“As a Knight Templar, how do you endure it?” she asked, emotion sliding into her voice. “The waiting, the fighting, watching those you care for die, only to pick up your sword and continue?”
“There is little place in war for emotion,” he said, his voice cool.
“But you do feel,” she said, trying to understand. “How do you keep the hurt of the loss of your friends, the sight of the slaughter from marring your soul? And dinna tell me that you are unaffected by battle. You are a deep and caring person. However much you wish, you canna smother it all.”
The flicker of torchlight wavering across his face, accenting the tautness of his mouth. “For some, incredibly, they are unmoved by the blood, screams, and gruesome sights of war. Then there are those who after the first battle fall apart at the witnessed atrocities.”
He paused, the strain on his face a testament to the suffering he’d endured.
“Many men, as I, stow the terrible memories deep inside,” Thomas said, his expression grim. “Aye, it does affect me, and at times the horror threatens to overwhelm me where I want to walk away from the bloodshed. Then I remember why I fight, understand that if I, as the other Templars, didna champion the Christians in the Holy Land, they would be slaughtered.”
Tears burned her eyes as she stared at him, the appalling events he’d witnessed leaving her aching inside. This day’s fighting was naught compared to what Thomas had endured. “I had never considered such, but you are right. With each believing their faith is supreme, or with the desire for power, the fighting will never end.”
“Which is why ’tis important to live, to experience, and to thank God each day for the blessings in our lives.” He gently drew her into his arms. “As I do with you.”
Her throat tightened.
“I never meant you to become important to me, you were to be naught more than a duty.” A wry smile touched his mouth. “In that I failed.”
Emotion stormed her. He hadna said he loved her, but given the mayhem of this day, she embraced his confession. The morrow would bring its own questions, and mayhap he would admit more. For now ’twas enough.
“Lie your head on my shoulder and try to sleep,” Thomas said. “We both need to catch a bit of rest.”
Alesone glanced around, surprised to note many of the knights along the wall were asleep while others stood watch. “We do.” Thankful for this man in her life, she complied and though naught was guaranteed, savored the rightness of this moment.
* * *
The low thud of steel on wood had Thomas opening his eyes. Blood-red hues streaked the morning sky littered with clouds, broken by errant rays of light. At the slap of steps, he glanced over.
Donnchadh was rushing toward him.
Ignoring the aches, he shifted. Alesone lay against him still asleep. With regret, he carefully extracted himself from her warmth, stood, and walked over to meet his brother. At the deep scowl on his face, unease filtered through Thomas. “What is wrong?”
His breaths coming fast, his brother pointed toward the east. “Look!”
Thomas turned. Stilled. A short distance from the castle, the enemy lashed together sturdy hewn logs, with a basket secured at the end of a long beam that they’d use for the counterweight once filled with stones. “God in heaven. A traction trebuchet!” Tension churned inside as Thomas took in Alesone’s pale face as she sat beside him. Cursing the situation, he glanced toward his father standing before the knights filling the chamber.
Expression grave, the duke scanned the warriors. “With the speed Comyn’s knights are building the siege engine, ’twill be finished on the morrow. If given the opportunity, beneath heavy cover of their archers they will move the trebuchet to a lethal distance, which we canna allow.” Wizened eyes narrowed. “We must destroy their war machine this night.”
Grim faced men nodded.
Thomas stood. “Beneath the cover of darkness, I will slip outside and destroy the siege engine.”
Donnchadh shoved to his feet. “I will accompany you.”
The duke frowned, but remained silent.
As much as his father worried over the last two of his sons risking their lives, he would have been ashamed if they hadna offered. Thomas nodded to his brother. “Once ’tis dark, meet me in the great room.”
“I could arrange a small contingent of men to accompany you,” his father said.
Thomas shook his head. “’Tis best to keep our number small. Once we signal that we are ready, if you start a diversion, ’twill distract them while we set the trebuchet ablaze.”
His father nodded. “’Twill be done.”
Once the last of the plans were finalized, the warriors departed for their positions along the wall walk.
Thomas entered the corridor, and Alesone fell into step at his side. “I thank you for letting me lean on you last night to sleep.”
