Back from the Shadowlands, page 5
CHAPTER SEVEN
Shaking hands with Fitz Duncan, Mormaer of Moray, Thor was glad the prince had given him leave to travel with his party. A wily character, Fitz Duncan had wasted no time in wedding Alice de Romilly, heiress to Skipton Castle, in Yorkshire after his wife’s death. While he would have appreciated getting to know the other man better, he wanted to see his family more. There would be time to form new alliances later when both of them were more settled.
Joining the other men in the party, Thor swung into Caturix’s saddle and looked around him. While he recognized a couple of the men, they didn’t know him. The handsome fair-haired boy was Gervais de Blois and the weakling was Theobald de Calais. As for the others, they were strangers to him and he to them.
Following the men out of the royal keep, Thor decided it was better that way for now. He would observe his companions and decide whether to reveal his identity when they stopped to rest. As it was, no one had taken the time to identify themselves to the others. They were too interested in hitting the road to take time for idle pleasantries. He could respect that since he felt the same.
Falling in line at the rear of the party, Thor allowed his mind to drift over the past few weeks. While he would never admit the truth to his wife, he’d eagerly anticipated the coming skirmishes. No, he’d prayed they weren’t just skirmishes but would become more. They had.
In truth, David intended that from the start. The idea of a simple skirmish or two was put out there to lull Stephen into a false sense of security. It worked. Thor wasn’t surprised that everything fell into place to give them the upper hand leading to the favorable treaty his king wanted. His overlord was considered a formidable foe for a reason. He was a master tactician who kept his cards close to his chest.
COMING OUT OF HIS REVERIE, Thor noticed the sun was high in the sky casting a warm glow over the rolling hills of the countryside. Everyone had fallen into a relaxed formation several hours ago under the direction of their self-appointed leader, Cedric Annarsson, Fitz Duncan’s second in command. He, nor any others, had felt the need to challenge the man’s authority.
The warrior was an alert, seasoned knight whose keen eyes constantly scanned the horizon for potential threats. Studying the man, Thor knew his position in the Mormaer’s army was hard won. The wicked scar running from forehead to chin coupled with his immense build testified to many years of active battle experience. Most, if not all, likely in the service of his current overlord. From his observations, Thor saw no reason not to respect Annarsson as his equal.
In truth, he had no desire to be anything more than he was. Another unnamed member of an armed fifteen-man party traveling together for added security. Had he not promised his wife otherwise, he would have made the trip alone as he usually did. That being said, no one was that concerned with a coming attack. Not even him. Nothing around him indicated danger.
Instead, the men rode in a loose group enjoying the rhythmic thud of their horses’ hooves striking earth as they scanned open land as far as the eye could see. While vigilant, his companions weren’t on edge. There was no reason. They’d participated in a successful battle that ended with a favorable treaty with both sides pledging not to attack until fresh shoots were bursting from the ground. It didn’t get much better than that for fighting men.
“Keep your wits about you.” Lord Cedric glanced at the men behind him. “We may be crossing neutral territory, but that doesn’t mean we’re out of danger.”
Bringing up the rear, Thor couldn’t agree with him more. While they were surrounded by open land, it was only a matter of time before they reached that stretch of forest up ahead. Unfortunately, they had no option except to get through the dense underbrush as quickly as possible. If this were back in his mercenary days, he’d consider that a perfect place to ambush his unsuspecting quarry. Or even suspecting quarry for that matter. His familiarity with the area would give him the upper hand either way.
However, this wasn’t his mercenary days and this wasn’t his neck of the woods. That meant while he wasn’t overly familiar with this area, others were. Resting his hand on his sword, the thought made him uneasy. Anyone could hide in that copse of trees waiting to catch them unawares.
Dismissing the thought, Thor found small comfort in the idea that attacking his party would forfeit the treaty. It would be tantamount to declaring war. However, that didn’t mean there weren’t fools out there lacking the foresight to see the future repercussions of their actions. He’d brought many such men to their knees over the years.
