CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Three weeks later
In the expanse of dense forest north of the town of Perth known as the Devil’s Wood, a mighty fortress tucked back in the hills known as the Devil’s Den served as the highland base for de Beaumont and his operations in Scotland. It was a different design from most English castles in that it was mostly massive walls built from brittle gray stone and the interior contained a single stone tower and several wood and thatch outbuildings. Dogs, horses and men mingled freely, and English troops held strict vigilance over the countryside. They were in enemy territory.
Which is why Mathias and his party were nearly mowed down by archers when they approached the day before, but Mathias has the good sense to keep everyone out of archer’s range while he sent Stephen to announce their arrival. He thought about sending Sebastian but with his flaming red hair and big build, he looked like a Scot and Mathias didn’t want to lose his brother to a pack of panicked sentries. Therefore, he sent Stephen in all of his godly English glory to announce their intentions and deliver the missive he carried from de Lara.
The decision had worked in their favor and soon they found themselves in the bosom of the Devil’s Den. While Henry was too busy to see them the day they arrived, he provided adequate accommodations and saw them at sunrise the next day. Leaving Justus with Cathlina, Mathias, Stephen, and Sebastian attended Henry’s audience.
The great hall of the Den, as it was locally known, was a vast place with a pitched roof, stone walls, and two enormous hearths. It was full of Englishmen, mixed with Scots, all of them loyal to Henry who had immersed himself in Scotland’s politics for well over twenty years. He was part of the contingent that fought at Bannockburn, and lost, and became what was known throughout England as a group of disgraced nobles called “The Disinherited”. For some reason, however, Henry managed to maintain power in a world that had seen many of his compatriots stripped. Henry fought for the side that suited his politics best at that time, English or Scots, but mostly, Henry fought for himself. He was an opportunist of the greatest degree.
It was this short, gray-haired, and rather powerfully built man that now gave audience to Mathias, Stephen, and Sebastian. His manner was both welcoming and disdainful, an odd combination.
“Mathias de Reyne and Stephen of Pembury.” Henry de Beaumont had a crisp and almost condescending way of delivering his speech. “Two of the greatest knights in young Edward’s arsenal stand before me. And let us not forget Sebastian the Red, a mighty man indeed. One cannot help but wonder why you are all here?”
“Was it not satisfactorily explained to you in the missive I delivered to you from the Earl of Carlisle, my lord?” Mathias asked. “The earl has sent us to support your cause.”
Henry was no fool. He had been doing this for a very long time. “My cause?” he asked. “Or Edward Balliol’s cause?”
Stephen, who had been entrenched in the Scots politics well over a year, spoke. “Edward does not believe the rightful heir to the throne of Scotland is the infant, David, son of The Bruce,” he replied steadily. “It is his opinion that the House of Balliol is the legitimate heir. Edward is the son of the former king, John Balliol, descendent of Isabella of Angouleme, and of John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey. That makes him more royal than most, my lord.”
Henry watched Pembury carefully as he spoke. The man was a well-known puppet of King Edward but had a sterling reputation of his own. There was no one in Scotland or England who could speak poorly of the man. De Reyne, however, was another matter. He had been Roger Mortimer’s genius, the brilliance behind Mortimer’s might. Henry had fought with de Reyne before and during the years he supported Mortimer and Isabella but, unlike de Reyne, he fell from favor, switched alliances, and helped plot Mortimer’s downfall. De Reyne had stayed the course with Mortimer, like a good soldier. Aye, Henry was particularly interested in de Reyne.
“Spare me the lineage lesson, Pembury, for I know it better than you,” he said, turning his attention to Mathias. “You, however, intrigue me greatly. Mortimer would not make a move without you and I know for a fact that it was your military mastermind that put the man upon the throne for three years. Well? What say you? What happened to you when they cut off Mortimer’s head?”
Entrenched in Scotland and his own political issues, de Beaumont evidently had not heard of Mathias’ dishonor. Before Mathias could respond, Pembury intervened.
“He was spared, my lord,” he said, looking at Mathias and silently begging the man to keep his mouth shut. “We are in the service of the Earl of Carlisle now who has sent us here to support your cause. Will you accept our fealty, my lord?”
Henry accepted Pembury’s explanation of Mathias’ service record since Mortimer unfortunately parted ways with his head. There was no reason to doubt the man considering Mathias’ reputation.
“It is as simple as that?” he asked, as if waiting for a caveat. “I have your swords and your loyalty?”
“The earl has deemed it so, my lord,” Pembury replied steadily. “He wishes Balliol on the throne and not a child who will be ruled by the nobles, and especially not Moray. We are here to ensure that.”
He had a point. Henry’s gaze lingered on Mathias a moment before finally rising from his chair. Flicking a wrist at the three knights, he began to walk from the hall.
“Come with me,” he said.
Dutifully, Mathias, Stephen, and Sebastian followed. They headed out into the vast bailey of the Den, swarming with men and animals. There was an encampment of troops, both English and Scots, against the southern wall with make-shift shelters and cooking fires. They had to pass through the edge of the encampment in order to reach the keep, which rose three stories above the bailey. Henry took them inside the very cramped and stuffy cylindrical tower and they mounted the narrow stone steps to the second floor. When they came to the landing, Henry rapped on the only door on that level. After a muffled response, he opened the door.
