Jax simply looked at him, those dual-colored eyes making the hair on the back of The Marshal’s neck stand up. Understanding his silent meaning, he put up a hand.
“Jax, I am in full support of whatever you wish to do with the occupants of Berwick but leave the castle intact,” he said. “I want it. Can you do this?”
The corner of Jax’s mouth twitched. “I can do anything,” he said. “But you are taking all of the fun out of it.”
Christopher started to chuckle. “Ah, Jax, my good and true friend,” he said. “Everyone wants to spoil your good time. I’m so sorry.”
Jax’s grin broke through as he looked over at the castle again. “Especially the Scots,” he said. “And they are going to pay, just like their brethren at Fountainhall did.”
The Marshal could see there was no use in holding him back. Jax was the warlord they all feared, brutality personified.
He was going to put that to good use.
“Do your worst, de Velt,” he said. “I will get you across the bridge, but you must be prepared to act once I do.”
“I will be ready.”
As Jax spun his black warhorse around and headed towards his army, The Marshal turned to Christopher.
“God help us all if I do not get him across that bridge in a reasonable amount of time,” he muttered. “He may start taking his frustrations out on the rest of us.”
Christopher snorted. “Then that is prime incentive to take that bridge,” he said. “If we do not want to be the focus of his aggression, then we had better do what we say we are going to do. Now, may I make a suggestion?”
“Please do.”
Christopher pointed to the bridge. “Put de Winter and Savernake on driving the Scots across the bridge and away from the town while de Velt attacks the castle,” he said. “De Winter and Savernake are your best war machines right now, so use them. Have East Anglia watch your flank and rear. We are close to the border and there could be a flanking maneuver, just as we are about to do.”
It was the truth and William knew it. Their plans of splitting the army still held true, as those were their original plans, but now that they had a better look at the topography and the position of the Scots, those plans had to be flexible.
“Very well,” he said. “Take Teviot and de Bourne and root them out of those hills. How far behind is Richmond?”
Christopher looked at him. “At least a day,” he said. “We received word from Maxton last night. They’re moving as quickly as they can, but Richmond is a big army.”
William digested that. “When Cai and Maxton arrive, direct them to the mouth of the river,” he said. “Tell Cai to put a line of archers with flaming arrows around the mouth and then in the sand to the north. As soon as they see those ships, launch the arrows. Burn those bastards at sea.”
“I will tell them,” Alexander said. “I am keeping a watch on any armies arriving from the south, so once they are sighted, I will move them towards the river’s mouth.”
“Excellent,” The Marshal said, turning to Alexander. “And everyone else? What does your gut tell you, Sherry? How far behind us are they?”
Alexander sighed faintly. “It is difficult to know,” he said. “The messengers I sent out last night have yet to return, so they are not close in any case. The last I heard, Gart and Pembroke were at least a week behind us, so that would put him at possibly five days or more. I would assume everyone else is still the same – Canterbury, de Lara, de Nerra.”
That wasn’t exactly what William wanted to hear, but that’s what he’d known all along. Perhaps he was hoping for Alexander to tell him something different and come up with a miracle. He motioned to the soldier next to him, the man who always carried The Marshal’s standards.
“Send for the commanders now,” he said. “Bric, Dash, Kress, Achilles, Peter, Alastor and Ares, Addax and Essien… send them to me. Quickly.”
The man was gone, yelling to other Marshal soldiers to seek out the Executioner Knights, who were now leading their armies. Spies who worked in small groups, or sometimes alone, were in truth seasoned knights with vast command experience. Like Dashiell and Bric, they commanded massive war machines.
Those war machines were about to get down and dirty.
“They’ve no’ taken the Ord Crossing yet,” a breathless Scotsman said. “We can use it tae flank their position, yer grace. Their entire north flank is open and that includes the provisions and surgeons tae the rear.”
William was on a rise overlooking Berwick on this cold, misty morning. He’d just watched the English destroy the defensive line he’d had set up between the English and Berwick with their siege engines. His eyesight wasn’t very good, but he had excellent intelligence. They told him exactly what he needed to know so he could form a larger picture.
“My old friend, William Marshal, has arrived,” he muttered, sounding oddly satisfied. “The Scarlet Lion is once again in action for the English. Tell me the other standards ye see.”
MacDuff was next to him astride his big, copper-colored steed. “’Tis difficult tae see from here,” he said. “I’m told de Lohr has arrived along with de Winter and Savernake. Big and powerful houses, yer grace.”
William was smiling, an odd gesture. “The Marshal has brought his most important warlords and if I know William, this is no’ the end of it,” he said. “There are more on the way. They will take Berwick unless our Northman allies arrive here in the next day or two. Where are they?”
“Sighted near St. Abbs,” MacDuff said. “They’ll be here by the morning.”
“How many?”
“I’m told at least a dozen.”
William calmly mulled over the information. “Then we must hold Berwick until they arrive,” he said simply. “If we canna flank them or push them back, then we must weaken them.”
MacDuff looked at him. “But how?” he asked. “They’re too big tae flank, but we must hold the bridges. I’ve men at the Ord Crossing now, but no’ enough if they try tae cross.”
“But they havena yet,” William pointed out. “The more we talk, the more chance of them trying tae come across that bridge. We need tae cross it first.”
“Cross it tae where? Tae attack them?”
William shook his head. “Ye said that provisions wagons are exposed.”
MacDuff nodded. “Aye, yer grace.”
William looked at him. “Capture them,” he said. “We want tae weaken them in a way that willna cost us many men, so capture their provisions. Bring them back across the bridge and hold that bridge until the Northmen arrive. After that…”
MacDuff was catching on. “After that, they’ll be busy with the Northmen as well as the Scots,” he said. “And we’ll hold what’s precious tae them.”
“Indeed, we will. Go, now.”
MacDuff was off, shouting to men as he went. He collected hundreds of them in short order, all of them racing for the bridge known as the Ord Crossing.
The battle for Berwick was about to become more interesting.
“Can you see anything?”