Gaetan drew in a long, pensive breath and turned away. He had expected an army to have weapons, but what he hadn’t counted on was the mounted warriors. That made the situation a little trickier. Now, his plans had to change in order to accommodate this news and it wasn’t going to be easy. There was little time to plan a new strategy, but that’s exactly what he had to do.
God help him, he had mere minutes to make a new plan to save all their lives.
Gaetan glanced at the men around him, his Anges de Guerre; St. Hèver “The Hammer”, de Russe with his fearsome double-blades, de Reyne with his limitless bravery, and de Moray with his spear. De Winter carried l’Espada, the blessed blade of his Visigoth ancestors, and de Lara fought with an ax that all men feared. He was unbreakable. Finally, there was Téo, his friend and wise counsel, who wielded a morning star that decapitated enemies. These were his comrades, brothers he shared such a tremendously deep bond with, and brothers he knew would stand with him even against insurmountable odds.
This might be one of those times.
But he couldn’t give up, not with Kristoph’s life at stake. Still, Gaetan was starting to wonder if it was worth risking all of these lives so unfairly. These were great men, of great deeds, and he would die first before seeing any of them meet their ends. But hopefully, they wouldn’t have to. His quick, experienced mind had come up with a last-ditch plan.
He could only pray it would work.
“Get into the trees on either side of the road,” he told his men. “And when I say get into the trees, I mean climb into them and take your crossbows with you. Make sure you have a clear field of fire to Alary’s army and make sure the knight across the road from you is not in your line of fire.”
He was moving with a purpose and his men began to follow him. “What do you have in mind, Gate?” Téo asked eagerly.
Gaetan was moving into the foliage, far back where the horses were tethered. He headed to his horse in order to claim his own crossbow. “It is nearing dusk and the darkness will work to our advantage,” he said. “I alone will stand on the road and block Alary’s army with you men in the trees. I will tell Alary to release Kristoph or I will unleash my army, lying in wait in the trees. It will be dark enough that no one will be able to see what lies beyond the tree line, and that will be their downfall. Alary will not know that I only have eight men with me and not a thousand, and it is that fear that will force him into obeying.”
“A bluff?” de Moray said as he pulled his horse in behind the others as they entered into the trees. “A brilliant suggestion, Gate. Alary will not know if you are telling the truth or not.”
Gaetan reached his saddle and began to unstrap his crossbow. “Exactly,” he said. “If we do not have an army with us, then we shall create one. If Alary refuses my demands, then one or more of you place a few well-aimed arrows from the trees to convince him otherwise. Listen to the conversation carefully; if it seems we are going to battle, then take out Alary and his mounted men first. If we remove the head of the beast, then hopefully his men will be directionless and scatter. I will go for Kristoph so cover me as much as you can. Is that clear?”
It was a desperate move they were planning for but there was no other choice. The situation had changed and they would have to change with it or all would be lost. The knights began preparing for the upcoming fight, removing crossbows, arrows, and making sure their broadswords were strapped to their sides. Shields, strapped to the horses, were also removed and brought forth; they would be unusable with the crossbows but if they entered into close-quarter fighting, they would be needed.
The knights were businesslike and methodical in their preparation. There was a sense of anticipation but no sense of fear; this was simply what needed to be done, the moment they had been preparing for on the long journey north. Each man was ready, willing, and able to fight to the death for Kristoph’s freedom. And if Gaetan had been feeling some guilt over risking the lives of many for just one man, he needn’t have worried – to each one of them, this was what needed to be done. A brother needed to be rescued and they were going to fight to the death to do it.
As they finished collecting their gear, more hooves were heard out on the road and St. Hèver rushed to the edge of the tree line to see Wellesbourne approaching. He waved the man into the trees and, together, they headed back to the rest of the men, buried deep in the shielding foliage. Wellesbourne approached and saw the preparations for battle.
“You have seen him,” Wellesbourne said to St. Hèver. “Thank God you came before I did. The army was blocking my path to leave town and I had to rush round the walls to get to my horse. It took valuable time.”
Gaetan, in full armor with his shield slung across his back, faced Wellesbourne. “Where was the army when you left?”
Wellesbourne was winded from his wild ride. “They were just heading to the west side of town,” he said. “They are not moving slowly, as I suspect Alary wishes to make it to Tenebris by nightfall, so their pace is quick. They are more than likely thinking of the warm meal and bed that awaits them at Tenebris and not of any dangers on the road ahead.”
Gaetan nodded as he digested that information. “That is good,” he said, “because we intend to surround him with an army.”
Wellesbourne’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What army?”
Gaetan glanced at St. Hèver. “Explain it to him,” he said. “I must go take my position out on the road.”
Kye nodded. “Aye.”
Gaetan paused before he left, looking at his men once more. Eight of the best knights in the world and he was exceptionally proud of them. He could have very well felt apprehension at this moment but he refused. He could only feel pride, honor, and determination. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
Men of such bravery were surely immortal.