Feeling the hair rise on his arms, Thor heard every crack of a branch and rustle of the leaves as the group rode past the thicket. Something wasn’t right. He knew it. Hanging back even more, he wasn’t surprised when a band of warriors sprang from the trees swords upraised. While not caught fully unaware, their party was easily outnumbered four to one. Hearing Annarsson’s cry of, “Ambush!” Thor watched the retinue quickly form a defensive circle with upraised shields to deflect the initial onslaught.
Hearing the clash of steel as the two groups collided, Thor joined the fray easily hacking through the outer perimeter with practiced ease. Satisfied he’d lessened their opponents by five strong men just getting to his current position, he fought with fierce determination easily killing the man intent on stabbing him through the back. The dishonorable cur deserved to die for his actions. Sword cutting through the air with deadly precision, he parried a blow from an enemy rider and countered with a swift strike, unseating his opponent. Running the warrior through, Thor pulled his sword from his body before lifting Móði yet again.
Senses on high alert, Thor continued his relentless attack on their attackers feeling that for every man he killed, two more took his place. That was likely true. Not only were they fatally outnumbered, but their opponents were seasoned warriors equally, if not more, skilled than most of them were.
Watching his comrades fall to the sword or ax Thor doubted he would make it out of this melee alive. He doubted as well that anyone would ever find their bodies when they didn’t return to their loved ones. Not in any identifiable state. They’d likely rot in anonymity falling prey to the beasts of the field and birds of the sky. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d come across the signs of such carnage, but it would be the last as he would be amongst it.
The thought of Alexandria’s anguish and the potential vulnerability of his lands if that happened galvanized Thor to action. Drawing on his bloodlust he hacked through the men without realizing what he’d done. He was fighting for his life and the lives of his remaining comrades. What did he care if an enemy’s innards spilled from his belly or his head rolled from his shoulders? He didn’t. In truth, the more times that happened the better.
As they tired under the never-ending assault, Thor watched his companions fall all around him and fought with renewed fury. He cut down one attacker after another, his sword a blur of motion. But even his strength and skill couldn’t turn the tide. One by one, he saw nine of his party fall to the sword or the ax. The cries of the dying and the cloying scent of fresh blood and offal permeated the air mingling with the clash of steel and the thunder of hooves all around him.
Gervais was the first to be unseated and disarmed. Theobald remained in the saddle along with him and several others. Annarsson held his own against two warriors for the moment, but it didn’t look good. While he would come to his aid if he could, Thor wasn’t sure he would make it in time. Breaking through the line of fighting, he saw the arc of the Danish axe and watched Annarsson’s head fall away in a bloody spray as his body toppled from the saddle.
Reaching out, Thor grabbed Annarsson’s sword in passing, sheathed Modi in his saddle scabbard, and lifted his new sword liking the heft in his hand. As mercenary as his action seemed, it was practical instead. The dead man didn’t need his weapon anymore, and a second sword was always good if you could get one.
Fixing Annarsson’s killer in his golden sights, Thor hacked the warrior across the neck before thrusting his sword through his companion’s gut and giving it a practiced twist. While an extra layer of cruelty he rarely employed, bastards breaking good-faith treaties deserved what they got. Urging Caturix back into the thick of battle he decided the dishonorable curs may have succeeded in killing Annarsson but he’d succeeded in killing them...
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alexandria stared over the moors. Something wasn’t right. She felt that deep in her soul. Were Gruoch not laid to rest by the demise of the MacLarens, she would have awakened long ago to discover the distressed spirit standing by her bed wringing her long white hands. As it was, she’d felt uneasy before Thor left. She felt the same now. However, she was powerless to stop her mate from leaving. She didn’t try. It wasn’t her place. Not knowing both Lionel and Thor longed to join the battle. Any battle. Anywhere. They’d been idle too long. Bloodlust roiled through their veins night and day with a thirst that wailed to be quenched.
