Patrick took off after his brother then, as did William, Paris, Kieran, Michael, and a very hungover Apollo. All of them moving swiftly for the gates where the Berwick men were starting to shuffle around nervously, trying to move back into the bailey of Monteviot. The knights pushed through the ranks to get a clear line of sight on the incoming Scots.
A day that had started off relatively quiet was quickly becoming wrought with apprehension as two Scots were sighted. The knights stood in front of the crowd of soldiers at the gate, watching the approach of the Scots. But not everyone was looking at the pair; William, too, felt that there were probably more than just the two Scots, so he sent men to the walls to watch for more clansmen. Perhaps this was a ruse, perhaps not, but the closer the pair approached, the more nervous the English became.
Enemies in an enemy land.
As activity went on behind him with his father and the other knights moving men about, Troy watched the pair come closer and it occurred to him that he wasn’t wearing most of his protection. He hadn’t put it on yet because he’d spent the morning with his father in the hall and then assessing the burned-out tower. He wasn’t expecting to go into combat. But it further occurred to him that his father wasn’t wearing any protection, either. William was planning on departing later that morning for the five-hour trip back to Questing and, like Troy, simply hadn’t fully dressed. Troy turned to his father, standing a few feet away and watching the men populate on the walls.
“Papa, mayhap you should return to the hall and put on your protection,” he said quietly. “If the Scots are planning an attack, I do not want you to be caught out here without any protection.”
William looked at him. “The same could be said for you,” he said. “You are as vulnerable as I.”
“Aye, but the difference is that my name is not William de Wolfe,” Troy pointed out. “We have discussed this time and time again. You would make a national hero out of the Scot who managed to kill you, not to mention the fact that Mother would murder me with her bare hands if I allowed anything to happen to you.” He turned slightly, putting a hand on his father and trying to force him back into the fortress. “Please, Papa, go back inside.”
William’s attention had turned from the wall to the Scots, who were now quite close. “You shame me, lad,” he muttered. “Do not act as if I cannot take care of myself.”
“That is not my intent. I simply do not want you to get hurt.”
William didn’t say another word. He knew that, but he was tired of his sons trying to protect him all of the time as if he were an old man who needed protecting. It was bad enough on the day they’d burned out Monteviot’s tower, and now they sought to protect him from a pair of Scots riders. He loved his sons, but they acted like old women sometimes.
As Troy watched, his father stepped forward, away from him, and held out a hand to the Scots who were, by now, about fifteen feet away. One was dressed like a soldier while the other one was simply clad in woolens and braies.
“Stop,” William said forcefully. “Announce yourselves.”
The man in the woolens and braies answered. “I will be askin’ ye the same thing, Sassenach,” he said. “Ye’re in me land. What are ye doin’ here?”
William studied the man; he had an excellent memory and it seemed to him as if he’d seen the man before. With the light of the rising sun coming over the hills, he had a fairly good view of the man with the thick auburn hair and bushy red beard. Ye’re in me land. It suddenly occurred to William where he’d seen the man before.
“You are Keith Kerr,” he finally said.
Spurred by the fact that the English knight recognized him, Keith peered closer, his features lined with confusion. But only momentarily; realization dawned. It was the eye patch that gave it away. Everyone knew there was only one English warrior on the border with an eye patch like that.
“De Wolfe,” he finally hissed. “I’d heard tale it was ye who confiscated Monteviot but I had tae see it with me own eyes.”
In his periphery, William could see that Troy was now standing beside him but he didn’t look at his son. He was focused on the elusive Red Keith Kerr. In truth, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see the man. They were on his lands, after all, and he’d dutifully come to see why the English had landed. He wondered if Keith would be surprised, in turn, to hear the truth.
“Then word traveled to you quickly,” William said. “We have only been here a few days.”
