Games of Otterburn 1388 (37 page)

“Now?” he asked curiously to her question.

She smiled and answered, “Now, my Percy.”

He stood over her and pulled the covers back some to expose more of her lightly pink body.

She reached under his robe and ran her hand up his inner thigh.

He stood still for a moment of pleasure then with her other hand she loosed his waist tie and the robe fell to the floor.

He sat on the edge of the bed and she giggled like a school girl but she was glad she wasn’t one when he came on top of her in his gentle manner that she lived for.

“I do love you, so much, my Percy,” she admitted then taking him fully into her arms she began to breathe faster.

She knew he could not say the words to her but that was a small point as she could feel his love and passion completely in the silence filled with great breaths of exciting life. She did find the tapestry on the wall of angels and cherubs a most heavenly delight and vowed to ask again for love in the morning.

Soon there was another light knock on the door that was answered by the same one word command, “Come.”

It was the Steward of the castle who opened the door and announced, “Messenger from
Carlisle
, Milord. Has the seal of Sir Ralph Neville on it.”

“Take him to the great hall and feed him,” said Henry resolutely. “Be there directly.”

“Yes, Milord,” spoke the steward and closed the door easily.

 
Henry rolled to the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the floor. “Did have hot spiced cider for us,” he said casually. “So… would you like to have a cup of
cold
spiced cider, my dear?”

She smiled warmly and got to the edge of the bed beside him. She looked down at their twenty toes lining across on the flagstones. It seemed an insignificant vision but it pleased her all the same.

“Get dressed, my Percy,” she urged, “Your message might be important.”

Henry shrugged but silently agreed she was right and began to dress.

She headed for the garderobe saying she was going to have her bath prepared after she ate.

He finished dressing and left the solar without another word. When he got to the great hall three stories below the solar he was met by the steward again.

“Prepare an egg breakfast and have the messenger come to me right away,” he ordered brusquely then turned to the head table on the dais to receive his messenger.

A man of about twenty-five years quickly appeared. He had on traveler’s clothes and a long thin feather swooping back from his tight fitting cap which he doffed and bowed low drawing the pouch from beneath his left arm to his front. Standing again he opened the flap and withdrew a parchment that was held together with a red wax spot impressed with the familiar seal of his father-in-law, Sir Ralph Neville.

“Milord,” said the messenger upon presentation of the missive.

Henry took it and broke the seal not knowing what to expect. He read the words then he saw his steward anticipating he would be needed and so was dutifully standing by. Henry waved him over to the long table.

“Hold this messenger and call my warden of the garrison… and return with him. We have serious plans to hatch,” said Henry then quickly added, “My food?”

“Yes, Milord,” he answered and a swift follow up with, “Will see to your food as I go, Milord.”

Henry returned to the quick scrawled hand of his erstwhile father-in-law and read again. By the second time through he thought he understood the significance of the words and what was to be considered between the words which he took as a veiled threat of doom for both sides of the
march
regions. Then he knew he was not about to refuse anything wanted by Sir Ralph.

A silver platter of roast beef and four small flat fried eggs with a loaf of top buttered bread and warm ale was placed before him in a grand style by three pages of the castle.

Without a word he pulled the food closer to him and started to eat. It wasn’t long before the steward arrived with the warden in tow.

“Milord,” said the steward inserting a shallow bow.

Henry took a swig of the ale and began his say, “Write this down. I want this carried out exactly as I intend to relay it to you.”

Anticipating the need the steward waved a scribe to him.

Henry offered them the bench seat at the front of the table. They sat and listened as Henry ate some of his eggs and beef.

“I know where those damned Scotch are for the most part,” he started.

The scribe waited for something more specific to actually write down.

Henry wondered if the scribe knew how to write but continued anyway. “They have thousands in
Cumberland
and are raiding not only in
Carlisle
but down the
Eden
Valley
on Clifford’s lands and everywhere in that bailiwick, they are.

