He was addressing The Marshal at that point, and William was thrilled to see his most fearsome warlord. Even more than The Marshal himself, Ajax de Velt was legendary. The modest solar of Alastor de Bourne, at the moment, was filled with legends. Moreover, there weren’t many men The Marshal was so terribly excited to see, but Jax was one of them. He approached the man, reaching out a hand to him.
Jax took it.
“De Velt,” The Marshal said with satisfaction. “I am pleased. I was told of your success with Fountainhall. Excellent work, as always.”
Jax held The Marshal’s hand for a moment before releasing it. “Laying siege and sowing destruction is much like riding a horse,” he said. “One never forgets, even if one has not ridden in twenty-five years or more. I am pleased with the outcome as well. It was… fruitful.”
“Fruitful, indeed,” The Marshal said. “We were just discussing the fall of Fountainhall and the death of Canmore.”
Jax nodded his head before The Marshal even finished speaking. “Aye, that was most unexpected,” he said. “But I believe we received the information we needed from him, and after Addax and Essien spent the past month in Berwick, we have even more. Thank God you are here, William, because you need to hear this.”
The mood took a serious turn as everyone looked over at Addax and Essien. Since Essien was the one who had actually gotten the information first-hand, Addax gave his brother a gentle shove, encouraging him to speak. Everyone was looking at him expectantly.
Essien took the hint.
“My brother and I spent the past several weeks in Berwick, pretending to be sailors looking for a job aboard one of the many cogs that come into the city,” he said. Essien was an excellent orator, comfortable in a group of men. “We also pretended to be drunk every day so jobs were not forthcoming because no one wants to hire a drunken sailor, but pretending to be in that state afforded us the ability to glean information any way we could.”
“What did you hear?” The Marshal wanted to know.
Essien fixed on him. “We left Berwick four days ago,” he said. “On the last day we were there, I spent time with a woman who was known to keep company with men from the garrison at Berwick Castle. I will not tell you how I received the information from her, but suffice it to say that I did and I believe it reliable. The woman had told me things before that had come to pass, so her information has been proven. She told me that according to her lover, who is one of the commanders at Berwick, the Scots are already moving south. They are already heading for Berwick.”
That was the information they had all been looking for and every man was listening intently. The Marshal, hearing what he had hoped not to hear, at least not yet, sighed heavily.
“When?”
“Now, my lord,” Essien said. “She told me that they were coming to Berwick to join their Northman allies and that the entire city was to celebrate the arrival of the Northmen soon.”
The Marshal’s eyebrows rose. “The Northmen are already moving for Berwick?” he asked, trying not to appear too surprised. “When are the they coming?”
“Any day, my lord,” Essien said quietly. “Everything is happening now. I do not know when her lover received this information, but I know she was with him the afternoon that she told me all of this. It is possible he told her then, which means William the Rough’s army has been heading south from Edinburgh for days.”
“Christ,” Cole muttered. “They could be there right now for all we know. That means the Northmen’s arrival must be imminent. If they take those longships into the River Tweed, we may never get them out.”
For a moment, everyone froze, looking at each other in surprise. They had expected to have weeks, even months, before the Scots and the Northmen converged, but according to Essien’s source, that event was imminent.
The unholy alliance was coming together imminently.
With that realization, The Marshal took his empty cup and poured himself another measure of Alastor’s fine French wine. He downed nearly half the cup before turning to the group.
“The time for action, good knights, is now,” he said calmly. “We cannot wait for the rest of the armies to join us. We must move and we must do it tomorrow. Essien, did the woman tell you how many men the Scots are bringing?”
Essien didn’t look happy. In fact, he glanced at the men around him, at his brother, before answering.
“According to her lover, there will be two Scotsmen for every Englishman,” he said. “He boasted this to her, evidently. As far as numbers, I do not know what that means, but I can only imagine there will be a great many of them.”
“Thousands, at least,” Cole said, a quiet rumble. “Lest you forget, I’ve spent the past two years with The Rough and the past year or so listening to men speak of this invasion. I know he had Highlanders coming to Edinburgh by the thousands, plus men under the rule of the Earls of Orkney. Longships carry anywhere from fifty to eighty men, depending on the size of the ship, and if we even have ten of those arrive at Berwick, we are talking about almost a thousand men or more. If there are twenty ships, double that. Add that to the thousands of Scots and there more than likely really will be two Scotsmen for every Englishman. Or more.”
So there it was, out for all to hear. The reality of the situation, bigger than they had expected. Sooner than they had expected. It was up to The Marshal and his armies to stop them.
They were out of time.
Therefore, The Marshal didn’t waste any.
“Then all roads lead to Berwick,” The Marshal said calmly. “Who knew that seaside village would determine the fate of northern England.”
It was a rhetorical statement, but not an untrue one. “It looks that way, my lord,” Cole replied.
William wasn’t one to panic in any case. Panicking never solved anything; he’d learned that long ago. He was an old warhorse with hundreds of battles in his vast experience and he would have to draw on that knowledge.
He gestured to the group.
“All of you will go and eat now,” he said. “Bernicia’s daughter said there is a meal being served in the hall, so partake of it and rest for a few hours. Make sure your men rest and eat. I must speak with de Bourne and de Lohr and de Velt and we must come up with a plan of attack for Berwick. Maxton, you and Sherry will remain. I will send for the rest of you when we are ready to discuss our battle plans.”
The men understood that there was nothing more to do, at least for a few hours, so they turned for the door and began funneling out, but not before Addax and Essien went to Christopher and David and embraced them warmly.
It was the first time they’d all seen each other in a long time, a most pleasant reunion. Christopher smiled wearily at the pair, as proud of them as if they were his own sons. But there was no time for conversation, or for reminiscing, so Addax and Essien followed the others out of the hall. There would be time enough for pleasantries later.
When everyone had gone and the door shut quietly, The Marshal sat down in a chair next to a large table that held maps and the like.
He looked at those left in the room.
Christopher and David de Lohr, Ajax and Cole de Velt, Maxton of Loxbeare and Alexander de Sherrington. Of all of the men at his disposal, these were some of the best. He puffed out his cheeks, trying to determine where to begin.