De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (18 page)

The knights around the table all grinned to varying degrees. “Where are your sons?” Kenton asked. “They are usually here with us, demanding stories.”

Nicola shook her head. “Tab seems to have a bit of the sniffles so I put the lot of them to bed early,” she said, although it wasn’t quite the truth. Tab had a stuffy nose, that was true, but she simply didn’t want the boys to be around the enemy knights any longer.
She didn’t want them to be around Kenton any longer.
“Once one child becomes ill, it runs through all of them, so I am trying to prevent that.”

Kenton accepted her half-truthful explanation without question. “Tab was very proud of the six fish he caught,” he told her. “Why are they not on the menu?”

Her smile turned real in spite of herself. “They were on
his
menu, not yours,” she said. “He wanted to eat his fish so I had the cook prepare them just for him and his brothers. Surely you cannot object to that.”

Kenton shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “I am glad he was able to eat the fruits of his labor.”

Nicola nodded, still with the smile upon her face, as she thought on how to start the next part of the conversation. She’d spent the entire afternoon planning her vengeance against the man and the commencement of that vengeance had to start with knowing his future plans.

Now, she was the one in control because she was wise to his scheme. Now, she would treat Kenton as he had treated her;
as the enemy
. All she could think of was defeating him at his own game. He would not get the better of her.

It was time to put her plan into action.

“I do not intend to pry, my lord, but for the sake of the provisions at Babylon, may I ask what your immediately plans are?” she asked politely. “The provisions we have, at least the grain that we have, will last for another month, two at the most, so I must plan what I will need if you and your army plan to remain here for the next few months. Since there are so many mouths to feed, I must plan our needs as far in advance as I can. Would you be kind enough to give me any information to that regard?”

It was a perfectly logical and normal request and Kenton took it as such. Had he suspected what she really had in mind by asking the question, he would have thrown her in the vault and left her there. Truth be told, he also would have been extremely hurt by her actions. Instead, he was oblivious. He reached out for his wine cup and drank of the tart, warm liquid.

“We will be here at least through the summer,” he said. “There is much I need to accomplish in that time.”

Nicola was all innocence as she continued her probing questions. “You have not already accomplished it by gaining Babylon itself?”

He shook his head, casually moving closer to her as he leaned upon the tabletop, his arm against hers as he looked over his shoulder at her. “Babylon was only the beginning,” he told her, his voice lowered. “There is more to do.”

Nicola pretended to look both thoughtful and somewhat distressed. “I see,” she said, having trouble looking into his glittering eyes and not feeling her courage waver. She was still desperately attracted to him. “Will you… will you be leaving, then, to lay more sieges? Will you still return to Babylon after you do?”

By this time, the other knights had turned to their own conversation because Kenton was singularly focused on Lady Thorne and she on him. No one wanted to be part of a two-person conversation that surely didn’t include them. Therefore, no one heard what Kenton was saying to Nicola.

“I will always return to Babylon,” he said softly. “I will always return to you. I thought I made that clear.”

It was like a dagger to her heart to her those words.
He is lying to you!
Her mind screamed.
Do not believe him! Be strong!

“Where will you go?” she asked softly, trying so hard to resist his sweetness without trying to appear that she was. His gaze was trying to suck her in as she desperately resisted. “I only ask because… because if you do not come back, I want to know where to look for you.”

He reached over and gently touched her hand, his flesh against hers, sending bolts of heat shooting through her tender body.

“You would look for me if I did not return?” he asked. “That is kind of you. I did not know you cared so much as to do that.”

Nicola averted her gaze, looking at her lap as her cheeks flushed red. She simply couldn’t look at him any longer. She was starting to feel sick, her heart palpitating. She wanted very much to leave and it was a struggle not to give in to that feeling. There was so much hurt inside of her at the moment that it was consuming her and his gentle words only made it worse.

Kenton, seeing her subdued manner, smiled faintly. He thought, or at least he hoped, it was because she was upset over the thought of his death. He touched her hand again.

“Not to worry,” he whispered. “As I said, I will always return to you. But we will be departing in two days for Manchester and Rochdale. I am under orders to bring those towns into Henry’s fold. Right now, they are still under contention between both sides, so even though I will be gone from Babylon, I will still be close by. I will be back as soon as I can.”

Manchester and Rochdale
. He told her his plans without hesitation, because he trusted her. That was clear. Nicola lifted her gaze to him, seeing such warmth and affection in his eyes. It was shattering, all of it. God, it was so difficult to resist!

“Rochdale is closer,” she said softly. “Do you go there first?”

He nodded faintly. “More than likely.”

She paused a moment, a strategic pause to make it sound as if she cared for him and about what he did.
But she did still care for him!
“Then you go to war again,” she said softly.

“That is my vocation, Madam. Surely it does not surprise you.”