Keith’s gaze lingered on William before moving to Troy. Then, he looked at all of the Englishmen behind him, knights of the highest caliber, and more English soldiers than Keith had seen in a very long time, all cramming back into the bailey of Monteviot. It occurred to him that he’d been right; there was no way he could have summoned enough men to take back Monteviot, not even had he sent to his cousin. He hadn’t expected a force of this size. He gestured to the hundreds of men behind William.
“Why did ye bring so many men?” he asked. “Did ye expect so much resistance from a small outpost?”
William turned to look at all of the men behind him before answering. “I had to clear out the reivers who had been using Monteviot as a base to launch raids into my lands,” he said frankly. “Surely this is no surprise to you. You had to know that Monteviot was infested by reivers.”
Keith was feeling defensive as William pointed out something he already knew, very well. There was a message in his mild rebuke – you have failed to police your own lands and now I must do it for you!
“What men do on me lands is me own business,” Keith said. “And who says they were reivers?”
William could feel a stab of impatience; so the man was going to deny such a thing? “Because they have been raiding my lands and my men followed them back to Monteviot,” he said. “It is true that whatever happens on your land is your own business, but when the men from Monteviot ride into my lands and steal from my people, it becomes my business. Two weeks ago, they rode deep into England and burned a small village, killing a priest and burning out a church. You know as well as I do that I could not remain idle after that. Since you were allowing outlaws to live on your lands and did not do anything about it, I had to.”
Keith knew that all of this was true – every last word of it. But the way de Wolfe put it, it made it sound like Keith was a weakling and a fool, incapable of monitoring his own lands. While it was true he didn’t have enough men to supervise his lands, he was far from being a weakling. If nothing else, he was an opportunist, and what he saw before him with de Wolfe was an opportunity like none other. De Wolfe had come and now Keith wanted something. He dismounted his horse, taking several steps in William’s direction.
“So ye’ve appointed yerself judge and jury for not only yer lands, but mine,” he said. “I dunna fault ye for protectin’ yer people, but now ye’re in my lands. What do ye intend tae do with Monteviot now that ye’ve purged her of the men ye call outlaws?”
Oddly enough, it almost sounded like a civil question, as if Keith was genuinely curious and not simply outraged that the English had come. William hoped that meant they could keep the rest of the conversation polite, but considering what he was about to say, he doubted it.
“It belongs to me now,” he said. “I will not have it becoming a haven for reivers again.”
“I did not give ye permission tae stay.”
“That is of no consequence. Why did you let the outlaws settle here in the first place?”
The truth behind that was, of course, that Keith couldn’t have kept them out if he’d wanted to. But he wouldn’t admit it. Instead, he grinned, a most unnerving gesture.
“No one has proven tae me that they were reivers,” he said. “Bring forth these men so that I may see them.”
“I cannot.”
“Because they’re dead?”
“Most of them. Those that did not die in the siege ran off. I did not take them prisoner.”
Keith sniffed the air. “Did ye burn them, de Wolfe?”<
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William shook his head. “The tower burned, but what you smell is a funeral pyre. We had a priest come from Jedburgh to bless the dead.”
Keith’s eyebrows lifted; it was difficult to know if it was a condescending expression or one of respect. “A pious Sassenach, are ye?”
William took it as a condescending one. His impatience was growing. “Is that why you came here today?” he asked. “To find out if I am pious? Somehow, I do not think that is why you are here. State your business, Kerr. I have work to do.”
Keith’s smile faded. So much for pleasantries with de Wolfe; the time had come for the purpose behind his visit and there was no use in stalling. Looking over his shoulder, Keith caught sight of the hill to the south, seeing the small figures of his brother and nephews and the majority of his men on the crest. It made the hill look rather crowded, which would work to his advantage. He pointed.
“See me men up there?” he asked before turning to face William. “That is only a small portion of them. There are a thousand of us behind that hill, waiting tae charge Monteviot, but I dunna believe ye want another battle so soon after havin’ suffered through one. Yer men are tired and some are even injured. I dunna think ye want another battle, not now.”
