Windemere, p.23
Windemere, page 23
part #5 of Archer of the Heathland Series
The Baron waved him away. “Leave me in peace. Take your men and get out of my home.”
Redmond whirled to leave but glanced over his shoulder at the Baron. “You should know,” he said, “that your wife has a secret entrance into the outer ward she has been using to smuggle children to work in your new silver mines.”
The Baron scowled.
“And,” Redmond continued, “she forced your mason to sneak in and try to open the gates by threatening to kill his wife and children.”
The Baron showed no sign of concern, but Redmond thought he had surprised him. “You should consider that she is not working for the same goals you are,” Redmond said. “She’s using you like she uses everyone else.”
“Get out,” the Baron said.
“Gladly,” Redmond replied and strode from the room.
Dusk had fallen by the time Redmond stepped out of the keep. The air was still warm, but the sky was cloudy. That made for a darker night, which worked to his advantage. His men were already lighting the watch fires and had dismantled the stone wall blocking the traitor’s gate.
Redmond found a new horse and checked his gear one last time. Neahl had beaten into him the necessity of being vigilant about his equipment. “The time you don’t take care of it,” he liked to say, “is the time you’ll need it most.”
Kamil stalked past carrying an armload of eggs he had pilfered from somewhere.
“What are you doing?” Redmond asked.
Kamil gave him a roguish grin. “I’m cooking up a little surprise just in case something goes wrong with our plans.”
“Eggs?” Redmond asked.
“You’ll see,” Kamil called over his shoulder as he strolled away.
Redmond watched him go, pondering what Jannik had told him.
By the time he finished checking his gear, it was time to set the plans in motion. He ordered runners to set up the decoy sentries and led the rest of the men into the inner ward. The rear sally port had two doors—one with steps for foot soldiers and the other with a slatted ramp for horses. All the horses had cloth tied over their hooves. The men’s weapons had been painted or tied with cloth to quiet them and to avoid any reflection that might give away their presence. They needed stealth if they were to escape undetected.
Kamil rode up with his short recurve strung and in a leather case tied to his saddle so he could pull it out quickly. The shapes of several more were wrapped in cloth and tied behind his saddle. Redmond harbored a secret jealousy of Kamil’s short bows and the ease with which he used them on horseback.
Most longbow archers carried their bows in their hands and dismounted to shoot. Redmond had learned to shoot his longbow from horseback because he didn’t insist on heavy draw weights, but a longbow could be difficult to use from horseback. If he had more time, he might have asked Kamil for a chance to give it a try. But he wasn’t sure he could discard the longbow that had served him well for so many years. Maybe he was nostalgic, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it.
Kamil glanced up at the keep as if contemplating something. Redmond didn’t want to distrust Kamil, but despite his efforts, he couldn’t help remembering Jannik’s warning.
Rollo rode up and signaled that the men were ready. Redmond checked the watch fires on the walls and the silhouettes of the decoy guards. Helmets had been rammed onto the top of sacks filled with straw. Spears and bows had been tied to make them stand upright. If someone were watching closely, they would realize the guards never moved. But if the King remained true to his word, Redmond hoped they would take no notice of it until he was far away.
“Let’s go,” he said and led his horse toward the sally port. The gate was tall enough to allow a rider to gallop out, but Redmond wanted to be as unobtrusive as possible. He led his horse out onto the hillside and down toward the moat. This was going to be a long night.
Baron Otto Selgrave stood atop his keep hugging close to the shadows as the warm breeze played in his hair. The easterner who shot the odd-shaped bows looked up as if he knew he was there. The man had come in and out of the keep over the last few days, and the Baron had spoken with him on one occasion. If the easterner was looking up at him, maybe he was contemplating their conversation.
Redmond and his men led their horses down the hill and across the moat. They were only dark shapes in the night, but they were moving north. Baron Otto smiled. They were going to ride for Langon then.
Baron Otto placed his hands on the battlements to lean over and peer down at the last of the riders. A man lifted his face up to the Baron and raised a hand. The Baron recognized him. A thrill shivered up his spine. It had worked. His man was now on the inside and traveling with the archers. Together, with his man and that foreign fellow, the scoundrel wouldn’t last long. Redmond wouldn’t even know until it was too late.
Chapter 20
The Smashed Hedgerow
Someone is out there,” Emilia whispered. She clutched a knife in one hand and rolled to a kneeling position from where she had been lying beside the children. Darkness overtook them several miles north of the castle, footsore and hungry. They had eaten a cold meal of dried meat and stale bread before settling down to sleep. Tal assumed the watch, and Emilia was drifting off to sleep when the rustle of some branches jerked her awake.
The day had been warm, and Emilia’s clothes, now damp with sweat, still stank of the sewer. The little boy who attached himself to her lay beside her in the tall grass, breathing quietly and rhythmically. He still clutched the carved horse he had taken from the body of the old woman. The other children spread out around them huddled together in little groups, while Walter and his family snuggled up against a boulder.
They selected a hollow for their encampment that had been created by an old cutaway the river carved out of a long, sloping hill in ages past. Upriver, a huge boulder guarded the northern entrance to the hollow and to the south a thick stand of beech and pine concealed them from view. The hill was bare except for the grass. The road ran along the top, but they were well-hidden from unwanted eyes.