She shook her head, looking to her lap again. “Do… do you think the wars will ever stop?”

He watched her lowered blond head, imagining that he could smell her hair from where he sat. He very much wanted to kiss that lowered head to give her comfort.

“They must,” he said, reaching over to collect his cup again. “We have all been fighting each other far too long so, at some point, they must stop. One king will reign and we must all accept that.”

She cast him a sidelong glance. “And if it is Edward?”

Kenton shrugged. “If he is the ultimate victor, then I shall have to accept it as well,” he said. “But until that time, I will do all I can to ensure that he is not the ultimate victor.”

She was looking at him more seriously now. “But why?” she asked a genuine question, one that wasn’t designed to press him for information. “Why must you fight for a king who is mad? Why not serve a king who would be an excellent ruler with no bouts of madness?”

Kenton cocked an eyebrow, mostly in thought. “Because Henry is the rightful king,” he said simply. “Mad or not, the throne is his. It does not belong to Edward.”

It was plainly put and Nicola could not dispute it. In fact, as she gazed into his eyes, she could almost see his point. But not quite; she had to pull herself away from him. That magnetic pull between them was too much to bear. Collecting her pitcher of warm wine, she stood up.

“I have taken too much time away from my duties,” she said, stepping away from the bench. “I must return.”

Kenton reached out, his hand brushing her arm. “Will you return when you can?”

Nicola looked at him, her gaze guarded. “I will try.”

“Will I see you after sup? You promised me that I could.”

Nicola simply nodded. Kenton smiled at her and she smiled in return, although it was stiffly done. Head down, she took off across the room with her warmed wine, heading into the servants alcove and disappearing into the darkness.

Kenton watched her go, mostly because he liked to watch her hips as they swayed alluringly. She had a delicious figure and his eyes were always drawn to her hips and buttocks. Most often he would watch her and imagine how her tender backside would feel in his hands, imagining the silken texture of her skin. He knew for a fact that he was going to bed the woman before he left for Manchester but he could see that talk of his departure upset her.

He knew that his knights would not have agreed with him telling her their future plans, but he saw no harm in it. His heart swelled with joy knowing that she did not want him to leave. Surely that was her only trouble, the reason behind her quiet manner and lowered head. Aye, he would bed her and prove to her that he would return to her. Nothing, not even an assault on Manchester, could keep him from her. Not now, not ever.

With a smile, he returned to his wine, already reflecting over the joy of their reunion once he returned home from battle. He’d never had anything so thrilling or wonderful to look forward to. Now, he had Nicola to look forward to.

Little did he realize that the reality of such bright joy would soon take a definitive turn for the dark.

When Nicola left the hall, she went straight to the stables where she found a young groom who was healthy and energetic. He was also loyal to the House of Thorne and not to Henry’s soldiers who had taken over Babylon. Nicola knew the young man, and knew he was trustworthy, and she sent him that night through the postern gate of Babylon, riding south to Conisbrough with a message for the garrison commander there. It was a vicious, snowy night so she knew it would take a couple of days at the very least to reach Conisbrough, a very large outpost of soldiers loyal to Edward, but she was confident the young man would make it. She struggled not to feel guilty for doing what she must.

For betraying the man who had tried to betray her first.

The tides of the battle for Babylon were about to change.

Conisbrough Castle

Two and a half days later

“That is what the boy said,” a man clad in heavy tunics and a cloak of fur against the freezing temperatures spoke. “Warwick’s army is moving out of Babylon in an attempt to capture Rochdale and Manchester.”

In the second floor main chamber set deep within Conisbrough’s enormous keep, the man’s words had an ominous echo. There were several men in the chamber, huddled near the enormous hearth with the elaborate mantel, blazing hot enough to cause them to sweat. But the chill of the day had been particularly bitter and under the guise of discussing their recent failure at Babylon Castle and what to do about it, the men who had sought refuge at Conisbrough had gathered with the garrison commander. What they really wanted to do was eat, drink, soak up a bit of warmth, and forget about the past week that had seen them defeated by the weather more than they had actually been defeated by the Henry loyalists who now held Babylon. Still, it had all been a bitter blow.

But this latest news has the men perking up, listening to what Brome St. John, the garrison commander of Conisbrough, was saying about a rider that had recently stumbled through the gates of the castle. Half-frozen, the young man had relayed some stunning information. Truthfully, all men in the chamber sat straight when they heard this news but Lord Saxilby, the baron who had led the assault against Babylon to regain it, was listening more closely than any of them.

“They are
leaving
Babylon?” Lord Saxilby wanted to make sure he heard correctly. “How would this lad know? Where did he come from?”

