De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (33 page)

It was, in fact, a brilliant and shocking suggestion and for the first time since reading the missive from Warwick, St. John felt some hope. He truly felt hope. He looked to Saxilby anxiously.

“What do you think?” he asked the man. “Do you think it will work?”

Saxilby was a bit more skeptical. “That is difficult to say,” he replied, eyeing Lady Thorne who was so willing to turn her fortress back over to the enemy. “Certainly, Babylon is not Kenton le Bec but it is nonetheless a prize. Lady Thorne, why would you so willingly give over your home to the man? St. John’s sister means nothing to you. Why would you suggest such a thing?”

There was suspicion in his tone. Nicola could hear it. It wasn’t difficult to think of a believable answer.

“Because Babylon holds nothing but terrible memories for me,” she said, which was the truth. “My husband was not a kind man, Lord Saxilby. If you knew him, then you know that is the truth. He was brutal and unscrupulous. When I see Babylon, I think of him, so it is no great sacrifice for me to offer the fortress in exchange for a young woman’s life. The fortress means little to me. Warwick can have it and welcome to it.”

It was a reasonable answer and one that Saxilby could understand; he did indeed know of Gaylord Thorne’s character. “So you would give it away?” he asked softly. “But you have children. Where will you go?”

“She can stay here,” St. John said quickly, perhaps
too
quickly. There was something suddenly warm in his expression as he looked at Nicola. “She and her children can come and live here, with me. It is the least I can do for the lady if she is willing to sacrifice her home for my sister.”

Nicola realized, almost too late, that there was something of a romantic interest abruptly in St. John’s manner. It wasn’t so much what he said but the way he said it and she resisted the urge to back away from the man. He was looking at her with great admiration and gratitude and something more… something she didn’t want to see in his expression. He was a handsome man, and seemingly kind, but she wanted no part of him. At least, not in the manner his tone was suggesting.

“Your offer is very kind,” she said, trying not to sound put-off by it. “But that is not necessary. I have a widowed aunt near London who will take us in. Now, let us get on with this missive to Warwick offering Babylon in exchange for your sister. If you will write the missive, I will go and tell my knight of his coming mission.”

She was swiftly changing the subject away from her possibly seeking refuge at Conisbrough, away from anything that had to do with St. John, and Saxilby took the bait, thankfully.

“We can just as easily send a messenger, my lady,” he said. “There is no need for you to send your knight.”

Nicola smiled wryly. “You will forgive me, Lord Saxilby, but sending a missive to Warwick will take a man of some determination, strength, and fearlessness,” she said. “No offense to your messengers, but I would feel more comfortable sending Conor. He is resourceful and seasoned, and will deliver the message without fail. I do not want to trust something of this importance to anyone other than a man I have implicit faith in. We are speaking of my fortress, after all, so you will indulge me.”

Saxilby didn’t argue after that. Lady Thorne seemed to have taken over the negotiations with Warwick and St. John was content to let her, so Saxilby sat back, watching as St. John rushed to his desk and rifled through the clutter to find a piece of parchment to write his missive on.

Eagerly, St. John began scribing his reply to Warwick. Most knights had others write their missives for them, and some knights couldn’t write at all, but St. John was an educated man who wrote quite well. As he carefully stenciled out the letters, Nicola excused herself and went in search of Conor to tell the man of his coming mission. She tried not to run, but she could hardly wait to tell him.

It was cold and bright outside, typical of spring weather. Nicola wandered the keep a bit before braving out into the ward, finding Conor in the great hall breaking his fast amidst servants sweeping the floor and cleaning out the hearth, which had a blockage in the chimney. Nicola sat down next to Conor as he enjoyed warmed-over beef and bread from the previous night, hardly able to contain her excitement.

“Much has happened this morning,” she said to the knight, her voice low. “It would seem that you are riding out to Warwick today.”

Conor looked up from his meal. “Why?” he asked, surprised. “What has happened?”

Nicola looked around to make sure there were no servants to hear what she had to say. “St. John received a missive early this morning from Warwick,” she said quietly. “Evidently, Warwick knows that Kenton is being held prisoner at Conisbrough and he knows that St. John is the garrison commander. Somehow, he was able to abduct St. John’s sister and he is offering her in exchange for Kenton.”

Conor’s eyes widened. “Is this true?”