William and Troy could see the figures on the distant hill and, in truth, they had no reason to believe there weren’t a thousand Scots behind the hill just as Keith said. The Scots rarely made their numbers known, instead choosing to travel – and fight – in stealth. As William considered that possibility in silence, Troy began silently cursing himself because the gates were still open and half of Patrick’s army was standing outside of the walls. That made them very vulnerable should the Scots decide to come down from the hill and make a run at them.
But Troy didn’t give a hint of what he was thinking. In his estimation, Red Keith Kerr had the advantage already and he didn’t want to give the man any more ammunition. He had to get the army back in the fortress and the gates closed, or this could go badly for all of them. Now, it was his turn to take over the negotiations.
“What do you want, Kerr?” Troy asked in a tone that didn’t hint at what he was thinking. “Be plain.”
Keith’s attention turned to the big, dark knight standing next to William. He could see the resemblance.
“And yer name, knight?” he asked.
Troy didn’t hesitate. “I am Troy de Wolfe, commander of Kale Water Castle,” he said. “Even if you do not know my face, you should know my name.”
Keith’s eyebrows lifted. “Kale Water Castle,” he said, sounding surprised. “Ye’re in Kerr lands, laddie.”
“That may be, but it is a de Wolfe holding. And there is peace with the Kerr neighbors.”
Keith’s jaw ticked. Now, he realized that he not only had William in front of him, but William’s son as well. Two de Wolfes; two powerful Sassenach border lords. Kale Water Castle was in Ralph’s lands and it was Ralph who permitted the House of de Wolfe to maintain their castles there. Perhaps it was out of a greater fear of stirring a hornet’s nest to try and remove them but, in any case, de Wolfe was there to stay.
But Keith wasn’t so fearful. He could be quite courageous when he wanted to be, when something mattered. In truth, he didn’t have as much to lose as Ralph did. But in this case, he clearly had what de Wolfe wanted. Or, at least, what de Wolfe wanted to keep secure. It was here where he would make his final stand.
“Ye say there is peace, yet ye come tae take me property,” he said. “If ye want tae keep it, then ye’ll have tae fight for it.”
Troy suspected it would come to this but he, too, held his ground. “If you have come for a fight, then get on with it.”
Keith looked at Troy, at William, and at the host of men standing behind him, men who were in various stages of dress. Most had returned to the bailey, but the gates were still open and some were still standing there, watching and waiting. Some had mail and protection on, but some didn’t. It was clear they weren’t prepared for a battle and Keith used that to his advantage.
“Look at yer men,” he said, pointing. “And look at yerselves. Are ye ready for a fight? Or did I catch ye unaware?”
“We are ready for whatever you have in mind.”
It was a confident answer, one that Keith believed implicitly. But he wasn’t ready for what they thought he had in mind. He turned to look at his men on the crest behind them.
“If we can settle this without riskin’ our men, would ye be willing?”
That wasn’t an offer Troy had been expecting and he was momentarily confused. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Keith shrugged his shoulders, a casual gesture, as if he really wasn’t concerned about the English giving him a fight. “I dunna believe ye want tae risk yer men against me thousand,” he said. “Yer men have seen a big battle. I can see it in them; they’re weary and they want tae go home. I want them tae go home. But I have brought a thousand Scots who have come to push ye off me land, so I can fight ye if I have tae. But I have a solution that is much easier and much cleaner than a big battle for this worthless piece of rock.”
Troy wasn’t sure what that could be. In fact, that kind of proposition didn’t make much sense to him. He’d never heard of a Scotsman so willing to bargain peacefully rather than bring forth pikes and swords against the English. He looked at his father before answering.
“What solution?” he asked.
Keith took a step towards him, fixing him in the eye. “Me best warrior against yer best warrior,” he said. “Only two men fight, not thousands, and the winner shall name the terms of surrender.”
It was not an unheard of proposal, but Troy was frankly surprised. He looked at his father, who looked at him in return. Immediately, he could see that his father was inclined to agree with the proposal but Troy was still puzzled by it all. He glanced at Keith.