The scribe scribbled fast dipping his quill again and again.

“We’ve got to get our army from Newcastle and hie for Carlisle!” growled Henry pounding the table so hard it made the platter and trencher jump, The cup of ale he caught in mid air or it would have splashed on his three already jittery minions.

“We can take somewhere around five hundred from our garrison if we’re not further threatened here at the castle,” said the warden.

“My
understandin
’ is the Scotch
are
in
Newcastle
and
Carlisle
… no where else!” snarled the earl while chewing a bite of meat. “How many does that leave us here?”

“Two hundred, more or less,” replied the warden.

“Wonder how many troops Lord Henry can spare from
Newcastle
?” openly asked the warden.

“Not too many, I would imagine, with that James Douglas in that neighborhood,” replied Percy.

“We can pick up men as we go across the country,” advised the warden.

“Can you lead our pack?” asked Henry pointing to the warden.

“Honored, Milord,” he came back in an instant.

“
A’right
. Send a message to Lord Thomas Umfraville to get what men he has under him. You, warden, will take our five hundred and go to Harbottle and meet up with Umfraville.”

“So we’ll be under the command of Lord Thomas?” asked the warden.

“So you will,” said Henry. “Does that gall you?”

“I’m
a’right
with it, Milord.”

Henry nodded. “Send a runner to
Newcastle
to tell young Henry what’s
happenin
’—He’ll pass the news on to Skirlaw so they can get men from
Durham
to
Carlisle
as soon as they can manage. I’ll stay here in case they come this way!”

The scribe was scrawling faster.

“You’ll have but the two hundred contingent here, Milord,” advised the warden.

“Stretched all over, we are,” said Henry pragmatically pulling a chunk of bread from the loaf and skinning the lighter cooked top from the dark bottom that he threw to the awaiting dogs. The dogs argued some but the biggest of them got the most part of the loaf.

Henry wrapped a piece of beef with the bread and continued eating.

He looked at the nervous scribe. “You best get my letters right,” he threatened.

“Be ready for your seal post haste, Milord,” said the young man picking up his scratch parchment, ink and quill, bowing and with another quick, “post haste, Milord,” he seemed to have vanished with no more ado.

August 18 - Early Afternoon

Castle Warkworth

Later that morning Earl Henry had another more personal message written by the scribe.

“Your new message to Sir Henry is ready, Milord,” said the steward as he came to Henry in the bailey where the blacksmith was putting hammer to steel for a long-blade dagger the earl hoped to carry into battle when next he went. He was fascinated with the process of twisting iron bars into steel then into sharp useful tools.

“You read it?” asked the earl.

“No, Milord,” replied the steward holding the one time folded parchment out toward Henry.

“Read it to me,” demanded Henry. “I can hardly make out that bastard scribe’s
scrawlin’s
.”

The steward opened the parchment as the pair drifted away from the hammer pounding of the smithy.

“Just read the important part,” instructed the earl then stood to listen.

“Says, Milord,” he began,
“
Fife
’s army is not in Northumberland as you imagine but in
Cumberland
raiding. Message from your grandfather says he is under attack at
Carlisle
. Need assistance fast as an army can get there. Many lives are being sacrificed. My son, I am sending five hundred from Warkworth and am soliciting the aid of Lord Thomas Umfravilles to raise an army to go to the support of
Carlisle
… Your father, Henry,”
he finished.

“Good,” said Henry taking the parchment from the hand of the steward. “Get the messenger and send him to me at the stable.”

“Yes, Milord,” said the steward bowing then walk-ran into the castle to fetch the messenger, Roger.

“Saddle the dapple,” instructed the earl who came to the approaching groom.

“Yes, Milord,” he replied turning to do the earl’s bid.

“The messenger’s horse?” asked Henry.

The groom turning back said, “‘Tis here.”

“Put the man’s tack on the dapple.”

“Yes, Milord,” again replied the groom bowing just low enough to show the acceptance of his servitude.