She switched her gaze from him to the trebuchet. The triangular wood frame base, standing mayhap three men high, held a long sturdy log at least twice as long again. A sling of empty netting dangled from one end of the throwing arm; the counterweight, a stone filled basket, hung from the other end. The arm pivoted around the base approximately one third of the way along.
With the aid of a windlass, several men wound down the longer end of the arm such that the net hanging from the end could be filled. A few more men did this, lugging stones from a large stockpile laid in preparation near by. When all was ready, the men paused, waiting for the next order.
“Now!” Warin’s voice, sharp with tension, speared through the air.
Someone slipped off the catch loop. Slowly at first, then with more speed as the counterweight at the other end began to plummet down, the arm flew skyward. At its peak, the netting released the load of stones and they pelted against the keep, some bouncing inside the walls and others falling harmlessly to the ground in front.
“Again!” Warin called out and the process began anew. Now Alyna realized the defenders inside the castle lobbed stones back at them.
“Look out!” She cried out involuntarily as a boulder came close to those men manning the trebuchet. Seemingly unperturbed, they carried on with their task and soon another sling full of stones was lobbed skyward.
Then the defenders let loose a hail of arrows, most of which landed uselessly some distance shy of their target. One or two, however, stabbed the ground just in front of Warin. He stepped back easily, as if it were an everyday occurrence to subject oneself to a hail of enemy shafts.
Alyna jammed her suddenly cold hands under her armpits and held her breath as another hail of arrows darkened the sky. Even though she watched from a safe distance, danger stalked Warin.
She did the only thing she could think of – pray. On her knees and with face uplifted so the Almighty could better hear her words. Dieu li volt. God wills it.
*****
Around midday, Warin called a cease to the bombardment. He gathered the men about him to recap the morning’s actions and to brief them on the plans for the morrow. The rest of the day passed without incident as they replenished the stockpiles of projectiles and made several minor repairs to the trebuchet.
Alyna’s apprehension diminished as the day progressed for it became apparent that to be the besieger was much preferred to being the besieged if for no other reason than the logistics. For them it was but a simple matter to find stones and other missiles but for those behind the walls the supply must be slim indeed.
Too, her admiration for Warin grew. Quick to make decisions and issue orders, his skill in the art of warfare, coupled with Gerard’s obvious support, provided the foundation on which the battle progressed. She wondered if he was aware of her presence at all. Nay, she decided. He focused only on the duty at hand.
Of his impact on her, there was no doubt. Her gaze returned to him again and again, each time setting her stomach to fluttering. Then she would return her regard to whatever task she was about only to lift her head a few moments later to seek him out again.
She chastised herself when she noticed the sly winks and knowing nods bandied about at her blatant admiration of Warin.
I am as besotted as the love-struck fools in the minstrel’s verse.
But try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to the tall figure until finally she gave up and flounced out of the clearing, ostensibly to look for late season berries. Bennet trailed along behind her.
Of course she found none but the search did take her out of eye shot of Warin and gave her a chance to settle her mind.
Too, she stumbled on a patch of mint and wasted no time in plucking a few handfuls, for it was useful against ailments of the stomach and for treatment of wounds. Returning to the camp she began preparations for the evening meal, too early mayhap but anything to keep her thoughts and eyes away from her new husband.
And for awhile it worked. But before long, her gaze once again crept about, searching for him. A thrill coursed through her as her eyes encountered his. She waved and his answering smile rewarded her. Did she imagine it or did his face soften at seeing her? Oh, if only it were so. If only he could grow to love her as she loved him.
Nonetheless, his smile warmed her and with a light heart she continued readying the evening meal.
*****
And so passed the next few days, always following the same pattern. The trebuchet would be in active use during the early part of the day and all would be quiet in the afternoon while preparations were made for the following day’s assault. As well, work began on constructing the battering ram.
The defenders appeared to stand strong and even though the return volleys grew less and less, surrender did not appear to be imminent.
“I fear our foe is undisturbed with our efforts,” Gerard remarked to Warin one evening as they sat around the fire.
“Aye,” Warin inclined his head in agreement but held his silence, waiting for Gerard to spill what was on his mind.
“The weather grows colder and the Twelve Days of Christmas are fast approaching.”
“Aye.” Still Warin held his peace.
“Do you think it’s time to prove the ram?”
Warin swiveled his head to look at Gerard. He weighed his words carefully before responding. “Aye.” He exhaled slowly, as if reluctant to cross the threshold to more active warfare.
And he was reluctant, that he knew. Could it be that his protective feelings towards Alyna were altering his ability to wage battle? A fierce soldier would know no hesitation but he seemed unable to find the desire to proceed to the next step of their initial plan. With Alyna in camp, certainly it was safer to continue the siege. On the other hand, time passed and winter deepened and he had promised himself to get Alyna into Caperun Keep soon.