Brome St. John was a very big man with long blond hair, bunched up around his shoulders with ice crystals sticking to it. He moved closer to the fire, pulling off his gloves. “He claims to be from Babylon,” he replied, holding his cold hands up to the blaze. “He said that Lady Thorne sent him. I know Lady Thorne and I know her husband. Gaylord Thorne is loyal to the bone for Edward. It would make sense that Lady Thorne would send word to us of the enemy’s movements.”

Lord Saxilby, a short man with a strong constitution and a great acumen for battle, listened seriously. “We all know Gaylord Thorne,” he pointed out. “But you say that Lady Thorne sent the information? Why not Gaylord?”

Brome shook his head. “This I would not know,” he said. “The messenger specifically said Lady Thorne. He did not make mention of Gaylord.”

Lord Saxilby mulled over that odd fact, which concerned him. “Strange that he did not mention Gaylord,” he muttered. “Of course, Babylon has seen much war over the past few weeks so it is quite possible that Gaylord did not survive it.”

“That is a possibility.”

Lord Saxilby rubbed his chin. “If that is the case, then it would truly be unfortunate,” he said. “There is no man more loyal to Edward than Gaylord Thorne and only a man desperate to relay information about the enemy would be foolish enough to send a messenger in such weather. Where is the rider now, Brome? You will bring him to us to interrogate.”

Brome glanced at the group of fur-clad, cold, and weary men. “The lad is nearly dead with cold,” he said. “My men are tending to him to try and warm him. Give him some time to recover before you are tearing into him with your questions. Meanwhile, I would say that we have some very vital information as to the movements of Henry’s forces at Babylon. More than that, we have the name of the man who commands them.”

“Who?” Lord Saxilby demanded.

Brome looked at him. “Kenton le Bec,” he said, his voice low as if to emphasize the seriousness of that declaration. “Grandson of the great Richmond le Bec. He serves Warwick directly, my lord. He is known as Warwick’s attack dog.”

Lord Saxilby’s expression didn’t display the surprise nor the disappointment he felt but it came out in his tone, anyway. “Le Bec,” he hissed, scratching his head. “Now I understand a great deal. No wonder we could not breach the walls. Not only was Warwick inside Babylon, but so was le Bec. I do not feel nearly as humiliated as I did only moments ago. A defeat by both Warwick and le Bec is nothing to be ashamed over because, combined, they are nearly invincible.”

The group of men grumbled in both agreement and disagreement. “I knew le Bec years ago,” another man spoke. Hugh Fitzalan was the son of a great war baron as well and had a long history of switching sides from Henry to Edward and back again. “He was at Towton and survived. He survived the second battle at St. Albans as well as the battle at Mortimer’s Cross. The list goes on and on. The man cannot be defeated. Some swear he is the devil incarnate because of his ability to survive in battle.”

Brome looked to Fitzalan. “He is
not
the devil,” he said, “although his reputation would have us believing otherwise. It would be a great feat indeed to kill or capture le Bec.”

“Edward will want him,” Lord Saxilby said, moving closer to the fire where Brome was standing. “If we are able to capture the man and send him to Edward, Warwick’s war machine would be severely damaged. It would be a triumph for Edward’s cause.”

Brome knew that. He nodded his head slowly, pondering the information the half-dead messenger had given them.

“Then let us discuss this information Lady Thorne’s messenger brought,” he said. “He said that Henry’s forces were moving quickly to Rochdale and to Manchester. Reason would dictate that if she said they were moving quickly, then that would mean in the next few days or a week at the very least. Since the messenger took almost three days to arrive here, it would be logical to assume that le Bec and his men are moving as we speak, or at mayhap they already have. In any case, it is imperative that we mobilize the men and march north to Rochdale to see if we can intercept le Bec’s army.”

The group grumbled, mostly in agreement, although they were reluctant to jump out into the freezing weather so soon after having spent so much time in it as of late. Still, St. John’s logic made sense.

“If we march north to Rochdale, we can cut off the road between Babylon and Rochdale and presumably put our army between le Bec and Babylon,” Lord Saxilby pointed out. “Let us assume that le Bec takes most of his men out of Babylon because he will need a good deal of men to capture Rochdale and Manchester. That being the case, he would leave a skeleton army at Babylon. If we position ourselves between his army at Rochdale and Babylon, we could block him from returning whilst we lay siege to Babylon and reclaim her for Edward.”

It was a reasonable and sound plan, one which the men in the room agreed with for the most part. Still, going back out to fight in this weather did not appeal to them, especially if victory was not assured.

“What of Warwick?” one of the men wanted to know. He was skinny and shaggy-haired. “He was at Babylon all during the siege and then when we retreated, he chased us for a day until turning away and heading northeast. Do we know where he is? Could he not easily return to help defend Babylon?”

Brome shook his head. “My spies tell me that Warwick has moved on to Wakefield,” he said. “He is gathered there with a group of Henry’s supporters. Even if he is told that Babylon, and le Bec, are compromised, he cannot move fast enough to assist. It is my belief that we can destroy le Bec’s army and regain Babylon before Warwick can arrive.”

