Christopher had to pull Alastor away from Jax, shoving him back towards his sons, who gripped their father tightly. They were all upset, saying things they didn’t mean. Alastor began weeping, low and mournful, adding to the already horrific situation.
But Jax understood. A month ago, he didn’t give a second thought to putting men and women on poles when it came to the collapse of Fountainhall. He’d done what he had always done. He did it at Berwick, too.
But now that the Scots held Cole’s intended, all of that changed.
He grabbed the nearest de Velt soldier.
“The bodies of the Scots,” he hissed. “Get them down. Get them down now. And remove the garrison commander from the wall. Get them down and bring them in here, out of sight of the Scots. Go!”
The soldier, startled and confused, nonetheless took off running.
“They’ll be down in an hour,” he said, speaking to Alastor. “With the mist rolling in, chances are no one has seen them yet. De Bourne… I did not know. Please know I would never knowingly cause danger to your daughters or your family. Not like this.”
Alastor was still weeping, but Ares was looking at Jax. He could see that the man was sincerely distressed.
“We know, my lord,” he said hoarsely. “This not your fault. But the removal of the dead is appreciated.”
Alastor was nodding as his son spoke, unable to articulate what Ares was putting into words. Wiping at his face, he struggled to compose himself as he turned to Jax and went to the man. He only meant to shake his hand but ended up putting his arms around him.
“Forgive me, old friend,” he whispered. “I did not mean it. I did not mean any of it. I adore Cole and he will soon marry my daughter. I am proud to have him. Please… forgive me.”
Jax put an arm around him, hugging him tightly. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said. “I have three daughters of my own and not long ago, I was in this very position with one of them. A man who wanted to kill me took her hostage, so I understand your pain very well. Have faith; everything will be well again. You shall see them returned safely.”
“Who returned safely?”
The question came from Cole.
Having seen the gathering of knights ride into the bailey of Berwick as he’d returned from the river gate, he wanted to be part of the celebration of the conquest of the castle. It was his celebration, after all. Julian, Addax, and Essien were with him, expecting a celebration but seeing something quite different. What they came upon didn’t look like a celebration at all. Cole’s father was embracing Alastor, who had clearly been weeping.
Cole frowned.
“Who will be returned safely?” he repeated, looking to his father. “What has happened?”
The only people who really knew about Cole and Corisande were their fathers and Corisande’s brothers, and Addax and Essien. At least, that was the general belief among those in the know. But what they didn’t know was that servants at The Keld had seen Corisande and Cole together, and the rumors had started. Gossip abound, so much so that all of the Executioner Knights had heard some version of the truth, so as they stood in the bailey of Berwick, there was a good deal of sympathy in their expressions as they looked at Cole.
They knew something he didn’t, something that was going to affect him.
It was The Marshal, of all people, who finally spoke.
“Several hours ago, the Scots used the Ord Crossing to attack our rear,” he said steadily. “Some of the wagons were stolen, including de Bourne’s surgeon’s wagon. De Bourne’s daughters are now prisoners of the Scots and we must get them back. Cole, I need you for this task.”
Cole stared at him for a moment. He blinked, wiped his chin, and then spoke in a strangely tight voice. “Corisande is a prisoner of the Scots?”
“Aye.”
He blinked again as the news was confirmed a second time. Then, he looked to his father, to Alastor, and finally to Ares and the de Bourne brothers. They all looked as if they were grieving a death.
The realization hit him in the gut like a hammer.
“God,” he grunted, teetering when he did so. “What in the hell happened? How were the Scots able to get to her?”
Jax put a hand out, steadying him. “The bridge is not being watched, at least not by the English,” he said. “It was an oversight, Cole. Certainly no one expected the Scots to come by way of that bridge.”
Cole’s face was flushed red. “But they did,” he said, feeling rage and grief and anger as he looked at Alastor. “She should not have come to battle. What fool brings women to battle? And now you see what has happened!”
He was shouting by the time he was done, causing Alastor to recoil. Ares was about to get in Cole’s face, but Atlas pulled him back. Emotions were volatile.
No one wanted a fight.
“Easy, Cole,” Jax said, his hands on his son to prevent him from charging the group of de Bourne men. “It is no one’s fault. Mayhap measures should have been taken to…”
Cole cut him off. “Of course measures should have been taken to protect the women,” he barked. “Are you telling me there were no guards on the provisions wagons?”
“There were about twenty soldiers with the wagons,” Alastor said. “They help with the wounded, but they are fully armed. They were there, Cole. I would have never let my daughters remain with the wagons unprotected.”
Cole opened his mouth to shout at him again but Jax shook him, breaking his concentration. “Nay, Cole,” he said quietly, firmly. “He feels badly enough. Do not punish the man. We must focus on a solution now.”
Cole was genuinely trying to keep his composure, but he was having a devil of a time. “I must go,” he said, trying to pull away from his father. “I will go and retrieve her.”
Jax was on him in a flash, grabbing him by the arms. “Cole, listen,” he said. “You cannot go alone.”
“Nay, you cannot,” The Marshal said, coming to help Jax corral his son. “You cannot go it alone. This is a mission for a small group of men or a large army, but not for only one man. You would get yourself killed.”
Cole didn’t like being restrained. “I am going.”
The Marshal had him by the arm. “You are going with your fellow knights,” he said. “You, Addax, Essien, Bric, Dash, Peter, Sherry, Kress, and Achilles will enter the camp in stealth, find the women, and bring them back. Are you listening to me, Cole? I need your level head now, not your rage. Your rage will get everyone killed.”
Cole knew that, but he was still verging on hysteria. The thought of Corisande in the midst of a gang of Scots had every fiber of his body in knots. His stomach was lurching, his hands contracting into fists as if to punch his way straight into Scotland.
But his heart was in the biggest knot of all.
It was slowly dying of grief.
God, no, he thought. Not Corisande.
Realizing he was about to go mad with anguish and fury, he did the only thing he could do. He took a long, deep breath and doubled over, fighting against everything that was straining to let loose.
“God,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes tightly before standing up to focus on The Marshal. “I am calm. I swear I am. You have my level head. You have all of me. But so does Corisande. I am going to marry the woman, so I cannot simply stand here.”