The Dark Angel, page 2
And no one would get in with Tristan at the gate.
In fact, Tristan had made himself indispensable to Jax since nearly his arrival, a bold and courageous man to the core. Julian was technically Jax’s second in command, but Tristan was older and more aggressive and, truth be told, experienced. Julian was rather quiet, introverted, quieter still when Tristan began to gain steam. He was still young enough to be offended by forceful older knights, especially ones he saw as trying to take his father’s attention away. Deep down, Julian de Velt had a confidence problem and Tristan only made it worse. But Ashton knew something Tristan didn’t know.
Julian was smarter, better, and stronger than all of them.
He just needed the opportunity to show it.
“Well,” Ashton finally said. “I would not worry. John’s mercenaries are too exhausted to do much damage, so I do not imagine today will be much of an issue. I would suspect at some point in the next day or two, when they realize they cannot breach Pelinom, that they will simply move on to the next castle and leave us alone.”
Julian’s gaze came off of the battlements, focusing on Ashton again. “My father is not so sure,” he said. “He does not think that John will give up so easily. He needs a castle from which to launch his attacks into Scotland and Pelinom seems to be his last chance.”
Ashton shrugged. “There are others that he can probably take with more ease,” he said. “Smaller outposts.”
“My father seems to think he wants a larger castle, like Pelinom,” Julian said. “It would be a trophy. What a boast it would be for John to tell all of England that he captured The Dark Lord’s castle.”
Ashton grinned, suggesting such a thing was not possible. “I do not think he would like The Dark Lord’s reaction to having his castle taken,” he said. “He and his mercenaries might very well find themselves speared on poles and propped up like Christians at a crucifixion. In fact, here comes that terrifying man in the flesh.”
He was looking over Julian’s shoulder, nodding his head in that direction. Julian turned to see his father approaching from the stables, an enormous knight with a head of shoulder-length dark hair that was dusted heavily with gray these days. He was in full protection, the same protection he’d worn all of these years – heavy mail coat, hauberk, steel braces on his forearms and shins, and the de Velt boar tunic. When he caught sight of Julian and Ashton, he headed in their direction.
“I’ve had the thatching from the stables’ roof removed,” he said, fussing with the fasten of a glove that had come loose. “In fact, I’ve had all of the thatching and hay put into the niches in the outer wall to protect them in case we have any more flaming projectiles or men tossed over the wall at us.”
Julian couldn’t quite see the stables from where he stood, but he craned his neck to get a peek at what his father was talking about. “I could have done that,” he said. “You should not have to bother.”
“It was no bother.”
Julian cocked a dark blond eyebrow. “This is how the chain of command works, Papa,” he said seriously. “You command and I obey. Give me an order and I shall do it. You do not need to handle menial tasks like that. This is why you have a thousand men at your disposal.”
Jax chuckled as he looked at his middle son. Julian had his handsome features, but his blond coloring was purely his mother’s. “Is that why I have you?” he quipped. “Truly, Julian, I had no idea.”
Julian’s grin returned, now at his father. “At least let us earn our pay, Papa,” he said. “Otherwise, we will all grow fat and lazy like John and his mercenaries.”
Jax snorted, eyeing the battlements where the men were stationed. “I would not discount John and his mercenaries too easily,” he said. “You are speaking of a Plantagenet, a man who fought against his father and brothers, at any given time, from a very young age. John may be many things but, in battle, he is no fool. Do not underestimate him.”
Julian found himself looking at the battlements also. “He has had two days to breach our walls,” he said. “Two days of attempts. The best he could do was try to sling men over the walls. I think that is a sign of his desperation.”
“Or his genius,” Jax said, looking at him. “The worst thing you can do in battle is underestimate any opponent, Julian. Do not let your confidence be your downfall.”
Julian smiled weakly, averting his gaze. “No one could ever accuse me of that,” he said. “I do not profess to have your experience, but I am not a novice.”
