De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (8 page)

He cocked his head. “Who said anything about being fair?” he wanted to know. “Warwick supersedes you and me and everyone else at Babylon, so when the man tells me that a beautiful woman thrashed him, I believed him.”

Nicola’s eyes flashed. “I
did
thrash him,” she said. “God knows what would have happened had I not. I will not be taken into any man’s bed, le Bec, so you may as well know that now. If anyone tries, I will do to them what I did to Warwick.”

She was angrily marching towards the chamber door now, where he was standing. The more furious she became, the more he cooled and regained his composure. He supposed she had every right to be angry but he would not acknowledge the fact. The woman had to know she could not soften him or change his mind. She had to know she had no effect on him.

… or did she?

Startled to realize that, perhaps, her moods did have an effect on him, he grabbed her wrist as she reached out to unlatch the door.

“I will not tell you this again,” he said, gazing down into that lovely, angry face. “You will remain to your rooms for now. You will not come out for any reason until I personally release you.”

Her jaw ticked as she looked at his massive hand holding her wrist. His hand was so big that it covered half her forearm. Still, she couldn’t help but notice the heat of his flesh against hers. There was something in that heat that made her heart leap strangely.

“Take your hand from me,” she growled.

He very nearly smiled; the woman was, if nothing else, courageous. Perhaps it was foolish in the face of a man more than twice her size, but she was courageous nonetheless. He admired that in a strange way.

“Not until we are clear,” he said, matching her tone. “Do you understand you are not to leave your rooms?”

“Aye.”

“Swear this to me.”

She wouldn’t look at him. “I swear it, you bas… that is, I swear it, my lord.”

He ignored the slander that had nearly slipped from her lips. “You will obey me without hesitation from now on,” he said, watching the disgust ripple across her face. “Is that clear?”

“It is.”

“Swear it to me.”

“I swear.”

He didn’t believe her but he kept his opinion to himself; perhaps she truly believed her vow. Knowing what he did of the woman, however, he did not. He released her arm.

“I will summon you in time to prepare the nooning meal,” he told her as she yanked the door open. “I will expect a feast.”

Nicola didn’t say anything. She simply marched from the room and stomped up the stairs that led to the fourth floor. Kenton stood in the doorway, watching her shapely backside until she disappeared from view. He could only imagine what the woman was thinking of him and the situation in general. She was proud and she was brave. As much as those qualities in a woman frustrated him, they were also admirable. Therefore, he could fairly read her mind at the moment, the mind of a woman who wasn’t afraid to swing a fire poker to defend herself. He was fairly certain she wanted to swing the fire poker at him.

The thought made him grin.

They started arriving just before the nooning meal. Hordes of men, weary from a march across rugged territory, trudged into the bailey like beaten animals. The day was cold and cloudy in contrast to the sun the day before, and rain threatened, adding to the gloomy ambiance.

Kenton stood on top of the inner wall, watching Henry's troops filter in through the gatehouse and into the inner bailey. Conor, Gerik, and Ackerley were down in the courtyard, segregating men and making sure to send the wagons on to the stables while keeping the men gathered in the ward. Great houses were arriving, men in support of Henry who had been in skirmishes all over Yorkshire in the past few months. Now, they had a base from which to launch the rest of their conquest of the north. The plan was to march on Harrogate before the end of the week and preparations had to be immediate.

Kenton was pleased with the progress, though one would never know it by looking at him. The men filtering in through the gates would look up and see him atop the wall like a mighty sentinel and they would raise their weapons in salute. Le Bec gazed back at them, his eyes hard enough to cut steel and calculating enough to anticipate the ultimate victory.

By early afternoon he was ready to leave his post and go down and mingle with the men. But a speck on the green horizon caught his attention, a small flick that grew in size until it sprouted arms and legs and became a man on horseback. The rider was alone but Kenton didn't give it much thought; there were still hundreds of men arriving at Babylon and the rider was more than likely a member of a detachment.

Therefore, he descended to the inner bailey without concern, visually inspecting the troops that were gathering there. Conor and Ackerley were in conversation with one of the commanders of a small army that had most recently arrived while Gerik had moved out of the fortress altogether and was now beyond the walls to estimate how many more men were coming. Already, with the volume of men coming, logistics were going to be difficult.

Kenton was engaged in a conversation with one of the Earl of Oxford’s commanders when he heard someone call his name. He turned towards the sound to see Gerik making his way towards him quickly with a man in Warwick colors trotting along beside him. Already, there was concern in Gerik’s eyes

"My lord," Gerik said. "One of Warwick's scouts has returned. He brings news."

