As Fairynne adjusted the rope so she could climb with it, Blayth heaved her up in the direction of her sister’s outstretched hand.
“Listen to your sister in all things,” he rumbled in her ear as he passed her up. “For if you do not, I shall find you when this is over and blister your arse.”
Fairynne’s eyes widened with fear as Blayth lifted her up as high as he could. She ended up with her feet on his shoulders, much as Asmara had done, but her sister was there to pull her up onto the vine. Fairynne held on tightly, now climbing the vines and following her sister to the slender window of the tower.
Their entire success now rested on the shoulders of two small women.
“What do we do if they are captured?” Aeddan was standing next to Blayth, his dark eyes watching the sisters climb. “Cader will never forgive Morys if that happens.”
Blayth was watching them also. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say about the situation. It had all happened so quickly and they’d had to improvise with the changing of the circumstances, but as he watched Asmara insert her head and then the rest of her body into the window above, he was beginning to wonder if this wasn’t a very bad idea.
But they’d come too far to turn back now.
“Cader raised his daughters to fight like men,” he said simply. “He only has himself to blame.”
Aeddan didn’t reply because he knew Blayth didn’t mean it as coldly as it sounded. He knew for a fact that Blayth had more feeling than most and, at times, would rather negotiate out of a situation than fight it. But he was also a man who was unafraid to do what was necessary in the end.
There were just over a thousand men waiting for a handful of men to open the portcullis of Llandarog Castle so, in this case, sending two women to make the initial entry was necessary and Aeddan knew the man well enough to know that he was harboring a wicked sense of guilt because of it.
Sending women in to do a man’s work.
Now, all they could do was pray.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Asmara has grown.”
In the darkness of the early morning hours, Cader was watching Llandarog Castle from a distance, knowing that Asmara had gone with Blayth and the others to secure entry to the castle. He had been hesitant to let her go, but he also knew that she was quite capable. Still, it made him nervous that she was out of his sight.
He was unable to help her should she need it.
But his brother’s softly-uttered words broke his concentration and he turned to see Morys heading towards him, through the skinny cluster of trees. He hadn’t talked to his brother in many years until the summons to Carmarthen Castle, and even though they’d been traveling together, they still hadn’t spoken very much. They were so used to ignoring each other that it came naturally. Therefore, Morys’ appearance was something of a surprise.
“Aye,” Cader said belatedly. “She has seen eighteen years now. She is a woman grown.”
Morys nodded as his attention moved to the castle in the distance. “Dragon Princess,” he muttered. “That is what they call her now.”
Cader snorted softly. “She hates to be called that,” he said. “She simply wants to be a warrior, like any other man.”
Morys looked pointedly at him. “But she is not like any other man,” he said. “She is a woman, and a beautiful one. Has she not even been betrothed yet?”
Cader rolled his eyes at the touchy subject. “What man wants a wife who can best him in a fight?” he said. “Nay, Brother, no betrothal yet. No suitor of any kind. Until I can get her to behave like a woman, there is no point.”
“Yet you send her into battle.”
“Because she is an excellent warrior.”
“It is your fault for making her one.”
Cader turned to look at his brother; Morys was older than he by fourteen months, so there wasn’t much of an age gap between them at all. They’d grown up together, played together, fought together. When their father died, Morys decided that he was head of the family and he’d gone out of his way to make his brother feel insignificant and weak. Morys was married, but he’d never had children, while Cader’s marriage had produced two daughters. Their branch of the family was dying out and it killed Morys to realize that. He always had to be the bigger, stronger, and smarter brother, but his one failing had been in his inability to father a child, male or female. Oddly enough, he liked to make Cader feel guilty for only having females.
But Cader wasn’t feeling guilty today. He was proud of his daughter.
“Is that what you came to tell me?” he finally asked. “That it is my fault for making Asmara a warrior? I didn’t ‘make’ her a warrior, you know. She chose to be one. There was no way to discourage her.”
Morys eyed his brother in the weak light. His younger brother who was kind and compassionate, everything Morys was not. He’d tried for a very long time not to hate him for it, but he couldn’t quite seem to manage it. There was so much about Cader that he hated.
And so much he was jealous of.
“So now you have an unmarriageable daughter on your hands,” Morys said quietly. “Will she be a spinster, then? Or will she lead your armies?”
Cader wasn’t going to let his brother mock him. “We have not spoken to one another in over five years,” he said. “If you are going to taunt me about my children, then you can go back to your men. I have no need or desire to tangle with you.”
The line in the sand had been drawn already. Morys simply dipped his head. “I was not taunting you,” he said. “I was merely asking a question since I have not seen Asmara in so long. What of Fairynne? Has she married?”
Cader shook his head. “She has not.”
Morys pondered his brother’s unwed daughters but he could see that any further comment about them would not be well met. In truth, he hadn’t come to taunt his brother. He really didn’t know why he’d come, other than he’d missed the man and didn’t want to admit it.