“It is,” Nicola said, speaking quickly. “But that is not all. Brome has already informed Edward that he has Kenton as a prisoner. Did you know that Edward is in Yorkshire? I did not, either. He is evidently moving south to London and will be in Doncaster in the next few days. That is when Brome plans to deliver Kenton to him. We cannot allow this to happen, Conor. Warwick must be in Doncaster, too, and take Kenton before he can be delivered to Edward.”

Conor stopped eating; he found he had no appetite left at the revelations Lady Thorne was delivering. It was all quite staggering, as if a great deal had happened overnight.

“But what of St. John’s sister?” he asked. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Nicola held up a hand, indicating for him to keep his voice quiet. In an empty hall, voices tended to echo. “Brome was distraught that he could not exchange Kenton for his sister,” she whispered. “Edward is already expecting Kenton, evidently, so I suggested that Brome write to Warwick and offer to give him back Babylon in exchange for his sister. Brome is writing that very missive right now, a missive you will take to Warwick.”

Conor cocked his head curiously. “I will?”

Nicola nodded firmly. “Aye, but the missive means nothing,” she said. “Throw it away after you leave Conisbrough for all I care. You are really going to Warwick to tell him about Kenton and Doncaster.”

“But does Warwick truly have St. John’s sister?”

“That is what he said.”

Conor lifted his auburn eyebrows. “So St. John believes I am only going to deliver the missive offering Babylon in exchange for his sister.”

“Aye.”

“You have offered him the fortress to exchange for the woman’s life?”

“I have.”

“But why?”

She shrugged. “I will tell you what I told St. John,” she said. “Babylon holds only bitter memories for me. It was Gaylord’s fortress, never mine. It does not pain me to be rid of it.”

“But it is your sons’ legacy, is it not?”

She drew in a deep, pensive breath. There as something in her manner that suggested some regret at that point. “Aye,” she said. “But I do not want them there. Mayhap I will find a better legacy for them elsewhere, away from a place of such terrible memories.”

Now, Conor wriggled his eyebrows, a bit stumped at all of the happenings going on, happenings he found himself involved in. “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “A good deal has happened this morning already, hasn’t it?”

“Aye.”

“When are they moving Kenton?”

Nicola’s expression washed with uncertainty. “They could only tell me within the next few days,” she said. “They could move him tomorrow or move him next week. Regardless, you must go to Warwick immediately and tell him to ride for Doncaster. He must be there when St. John tries to deliver Kenton to Edward.”

Conor knew that. He drained the watered wine left in his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, flicking bits of bread off his auburn beard.

“It will be done, Lady Thorne,” he said. “I will go and prepare my things.”

Nicola nodded shortly. “Do,” she said. “And hurry. As soon as St. John is finished with this missive, you must leave.”

Conor stood up, politely helping her to stand as well. Odd how they were allies now when, only days before, he had learned of her betrayal and had been most mistrustful of her motives. Conor had come to see that Lady Thorne was an intelligent, determined woman who, so far, had kept her word. She wanted to free Kenton from Edward’s grasp and it would seem that she was making plans to do exactly that. At this point, Conor had no reason not to trust her. It was clear she had been trying to earn his trust back, just a bit, and so far she was succeeding.

“So I will ride to Warwick,” he said quietly as they headed for the exit to the great hall. “The last we knew, he was outside of Wakefield, or at least that was where he told Kenton he was going. I will look for him there.”

Nicola nodded, looking around to make sure, once again, that no one was listening. “Very well,” she said. “But you must hurry, Conor. We do not know when they are moving Kenton and if Edward gets to him before Warwick has a chance to free him, I am afraid we may never see him again.”

Conor paused in the hall entry, his gaze lingering on her. “And that would upset you.”

“It would destroy me.”

There was great finality and emotion in her words. He could see that she meant what she said. “You never told me what was said when you saw him yesterday upon our arrival,” he said. “We have not had a chance to discuss it.”

She smirked. “And you shall never know what was said,” she said. “That is between me and Kenton. Go, now. Prepare to depart.”

With a grin, Conor started to move but soon came to a halt. “That reminds me,” he said. “Where will you be? Surely you do not plan to remain here at Conisbrough.”

Nicola shook her head. “Nay,” she said, thinking of St. John and how he would like nothing better than for her to remain. “I will return to Babylon. When you free Kenton, bring him back to Babylon. I will wait for him there.”

Conor cocked an eyebrow dubiously. “Edward’s men are still at Babylon,” he pointed out. “They will find it odd when Kenton and I return, don’t you think?”