“Alary of Mercia cannot best us,” he told them in a tone that suggested pure confidence. “Although we cannot know what the end of this battle shall bring, suffice it to say that it shall end and whatever that end shall be, know that I look to each and every one of you as the bravest men I have ever known. It has been a privilege to fight at your side, good knights. It is you who have given me a sense of purpose and I shall always be grateful, no matter what comes. Et pro Gloria dei.”
The knights were looking at him by this time, pride and loyalty reflected in their expressions. They knew, as he did, that they were facing terrible odds. There was a very good chance that one or more of them would not make it through. But still, they were willing to risk their lives for their brother, for their comrade. There was nothing more worthwhile or noble in life.
It was the most important battle they had ever faced.
“Et pro Gloria dei,” Téo whispered to him.
Instead of the usual handshake, he embraced him as a brother would. In fact, all of the knights embraced Gaetan and each other. That was not usual with them but, in this case, it was vitally important to make that contact because if any of them met their deaths, then it was important for the parting to be well-made with embraces of brotherhood and of love. And those words, For God and Glory, were a blessing to each and every one of them, for if the end was near, then God would certainly be waiting for them. If they died, it would be with the love and devotion of their fellow knights.
It was time.
Gaetan headed out to the road, knowing that his men were taking positions in the trees behind him. Once he came through the trees and onto the road, it was dim with the setting of the sun but he knew, at any moment, he would not be alone.
He had a man to meet.
Gaetan was standing right in the middle of the road as he began to see shades of Alary’s army. The sun was setting and the scenery around him ever-dimming and, true to what Wellesbourne had said, the army was moving at a clipped pace, clearly wanting to make it to Tenebris by nightfall.
Gaetan wasn’t sorry he would have to disturb those plans. With his crossbow in one hand, though not raised, he simply stood
there as the army entered the portion of the road where there was a dense collection of trees on both sides.
As Gaetan watched them approach, he couldn’t help but notice they hadn’t slowed down. He knew they saw him because men had pointed in his direction but, still, the pace remained swift. The men were noisy, kicking up dirt as they went, and the sheer rumble of many feet, hooves, and wheels gave the army a steady roar.
Wellesbourne and St. Hèver had been correct; there were many mounted warriors, heavily armed. But Gaetan held his ground, even when they came closer and he began to see facial features of the men. Not knowing what Alary of Mercia looked like since he didn’t have Ghislaine to identify him, he would have to ask. As the army drew nearer still, he raised his crossbow.
The gesture was unmistakable.
“Halt!” he bellowed.
The men in the front of the army heard him and were looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. But they didn’t slow down; they kept coming. Gaetan was forced to encourage them to obey his command; he released his crossbow, landing the arrow right in front of one of the men on horseback. A split second after he launched his arrow, several more came sailing out of the trees, all of them landing on the road in front of the advancing army.
It was enough of a startling move to cause horses to rear up and men to come to a halt purely out of fear. But the middle and rear portion of the army kept coming, running into those who had stopped, and now there was a great commotion as the army folded up on itself because they couldn’t go any further. When those in the rear tried to back up, more arrows hit the ground on the road behind them, blocking their escape.
Effectively, the army had been trapped.
Gaetan reloaded his crossbow and began to advance on the uncertain huddle of men. “Give me Alary of Mercia!” he shouted.
The men looked at each other fearfully, hissing and whispering, but Alary was not immediately produced. Gaetan advanced on them until he was about twenty feet in front of them. He leveled off his crossbow at one of the warriors on horseback.
“Give me Alary of Mercia or you men will die in a hail of arrows,” he said, looking to the well-armed warrior. “And you shall be the first.”
The warrior sat tall in the saddle. “I am not afraid to die.”
Gaetan’s answer was to let the arrow fly, right into the man’s throat. He hit the ground, dying a slow and agonizing death as Gaetan reloaded.
“Know that I have a thousand men in the trees with their arrows sighted on all of you,” he said loudly. “I would speak with Alary. That is all I wish. But if you do not produce him, then be prepared to die.”
The confusing situation, for Alary’s army, had just become deadly serious. There were more whispers about as Gaetan pointed his crossbow at another mounted warrior, who turned to run but there were so many men behind him that he couldn’t. Therefore, he leapt from the saddle and hid behind his horse to protect himself. Gaetan cocked an eyebrow at the cowardly warrior.
“Is this how a Saxon fights?” he asked. “Hiding from his enemy?”
“What madness is this?”
A man suddenly came up through the center of the army but he had a very big shield in front of him. Obviously, he’d seen the arrow take down the first mounted warrior and he was smart about his approach. He looked at the man dying on the ground, his features contorted with anger.
“By what right to you kill my men?” he demanded. “Who are you?”
Gaetan focused on the man; he was moderately tall, and slender, with a massive scar across his face running from his left temple, across his nose, and ending by the right side of his jaw. His hair was dark and he was rather unattractive. More than that, he had a sinister look about him. Gaetan took several long moments to digest the appearance of Alary of Mercia.
“Your men,” he said. “You must be Alary.”
