CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I am sure, given your role in de Beaumont’s victory at Dupplin Moor, that the king will restore everything to you and then some,” Tate said, his mouth full of well-cooked mutton. “You have earned it and I will vouch for the fact. If I have not said this before, then I will say it was a pleasure to see you in action once again, Mat. I have missed you.”
Seated around a fire in the midst of the southern Scottish moors, Mathias, too, was stuffing himself with mutton. They had two of the big beasts roasting on an open pit, sending succulent-smelly greasy smoke into the night air.
It was two weeks after the victory of Dupplin Moor and finally, they were returning to England. Mathias had voiced his thoughts on whether or not Edward would be receptive to allowing him to resume his knighthood for good and Tate had responded. In fact, Pembury, de Lara, and even Sebastian seemed to think it was a certainty that the Westbury barony would once again be Mathias’ before the year was out.
“As I have missed you and the smell of battle in the air,” Mathias said humbly. “Let us hope that the king is receptive to my petition to regain my honor, for I truly do not know what else I can do to prove my worth and loyalty to the king if my showing at Dupplin is not enough.”
“There is nothing more to do. You have done more than any one man should be expected to. You have once again proved your superiority as a knight and as a tactician. Edward will gladly welcome your fealty.”
Mathias was hopeful but tried to keep it contained. “I hope he will. I will eagerly give it.”
Tate nodded as he shoved more meat into his mouth. It was the first time they had stopped in two days, following the trail of Scots heading south. Word had come a week prior when they were in Scone with de Beaumont, tying up the loose ends from the battle of Dupplin Moor, that an army of Scots led by the Earl of Mar were heading south into Carlisle lands. Tate had promptly rounded up his men and, with nine hundred additional men from de Beaumont including an entire fleet of longbow archers, quickly headed south.
Scouts had brought back regular reports as they had thundered south. First, they had been four days behind the Scots army, then it was three, and then it was two. But now, they were still a day behind and the Scots army had crossed the border into England. Carlisle was a mere day’s ride from the border, shorter if the ride was swift. No one wanted to mention the fact that there was no way to catch the Scots. They would reach Carlisle before the de Lara army did. No one wanted to send the earl or Mathias into a state of panic with their wives and children bottled up in a castle under siege.
Therefore, Sebastian and Stephen drove the army like slave masters, hardly stopping to rest or eat. Tonight was a rare occurrence because the men had been on the road for almost a week without stopping more than a couple of hours to rest. Even now, they knew that this rest would be short also. They would eat, they would try to catch what rest they could, and then they would continue.
Mathias could hardly eat even though he knew he should. The battle, the campaign, and his father’s passing had taken away his appetite and tried to take away his spirit. Sebastian had taken Justus’ death even harder and was more brusque and violent than usual. He had been positively fearsome in battle. The man had no idea how to deal with his feelings but when he and Mathias were alone, he would speak of his grief as if it was of little consequence. Mathias wouldn’t speak of his at all. Together, they were trying very hard to deal with something that was greatly impacting their lives and neither one was sure how to soldier on without their father. It was an impossible concept.
Meanwhile, Mathias was also dealing with his performance at Dupplin Moor and the Scot’s army heading towards Carlisle where he had sent his wife to safety. That, more than anything, was fracturing his control. The calm and consummate commander was sometimes as brusque and brittle as Sebastian, which was unusual. Several times he had asked to ride ahead to Carlisle Castle but Tate had held him back, sending Kenneth instead. He wanted someone there without an emotional investment in the place, someone who would hopefully make decisions based on reason and not emotion. Even so, Mathias and Tate were following Kenneth’s trail to Carlisle at a maddening pace. The sense of urgency filled the very air they breathed.
After supper on this warm August night, Mathias found himself lying down on his bedroll, gazing up at the blanket of stars across the night sky. He could see Cathlina’s face in the diamond night, the glistening of her brown eyes in every twinkle of the stars. As he lay there thinking about the texture of his wife’s skin, something hit the ground beside him and he looked over to see Sebastian flat on his back, staring up at the night sky. Mathias returned his attention to the stars.
“All will be well, you know,” Sebastian said after a moment. “Even if the Scots make it to Carlisle Castle before us, we are not far behind them. They will barely have time to lay in an attack before we box them in against Carlisle’s walls and destroy them.”
“Mayhap.”
“It is true. You know it is true.”
Mathias sighed faintly, folding a big arm behind his head as he watched the night sky. Thoughts other than his wife began to populate his mind now that he was thinking about Carlisle and the battle that lay ahead.
“It was so easy,” he admitted, “so very easy to think logically at Dupplin. It was so simple to see how overwhelmed we were by the superior Scots forces and to know that the only way to defeat them, or at least gain the upper hand, was a surprise attack. So we swept over their camp in the night when they were sleeping and decimated their ranks. But when the battle continued in the morning and were able to use the terrain and the archers to our advantage, everything happened as it should. It was as if God was on our side and victory was assured. But now, with renegade Scots preparing to close in on Carlisle where Cathlina is, I cannot help feeling foolish, as if I scattered them to her doorstep. I feel as if I have failed her because the very reason I sent her to Carlisle in the first place was for her safety. Now see what has happened.”
By this time, Sebastian was propped up on one elbow in the grass, watching his brother beat himself up over something he had no control over. He hastened to reassure the man.
“You established the criteria for battle that will be utilized for years to come,” he insisted. “You were brilliant in positioning our army and using the longbows against the Scots foot infantry with their spears. As fast as our archers could reload on the slopes, that is how fast they killed the Scots infantry downslope as they tried to reach us. God knows how many English lives you saved, Mathias. The fact that the Scots army broke apart and fled is a testament to your brilliance, but you could not have known in which direction they were fleeing or what target they had in mind.”