Nicola shook her head. “It will not matter,” she said. “We will leave shortly thereafter and leave Babylon to Edward. You are simply returning Kenton to Babylon so he can collect me and my children. Where we go after that, I do not care.”

“So you intend to leave Babylon?”

“Forever.”

“Does Kenton know any of this?”

She shook her head. “He knows nothing and I am not sure when I will have the chance to tell him, so hurry and go about your business. St. John will be finished with the missive soon and you will have to leave.”

Conor didn’t say any more. He had his orders and he was determined to fulfil them. Lady Thorne had made it possible to free Kenton and Conor was determined to find Warwick and enlist the man’s help.

This was the moment they had been waiting for, the opportunity of the moment, and it would not be wasted. Perhaps the woman had betrayed Kenton once before but it was clear she was trying very hard to make up for it. Actions often spoke louder than words and if Conor had to guess, he would say that Lady Thorne’s actions bespoke of deep remorse for what she’d done and an even deeper affection for Kenton le Bec. She was risking everything, including her fortress, for the opportunity to free him, and Conor would not disappoint her.

When he left Conisbrough later that morning with a missive meant for Warwick, he headed straight northward, towards Warwick, and prayed he could find the man before St. John decided to move Kenton to Doncaster.

The following day, his prayers were answered.

Outside of Wakefield, Yorkshire

Warwick’s encampment

It was very early in the morning when Conor barreled into Warwick’s camp, lured by the familiar crimson color of a cluster of tents surrounded by an army encampment. He had ridden straight from Conisbrough, north through fairly open country, for most of the night, only stopping to rest the horse. Well before daybreak he was on the road again, entering the southern outskirts of Wakefield as the sun started to illuminate the eastern horizon.

The sky was clear which mean the night had been very cold, and the colors of the east were glorious pinks and blues as Conor continued to head north. His plan was to enter Wakefield and stop at taverns, one after another, until someone could tell him that they’d seen Warwick’s army – perhaps on the outskirts of town or perhaps even moving past it. If he had a direction, and a witness, he was certain he could locate Warwick.

Thankfully, he didn’t need any of those things because Warwick had camped on the south side of Wakefield and Conor recognized the tents from a distance. Warwick had very recognizable crimson tents and most of the time he flew his standards over his encampment, but he wasn’t flying the standards on this day. The camp was already awake at this early hour and the smells of cooking fires were heavy in the air. Vastly relieved and saying a swift prayer that Warwick had been placed right in his path, Conor charged towards the camp and straight to the sentries.

The men on guard duty didn’t recognize him, however, and Conor had been forced to raise his voice, demanding entry and arguing with the four sentries who were holding him stationery, until one of Warwick’s advisors heard the commotion and came forth to berate the sentries for not recognizing one of Kenton le Bec’s knights.

The sentries let him pass, Conor dismounted, and turned his exhausted horse over to a nearby soldier before following Lord Pollard across the encampment towards Warwick’s big tent. Warwick, having heard Conor’s shouting even from where he was, met the knight at the door.

“De Birmingham!” he gasped, reaching out to grab the weary knight. “God be praised! We heard you were at Babylon when it fell to Edward’s forces.”

Conor nodded as Warwick practically dragged him into the warm, slightly rotten-smelling tent. “Indeed, my lord,” he said, breathing heavily with exertion. “I was in command when we were overrun by Conisbrough troops.”

Warwick pulled him over to the nearest chair. “Sit, man,
sit
,” he commanded, hovering over him as Conor all but collapsed into the chair, which groaned dangerously under his weight. “What has happened? Why have you come?”

Conor accepted a cup of watered wine, cold from sitting out all night, from Pollard, but he hardly cared. He drank it down and smacked his lips.

“There is much to tell, my lord, and little time,” he said, handing the cup back to Pollard. More of Warwick’s advisors were filtering into the tent now, having heard the shouting and bustle in camp, but Conor ignored the advisors and remained fixed on Warwick. “I have come with a message from Lady Thorne. She has sent me to tell you that Kenton is being moved from Conisbrough to Doncaster where he is due to be delivered to Edward. Edward, it seems, is moving south through Yorkshire. Were you aware, my lord?”

Warwick was listening carefully. “I was aware, aye,” he said, but he was far more focused on the mention of Lady Thorne. “You say that the Lady of Babylon has sent this message? Why on earth would she send such a message about le Bec?”