Tal rose to his knees and crawled to a boulder that jutted out of the darkness, peering south into the copse of trees. The rustling sound came again, and a dark shape detached itself from one tree to slip to the next. Emilia noted two more shapes slinking through the shadows, heading straight for them. Whoever they were knew they were there.
Emilia’s mind raced as the blood pounded in her ears. How could anyone know they were there? They had taken every precaution to move quietly and unseen, and they met no one. Then she remembered. Lady Selgrave knew about the sewer. She probably knew Walter had used it to get into the castle and would have expected someone to use it to escape.
A child tossed in his sleep and gave a cry. The advancing shapes froze or melted into the shadows. Emilia wished she had grabbed some other weapon besides a knife before leaving the castle. Her mouth went dry. The crouching shapes slipped from the trees not fifteen feet away.
Emilia swallowed and tightened her grip on the knife. She wouldn’t let them take her or any of the children. Their freedom had been dearly purchased. She wasn’t about to let it go without a fight. The shapes of three men loomed over them. Emilia prepared to spring when a smaller shadow leapt from the tangle of bushes along the river. For a moment, Emilia thought it was one of the children. But the slight figure slammed into the men, wielding what looked like sticks.
The slap and smack of something hard striking flesh rang in the darkness, followed by bellows of pain and cursing from their attackers. Tal crouched to scan the area for more attackers. Several loud thwacks sounded, and then the fall of heavy bodies hitting the ground. The slender figure stepped toward them and lowered her hood. Emilia stared. It was a young woman no older than she was, dressed in black with short-cropped hair.
“You need to go,” the woman said.
Tal stepped in front of Emilia. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I am called Mara,” she said. “Scouts are searching the entire river bank. If you’re found, they won’t play nice.”
Tal glanced at the children. A few of them were still asleep, but most watched them with big, frightened eyes. Walter and Sybil hugged them close.
“Is there a clear path to Langon?” Tal asked. “We need to get out of the country.”
“Follow me,” Mara said. “I’ll take you somewhere you can hide for now.”
“How do we know we can trust you?” Emilia asked.
“Redmond trusts me,” Mara said.
Hope leapt into Emilia’s heart. “Redmond sent you?” she asked.
“Not exactly,” Mara said.
“Are they alive?” Emilia asked.
“Yes, ” Mara said. “You didn’t need to run. They sold the castle to the King and should be riding out with the Baron of Longmire tomorrow.”
Emilia was surprised by the surge of relief that warmed her chest. Redmond was still alive. He might still come for her.
“Now, we had better get away from the river,” Mara said.
“How did those men know we were here?” Emilia asked.
“The same way I did,” Mara said. “I followed your trail and your smell.”
Emilia was glad the darkness kept Mara from seeing her cheeks burn. Tal bent to rouse the children, and soon they were traipsing through the night in search of a better hiding place.
The golden blush of morning found Redmond and his men riding hard to the north, following the river. They encountered a few scouts, but his flankers dealt with them. The men and horses were tiring. They needed rest, having led their horses for several hours on foot. The ploy slowed them down, but Redmond hoped it would make it more difficult for their pursuers to find them and discern their direction.
Redmond led his men onto the road that followed the Wind River. They would be able to travel more quickly now. A few more miles, and they would swing west. He wanted the King and Lady Selgrave to believe they intended to head for Langon. He hoped they might find some sign of Emilia and the others, but they hadn’t. If he hadn’t needed to get his men safely out of Morcia, he would have gone in search of them.
A shout rang out over the pounding of the hooves. Redmond swung around in the saddle. One of his scouts raced toward him. He slowed to let the man catch up.
“An army is approaching from the east on the other side of the river.”
“How many?”
“No more than a thousand.”
Redmond cursed. “How did they find us so quickly?”
“They’re riding hard,” the scout said. “They’ll catch us in less than half an hour.”
Redmond signaled for the men to follow, and he veered off the road to the west, riding up and over a green hill. It was sooner than he wanted to leave the road, but he had little choice. Somehow, Lady Selgrave’s men had anticipated what they would do, or someone had revealed their plans. That nagging doubt about Kamil returned with a vengeance. The only way an army could have caught them was if they already knew the direction of their escape and kept to the road all night.
The rolling hills passed as the horses pounded through the countryside. Redmond kept his eyes open for any defensible position where his small army would stand a chance against a superior force. At the crest of one of the taller hills, he spied a stone manor. He adjusted his path to come up straight on the manor.
A cry came from the men behind him, and he swung around. The light blue banner of Lady Selgrave fluttered above the hills. Then the riders came into view briefly before Redmond raced down the last hill to the manor. A thick stand of oak and maple pushed up against one side of the manor, which had an austere, hulking appearance. It was built of black stone, with arrow slits along the walls and battlements around the roof. For a moment, he considered bursting into the manor and seizing it for his men’s defense, but that would be suicide. Once they went in, they would never get out. He had to find a position that would allow them to defend themselves and escape if the chance presented itself.