Lord Saxilby shook his head. “That is a bold assumption,” he said. “We laid siege for a week at Babylon and were unable to take her. What makes you think this second attempt will be successful? We will still be fighting le Bec.”

Brome’s gaze was intense. “Because neither I nor my men were with you the first time,” he said. “You brought nine hundred and eighty-seven men to my doorstep, Saxilby. I carry eleven hundred men at this garrison. Even if I leave three hundred men here, that still gives us almost two thousand men to go after le Bec once he has separated himself from Babylon. We will split the army in half and send half after le Bec and half to Babylon to breach her. We cannot fail.”

Saxilby wasn’t convinced by the arrogant knight’s assertion. “We have no way of knowing just how many men le Bec is commanding,” he said. “There could be a couple of thousand men in Babylon we were not aware of. The walls are so tall that we could not see. If le Bec brings a sizable army out of the castle, we would be foolish to split our forces against him.”

Brome would not be discouraged. “Mayhap,” he agreed vaguely. “But we will not know until we see what le Bec has to offer. It is my suggestion that we mobilize the men and move out as quickly as we can. If le Bec is already marching to Rochdale and Manchester, then we must keep the element of surprise on our side. He will not know we are coming until it is too late.”

Lord Saxilby couldn’t disagree. In fact, it was a perfect opportunity to regain Babylon and defeat one of Warwick’s best knights. They had failed in their first attempt to regain Babylon. God willing, they would not fail in their second.

Interrogation of the messenger an hour later revealed that Gaylord Thorne had not been at Babylon throughout the successive siege, which begged the question as to the man’s whereabouts. Surely he knew his castle has been compromised. But neither Brome nor Lord Saxilby could give any consideration to the missing Gaylord Thorne. They had a task to accomplish and little time to do it for time, it would seem, was of the essence.

Lord Saxilby gave great thanks for the loyal Lady Thorne and her half-frozen messenger.

“My lady?”

Kenton’s voice was soft, coming from behind. Bent over a bin of rye grain that seemed to have a bit of mold on it, Nicola gasped with the surprise of his unexpected appearance. He had cornered her down in the storeroom of Babylon, the vaults beneath the keep, and there was no one around. In the cold and dark dampness, she could only see Kenton’s face in the torchlight.

“God’s Bones,” she muttered, patting her chest as she tried to catch her breath. “You gave me a start.”

Kenton smiled faintly. “I asked the cook where you were and she told me,” he said, trying to see what she had been looking at. “What are you doing down here?”

Nicola was nervous, extremely nervous. She’d spent the past three days avoiding him, pretending she was working, or with her sick children, who now all had sniffles and running noses, and she’d seen very little of Kenton even if thoughts of him had been heavy on her mind. Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to shake him and the betrayal she felt from the man had eaten a nasty, rotted hole into her soul. But now, here he was, and they were alone. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears as she struggled not to look at him.

“The rye grain,” she said, pointing to the basket at her feet. “There seems to be some rot on it. I was trying to see if we can salvage it.”

He took a step closer, his gaze on the big basket of grain. “Oh?” he said, sounding concerned. “Is this isolated or is there mold on other grains as well?”

Nicola took a step away from him as he came closer. She didn’t want to be within arm’s length of him should he try to grab her. “Just the rye, I believe,” she said. “If we can scrape it away, it may be salvageable.”

Kenton wasn’t a fool. He could see that she was moving away from him. He’d hardly seen her over the past three days and was coming to think that she was avoiding him, although he had no idea why. He had been wracking his brain with their conversations since returning from Manchester, trying to see if there was anything questionable or offensive he’d said to her that might make her avoid him. He honestly couldn’t think of anything and the separation from the woman was starting to wear greatly on him. His army was prepared to depart Babylon and he at least wanted to bid the woman a private farewell. He wanted that memory to hold on to, to sustain him, to give him something to look forward to upon his return.

Already, he missed her.

“I am sure that under your expert guidance, it will be saved,” he said, eyeing her and noticing that she would not look at him. It made his heart hurt in ways he never imagined it could. “My lady, may I ask a question?”

Nicola was still looking at the basket of grain. “Aye.”

“Have I done or said something that would cause you to avoid me?”

Nicola was startled by the question but just as quickly, she felt cornered. Cornered and angry and guilty. Swiftly, she shook her head.

“Nay,” she said, stammering and moving away from him even further. “I… I have been busy and my children are ill. There is much on my mind.”

Kenton sighed. He didn’t believe her for one minute and his heart sank. “Nicola, please,” he begged softly. “I must have done or said something. It is clear you do not wish to be around me and not knowing what I have done is eating at me. Please tell me. Whatever it is, I apologize profusely. I would never do anything to knowingly hurt or offend you.”