Conor wasn’t quite sure how to explain the dynamics between Lady Thorne and Kenton. He wasn’t even sure of the dynamics himself and he didn’t want to divulge any information that was not his privilege to give. Uncomfortable, he shifted in his chair.

“Much has happened at Babylon since Kenton took control, my lord,” he said, trying to be truthful yet sparing with the information. “Suffice it to say that Lady Thorne is now an ally. She has risked herself to discover the information regarding Kenton.”

Warwick was greatly puzzled. “She is an ally?” he repeated in disbelief. “But Gaylord Thorne was a fanatical supporter of Edward. It makes little sense that his wife would not be the same.”

Conor had no idea how to further explain the loyalties of Lady Thorne. “It is my understanding that her husband was a cruel and brutal man,” he said. “Mayhap she wants to defy him. In any case, you must believe me when I say that it was Lady Thorne who discovered Kenton’s whereabouts and discovered the intention to send him to Edward.”

Warwick found it all quite puzzling but he knew Conor was not a fool. If he said Lady Thorne was an ally, then Warwick would do the man the courtesy of believing him. He surely had good reason to say such a thing. Still, it all seemed very puzzling and shocking.

“You are certain of this?” he asked Conor, just to be sure. “You believe her?”

Conor nodded firmly. “I do, my lord. She has risked much to help Kenton.”

Warwick glanced at Pollard, who appeared equally puzzled. Still, the man shrugged as if to give Conor the benefit of the doubt as well. So they had an ally in Lady Thorne. Warwick wanted to know more about that alliance when time permitted, but at the moment, he was fixated on the information Conor was delivering about turning Kenton over to Edward. He resumed his focus.

“If you say she is an ally, I will accept that for now,” he said after a moment. “But let us return to the subject of Edward and his movement south. I am aware of such a thing, as my scouts have been watching Edward’s movements. I, too, will be moving south, back to Warwick Castle. We were planning on preparing for our departure today and leaving tomorrow. But you say that Kenton is being moved to Doncaster?”

Conor accepted a second cup of wine from Pollard. Now, there were a half-dozen men standing around him, in various stages of dress, listening to his message. Conor recognized all of them but he continued to stay focused on Warwick.

“He is, my lord,” he said, gulping at his second cup of wine. “Allow me to explain the circumstances if you have not already been told. Kenton was taken prisoner at Manchester when Conisbrough troops overran the city. They took him to Conisbrough Castle where he has been a prisoner ever since. Brome St. John, the garrison commander at Conisbrough who is loyal to Edward, sent Edward word that Kenton was his prisoner. Of course, Edward wants Kenton, so it has been arranged to meet Edward in Doncaster where Kenton will be delivered to him.”

Warwick understood everything now and his features were grim. “I did not know all of the circumstances behind the fall of Babylon and Manchester,” he said. “I only knew of certain things, but not all. When is Kenton being moved?”

Conor swallowed the wine in his mouth. “Soon,” he said. “Lady Thorne, who has been acting as a spy on Kenton’s behalf, told me that they plan to move him very soon. Within days. She says that it is imperative you intercept Kenton in Doncaster so that Edward cannot take him.”

Warwick processed what he was being told. Lady Thorne seemed to have a big part in all of this, which was increasingly puzzling to him. A foe’s wife was assisting them, the very woman who once nearly beat him senseless when he made a grab for her back at Babylon. Warwick still laughed at the memory. But all laughter aside, it was quite early in the morning for such madness yet there was little choice but to digest it. De Birmingham had obviously ridden all night to deliver the message and it was clear that there was no time to waste. With a grunt, Warwick turned away, found the nearest chair, and lowered himself into it. His manner was pensive.

“Doncaster is not far to the south,” he muttered. “If Edward is passing through Doncaster, then he must be passing fairly close to my camp.”

Lord Pollard, standing next to Conor, spoke. “That is very possible, my lord,” he said. “There are two roads to the east of us that pass fairly close. It is entirely possible he will see the smoke from our fires.”

Warwick stroked his chin in a worried gesture. “Is it possible he will engage me if he sees me?”

Lord Pollard shrugged. “It is more possible that he will not,” he said. “You have a few thousand men and I cannot imagine Edward has more than we do at this time. Moreover, he is moving south towards London. Oxford and his very big army are between Edward and London. It is my guess he will continue to gather men on his journey south and will forego engaging you at this time.”

Warwick trusted Pollard for the man was correct much more than he was incorrect. But Edward’s army passing so close to him gave him an idea.