Gerard was right. The time for patience was over. It was time to make use of the ram.
“Your counsel is wise, Gerard.” He rose to his feet. “Tomorrow we test the gates. The castle must fall, the defenders be vanquished.” He started to turn then paused. “Tell the men,” he commanded, “I have something that needs attending.”
Warin strode away in search of Alyna. Now that the decision had been made to batter the gates, he had an inexplicable urge to see her.
And when he did?
For that, he had no answer.
*****
Bored, Alyna wandered along the edge of the woods. Bennet, uncharacteristically, had disappeared so she ambled alone with her brooding thoughts. Careful not to stray too far, she kept the keep to her left. Behind her lay the camp that this afternoon, for some reason, she found to be too cloistered.
Warin avoided her.
Try as she might, she couldn’t excuse his behavior, couldn’t continue to blame his continuing reticence on the siege that so occupied all of them. It was evident in the deliberate way he turned out of her way if he saw her coming, the way he avoided their bed until long after she fell asleep, rising long before she awoke.
Short of disguising herself as a trebuchet, she knew not what to do to recapture his interest.
Frustrated, she grabbed a small stone lying nearby and lobbed it towards the castle walls. It fell far short of the target but the hostile gesture made her feel better. She found another one and threw it too, trying to spin it so that it skipped across the ground.
Increasingly caught up in the game, she moved closer and pitched another stone. This one bounced and ended up beside a crushed and splintered barrel, its contents solidified into a noxious mess. She took a few more steps and bent over to pick up a round stone. It fit her hand nicely and she squeezed her fingers about it and hurled it with all her might, so much so her elbow cracked as she let it loose.
It too fell uselessly short of the target, rolling a bit before it came to rest. She looked at it for a few seconds then at the distance separating her from the walls of the castle. Of course she woul
dn’t endanger herself by venturing too near the walls. Besides, pitching little stones towards their enemy was a waste of time.
With a wry twist on her mouth and a shrug of the shoulders at her silliness, she turned about.
He leaned against a tree in the shadows at the edge of the woods.
Warin.
Watching her stone faced.
She stopped in her tracks. “My lord?” Her voice quavered and she hated herself for it.
“An amusing display,” he remarked, gesturing towards her futile missiles.
“What of it.” She made her voice defiant and crossed her arms.
“Naught but I would think you could find more productive ways to divert yourself.” His tone was cool, his demeanor haughty as he looked down at her.
“I had time to spare.” She glared at him. She was perfectly content to keep herself occupied and out of his way during this time of siege but for him to berate her for her choice of activities was too much.
“Don’t forget we are at siege.”
“I’ve not forgotten, my lord.”
“It is best for you to return to camp.” The stern command raised her ire even more.
“To do what, my lord?” Her tone was acerbic. “All is in readiness for the evening repast. I merely thought to pass the time with a walk.”
“Alyna.” He lifted a hand in supplication.
“Aye?” she asked icily.
“I fear for your safety.”
His simple admission stunned her. “Wh-what did you say?” She stammered, unable to believe her ears.
“I fear for your safety,” he repeated, as if he needed to confirm it for himself. After pausing to take a deep breath, he continued, “Alyna, tomorrow we attack the gates. The battering ram is ready and Gerard and I have agreed that the final assault begins now.”
She kept her silence, choosing instead to rub her sore elbow so that she need not answer. Why had he come to tell her that? Surely it was of no consequence what she thought. Mayhap something else had prodded him to find her. Could it be concern for her safety, as he had said? And his avoidance of her, mayhap it was rooted in something else? Mayhap a growing love for her? Bennet had hinted it was so.
Hope flared through her anew.
Warin gestured for her to come closer. She did, her steps careful, her expression wary. He reached out and took her by the hand. His hand lay warm against her cold one and unbidden, her fingers laced through his, seeking the additional warmth.
He bowed low and brushed his lips against her knuckles. The courtly gesture set her heart to pounding and her knees to weaken.
“Are you pleased with our marriage?”
His question was odd, out of context.
“How can I know that,” she answered him honestly, trying to keep her wits about her for he still held her hand. “We have yet to serve as Lord and Lady of Caperun Keep. Too, the siege occupies you and we’ve not passed much time together.” She kept her voice nonchalant but inside she shouted, aye, aye, I am most pleased, pleased with our marriage and with you!
However, she said none of those things. She didn’t want him to think she had capitulated that easily after his recent indifference to her.
Warin nodded in agreement. “Alyna, I promised to find you in Caperun Keep sooner rather than later. If things go well, by tomorrow evening we shall be within its walls. I would see you sitting at the high table as lady of the castle.” And lying in my bed, arms spread wide in welcome, your face lit with anticipation, he thought.
