MacDuff stood before William as the man warmed himself in front of a hearth that was taller than he was. The biggest hearth in Scotland, he liked to say. It warmed his old bones and brought him comfort in a world where there was little to be found.
At the moment, comfort had eluded him once again.
The comfort of an English ally.
“Aye, yer grace,” MacDuff said. He had a big gash on his neck and a bandaged arm, evidence of the nasty battle he’d been a part of. It all played into his role as a victim to Alastor de Bourne’s rage, which was his intention. He didn’t want his king to know that he had actually failed. “I was polite. I tried tae negotiate with the man. ’Tis no’ the first time I’ve dealt with a warlord and I know how tae handle such a man, but de Bourne is without reason. He sent his army out tae attack us. I lost many men.”
William sighed heavily and came away from the fire, rubbing his hands together because his joints pained him. He eyed his young justiciar, hearing defeat in the man’s voice. He certainly looked beaten and so did his men. There were several who had accompanied him to meet with the king and every one of them looked as if he’d been on the wrong side of a nasty row.
“Then the fact that he dinna reply tae Canmore’s missives meant he dinna want tae be part of it,” he said. “His silence was his answer. And no sign of Canmore on yer travels? Ye heard nothing?”
MacDuff shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “We can only assume that Canmore is still with de Velt.”
William simply nodded, pondering a situation that had taken a bad turn. Not that he wasn’t prepared for it, because he always prepared himself for the worst. That was how he had been able to rule for so long. Expect the worst, hope for this best.
In this case, the worst had happened.
“Then we must move forward without Alastor de Bourne,” he said, looking to MacDuff and the other men in the hall. “Alpin Canmore is a prisoner of Ajax de Velt and we must assume he’s told him everything he knows. That means the English are going tae be casting their eyes on Berwick and we canna allow them tae control the town or the river. If they do, our allies from the north will have nowhere tae go when they arrive.”
“They can go tae Newcastle,” MacDuff said. “They can go tae Humberside. There are other rivers.”
William held up a finger. “True,” he said. “But there are no other rivers that are the border between England and Scotland. If they go tae another river further tae the south, the chances of our armies uniting wouldna be good. And it is imperative that we unite if this is tae succeed.”
He had a point. Every man in the hall knew it. William turned back to the hearth, wringing his hands, considering his options when the truth was that he already knew what he was going to do.
He had already planned it in his mind a hundred times over.
“We go tae Berwick,” he said quietly. “Whatever army we have now will go tae Berwick. We’ll send word tae the allies who’ve no’ yet arrived in Edinburgh tae hold until they receive word from me. We’ll keep Berwick free, and the River Tweed free, and once the longships head down the river, we can bring the rest of the armies south. We’ll converge in Kelso and head south, through the Kielder Pass. It would have been better for de Bourne had he allied himself with us, but no matter. We’ll take the pass and his castle. From there, we’ll go east and take Alnwick, seat of the Earl of Northumberland. Once we have Alnwick, we’ll launch north again tae Bamburgh. If we can hold those four castles – Bamburgh, Berwick, The Keld, and Alnwick, we can anchor intae Northumberland and the English will never get us out.”
He spoke with great passion, a gift he had, something that had rallied men to his side for forty years. This moment was no different. Alexander MacDuff may have entered the hall defeated, but William made him feel as if it was only a setback.
“We’re with ye, yer grace,” MacDuff said. “Give the word and we’ll head tae Berwick.”
William looked at him. “The word is given,” he said. “Rally the army. We depart for Berwick in two days. We must get there before the English do.”
MacDuff nodded firmly as several of William’s military advisors headed out of the hall to carry out his command. There were three thousand men in and around Edinburgh, all of them waiting for their king to give the command that would send them south, into England, to reclaim what rightfully belonged to The Rough.
Now, the time had come.
The Scots were on the move.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Castle Keld
“Excellent, my lady,” Cole said with approval. “You have an excellent aim on the target.”
Corisande grinned.
Beneath sunny skies and mild breezes on a fine spring day, she was having another lesson in archery along with Gratiana and Gaia. Somehow, Gaia got it into her head that they all needed to know how to shoot arrows, known as bolts, given the attack from the Scots the previous month, and Cole volunteered to teach them.
But it wasn’t just Cole. Ares, Atlas, and Anteaus were also in attendance, each one helping the woman in their own way, but it was so overwhelming that Gaia had been in tears early in the lessons. They all wanted to help and show the women how much of an expert they were, but Atlas and Ares ganged up on Gaia and she dissolved in tears because of it.
Then came Cole.
He was surprisingly patient with the ladies, kind and gentle, and they loved him for it. Now, it was Cole teaching Gaia and Corisande, while the three de Bourne brothers helped Gratiana, who was less fragile than Gaia was when it came to her confidence. Moreover, she had her eye on Anteaus, so she liked his attention.
On this lovely day, Cole was standing over Corisande’s left shoulder, peering over her head, as she fired off arrows into the targets the men had set up in the stable yard. He was watching her aim, that was true, but he was standing closer than he should have in the hopes that he might feel her body heat near his.
He just wanted to be close to her.
“Do you really think so?” Corisande asked, turning to look at him as a pair of soldiers removed the bolts from the targets and rushed back to the women with them.
Cole nodded. “Indeed,” he said. “You have the de Bourne gift of accuracy. I would not be surprised if you were more skilled than your brothers.”
Ares heard him. He and Cole had become friends over the past month, men who had always known of one another but who had never had the chance to get to know each other. Cole’s month at The Keld had seen that situation between them change and, in fact, they liked each other very much. They thought alike and had much the same work ethic. Therefore, Ares made a face at Cole, one of distinct displeasure, when he heard the comment.
“There is no possibility she has become as skilled as I am with you as her teacher,” he said flatly.
Cole cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
“Shall I prove just how much more skilled I am than you?”
Ares was always up for a challenge. That’s what Cole liked about him, something he found utterly amusing. Any challenge and Ares was pawing the ground to accept it, ready to charge like a bull. He disarmed Gaia as Cole took the bow that Corisande had been holding and when the soldiers brought the bolts back, Cole and Ares loaded them.