“Well,” he sighed, “Asmara has gone with Blayth and we must be moving our men into position so we are ready when they open the portcullis. My scouts say that we can skirt the village over to the east and come in through the trees directly across from the castle. They will not see us until it is too late.”
Cader nodded, turning to the men nearest him and issuing a quiet whistle. As the men stood up and began to come to him, he turned to Morys. “I will tell my men to be ready to move,” he said. “Are your men ready?”
“They are.”
“Then let us depart.”
Cader’s men came to him and he quietly issued orders. When those men left to rouse the rest of Cader’s army, Cader happened to see that Morys was still standing there.
“Is that all?” he asked.
Morys nodded. He started to turn away, but something made him stop. When he spoke, it was without looking at his brother. It was almost as if he couldn’t bear to.
“Why did we stop talking to one another, Cader?” he asked softly. “I have forgotten.”
Cader looked at him. “You called me weak,” he said. “Do you not recall?”
“I am not certain. Mayhap.”
“You said you were ashamed of a brother who was so weak.”
Morys almost turned to look at him. I was stupid for saying so. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it, nor could he bring himself to apologize. He remembered exactly what he’d said to his brother, and when he’d said it. He was only hoping that Cader hadn’t remembered. Then he would have nothing to apologize for.
But Cader did, indeed, remember. Morys simply nodded his head and began to walk away, but a word from Cader stopped him.
“I will say this to you, Morys,” he said quietly. “I am not weak. I have never been weak. I am able to show emotion and feelings that you were never able to, and if you believe that to be weak, that is your misfortune. But I will tell you this; my daughter, Asmara, is anything but weak. She is the strongest woman in Wales and tonight, she will prove that to you. Mark my wo
rds. And when you see how strong she is, you will tell me so. Are you listening? I will hear it from your own lips.”
Morys still couldn’t bring himself to look at him or even agree. Without another word, he continued on, heading into the darkened trees and for his army, which was preparing to move out. Cader watched him go for a few moments, thinking of his haughty, arrogant brother. He didn’t exactly hate the man, but it was close.
But tonight, they had to put their feelings aside for a common goal.
To take Llandarog Castle back from the English.
It smelled like a barnyard.
That was Asmara’s first thought as she slithered in through the narrowed window of Llandarog’s tower and ended up falling to the floor. It was dark, quiet, and smelly. Fortunately, the chamber was also empty and she quickly found her feet, pulling Fairynne through the opening behind her.
But the women huddled near the open window for a few moments as their eyes became acclimated to the near total darkness. The tower itself was small in diameter, so there was only one room per floor. They had no way of knowing just how many floors there were because the base of the tower seemed sunken into the hillside. Since it was an hour or so before dawn, they couldn’t hear anyone stirring, but that didn’t mean an entire army of English soldiers wasn’t sleeping on the floor below them.
They had to get moving.
Asmara pulled her sister close.
“We must find a way to get to the wall on the west side,” she whispered. “It is attached to this tower and if there is an opening on to the wall, it will be on the level above us. Follow me and stay close; do not wander and do not make any noise. Do you understand?”
Fairynne nodded, but it was clear from her expression that she was frightened. Perhaps helping her sister had seemed brave enough until they entered the lion’s den, but now that she was here, she wasn’t so sure. Still, her pride prevented her from doing anything other than pretending she had some measure of bravery. She held tight to the rope that was coiled over one shoulder and down under one arm, just like the rope that Asmara was holding, and when her sister began to move, she followed.
There was a flight of stone stairs built onto one side of the room; a hole in the floor had stairs going down to the floor below while a small flight built into the wall went up to the floor above. Staying close to the wall, the sisters mounted the stairs that led to the floor above, making their way silently until Asmara could just stick her head through the hole in the floor above them, peering into the chamber to see if there anyone was there.
Fortunately, it was empty but for a few shields and metal-tipped staffs against the wall. It also contained a small door that led to the wall walk, just as she’d hoped. As far as Asmara could see, there didn’t seem to be anyone on the wall walk, so she came to the top of the stairs, holding out a hand to her sister to indicate caution. Even though there didn’t seem to be anyone around, they still needed to proceed carefully. Once they were on the wall walk, they could lower the ropes for Blayth and the others.
Their goal was so close, but yet so far. The wall walk was just a few feet away, but it seemed like it stretched for a mile. Once they left the tower, they would be exposed to the ward below, and Asmara’s heart was thumping in her chest. The apprehension was almost more than she could bear, but she had a task to complete and she focused on it. As they neared the doorway that opened out into the wall walk, she came to a sudden halt and backed up against the wall to stay out of sight.
Fairynne looked at her sister curiously as Asmara took the hemp rope and tied a loop at one end of it. The curtain wall had battlements, meaning it had regularly spaced, square openings so defenders could shoot enemies below and then use the battlements for protection from incoming enemy projectiles. It also meant that if they could get the big loop of the rope around one the solid square features in between the openings, they could use that to anchor the rope so the men waiting below could climb up the wall.