Mathias sighed faintly. “I will not receive the credit for this battle,” he said softly. “Henry de Beaumont will be chronicled as the mastermind behind the victory, and I am accepting of that. Had we fallen, he would have been chronicled as the defeated. In any case, I am no longer concerned with Dupplin Moor or the long-reaching implications of the battle. I am only concerned with reaching Carlisle and my wife.”
Sebastian lay back down in the grass and gazed up at the stars. “Father was proud of you, you know,” he muttered. “He knew what you had done. He went to his grave proud of you.”
“Proud of us,” Mathias corrected. “He was proud of us. I will admit that it was difficult to face battle without him. It is the first battle I have ever fought without my father by my side.”
“For me, as well,” Sebastian said. Then he pointed to the sky. “But he is up there, watching over us. He is with Mother, and that is where he has wanted to be all along. I do not grieve for him because he is finally at peace with her.”
Mathias rolled his head over, looking at his brother as the man stared up at the sky. “That is a very astute thing to say, little brother,” he said. “But we still have each other, and I have Cathlina. We will still make a fine, strong family.”
Sebastian snorted. “I suppose I must find a wife now. You married the only woman I had ever had an eye on.”
Mathias sat up in a huff. “God’s Bones, Sebastian,” he gruffed as he rose to his feet. “You have had your eye on innumerable women in my lifetime. Cathlina has a sister, you know. Mayhap you should focus your attention on her.”
Sebastian looked up at his brother with interest. “Which sister? Isn’t the younger one ill?”
“She has an older sister, Roxane,” he said. “She is the one Cathlina fights with.”
Sebastian grinned. “So the sister has spirit? I like that. Aye, mayhap I will give her a second look when we arrive at Carlisle.”
“Then let us get the men roused so we can move within the hour.”
Sebastian bolted to his feet with the lure of a woman dangling before him. The sooner they get to Carlisle, the sooner he could get an eyeful of the Lady Roxane de Lara. As Mathias rolled up his bedroll and began heading to the corral where the chargers were tethered in the thick green grass, he began to hear the shouts of sentries. Immediately, the bedroll hit the ground and both he and Sebastian had their broadswords readied as they jogged across the encampment, heading in the direction of the alerts. By the time they reached the source, Tate and Stephen were already interrogating the man who had breached their boundaries. Mathias moved closer and saw that it was one of their scouts.
“I barely escaped, my lord,” the man was telling Tate. “They saw the patrol and set after us. I was fortunate to have reached you.”
Tate’s features were grim. “Tell me what you saw.”
The scout took a few deep breaths and then downed a cup of wine handed to him by another soldier. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before replying.
“Our patrol crossed into Longtown, north of Carlisle, when the tracks of the Scot army veered off to the southeast,” he said. “We followed and saw that they had closed in on your garrison at Kirklinton Castle. But it seemed to me as if it was not the entire army so I sent two men to Carlisle Castle and they came back to tell me that the castle was under threat by a substantial army of Scots. It would seem they split their forces and were raiding both castles, my lord.”
Tate was trying not to look too worried. “What else did you see? Were the castles holding?”
The scout nodded. “They were, my lord. It appeared to me that the Scots were only just starting to dig in. They were building ladders. It did not seem as if any real battle had yet begun.”
“How long ago was this?”
“At least a day, my lord.”
“Twelve hours?”
“Or more, my lord. I am not entirely sure how long I have been running because I had to make a few detours in order to lose my pursuers.”
Tate saw Mathias’ face in the darkness and their eyes met, locked on each other, and silent thoughts began to pass between them. The siege of both castles was unexpected and wholly disheartening. Tate finally motioned to Stephen and Sebastian, who moved back through the encampment shouting for men to pack their belongings and prepare to depart. As the army began to stir, moving to carry out the orders, Tate moved to Mathias.
“We will have to split the force,” he said with quiet urgency. “As much as I do not relish doing so, Kirklinton will need aid. Mat, you will take four hundred men to Kirklinton and make short work of the Scots there. Then you will move on to Carlisle to reinforce me. I will send a messenger this night to Harbottle Castle and empty her of her might force. That should bring another one thousand men to Carlisle and with those numbers, we should make short work of the Scots.”
Mathias was still rattled by the scout’s report and struggling not to show it. He was his usual cool and collected self, but inside, he was a mess.
“Send Pembury to Kirklinton,” he suggested. “Cathlina is at Carlisle and I….”
Tate cut him off. “I need Pembury with me,” he said. “You are better suited to the kind of siege Kirklinton will need. You will crush them, Mat. I am depending on your emotion in this case to send a clear message to the Scots. Moreover, it will put you in good with Saer if you save his castle. He would forgive you everything.”
“But….”
Tate put a big hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “No more talk,” he said, though it was not unkind. “You have your orders. Go now and prepare for our ride. It will be hard and fast through darkness, so be vigilant. If all goes well, you should see Kirklinton come the morning.”
Mathias wasn’t pleased but he didn’t argue. “Sebastian goes with me,” he said.
Tate nodded firmly. “Absolutely,” he said, slapping him on the back before heading off into the darkness. “Have the perimeters of the camp broken down and I will see you at the head of the column in an hour.”
Mathias watched Tate fade off into the darkness. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was feeling at the moment other than terror and disappointment. He wanted to ride with Tate to Carlisle because that was where he left his wife, but on the other hand, he had his orders. He would be seeing Cathlina a little later than he had hoped.
With a heavy sigh, this time one for courage, he stalked off into the darkness, shouting orders to the men around him as he went. Soon, the entire camp was scrambling to assemble and by the light of the three-quarter moon, the Earl of Carlisle’s army moved south. By morning, he did indeed see the walls of Kirklinton but it was not as he had expected or hoped.
Kirklinton was in flames.