“Wait,” he said, holding up a finger as he began to formulate a plan. “If Edward sees my army here, camped, he will not be expecting any manner of confrontation when he reaches Doncaster, at least not from me. He will only be expecting the delivery of Kenton le Bec. But if we move a small force down to Doncaster, mayhap to the west of the town on the road leading from Conisbrough, we can snatch Kenton away from his Conisbrough escort before he even reaches Doncaster. Edward will be left wondering where Kenton is and what has happened.”

Pollard lifted his eyebrows. “He will know it is you,” he said. “If he see the camp and knows you are near Doncaster, then of course he will know it was you who took Kenton.”

Warwick looked at him. “But you said he will not engage me,” he reminded him. “Even if he suspects it is I who has Kenton, he will not waste the effort of trying to gain Kenton back. Kenton will be protected by my entire army.”

Conor had been listening to both Warwick and Pollard, who seemed more concerned with Edward than anything. “Whatever you do, my lord, it must be done immediately,” he interjected, stressing that Kenton was the issue here. “You must get to Kenton before Edward does and, that being the case, you must move now.”

Warwick couldn’t disagree. An old male servant entered the tent at that moment with Warwick’s morning meal, but Warwick only took the steaming wine from the tray and had the man give the rest to Conor, who wolfed down the meal of bread and cheese. All the while, as Conor gorged himself, Warwick was thinking of the easiest way to free Kenton le Bec from his captors.

“Do you have any idea how many men are moving Kenton?” he asked Conor.

Mouth full, Conor shook his head. “I do not, my lord,” he said. “I am sure if Lady Thorne knew, she would have told me.”

Before Warwick could reply, the tent flap flew back and two very big knights entered the tent. Conor nearly choked on his food when he saw de Russe and Wellesbourne enter the tent. He shot to his feet.

“De Russe!” he gasped. “Wellesbourne! You are alive!”

Odd how men who had been adversarial only weeks before were now acting like long-lost friends. The bonds of the knighthood could be odd that way. Wellesbourne was the first to reach out and grasp Conor’s hand, a smile on his fair face.

“So you survived,” he said, satisfaction in his voice. “When last we saw Babylon, she was greatly overrun.”

Conor squeezed the man’s big hand. “So you saw Babylon as it was attacked?” he clarified. “I thought you were in Manchester?”

Wellesbourne nodded. “When Manchester was overrun by Conisbrough, we retreated back to Babylon but came upon it as it was under siege,” he explained. “When we realized we could not find refuge at Babylon, we came on to Warwick to tell him what was happening.”

Now, a good deal was making sense to Conor on how Warwick had known what had happened with Manchester, Babylon, and even Kenton. “I understand,” he said. “Thanks to God that you both survived.”

“Le Mon is with us, too.”

The statement came from de Russe, who now had a hand extended to Conor. With a smirk, Conor took his former enemy’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly. ”So le Mon survived,” Conor said, looking between the pair. “That is good to know. What of Forbes?”

The smiles faded from their faces. “He did not survive Manchester,” Wellesbourne said. “What of Kenton? Have you heard anything about him?”

Warwick interjected. “De Birmingham has come to tell us that Kenton was captured,” he told them. “The garrison at Conisbrough is moving him to Doncaster to deliver him to Edward. Good knights, we must make sure Kenton never makes it to Edward.”

De Russe and Wellesbourne were startled by the news but, nonetheless, they were already prepared to move. Knights often had to make instantaneous decisions and they were therefore ready and eager to ride to Kenton’s aid.

“Now, my lord?” Wellesbourne asked.

Warwick held up a hand to cool the enthusiastic warrior, at least for the moment. “We will waste no time,” he said. “The word is that Kenton will be moved very soon, mayhap even today, so we must make sure we are in position to stop the escort from delivering Kenton to Edward. I will need two men to ride forward and select an excellent spot for an ambush on the road between Conisbrough and Doncaster. Will you two volunteer?”

Warwick knew he didn’t even have to ask, for both knights were virtually out of the door already. “Of course, my lord,” de Russe said. “I know the land around Doncaster fairly well. We will find a suitable position.”

Warwick nodded. “Excellent,” he said. “I want a contingent of fifty men for this task, fifty of our best. We must get Kenton at all costs. Make sure the men are well-armed because you know the contingent guarding Kenton will be.”

“Aye, my lord,” de Russe replied.

“Prepare a mount for de Birmingham as well,” he said. “I suspect he will want to go with us.”