If restlessness wasn’t enough to warrant a more savage outlet than sparring with his men, the king’s summons meant they dared not turn him down. Not when Thor was David’s sworn man and Lionel was his. While she didn’t like it, she never protested their departure. She understood a warrior’s life. Was she not a warrior in her own right? Besides, from what was said, the battle was a minor skirmish over the border to seize a swatch of English soil for the Scottish crown. It wasn’t a major offensive. It was a masterful two-step forward, ten-step back board game enacted on verdant land. One that should have ended weeks ago.
Staring over the moors a final time, Alexandria turned to enter her room. If she didn’t appear in the great hall soon, Reina would come looking for her. While she would rather brood in solitude, she didn’t have that option. She was the lady of Drummond. She must put on a strong, brave front. Her people expected nothing less from her. Thor and Lionel weren’t the only husbands and fathers to heed their king’s call. Or the only warriors still missing.
Not missing; returning later than expected. That sounded better. They were returning later than expected. That wasn’t true either. Only Thor had yet to come home. Lionel had ridden through Drummond’s gates three days ago sporting minor injuries half-expecting his lord to have arrived before he did. Rejoicing at his return, everyone was glad to see him. Yet that joy was tinged with silent fear.
Quickly changing into a clean bliaut, she combed her hair, stopped by the nursery to drop kisses on tiny noses, and headed for the stairs. Arriving on the bottom step, she was greeted with more commotion than expected streaming in from outside. While Drummond was a noisy place teeming with activity, whatever this was, it wasn’t normal. She didn’t like it. Opening the door, Alexandria headed for the outer bailey.
Now that she was outside, she liked the sound of that ruckus even less than she had from the inside. Not when it shouldn’t be happening in the first place. Staring at the men gathered around the familiar mount she pushed through the crowd attempting to stop her and froze in place. Caturix stood before her riderless wearing a blood-drenched saddle.
Walking up to the quivering horse, she wiped two fingers over the brownish stain. Drawing her fingers to her nose, she noted the faint coppery smell most wouldn’t detect. It was undeniably blood and it wasn’t fresh. If this blood was her husband’s, Thor had been injured days ago. Most likely on the journey home since she knew he wasn’t hurt in the battle.
While it was possible the blood wasn’t his, the fact his mount came back without him indicated otherwise. Removing his sword from the saddle scabbard she inspected the blade for dried blood. Finding none, she knew Thor was likely immobilized before he could fight back. Likely by whatever trauma bloodied his saddle.
“Take Caturix to the stables.” She petted the destrier’s nose. While not a pet or even an everyday mount, he still appreciated the affection of his riders. That meant only her and Thor as he would accept no others. “Give him feed and water and tend him well.”
Watching the young groom lead Caturix away, Alexandria was glad Thor didn’t take squires into skirmishes. Under the circumstances, that wouldn’t have been wise. Besides the fact that he didn’t want the distraction of protecting his charge, he preferred to tend his armor and his destrier himself. While he instructed their pages and squires in weaponry, he left taking them into actual battle to his men.
Should a squire prove worthy, her husband would take him under his wing. However, that was rare. Roderick had been his last squire. Thor had trained the boy well. He’d been knighted soon after Drummond was restored and now served as a royal messenger.
Shaking her head, Alexandria suspected Roddy was a whole lot more. The last she’d heard the boy reported to Greggorius personally. That was a feat that hinted at darker assignments. She wasn’t surprised to learn this. From what she recalled, the boy preferred lurking in the shadows to basking in the light. Both were good character traits for an assassin in training.
“Lionel, get Reina and meet me in my chamber.” Turning, Alexandria motioned to the men standing around. “The rest of you can return to work, and we’ll update you when we know something. Osgar, please stay.”
Alexandria watched the men disperse in every direction while the young knight remained behind. Since Osgar was her messenger, the king would know who sent him the minute he appeared at court. He would know immediately that the young knight wouldn’t be there if his mission weren’t of the highest importance. His goddaughter didn’t send unnecessary distractions his way. She understood he was a very busy man.