“Nay, you are not, but you must listen to me when I tell you not to misjudge the king.”
“My lord!” Men were shouting at Jax from the battlements. “A party approaches the drawbridge!”
That was a distinct surprise. Curiously, Jax and Julian and Ashton made their way to the enormous gatehouse of Pelinom, the one structure that was truly standing between them and annihilation. The gatehouse had two iron portcullises, which utterly demoralized any army attempting to breach it. Not only did they have to get through one, but they had to get through a second one to make headway into the bailey.
In fact, Jax acquired Pelinom in a siege thirty years earlier and there had only been one portcullis at the time, one he had been able to destroy. He was the one who added the second portcullis for just that reason. As he stood there with his son and knight, watching through both grates as the sun began to rise, they could see a small party of riders approaching.
Tension was immediately in the air.
The drawbridge had been burned away the first day of the siege because the mechanism raising it had jammed and they’d been unable to lift it. Therefore, Jax had ordered it doused with oil and burned, and it had mostly burned away. Chunks of it still smoldered, filling his vision, as he watched the party approach the moat but stop just shy of it. He found it interesting that they were in the range of his archers, making him doubly curious about their purpose.
“I come on behalf of the king!” someone shouted in a heavy accent. “We seek Ajax de Velt!”
Jax’s eyes narrowed as he realized it wasn’t a native Englishman speaking. Undoubtedly, it was a mercenary.
“I have no need to hear anything from you or the king,” he said. “However, you will listen to me and listen well. I have over a thousand men in this castle who are begging to rush forth and put your entire army on poles and leave you to die. You know my reputation and you know this is not an idle threat, so I suggest you depart today or face my wrath.”
The men on horseback weren’t quite sure what to say to that until one of them, shoved back behind the group, suddenly dismounted and stepped forward. Dressed in expensive protection, he was also dressed quite finely. Too finely for a knight. He removed his helm, revealing dark, dirty hair and a droopy eye. It took Jax a moment to recognize the man.
He was looking at John, King of England.
“De Velt,” John said, sounding hoarse and weary. “Surely our engagement will not come to such bloodshed. It does not need to.”
Jax wasn’t about to show any measure of respect to a man he deeply resented. There were years of hatred there, stoked by none other than John himself.
“Your father and I had an agreement,” he said. “You and I also had an agreement early in your reign. What has happened to this bargain, John? Why attack Pelinom? You know this will not end well for you.”
John, seeing Jax through the big iron fangs, grinned. “Jax, my old friend,” he said affectionately. At least, it sounded like affection. “I always thought William Marshal and his Executioner Knights were the most necessary evil in my kingdom but I think you surpass even them. You are the most fearsome warlord in all of England, but you are not an unreasonable man. Surely we can come to an agreement. We have always been able to talk, you and I.”
Jax wasn’t falling for his mild-sounding words. “If you had anything to say, you would have done it prior to attacking my home,” he said. “After two days of being unable to breach the walls of Pelinom, now you wish to converse? Truly, I have nothing to say to you.”
John wasn’t going to back down. “Join me and I shall gift you Berwick permanently,” he said, moving directly to the point. “I will also gift you with Carlisle. You shall become the Earl of Carlisle and rule the north. Is this not appealing to you?”
Jax didn’t even hesitate; he shook his head. “It means nothing,” he said. “I have my home and my holdings. I do not want an earldom.”
“But I need your help.”
“You have the help of about fifteen hundred mercenaries. You do not need me.”
“You are not being fair.”
Jax sighed heavily. “We danced a similar dance a few years ago when you tried to take Berwick with the help of the Princes of the Isles,” he said. “You tried to bring the Northmen into northern England to control your warlords and it did not work. We chased you out then and we shall chase you out now. You cannot have Pelinom and you cannot have me, so take your army and leave before I grow annoyed enough to open these gates and charge your army. I will not fight them – I will destroy them the way I have always destroyed armies. I have never put a king to the pole before but for you, I will make an exception.”