Soon enough, Fairynne understood what her sister was doing and she, too, tied a big loop in the end of her rope. The wall itself was perhaps eighteen to twenty feet high, and their ropes weren’t quite so long, but long enough that Blayth and his men would be able to get hold of them when lowered.
With both ropes looped at the end, it was finally time to act. Asmara dropped to her hands and knees as she crept onto the wall walk, keeping a low profile until she could see just where the English soldiers were. As soon as she emerged onto the wall walk, she could see the English – there were a few in the darkness, over by the gatehouse, and only three on the vast wall walk, as far as she could see. The men on the wall walk were also over near the two-storied gatehouse, clustered there, as one of them sat on the edge of it, his legs dangling over the side.
Clearly, these were men who were not expecting an attack this night, but something had their attention over by the gatehouse because that was where they all seemed to be gathered. Asmara wondered if they had sighted her father and Morys, who would be moving their army into position in anticipation of the gate opening. If that was the case, then the element of surprise would soon be lost. With that in mind, Asmara knew she had to move quickly while their attention was diverted.
She and her sister may not have another chance.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, Asmara moved to the battlements. Quickly rising to her feet, she looped the rope over the nearest stone square and tossed the rope down the side of the wall. Fairynne was a little slower in getting her rope secured, so Asmara quickly moved to help her, making sure both ropes were over the side so the men could climb up. Peering over the side of the wall, she could see men moving towards the ropes through the darkness.
They were coming.
But so were the English. No sooner had they thrown the ropes over the side than someone saw them. Shouts drifted in their direction and the women turned, startled, to see the men from the gatehouse looking at them. A brief moment of horror in realizing they’d been seen was replaced by determination as Asmara swung into action.
“The staffs and shields,” she hissed, pointing to the tower. “Quickly – we must get them. I will fight them off. You must protect the ropes until the men can mount them!”
Fairynne might have been young and foolish at times, but she shared Asmara’s sense of determination. She, too, understood that this was critical, so she rushed ahead of her sister into the tower room and began grabbing items. She shoved a shield at her sister and then a staff, and as Asmara ran back onto the battlements to fight off what was sure to be an incoming horde of English, Fairynne also picked up a staff and returned to her post by the ropes. She wanted to be armed in case anyone made it past her sister.
She was prepared to fight to the death.
Asmara, too, was ready for them. She stood her ground several feet down the wall walk, giving her sister and the incoming Welsh plenty of room as she faced off against several English soldiers who were now heading in her direction. Two of them had torches, lighting up the faces of the enemy against the early morning darkness. Although she’d been nervous about facing a moment like this, as the reality of it approached, Asmara found that she wasn’t nervous at all. She was angry; angry that the English were here, angry that she had to fight them off. Anger fed her bravery. With the shield in one hand and the staff in the other, she braced herself.
Oddly enough, the English were slow to move. Seeing two women, and really having no idea why they were there, had them moving cautiously, which was to the advantage of the Welshmen on the ropes. Four of them were already climbing, Blayth being one of them, and he was already almost halfway to the top. But the English weren’t looking at their walls, at least not yet. They were still trying to figure out why two women were on the wall walk and that distraction would work against them. As several of them moved closer to Asmara, their manner remained almost timid.
And she sensed it. Asmara was, if nothing else, extremely intuitive. She could see that they were quite confused and perhaps even
slightly interested. She could only surmise that they didn’t see what was going on behind her, and that men weren’t climbing the walls at that very moment and that, soon, the castle would be under attack. It was dark enough that they could only see two women on the walls, but if they moved those torches any closer, they would soon see the ropes being used.
Then, it would turn into battle.
Therefore, Asmara took a step towards them, lifting her staff and shield, and smiling hugely. He had a lovely smile, in fact, with straight white teeth and slightly prominent canines. It was a gesture that lit up her entire face, something not missed by the English. Not only was a woman on their wall walk, but a beautiful one at that.
“Cyfarchion,” Asmara said in Welsh. Greetings. “I would wager to say that you did not expect to find two lonely women here tonight.”
The Englishman had no idea what to make of it. The man in front, an older man in well-used mail, peered strangely at her.
“Lonely?” he repeated. “What are you doing here, lass? How did you get here?”
Asmara turned her smile on him. “What else would I be doing here?” she said. “I am looking for a little… amusement.”
The English soldier was greatly confused by her response. He indicated the shield and staff in her hands. “What kind of amusement?”
Asmara shrugged lightly, hoping she could keep them talking until someone got to the top of the rope and she could have help fending them all off.
“You fight me,” she said. “If I lose, I become your prisoner. But if you lose…”
The soldier folded his arms in front of his chest expectantly. “I will not lose to you,” he said. He wagged an irritable finger at her. “Come along, now. Why are you here? Tell me the truth. And tell me how you got here.”
Asmara lifted her shoulders. “I flew in, like a bird,” she said. “If you beat me in a fight, then I shall tell you. But until you do, you will simply have to take my word for it.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 250