Kenton looked immediately to the weary soldier. "What news?"

The soldier was near the point of collapse. "Edward's troops, sire," he gasped. "About three hours south. They're moving on Babylon."

Kenton didn't change expressions, but Conor, having just joined him, hissed a curse. "How many?"

"Not as large as our force," the soldier said. "But we still have troops coming in from the southwest. We'll have to close the gates before they can reach us, leaving them vulnerable to Edward's army."

Already, Kenton’s mind was working. "I am well aware of that,” he said. “Can you give me a number on Edward's troops?"

The soldier nodded. "I would say one thousand, sire," the man replied. "'Tis a large force moving north from the village of Barnsley."

Kenton looked around the fortress, mentally calculating what he would be up against. "Barnsley," he repeated with disgust. "We had no reports of troops there. Why in the hell didn't our spies tell us of this?"

"Most of the army was reported to be towards York," Conor could see his liege's irritation. "If they're moving north from Barnsley, more than likely they were much further south. From Chester, even. Edward knew we were laying siege to Babylon and, I would wager to say, mobilized these troops to help defend the fortress."

"Then they have had days to move northward."

"Precisely."

Kenton pondered that. "What is our current count inside the castle, Conor?"

"One thousand, four hundred and fourteen men, my lord."

Kenton paused to think on that number. "With approximately eight hundred more still on approach and Edward's army due in three hours," he pondered. After a few more moments of deliberation, he turned to Conor. "Send several riders to the southwest with news of this. Have them intercept the rest of Henry's supporters and have them hold station for six hours, giving Edward’s army time to reach us. Then, have them move quickly and attack the rear of Edward's force as they lay siege to Babylon. We shall mash Edward between our two armies and quash him."

It was a simple, yet effective, countermeasure and Conor was swiftly gone to carry out the command. Kenton wasn't worried in the least about the approaching siege, but he did want to seal up Babylon and prepare for the onslaught. One more hour and he would raise the drawbridge. Any troops that were unfortunate enough to be caught outside at that time would have to find cover.

Message delivered, Kenton dismissed Warwick’s soldier. As the man went in search of food, Kenton spoke to Gerik.

"Find Lady Thorne and tell her that we will be in for a siege and to prepare to assist our surgeon with the wounded. She will do everything necessary to see that the man's life is made easier, considering we should have a fair amount of wounded once the battle is in full scale with the rear assault." Gerik turned to leave but Kenton stopped him with another directive. "And tell Warwick what is transpiring. I shall meet with him and the knights in the great hall in a half hour."

The knight acknowledged the order and departed, and Kenton moved forward with other things requiring his attention. There was much to do now and little time to do it. Huddling with Conor and Ackerley for a few minutes to finalize preparations, the three knights then went about seeking shelter for the soldiers that were in the bailey. Siege engines were a very real fear, hurling projectiles over the walls, and the men in the bailey would be caught in the open without protection if such things happened.

While Conor and Ackerley began moving men inside as much as they were able, or directing them around to the enclosed kitchen yards and stables with sod roofs, Kenton went to gather the commanders of the armies within the bailey to tell them what was transpiring. With a battle approaching, they would need to know.

The preparations moved smoothly enough, a given factor whenever Kenton was in charge. He was orderly and methodical, and the results were evident. He was busying himself with a group of soldiers who had just arrived from the smaller city of Huddersfield when Gerik suddenly appeared at his side, looking rather frustrated.

"A word, my lord?" Gerik said quietly.

Kenton was in the process of directing the soldiers in the construction of some make-shift shelters. He had a huge plank of wood in his hands, one that would have normally required two men to carry it. But Kenton handled the bulk easily. He turned to Gerik impatiently.

"What is it?" he asked.

Gerik was hoping for privacy but saw he would receive none. To ask for a confidential word would have been to irritate his already strained liege and this conversation, as it was, would not be an easy one. Therefore, he took a deep breath and proceeded.

"Lady Thorne wishes for me to tell you that she cannot help the surgeon," he said.

Kenton planted the beam vertically as a few soldiers moved in to secure it. "What do you mean?"

Gerik was hesitant to tell him the rest but he had no choice. "She says you have not personally given her permission to leave her chamber,” he said. “Therefore, she cannot help the surgeon. She suggests…."

Kenton cast him a baleful eye. He was almost afraid of what he was about to hear. "Pray, what does she suggest?"

Gerik winced. "That if you want it done, then do it yourself."

Kenton stared at him. Then, his gaze trailed to the keep and he wiped his hands off on his tunic. "Is that what she said?"

"Word for word, my lord."

