at each other in a deadly staring game, back in the lines, Kristoph was being unchained.
Half-unconscious with hunger and fatigue, he hadn’t heard what was going on at the front of the army. But he’d most definitely heard the arrows hit around them, so he knew something was happening. When the guards around him began to unchain him, he began to suspect something quite serious was afoot, but he had no idea what it was until he was brought forward through the lines of Saxon men.
Exhausted, starved, beaten, and in need of both a bath and a shave, Kristoph made his way slowly. He couldn’t move very fast but he was trying. As he emerged from the army, dragged forward by two of Alary’s men, his gaze fell on Gaetan and it was all he could do to not burst into tears; he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life than Gaetan de Wolfe, standing alone and facing off against an army of two hundred men. The man had the bravery of the archangels and Kristoph knew, at that moment, that he would be saved.
There was no doubt in his mind.
Gaetan, too, had never seen any sight quite so wonderful as he did when his gaze beheld Kristoph. But he wanted to burst into tears for an entirely different reason; the man looked like hell. He looked like a starved animal. Normally a muscular man of some bulk, he looked as if he’d lost half of his weight. At that moment, Gaetan’s joy and shock turned into anger so deep that he was having a difficult time controlling it.
He wanted to kill.
“Kristoph,” he said hoarsely. “Come here.”
Kristoph moved to obey but Alary grabbed him by the arm. “Not so fast,” he said. “Your man is a valuable prisoner. We must discuss his release.”
Gaetan realized he was shaking with fury. “There will be no discussion. Turn him over to me or every man in your army will die, starting with you. Is this in any way unclear?”
Alary didn’t like being threatened. Unsheathing a dagger at his side, the same one he’d used to cut off the portion of Kristoph’s finger, he pointed the tip right at Kristoph’s left kidney.
“What gives you the right to come to my country and make such demands?” he hissed. “You do not belong here, Norman. You and your kind have come here to take what does not belong to you and as long as I hold your man hostage, the Normans will do as I say!”
Gaetan could see, in that statement, that Alary was detached from the world at large. Only a fool would make such a statement. What was it Antillius had called him? Alary Insanus. Alary the Insane. Gaetan began to realize that there may be truth to that and his only hope would be to behave as Alary was.
Threats to a man who only understood the language of a madman.
“Holding one Norman knight against the entire Norman nation will not cause them to surrender,” Gaetan said. “Give me my man and I will leave you and your army intact. Continue to threaten him as you do and my army will emerge from the trees and kill every last one of you. Now, take your dagger away from him. Kristoph, come here.”
Alary didn’t move and Kristoph, feeling the knifepoint at his kidney, knew this was the moment of truth. He could move, but he knew Alary would probably shove that dagger deep into his body if he did. He might survive it; he might not. But he was willing to take the chance. All he knew was that this was the moment when he fought back against his captor where he had been unable to fight back before. He was free and he was going to remain free.
But Gaetan had to know that and he had to be prepared. Therefore, he said the only thing he could at that moment, his blue eyes fixed on Gaetan.
“Et pro Gloria dei,” he said quietly.
For God and Glory.
Gaetan knew exactly what that meant. Those were words that preceded a fight, and a fight was upon them. There would be no more talk, no more negotiation. Knowing this may be their end, if they went, they would go out fighting like the knights they were. This was their battle.
Swallowing hard and bracing himself for what was to come, he nodded his head, once.
“Et pro Gloria dei,” he murmured.
He braced himself.
What happened after that was something Gaetan would remember for the rest of his life. It seemed as if it happened in slow motion, but it happened in the blink of an eye. Gaetan saw it and then it was gone, like a flash, and all hell broke loose as an army of men he didn’t recognize came rushing out of the trees, swarming the Saxon army, and pulling men down with their bows and arrows and spears.
It was chaos. But it was chaos that saved them all.
The last thing he remembered seeing before unleashing his own crossbow was an arrow flying right at Alary’s head, piercing his forehead and going all the way through to the other side. As Alary fell to the road, dead, Kristoph yanked the sword from the sheath at Alary’s side and joined whatever fight this happened to be. Now, the captive had turned on the captors.
And they were going to pay.
Somewhere in the middle of it of the mass of swarming, fighting men, Gaetan caught sight of the iron staff from the monument of the Tertium held high above the fighting, flying once again in the face of battle as it did for its legion those centuries ago. Now, Gaetan finally realize who these men were.
The Romans, in all their glory, had arrived.