Courtly was terrified, struggling to stop her tears. “Please,” she begged softly. “Send a man to warn him. Send him now.”
Jeniver swiftly turned to the head of the escort, but the man had already heard the tale from Ellice and was prepared. He selected a young, slender soldier, one who would be light on a horse and ride like the wind. Already, the plans were in motion. Maximus had to be warned that Kellen de Lara was out to killhim. As the de Shera soldier fled to the livery behind the inn to collect a horse, Courtly turned to her aunt.
As she gazed at the woman, she realized that she was seeing a completely different woman from the one she had known all these years. The frightening, bitter, old aunt had become a surprising ally and Courtly could only manage to feel deep gratitude. She reached out to clasp Ellice’s rough, worn hand.
“You came to warn me at great risk to yourself,” Courtly murmured. “Please know how grateful I am, Auntie. If Papa throws you from Kennington because you have helped me, then you may come to live with me at Isenhall Castle. You will have a place to go, I swear it.”
Ellice’s cheeks flamed a bit. She wasn’t used to kind words and was very awkward with anything sentimental. The best she could do was squeeze Courtly’s hand, struggling to find the words to respond.
“What my brother did to you was not right,” she said. “Although his behavior has been inexcusable, please know that he had… reasons for his manner. I do not want you to think he is simply a selfish madman.”
Courtly cocked her head curiously. “What reasons?”
Ellice wasn’t willing to divulge all she knew. If Kellen wanted Courtly to know, he would tell her in his own time. Ellice didn’t feel that it was her place to speak.
“Someday he might tell you,” she said. “It is my genuine hope that he comes to see the error of his ways. Now that you have married Maximus, I hope that he will indeed come to accept your relationship with the man.”
Courtly thought on that, her expression reflecting what she thought was a hopeless feat. “But you believe he goes to kill Max,” she said. “I do not see how he can accept our marriage if he is mad enough to kill for it.”
Ellice wasn’t sure what she could say to that statement because it was true. If Kellen was mad enough to kill, as Ellice believed he was, then the situation would not end well. Maximus de Shera could out-fight anyone in England, Kellen included, so Ellice was fairly certain that Kellen would soon be dead if he wasn’t already. But perhaps that was what the man had planned. To ultimately end the relationship between his daughter and Maximus, perhaps he would let Maximus kill him. After that, what woman would remain with the man who killed her beloved father? In a small way, perhaps Kellen would have the last word in all of this. Certainly, it was something to consider. Perhaps in death, Kellen could end a relationship he couldn’t end in life.
Ellice wondered.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
1.7 miles east of Warborough, near the village of Shillingford
The battle lineswere drawn.
Almost two miles east of Warborough Castle, the army of Simon de Montfort intercepted the army of King Henry. In fact, the armies had known they were nearing one another for some time and the lines had already been drawn and the troops placed. Standards of great houses blew in the breeze as rain intermittently fell, punctuated by periods of bright sun and clear skies. It was all rather strange but it made for beautiful weather at times, at least clear enough to see the standards of opposing houses as they flew straight and firm in the wind. It was clear that a battle of epic proportions was lining up.
When all was said and done, Simon had more men but Henry had the advantage of de Winter archers. They were the best in England. As Maximus, Gallus, and several other knights watched from a ridge just above the troop lines, they could see the archers being placed. Maximus guessed that Davyss, or his younger brother, Hugh, was placing the archers because it was strategic. They were behind the infantry and when the sun would come out from behind the clouds, they could see the glint of the archer shields. This would make the battle more interesting.
As the knights sat and watched, trying to gauge what Henry’s army was doing so they could better place their infantry, they were joined by several other barons. William de Wolfe was oneof them. The legendary Wolfe of the North, father of the de Wolfe twins, Scott and Troy, had joined Simon’s army with one hundred men he’d brought with him from the north. It wasn’t a good deal of men but, given that they served The Wolfe, it was a crack-squad of soldiers. Just one of de Wolfe’s men was as good as five regular men.