A garden with low stone walls and hedges set in geometric patterns branched out on the other side of the manor. Redmond veered toward the spot in the garden where a fountain splashed into a sizeable pool of water. The pool was enclosed in a large square with thick hedges on three sides and a low stone wall on the other. His horse galloped through the tall, dry grass that covered the hillside and leapt over the stone wall. Redmond pulled the horse to a halt and slipped from the saddle.
“Form a square,” Redmond called. “Around the fountain. Form a square. Horses on the inside. Injured men, keep them from bolting.”
Jannik dropped to the ground beside him, strung his great warbow, and stepped up to the low stone wall. The pursuing riders crested the hill as the last of Redmond’s men pelted for the garden.
“Archers ready,” Redmond called, as he drew his own bow to his ear. The riders were in range now. “Loose,” he called. A volley of arrows jumped into the sky, arcing toward the oncoming riders. By the time the arrows struck home, the riders had covered a good sixty yards. Redmond’s men knew what they were about. They aimed low so their arrows bit into the ranks of the enemy. Men screamed. Horses neighed. Riders and horses tumbled down the slope, tripping the horses behind them. The pursuit slowed and descended into chaos as riders tried to avoid the deadly tangle.
“Loose,” Redmond called again, and the arrows flew again in a shower of death to slice and punch into the flesh of man and beast. “At will,” Redmond called as the rest of his men reached the safety of the wall and hedges. Arrows flew in a scattered, stuttering volley. The riders still on horseback and the new ones who came over the field held up their shields and came on despite the punishment.
“Pikes,” Redmond called as the first of the riders raced toward them. A bristling wall of spears thrust over the stone wall. Each pikeman rammed the butt end of his shaft into the ground and stomped his foot on top of it. The horses shied, but a few slammed into the pikes. The pikemen held, and the archers loosed arrows at point-blank range into the milling horses and men.
Jannik drew his bow. He loosed an arrow that punched through a raised shield and into the face of the man that carried it. The man tumbled off the back of his horse.
The warriors seethed about the square, swinging around to each flank, seeking an entrance. But Redmond’s men formed a square with the stone wall on one side and thick hedges on the others. Pikemen held the perimeter, while his archers bunched in the middle, sending volley after volley to slam into the enemy. The musky stink of sweating horses and churned earth mingled with the foul, coppery reek of blood and entrails. Horses screamed and reared, surging about the prickly square. Men cursed and roared their battle cries. Steel crashed. Men grunted and cried out, creating the overwhelming cacophony of battle.
One flank bent inward as several riders forced their horses through the hedge. For one horrible moment, Redmond thought the square might collapse, but his men held. The attack stalled as horses and men floundered. A horn sounded over the battle and the riders withdrew, leaving their dead and wounded comrades behind.
Redmond stood panting, trying to assess the extent of the damage to his men. A few staggered back from the line with injuries to their faces and arms, but none had fallen. The mail shirts over the padded gambesons and the steel helms had done their work well. But they couldn’t stay here. They would be exposed to crossbow fire when the crossbowmen came up.
“Hey,” someone yelled. “What are you doing?”
Redmond spun. A short, round man with a bald head strode toward them. The door to the manor stood open behind him where a woman cowered with several children.
“Get out of here!” The man waved a hand at them. He wore an orange tunic with brown pants and boots with the pointed toes that were becoming the fashion of the rich in some parts of Morcia.
Redmond checked that the riders were not preparing for another attack at that moment before he stepped to meet the man.
“We beg your pardon—” Redmond began.
“I should think so,” the man interrupted. “You can’t just trample my garden.” He glanced at the dead and dying men. “And who is going to care for them?”
“As you can see,” Redmond said. “We are under attack and unable to leave at our leisure. As soon as those men leave us be, we will happily be on our way.”
“Those are Lady Selgrave’s men,” the man said. “Are you traitors?”
Redmond took a deep breath. He didn’t have time or energy to bandy words with this man. “No,” he said. “We’re being wrongly pursued because we refused to submit to the injustice of the mines.”
The man stepped back.
“You came from Castle Windemere?” he asked, in a low voice that wouldn’t carry.
“Yes.”
“Is there one called Redmond among you?”
Redmond inspected the man more carefully. Then he glanced around. How could this man know his name? “I am he.”
The man cast a glance at the ground so he didn’t step in a pool of blood and came to the edge of the hedgerow.
“I have some people here who might belong to you,” he said in a barely audible voice.
The man could only mean Emilia and the others. Redmond tried not to show the joy that leapt into his heart. “Are they well?” he asked.
“Yes,” the man said. “But they can’t stay here. I don’t have an army to protect them, and if Baron Otto ever found out…” He let the thought linger in the air between them.
“I know,” Redmond said. “Keep to the house with your doors locked. My men won’t disturb you, but I can’t say the same for Lady Selgrave’s. If she finds out you have her servants hiding with you, she will attack. Keep them hidden. We’ll take them with us when we’re able to leave,” Redmond said.
The man’s face paled. “Agreed,” he said.
“You better get back into the house,” Redmond said, “with a show of wanting us to leave.”