Alary was in no mood for whatever this man wanted. He was positively enormous, dressed in mail and heavy tunic, with a sword on his side, a kite-shaped shield slung across his back, and a wicked-looking crossbow in hand. It took him a moment to realize he was looking at a Norman knight, for no Saxon warriors dressed as this man did. The light of recognition went on and the anger on his face changed to astonishment.
“He was right,” he said as if a great idea had just occurred to him. “His brethren were about!”
Gaetan heard him and he was fairly certain he knew what he meant. “You have something that belongs to me, Anglais,” he said. “You took him. I want him back.”
Alary kept the shield up but he took a few steps in Gaetan’s direction as if to get a better look at him. “So it is true. You have come for my Norman.”
“I have.”
Alary seemed to be both impressed and amazed by the fact. “How astonishing that you made it this far,” he said. But his eyes glittered rather knowingly. “Let me guess; my sister is with you. It was she who told you were to find me and, consequently, the prisoner I took from her. Is that it? She has asked you to avenge her?”
Gaetan wasn’t surprised that Alary could figure out what was happening. The man knew he was being followed as far back as Westerham and Lady Gunnora’s messenger those weeks back had clearly mentioned Ghislaine. It didn’t take a great intellect to figure out that the Normans and Ghislaine must have been working together. But Gaetan didn’t want to give the man any more information than he’d already guessed. They’d entered into a deadly game and Gaetan didn’t want to give Alary any more ammunition against him. The man probably already knew too much.
Therefore, he played it cool.
“There is no vengeance involved,” he said. “I have simply come to take my man. You will bring him forth.”
Alary didn’t move. He had a smirk on his face, as if he knew exactly why Gaetan was here and all of his secrets, besides. In fact, he was almost jovial.
“We will get to your man in a moment,” he said. “I want to know how you and my sister found one another. Did she come to you for help? Please, tell me everything. I am most curious to know how my sister has betrayed me.”
Gaetan wasn’t pleased with the man’s stalling tactics. He suspected there was some end to it but, at the moment, he couldn’t figure out what that could be. Still, he wouldn’t put it past Alary to try and undermine him somehow. He had to be vigilant.
“Your curiosity will have to wait,” he said. “It is growing dark and, soon, we will be standing here in total darkness and my army in the trees will not be able to see who they are hitting with their arrows. You will lose many men if I give the word so it would be in your best interest to give me my man. That is all I have come for.”
Alary looked around to the dark trees lining both sides of the road. Clearly, there were men in them, men with crossbows, but an entire army? He returned his attention to Gaetan.
“I told you not to follow me,” he said. “My scouts reported that we were not followed, but your man was certain his comrades had not given up. He told me so. How did you move an entire army north and I did not know of it?”
Gaetan smiled thinly. “My men have arrows trained on you at this very moment,” he said, “and that shield will only protect one side of you. If I were you, I would do as I have asked. Bring me my man. I will not ask you again. Next time, I will let my army do the asking.”
There was truth to that statement. Alary could only protect one side and he lost some of his smug appearance. He backed up a bit, so there were men behind him and around him, but even those men started to move away out of fear that Alary was an arrow target. When Alary saw what was happening, his humor vanished completely. He eyed Gaetan with nothing short of pure hatred, realizing he had no choice but to bring forth his prized prisoner. If he didn’t, he suspected very bad things were about to happen.
“Bring me the Norman!” he bellowed. “Bring him now!”
Back in the lines, men began to scramble. As Gaetan and Alary gazed at each other in a deadly staring game, back in the lines, Kristoph was
being unchained.
Half-unconscious with hunger and fatigue, he hadn’t heard what was going on at the front of the army. But he’d most definitely heard the arrows hit around them, so he knew something was happening. When the guards around him began to unchain him, he began to suspect something quite serious was afoot, but he had no idea what it was until he was brought forward through the lines of Saxon men.
Exhausted, starved, beaten, and in need of both a bath and a shave, Kristoph made his way slowly. He couldn’t move very fast but he was trying. As he emerged from the army, dragged forward by two of Alary’s men, his gaze fell on Gaetan and it was all he could do to not burst into tears; he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life than Gaetan de Wolfe, standing alone and facing off against an army of two hundred men. The man had the bravery of the archangels and Kristoph knew, at that moment, that he would be saved.
There was no doubt in his mind.
Gaetan, too, had never seen any sight quite so wonderful as he did when his gaze beheld Kristoph. But he wanted to burst into tears for an entirely different reason; the man looked like hell. He looked like a starved animal. Normally a muscular man of some bulk, he looked as if he’d lost half of his weight. At that moment, Gaetan’s joy and shock turned into anger so deep that he was having a difficult time controlling it.
He wanted to kill.
“Kristoph,” he said hoarsely. “Come here.”
Kristoph moved to obey but Alary grabbed him by the arm. “Not so fast,” he said. “Your man is a valuable prisoner. We must discuss his release.”
Gaetan realized he was shaking with fury. “There will be no discussion. Turn him over to me or every man in your army will die, starting with you. Is this in any way unclear?”
Alary didn’t like being threatened. Unsheathing a dagger at his side, the same one he’d used to cut off the portion of Kristoph’s finger, he pointed the tip right at Kristoph’s left kidney.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 39