“I don’t need to tell you what I need.” She smiled at his knowing nod. “Get your mount ready and I’ll return in a few minutes.”
Hearing his, “Yes, my lady.” Alexandria watched him head for the stables while she headed for the keep. Silently composing a brief note in her mind, she made her way to her chamber knowing she would return with the coded message long before Osgar appeared in the bailey.
Once she saw her messenger off, she could return to the master’s solar in plenty of time to compose herself before Lionel and Reina appeared. Her cousin was working with her ladies in the herb garden, so she would need to make herself presentable before their meeting. It wouldn’t do to appear in her lady’s chamber covered in dirt and grass stains. It wasn’t appropriate. It mattered little that her lady was her cousin as well. She was still her lady and the wife of the Sheriff of Lothian.
Unlocking her trunk, Alexandria removed her enameled writing casket and opened it on a small table. Sitting in a chair, she laid a small paper rectangle on the table, opened her ink pot, and used a sharpened quill to jot a brief, coded message. While not complicated, it was the code she’d used over the years to update her godfather on events at Drummond. Since every note was burned as soon as it was read, she was fairly confident her code remained unbroken.
Her husband’s disappearance was the last thing they wanted common knowledge at this moment. While it wouldn’t remain a secret once the king’s search parties went out, they would have a brief period to prepare for potential attacks before the vultures started circling the keep.
Fortunately, her husband was never unprepared for such an eventuality, so there wasn’t much they needed to do. Nothing beyond ensuring they had the manpower to handle anyone foolish enough to attack the Golden Wolf’s demesne in his absence. The fall of Drummond was much harder to obtain now that there was no Bridget to open their gates to the enemy.
Folding the note, she applied a dark green glob to the vellum before pressing her lead seal matrix into the tinted beeswax. Satisfied with the impression of the mounted female warrior, she covered the seal with a tiny silk bag. Confident her missive was in order she carried the letter downstairs. Entering the bailey she was pleased to find Osgar waiting patiently for her to appear. She was equally pleased to see him flanked by four seasoned warriors.
“You know where to go.” Alexandria gave him the sealed vellum and watched him tuck the document into his belt. “Find Greggorius or Roland. Have them arrange a private meeting with my godfather. Act as you always do until the king sends for you. Once he does, release this into his hands.”
“Yes, my Lady.” Osgar nodded before swinging into the saddle. “We shall return as soon as possible.”
“Have a safe journey.” Alexandria watched the small party depart before heading back inside.
Entering the great hall, she took her seat by the lord’s chair and contemplated her next move. There was little she could do until the king responded. But little didn’t mean nothing and nothing was the last thing she would do. Looking up, she wasn’t surprised when Lionel slid into the seat to her right.
“What are you contemplating?” Lionel took her hand. “Taking the men out to search a day’s ride in all directions?”
“Perhaps.” Alexandria nodded. “I know my godfather will send men out to do the same when he receives my note.”
“I’m sure he will.” Lionel agreed. “The Sheriff of Lothian is his most valuable servant.” As well as a trusted friend. “The king’s reach will far exceed ours by the time he is done, but we can make a start.”
“We can.” Alexandria agreed. “What I’m thinking is that we form a search party made up of you, me, Eaun, and Colban. Each of us will take two men and head in a different direction.” She nodded liking the way that sounded. “If anyone thinks I will sit by idly wringing my hands when I could help find my husband, think again.”
She expelled a deep breath and pulled her hand from beneath Lionel’s as she rose to her feet. While the gesture was meant to be comforting, it was anything but. No matter how innocently meant, that was the kind of thing to set tongues wagging and the last thing any of them needed.
“Let’s get moving.” Lionel fell in step beside Alexandria as she headed for the stairs. “The easiest plan of action is to head out from the four corners of the keep and meet back in the great hall before dusk to compare our reports.”