The room beyond was the entire circumference of the tower. A fire smoked in the hearth and two big dogs, shaggy hounds, slept near the fireplace, lifting their heads when they saw visitors. There was a bed, and clutter, and a table near a lancet window were a solitary man sat hunched over a scattering of vellums. When he saw the men entering his chamber, he rose to greet them.
“My lord,” Henry said as they entered the room. “I should like to introduce you to some of the major players in young King Edward’s battle against Roger Mortimer. Be introduced to Sir Sebastian de Reyne, Sir Stephen of Pembury, and Sir Mathias de Reyne. Good knights, this is Edward Balliol.”
The three knights bowed respectfully to Edward, who scrutinized the group closely. Middle aged, with a paunch in the middle and piercing brown eyes, he was an intelligent man and very ambitious. He knew the names that Henry had spoken of. Aye, he knew them well.
“De Reyne,” he said, approaching Mathias. “I know of you. You were Mortimer’s commander.”
Mathias nodded shortly. “Aye, my lord.”
“Your reputation precedes you.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because the Earl of Carlisle has offered their services to our cause,” Henry said, glancing at the three big knights. “It is evident that he does not wish to see the infant David upon the throne and what Tate de Lara wants, King Edward wants. We are in the presence of greatness, my lord. These men will win you a kingdom.”
Edward looked at the knights, filling up his chamber with power and glory. He hardly knew what to say. “This morning when I awoke, I had no idea that this day would bring such news,” he said, moving from Mathias to Stephen. “I am rather speechless with the military might I am faced with. Did you bring men with you?”
Mathias shook his head. “Only me, my brother, Pembury, and my father.”
“Is Carlisle planning on sending an army?”
Stephen answered. “I am told four hundred men will be making the journey from Carlisle in a few weeks. The earl wanted to make sure we were well received and settled before sending men.”
Balliol nodded shortly, thinking of more men to reinforce his cause. “Very well,” he said. “We will sit and talk now. I want to understand what your presence here truly means.”
In the stuffy room that smelled of dogs and smoke, Henry pulled up a stool but the other three remained standing. They were about to hear the plans for their immediate future and the reclamation of a throne for the House of Balliol. For Mathias, it was as if he was back with Mortimer, huddling for battle, feeling the power that he wielded flow through him like the rich red blood that filled his veins. Power and blood were one and the same. He could breathe battle, smell it and taste it, once for Mortimer and now for Balliol.
This was what he was born and bred to do, his destiny as God had given it to him. The year he had lived as a smithy, he realized, had only made him hungrier for his true vocation. He was a knight, through and through, and no one could take that away from him. As he sat around that small table, he realized that this was the beginning of his redemption.
Matthias de Reyne was back.
*
Midgy was wreaking havoc.
In the accommodations assigned to Mathias and his party, the otter was a festive creature who had no idea that knocking things over, spilling water, slithering into the fireplace and then emerging with soot all over his body which, in turn, got all over people and objects, was a bad thing. He was just curious and happy, as he usually was, until he got black soot all over Justus’ lap when the old man was sleeping in a chair. Justus woke up and yelled at the otter, which promptly stood on its hind legs to beg food from the irritated old man. Cathlina had quickly distracted the animal with toys.
They were lodged in one of the small huts that lined the Den’s outer wall, built from river rock with a heavy thatched roof. There was one big room and one smaller adjoining room, and a fireplace that was open on both ends and servicing both rooms. Midgy was having a great time with the pass-through hearth.
“Justus?” she asked as Midgy tried to burrow his way into Mathias’ saddle bags. “Do you suppose you can find a pot or a tub for him to play in? It would keep him out of the hearth.”
Justus eyed the otter, who was grunting happily. “Aye,” he said, rising wearily from his chair and upset that his nap had been interrupted. “I will see what I can find.”
He opened the door to the bailey of the Devil’s Den with the intention of hunting down the stables when he caught sight of his sons returning from the keep. Pembury was walking beside them, his hulking presence unmistakable. Cathlina came to the door to watch the approach of the knights, their enormous forms shadowed by the setting sun. When Midgy tried to squeeze by and make a break for it, she caught the otter and held him fast.
Mathias smiled wearily as he came close, his gaze locking with Cathlina’s. She smiled in return and he took both her and the otter in his arms to kiss her. Midgy squirmed and tried to break free.
“Are you hungry?” he asked her. “Henry has invited us to sup with him in the great hall, so put on your best gown, my lady. Let these fools see what a true beauty looks like.”
Cathlina scooted back into the chamber excitedly as the knights filed in and shut the door behind them. Her possessions, as well as Mathias’ bags, were in the smaller of the rooms so she disappeared into the smaller chamber with Midgy. They could hear her rummaging around.
“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. It was 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 onto 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 rightfully 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. I 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 his 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 wine. “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 now.”
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 into. 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 onto 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.”
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 others 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 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.