Page 307
As they knew, the giant gate was closed, separating the inner and outer baileys, and they furthermore knew that no amount of coaxing would open it. Therefore, they mounted the steps that led to the tall inner wall, which was taller than the outer wall by several feet, and it allowed them an excellent view of the scene below.
There were at least two soldiers upon the wall, looking at the women with a mixture of curiosity and fear, but no one wanted to be the one to tell them to leave. The Wolf’s wife was answerable only to him, and the captain’s wife would probably punch the teeth out of the first man to order her back inside. Resigned, they tried to hover around them as they walked the wall to create a sort of human shield should any fighting start.
Jordan and Jemma ignored the soldiers and leaned over the wall, observing what was transpiring below. They heard a lot of shouting and saw a good deal of movement. Then, to their surprise, the outer gates slowly began to swing open.
William had recognized Northwood’s banner as soon as it came into view, and wondered what in the hell the army was doing mingled with a sizable Scot force. It made his head hurt with confusion as he wracked his brain to determine a reasonable answer, but he could not think of one. He knew there was virtually no possibility of an attack now and he ordered the gates open so he could find out personally what in the hell Paris was up to.
Slowly, his beautiful new gates swung open and his knights charged from the opening as fast as lightning, tearing down the road and skirting around the village, and finally plunged into the field the approaching army was invading.
They noticed that the army had come to a halt, and the closer they came the more they began to notice the many different tartans represented, with Northwood’s banner sailing over them. Was it a ploy? William wondered, yet he saw English soldiers.
Familiar armored figures raced to meet them. The two groups of knights and warhorses nearly collided in their eagerness, intermingling with one another as the excited horses screamed and tried to bite at each other, convinced they were in a battle.
William flipped up his visor. “Paris?”
Paris was next to him, raising his faceplate. “Always a pleasure, William.”
William scowled. “What in the hell is going on?”
“You are not going to believe this,” Paris said, wrestling with his animal. “The Scots showed up on Northwood’s doorstep last evening demanding to see Thomas Scott. I thought we were in for another bloody war when they explained that their intentions were purely peaceful. They want to talk to him, and to Matthew.”
William glanced over at the Scot forces. “Why all the men if they simply want to talk? And why in the hell are you here with your troops as escort?”
“In case they lied and were truly intent on attacking Thomas, we came along to assure you would be reinforced,” Paris said with a smirk. “Looking over their shoulder, as it were. As for all of the men, I believe that is meant to be a show of support for the Scotts. If you will notice, there is quite a bit of Scott tartan out there. But, in faith, I spent a good portion of last night talking to the clan chiefs and I believe they are sincere. They want to apologize.”
“Apologize?” William repeated incredulously. “For what? For destroying the man’s fortress, for killing his kin? That’s ludicrous.”
Paris nodded. “Possibly. But let Thomas be the judge. No harm will come to him, or to your wife’s family, to simply talk.”
William was angry now. Did the clans think that a simple apology could ease the pain and heartache they had caused? It wasn’t only ludicrous, it was insane. He realized how protective he was over Thomas and the rest of Jordan’s kin, but he didn’t dwell on it. If he had, he would have found it astounding that he should have protective instincts over those he had spent a good portion of his life fighting, and of the enemy that was now his family.
He had a decision to make.
It wasn’t a difficult one. This was not his war, and Thomas was the only one who could accept or refuse the apology. The damage had been done to him, not to William. He wondered vaguely if the apology were refused if they would not find themselves in the middle of another battle.
“Very well,” William said after a moment. “Have the clan chiefs assemble and I shall go get Thomas.”
Paris nodded with a smile and sent Ranulf off.
William turned tail and roared into the outer bailey. Thomas, Matthew, Cord and Ian were up on the wall and he motioned them down. As he waited for them to descend the stairs, his gaze habitually roved the walls making sure his men were properly positioned, when his sight suddenly came to rest on a very familiar, very blond female head on the inner wall. More irritated than angry, he reined his horse over near the wall.
“Jordan?” he yelled in exasperation.
Her beautiful face gazed timidly down at him. “Hello, English,” she greeted innocently.
He rolled his eye with resignation. He should have expected her not to stay put with so many tartans approaching, and he was not surprised to see Jemma looking down at him, as well.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Looking at the Scots,” she said obviously. “What are ye doing? What’s going on?”
William thought a moment. If there was any apologizing to be done, his wife would receive one, too. For everything that had been said about her and done to her, for all of the hatred the clans bore her simply because she had done what was asked of her. By damn, if they wanted to apologize, let them apologize to her, too.
He flicked his finger to one of the men next to the gate. “Open the gate,” he ordered, then looked back up at his wife. “Come down here. Jemma, you too.”
Their heads disappeared and they came running through the gate about the same time Thomas and the others reached him. Six pairs of curious Scott eyes looked up at him expectantly.
“In all my years of a fighting man, I have never heard of this,” William said with a shake of his head. “That army out there is comprised of several clans that showed up at Northwood yesterday looking for you, Thomas.”
