The Marshal put a hand on his shoulder. “I know,” he said quietly. “I have heard the rumors. The knights in my stable may be able to keep the most precious secrets of state, but they tend to talk about one another. You know we have no secrets.”
Cole looked to the men behind him, men that he knew and loved. He could see the sympathy, the support. He didn’t know if that made it better or worse. “There has been no time to speak of it to anyone, personally,” he said. “In fact, I have barely told my own father. I had hoped to speak of it to the rest of you when the battle was over and there was a wedding to attend.”
The Marshal gave him a supportive squeeze on the shoulder. “There still will be a wedding to attend, I am certain,” he said. “But until then, you must face this rationally. You are a knight, Cole. You know that you must contain your emotions. Especially now.”
He was right. Cole was trying to keep his breathing steady, knowing that an unrestrained man would get himself killed. He struggled to focus on what needed to be done, not the danger Corisande was facing. If he focused on that, he would lose what was left of his control.
“Then I will take command of the rescue mission,” he said, though his voice was quivering. “Do we know where they were taken?”
The Marshal glanced towards the north. “I believe William is in the hills north of Berwick,” he said. “The Scots who took the de Bourne sisters came over the Ord Crossing. If you return to that bridge, mayhap you can follow their trail.”
Cole thought on that. He looked up into what was presumably the sky, but he couldn’t see it through the fog.
“In the night and in this mist, it will be difficult to see,” he said. “My instinct is to go at this very moment and use the fog to our advantage, but that would be foolish. North of Berwick is unknown to me and in a mist like this, we could get lost.”
By this time, Addax and Essien had moved forward to listen, as had Peter, Bric, Dashiell, Alexander, Kress, and Achilles. All of them seasoned agents, all of them listening to Cole try to reason out the situation. But he wasn’t in complete control, terrified for Corisande, and that was something they could all sympathize with.
It was Alexander who finally stepped forward.
Out of the entire group, Alexander was the most natural commander. The Marshal had used him often for missions because Sherry, beloved by all of The Marshal’s men, had the ability to see everything from all angles. He had never made a mistake that The Marshal had been aware of, so when the group of Executioner Knights stepped in to listen to Cole speak, The Marshal discreetly motioned Alexander forward. Cole wanted to command the mission to retrieve the woman he was going to marry, but The Marshal wanted someone who was driven by logic and not emotion.
Alexander cleared his throat softly.
“Cole,” he said quietly, smiling at the man when their eyes met. “Let me do this for you, my friend. Let me take charge of seeing your lady safely returned. Will you let me do this? You cannot go charging in there with your heart and not your head. That would jeopardize your safety as well as ours, so let me do this for you. Will you trust me?”
Cole looked at the man who had brought him into The Marshal’s ring to begin with. He adored him. He also knew that everything Alexander said was right.
But, God, it was difficult for him to relinquish control where Corisande was concerned.
“We must get her out of there, Sherry,” he insisted softly.
Alexander smiled at him, patting him on the cheek. “I know,” he said. “We will. But we cannot do anything at this moment and I must have time to plan a well-timed incursion. With this mist, we have little choice but to wait it out. You know this.”
Cole’s heart was pounding against his ribs, painfully, and for the first time in his adult life, he felt the sting of tears. “I know,” he said. “I know all of that. But give me something to do, something to plan, something to keep myself occupied or I swear I will go running into Scotland and kill every Scots bastard I can get my hands on.”
Jax went to him, turning him for the gatehouse where his men were already starting to bring in the bodies that had been posted on poles.
“Take charge of the removal of the bodies,” he said. “If the Scots see this, it could reflect badly on Corisande, so we do not want them to see this. Make sure the bodies are removed as quickly as possible and brought into the bailey so the Scots cannot see them.”
That realization spurred Cole. “You’re right,” he said, turning to Julian and Addax and Essien. “Help me, please.”
They surged forward, following Cole as he ran through the gatehouse, out to help the army remove the bodies on poles. Once Cole was occupied and focused on something other than his grief, Jax turned to Alexander.
“I do not know the landscape north of Berwick,” he said. “If William believes the Scots are somewhere in those hills, then we must know something more specific. It occurs to me that we must find someone who knows those hills.”
Alexander was listening. “Like who?”
“Like a Scotsman who is part of The Rough’s army,” he said. “Surely not all of them have fled. I would wager to say there may be one or more of them hiding in the city, mayhap in a tavern or two down by the river’s edge where the boats throw anchor.”
Alexander was following his train of thought. “And if there is not, I would imagine there is a villager who has lived in this town all his life and who knows the landscape around us.”
“Find one. And find out what you are facing in those hills.”
It was an excellent idea. Alexander turned to the Executioner Knights behind him and sent Kress and Achilles into the town, off to find someone who could tell them about the hills north of Berwick where the Scots army was located.
Someone to help them realize what they would be up against.
But whatever they were, or were not, to discover, Alexander and Cole would be leading the charge come the morning.
They could only pray the women could hold out that long.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MacDuff had escorted Corisande and Gaia to a smaller tent that was near the edge of the encampment, but it was surrounded by several fires, all of them with men huddling near the flame to stave off the mist that had rolled in from the sea. It was heavy now, blanketing the land, and wet to the touch.
It was like being covered with sea spray.
The smaller tent had a brazier, a pallet, and little more. It was quite spartan when compared to the grand tent of William. Corisande and Gaia stood near the door as MacDuff went to add fuel to the brazier, watching it spark up and flame. Holding his hands over the heat, he turned to the women by the door.
“Come in,” he said. “Sit.”
Corisande didn’t like the feel of the situation. Something about the way MacDuff was looking at her made her feel vastly uneasy.
“I would rather not,” she said. “When we were brought here, it was in a wagon. Where is that wagon?”
MacDuff left the brazier and went to the entry, sticking his head out into the misty night. “It is over where we left ye,” he said. “Did ye no’ see it?”
Corisande eyed him before peering out into the misty night. She knew the general direction she had come from, so she looked off in that area. Oddly, the fog was heavier the higher it went, but not so heavy near the ground, so the visibility closer to the grass was better. She bent low, looking off towards the spot she remembered, and she could see the bottom of two wagons. The bottom of their wheels, anyway.