“Man against man?” he clarified.
Keith nodded shortly. “Warrior against warrior.”
“And the winner names the terms?”
“Aye.”
Troy cocked a dark eyebrow. “And when we name the terms, you swear to abide by them?”
The corners of Keith’s mouth twitched. “Aye,” he said. “As long as ye swear ye’ll abide by the terms I set should me warrior win.”
It seemed like a sound enough proposition. In fact, Troy was rather pleased by it; surely he could lick whatever warrior Kerr brought forth. In fact, this seemed like the easiest way out of this situation.
“A moment, please,” he said to Keith. “Let me discuss this before we proceed.”
Keith simply moved away, strolling back over to his horse and the other warrior, still mounted. Troy grasped his father by the arm and turned the man around, motioning to his brothers and the other knights in the same movement. The English came together in a big huddle as Keith stood back by his horses.
“He wants to pit his best warrior against our best warrior to decide the fate of Monteviot,” Troy explained quickly to the host of curious faces gazing back at him. “Whoever wins will dictate the terms of surrender. I must say, I was not expecting that.”
Neither were some of the others. At least, the younger knights weren’t. They were looking at each other with some surprise as the older knights discussed the situation.
“If he is sincere, then that is the perfect solution,” Paris whispered to William. “Pit Atty or Troy against his warrior. They can destroy anything on two legs.”
“Do not forget about Kevin,” Kieran pointed out. “Or even Tobias. We have many fine warriors here that could easily take on a Scotsman and win.”
William held up a hand before this turned into a debate on who was the greatest warrior among them. “There is no question on that,” he said. “And, truly, pitting one man against another will save many lives, quite possibly including my own sons. If this is what Keith truly wants, then I am inclined to agree. It would be much simpler and cleaner to have a one-on-one battle.”
Michael, stand
ing next to Kieran, shook his head. “S-Something is not right about this,” he said in his deep, rumbling tone. The man rarely spoke because he had a stammer in his speech, but when he did speak, it was for a distinct purpose. “Why would he pledge s-such a thing if he has a thousand S-Scots waiting to fight us?”
William lifted his eyebrows. “That has occurred to me,” he admitted. “It is possible he does not have the numbers he says he has but, then again, it is like a Scots not to reveal his numbers. We cannot assume that he is not telling the truth and if we can get our armies home with no loss of life, I am willing to take that chance.”
It made sense and the group was of the same mindset. If they could avoid a battle, then they would. But questions lingered.
“But what if we l-lose?” Michael asked. “He names the terms and you l-lose Monteviot, William. What about that?”
William pondered that possibility. “If I lose Monteviot, then I will make it clear to Kerr that my eye will be on it. Any more reiver activity and I will not hesitate to purge it again.”
It was a reasonable statement. With nothing more to say and with the questions satisfactorily answered, the group of knights seemed to all agree that accepting Keith’s proposal was the thing to do. All except for one last question.
“Then who will f-fight his warrior?” Michael asked what they were all thinking.
William knew that the decision was up to him and it wasn’t one he took lightly. He looked at the faces around him; Paris and Apollo, looking at him both apprehensively and hopefully, in that order. Paris didn’t want to fight, Apollo did. Then there was Patrick and James, trying not to appear too willing to lift a sword. They wanted the honor. Kieran and Kevin came next, both of them looking as if they very much wanted to do battle against the Scots, before coming to Michael, Tobias, Case, and Corbin. Michael didn’t appear too eager, but his sons did.
And then there was Troy. Standing next to his father, he, too, was waiting for William’s word. William sighed heavily when he realized there was only one choice he could make.
“This is to be Troy’s outpost until we settle on a permanent commander,” he said reluctantly. “It is my sense that Troy should be the one to accept the challenge. He is the one who needs to earn Red Keith’s respect, after all.”
The Dark Brotherhood: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 8