That confirmation was all it took to send Kenton back across the bailey, heading for the keep. Gerik watched his liege cross the muddy ward and up the articulated wooden stairs that led into the keep. He shook his head, sorry for the foolish Lady Thorne. The woman was in as fine a mood as Kenton was and, very shortly, there would be a great battle going on in the keep. Personally, he did not envy Kenton.

Kenton, however, did not envy Lady Thorne. The woman was as difficult as any he had ever encountered and, once again, he tried to keep his irritation in check as he entered the great hall, mounting the steps to the third floor. He could hear Warwick in the master chamber, talking to his advisors. By the time he hit the alcove on the fourth level, his irritation had been given time to build into a righteous fury. It seemed as if all the woman ever did was provoke fury in him. Fury and interest. As he approached the open chamber door that led to the Thorne rooms beyond, the first thing he saw was Teague, jumping out at him.

"Knight!" he said happily. "I have weaponsth, lots of weaponsth. See them?"

Kenton stopped so quickly that he nearly lost his balance. Only quick reflexes had saved Teague from being run over. The little boy was thrusting something up at him and Kenton saw that he had a handful of small wooden knights in one palm and several sharp sticks in the other.

"Where is your mother?" Kenton asked.

Teague pointed a full hand in the direction of the adjoining chamber. "In there," he said. "But how do you like my weaponsth? I made them mythelf."

He was referring to the sharp sticks, spears for his toy soldiers. Kenton had no time for such nonsense but that strange tugging in his chest again told him not to brush the boy off so easily. He was so innocent, something Kenton could barely remember. Innocence was for the very young, and sometimes, not even for them.

"Your weapons are fine." He didn't know what else to say. Moving past the child, he nearly bowled over the mother who had just appeared in the adjoining doorway.

Nicola patted her chest to restart her heart. "My lord, you gave me a start," she said. "I heard your voice and was just coming to see you."

He lifted an eyebrow at her. "A word, Madam."

"Of course."

"Alone."

She laughed ironically. "These are small rooms, my lord. With eight people about, this is as private as it gets."

He drew in a long, irritated sigh. Taking her by the arm, more gently than he had earlier in the day, he once again led her to the stairs and down to the third floor. They again headed into the children’s former chamber, which now had evidently become their personal meeting room. Kenton quietly closed the door and turned to Nicola.

"Now," he growled. "I have had just about enough of this."

She knew what he was talking about but she was not about to back down. She was still furious from his treatment of her that morning and had every intention of letting him know it.

"Enough of what, my lord?" she asked innocently.

"Do not toy with me," he jabbed a huge finger at her. "You know exactly what I mean. I send Gerik up here to issue a simple command and even after your promises of obedience, you cannot abide by my wishes. It has been a battle with you since the moment I first lay eyes on you and I will have no more of it."

She was unaffected by his irritation. "There has been no battle, my lord. I have done everything you have asked."

"Christ," he slapped a hand to his forehead in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. "You have done what I have asked, aye, but not without struggle, insolence, and pure petulance. I threw you in the vault once before for your behavior and I have no qualms about doing it again."

“You have said that, repeatedly.”

“I mean it.”

She believed him. Nicola didn't want to go in the vault again but she was not as in control of her emotions as she needed to be. Outspokenness was a sin and she sinned regularly where that was concerned.

"Sir Kenton," she said deliberately. "Did you truly think you could conquer Babylon and expect that I, the Lady of Babylon, would simply fall at your feet and carry out your every whim without resistance just because you demand it?"

"Tread carefully, Madam."

"I
am
treading carefully," she was gaining steam. "But you show me none of the respect you are so haughty to demand, my lord. Have you once granted a request of mine? Have you once shown me any measure of regard? All you have done is go out of your way to show me how much disrespect you have for me and my household, yet you find it surprising when I show you the same measure of what you've given me."

His eyes were like shards of glass; hard and cutting. "You are my prisoner and an enemy of the true king,” he said. “You personally directed the battle against my forces and any consideration you are given is more than you deserve."

Nicola wasn’t surprised that he realized that, she’d all but told him as much. "If I had been any smarter in military ways, you would not have conquered us."

"But I did."

"Then you have what you want. You have Babylon. If you want any more than that, you'll have to take it by force because I shall not easily surrender anything more to you."

One moment he was standing across the room glaring at her. In the next, he was nearly on top of her, grabbing both arms and pulling them behind her back. It wasn't painful, but the message was obvious. Nicola found herself pressed up against his massive chest, her neck craned back sharply as his face loomed over her. His eyes, so piercing, bore straight through her.