John tried not to let his apprehension show because he knew the man was serious. Jax de Velt never said anything he didn’t mean.
“I think The Marshal will have something to say about that,” he said after a moment. “He may not love me, but he is sworn to me. For now.”
“It does not matter.”
“You would go against your ally?”
“I will defend what is mine and eliminate the threat. You are the threat.”
The king could see that Jax would not be swayed. Not that he had expected he would be, but he had been hoping to intimidate or coerce de Velt enough for the man to want to compromise. He knew now that it had been a stupid hope because Jax de Velt had never compromised in his life.
They were at an impasse.
“Very well,” John said, turning for his horse. “You only have yourself to blame for what happens next.”
“The same could be said for you.”
Annoyed, John was finished being polite. He leapt onto his horse and roughly turned the animal around, galloping back towards his encampment with his entourage.
Jax watched him fade from view.
“Reinforce the walls,” he muttered to Julian and Ashton. “Inform Tristan of what has happened and reinforce the postern gate. That’s the only…”
“Attack!”
The shout came from the kitchens, where the postern gate was. Men started to rush in that direction but Julian and Ashton stopped them, ordering them to hold their posts. Jax began to run towards the kitchen yard with Julian and Ashton on his heels.
“Damn,” he hissed. “A ruse. That whole conversation was a ruse while they made their way to the postern gate. Get the men to their posts – everyone on the walls. Go!”
Julian and Ashton split off, with Ashton heading to the gatehouse and Julian rushing for the troop house to empty it of any men who might be inside. But those men had heard the shouting and were already spilling forth just about the time a hail of arrows sailed over the walls, straight into the bailey.
Very quickly, the quiet morning had turned deadly.
It was an all-out assault. Julian was nicked by a bolt, which clipped him in the shoulder, but he saw at least a dozen men go down with nasty bolts sticking out of them. He picked up the one that had hit him, inspecting it. They were big, freshly hewn bolts with enormous iron tips, newly fitted and forged. He could still smell the acrid heat from the forge on them. As he eyed the bolt, puzzled, another heavier barrage flew up and over the wall.
The shields, for the de Velt men, began to come out.
Tossing the bolt to the ground, Julian rushed to the armory to collect his shield. He also collected as many as he could carry, the only protection against the rain of arrows that were now bearing down on Pelinom. He had to find his father to make sure the man was protected and he rushed out of the armory, tossing shields to men as he went. A third wave was launched, heading straight for the battlements. He could see soldiers hiding behind the crenelations as a sea of bolts poured through any openings in the wall.
“They’ve got an army of archers!” Ashton bellowed down from the wall when he saw Julian approaching. “They just emerged from the trees. Hundreds of them!”
Julian mounted the ladder to the walls, meeting Ashton halfway and handing him one of two shields he still held. “They’ve been hiding for two days?” he demanded. “Those bolts are fresh, Ash. I inspected one and the tip is newly forged.”
Ashton was grim as he took the offered shield. “It makes sense,” he said. “They probably spent them all on the last few battles and had to replenish their arsenal. No wonder the past two days have been quiet. They were waiting for their archers to refill their damned quills!”
Another round of bolts flew over the walls, this time aiming for the bailey. Most everyone was already under cover except for the men who had been hit and there were several. They were trying to drag themselves to safety but most of them were bad off. Holding his shield over his head, Julian came off the ladder and ran for them.
The first man he grabbed had a big bolt in his chest. He was only half-conscious as Julian grabbed an arm and began to pull him towards the troop house. He had only taken a couple of steps when he began to hear his mother shouting for him.
“Julian!” Kellington de Velt was standing in the now open door to the keep. She was waving frantically at her son. “Bring them in here! Hurry!”
Enraged, Julian ran across the bailey, dragging the man behind him. “Why did you open the door?” he shouted. “Papa will be furious with you!”