De Montfort was on horseback, watching the distant army and surrounded by Paeton de Royans, the de Shera brothers, and several other men as de Wolfe approached. When Simon saw William, he motioned the man towards him.
“My lord,” Simon addressed him formally, purely out of respect. “Have you been watching our friends across the field? They have many archers.”
William, a handsome, older man with dark hair, dark skin, and an eye-patch over his missing left eye, studied the army in the distance. As he did, his sons, who had been back behind Gallus, gravitated towards their father. The de Wolfe men gathered together for battle, strength on strength, and William acknowledged his sons before turning his attention to Henry’s army.
“They are positioning the archers very far back, almost near the tree line,” William said, and everyone was glued to every word he said. The mighty Wolfe was speaking. “If I were a betting man, it would tell me that the archers are going to cover the infantry as it moves forward.”
On the other side of de Montfort, Gallus grunted in agreement. “De Winter has been known to do that,” he said. “He will shower us with arrows while his infantry charges forward and then we will be fighting off a hail of arrows and unprepared for the infantry when they finally come upon us.”
De Montfort looked at Gallus. “Then what do you want to do?” he asked. “Have you seen enough?”
Gallus nodded, his eyes still on the distant army. He turned around, looking at the tree line about a quarter of a mile behind them. “Get the men into the trees,” he said. “That will take the advantage of the archers away from them because the canopy will stop the arrows for the most part. We, however, will place what few archers we have at the very front of our lines to cut down de Winter’s infantry as it approaches. That should give us a tactical advantage.”
The Thunder Lord had spoken. Word began to spread back through de Montfort’s lines and soon, eighteen hundred men were moving west by a quarter of a mile, forming lines just inside a long band of trees that stretched, north to south, for about two miles. As they moved, they could see Henry’s army, with the de Winter banners flying, following them, hopefully to close the gap. Or it was even possible that they thought de Montfort was retreating. However, when Henry’s army came to the crest that de Montfort had been on and saw the tree line in the distance, and de Montfort’s men buried within it, they came to an immediate halt. Now, they understood why de Montfort had moved. The odds were now even– it would be infantry against infantry.
De Winter pulled the archers back and his men were given the order to draw swords, the flashes of which could be seen in the sunlight. Gallus and the other commanders, realizing that Henry was going to take the offensive, gave the orders for their men to draw weapons as well. The knights thundered back to their troops and unmuzzled the war horses, nasty beasts that would bite and kick and trample the enemy to death. The smell of battle was in the air as the knights slung their shields over their left knee, the usual place for them when heading into battle for easy access in close-quarters fighting. And, from the looks of it, they would soon be in the middle of exactly that type of battle. Blood was coming.
Maximus remained with de Montfort and de Royans as Gallus and Tiberius headed back to their men. William was to the south of the de Shera troops and the Lords of Canterbury, represented by Maddoc du Bois, were on the other side of de Montfort to the north. Maximus could see the great knight at the head of his men, in full battle armor, and he was rather regretful that he’d been unable to converse with the man before they rode to battle.
Maddoc and Stefan had spent most of their time together, in Maddoc’s tent, while Maximus had spent his time with de Montfort. Even now, Stefan rode with his father, as Gallus had given him permission to do so. It seemed that all of the sons wished to see battle alongside their fathers, as the de Wolfe brothers rode with William as well. It gave Maximus reflection, wondering if he would ever know a son who would ride with him to battle. He truly hoped so.
But his thoughts moved back to the battle at hand, away from thoughts of a strong son and avoiding thoughts of his wife. He couldn’t think of her now, knowing that a distraction such as that could be deadly in his profession, but it was inevitable to think of her and, in so doing, to also think of her father. Kellen de Lara had been placed to the extreme northern end of the battle lines, far away from the Lords of Thunder and far away from Maximus. Gallus had made this so, fearful of what would happen if the two men came together. Gallus has done such a good job of placing Kellen that Maximus hadn’t even seen him or his troops. The man blended in with the rest of the infantry.