Kellington ignored him. She was a strong woman, tough as few were, beautiful and intelligent. Only a woman of such strength and character could have survived marriage to The Dark Lord. Not only survived but thrived. Jax and Kellington had a love story for the ages. She stood aside as Julian brought the soldier to the door where servants took over and dragged him inside.
“Hurry, Julian,” Kellington commanded, pointing to the wounded men in the bailey. “Bring them all in here.”
Julian didn’t have time to argue with her. He was angry that the door was open, but he supposed she had a point. They had wounded now, where they hadn’t had any for two days, and his mother and sisters were prepared to tend them. He rushed back towards the wounded, grabbing another man, when he suddenly looked up and saw his father carrying one man over his broad shoulders while towing another man by the arm. As his father ran past him, Julian grabbed another victim by the wrist and began to run after his father.
“Papa!” he shouted. “Take my shield. You must protect yourself.”
Jax dumped the man on his shoulder into the waiting arms of servants while still others pulled the man in his grip inside. He turned to Julian as the man rushed up dragging a body.
“No shield,” Jax said, composed and focused as he always was. “It will only slow me down. These men must get inside.”
“Jax, listen to him,” Kellington said, bordering on scolding. “Use a shield to protect yourself. If they are firing bolts, then…”
She was cut off when another barrage flew over the wall, striking the sides of the keep. Jax pushed his wife inside the door, out of the line of fire, before rushing back to the wounded. More soldiers were dragging their colleagues inside now, some of them carrying shields to protect themselves, but it was chaos in the bailey of Pelinom. Men were shouting and running everywhere. Julian was behind his father, trying to shield his man from another hail of bolts.
“Papa, get inside,” he pleaded. “Most of the men are inside and we can bring in the rest. You are needlessly exposing yourself!”
Before Jax could reply, more arrows hit a man near him, a man who was trying to carry a comrade to the keep. Jax rushed to help both of them when the worst happened – a bolt plowed into him, straight into his left shoulder blade in a prime location in his back. It was such a big bolt that the tip emerged on the left side of his abdomen, poking through the mail. Another barrage came over the wall and Julian threw himself on his father, shield lifted, but he wasn’t in time. Another bolt caught Jax in the top of his right shoulder, burrowing nearly half its length straight down, straight into Jax’s powerful body.
It had all happened so fast. Faster than Julian could comprehend. One moment, his father was well and in the next, he had two massive bolts sticking out of him. But he hadn’t gone down; nay, Jax de Velt was too strong for that. He simply stood there and took it, as if the bolts meant nothing to him.
As if they didn’t mean his very life.
But they meant something to Julian. After a split second of disbelief, he grabbed his father, trying to keep the shield over him but he couldn’t because of the big bolt in Jax’s right shoulder. It kept knocking the shield sideways.
Julian began screaming to the men around him.
“Help me!” he said. “Help me get him inside!”
Jax was in a bad way, but he had hold of a man on the ground with a bolt through his pelvis and he wouldn’t release him. He was still walking, still dragging that man, but he was staggering.
He was weakening.
“Papa,” Julian begged. “Let go of the soldier. Please let go.”
Jax’s face was ashen. All of the color was gone. But still, he wouldn’t release the soldier. “I cannot,” he said stoically. “I must get him to safety.”
Julian was beside himself. “I must get you to safety,” he said, struggling not to become hysterical. “Papa, drop the man. Someone else will help him. Please let me take you inside.”
Jax ignored him, but he was grunting. An odd grunting sound was coming from him as each step became more and more difficult. More and more taxing. Blood was streaming from the entry and exit wounds and because both lungs had been pierced, he could hardly breathe. He coughed, spraying blood from his mouth. Men were starting to crowd around Jax including Ashton, who had come off the wall when he saw what happened. Between Ashton and Julian, they managed to break Jax’s grip on the man he’d been trying so desperately to drag to safety.