He turned her hand over and, as he had the day of their wedding, pressed a kiss on her palm, this time folding her fingers over it to keep it there. She blushed at his attention and opened her mouth to speak.
Warin stopped her, holding a finger to her lips. “Come,” he murmured. “We should return to our camp. Bennet waits, he was anxious that you had slipped by him.”
She nodded, turned and began to retrace her steps, still clasping her fingers tightly over Warin’s gossamer kiss as if it were a butterfly that would fly free if it could.
Warin noted the clasped fingers as he followed Alyna back to the camp. The little gesture, silly and endearing at the same time, filled him with pleasure.
He thought about the conversation that had just passed. Fool, he thought, regretting the impulsive question that had passed his lips but once spoken, it couldn’t be taken back. Why should it matter to him what she thought of their marriage? Their fate together had been sealed on the whim of a king and neither her protests nor his could alter what happened.
Somehow he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had gotten the better end of the bargain.
I will please Alyna and earn her respect.
Nay, he vowed, not her respect, her love.
I want Alyna’s love. I want the love union of my mother and father and a blessed home filled with that love.
There he had said it.
That was what he wanted more than anything. Could he have it?
Chapter Fifteen
Men’s desire for war, Alyna decided, proved to be a tangible thing.
Permeating the chill morning air, it was there as Alyna pulled back the flap of the tent to begin her day. It was there in the purposeful faces around her. It was there in Warin’s mood, in the grim lines rimming his eyes and mouth.
It had been there always, since the siege began, but this morning with the assault to begin anew, it had grown in intensity, becoming a crouched beast ready to leap on its prey.
She stopped in the doorway, letting the flap fall behind her but keeping her eyes on Warin and the men awaiting orders gathered about him. She strained her ears to hear his words.
“Robert, Theobald, take the lead positions,” Warin instructed. “Gerard, choose four of your best men to flank either side of the ram. Choose another two, the stoutest two, for the rear. The rest can follow in behind with shields upraised.”
“Aye.” Gerard agreed. “The rear guard is needed for when the gates are breached. Those men can quickly enter the bailey and take up the fight there.”
“Lady Alyna?” Bennet’s voice interrupted her attention.
“Aye?” She swung about to face him.
“Lord Warin has instructed me to keep you safe in the camp, far from the attack.”
“Of course,” she nodded. Sensing the siege was about to reach a new level, she was more than content to stay close to the clearing that served as living area.
She managed to maneuver her stump about so she could sit and watch the activities. Eyes glued to Warin, she barely managed a nod of thanks to Bennet as he handed her the usual bowl of steaming oats. This time, however, a chunk of honeycomb crowned the porridge.
At her questioning look, he winked and said, “There are friends about that wish to see you well fed. And,” he waggled a finger at her, “their identity is my secret, not yours.”
“Very well, Bennet. Then convey my appreciation to those who wish to see me well.” She smiled and began to eat.
The food took her attention for a while but in too short of time she turned her regard back to the battering ram being slowly maneuvered along the road leading to the front gates.
The ram itself was a tree trunk denuded of most of its branches, laid in a cross bed of ropes hanging from a framework such that it swung forward and back. Hides had been stretched over this so that the men plying the ram would have some protection. The few remaining branches served as handles and by the time Alyna finished her meal the unwieldy object had been moved almost to the gate.
As they covered the last few feet, the arrows began to fly. Scant moments later came the first cry of pain and the first casualty, Robert.
He walked in, cradling an arm sporting a feathered shaft through the biceps.
Alyna stood and pointed to her stump. “Sit,” she commanded. “I will fetch needle and thread. And Bennet?” She turned and gestured to an empty pail. “Fill that with water and hang it over the flames to warm it.”
She ducked in
to the tent, grabbing some of the mint leaves she had gathered that were drying on the end of a branch propped against the wall. Then she grabbed the needle and thread and the pile of linen strips she had readied. As she turned about, her eyes fell on the last bit of soap. She hesitated for an instant and then regretfully snatched it up.
Fie, she scolded herself, for the thought of losing the precious chunk was a sad one. Others need it more than you. When we enter the keep, there shall be more.
She returned to find Robert propped forward on his injured arm, elbow to knee, free hand gripping his upper arm just below the arrow. He looked up at her as she approached and forced a wry smile to his lips. “I have the honor of the first strike,” he said, “although it’s not one I hold gladly.”
Alyna smiled back and, trying to quell her stomach, took a firm grip of the shaft.
“I am sorry,” she said gently to Robert, “this will not be pleasant.”
Robert grimaced, pressing his lips together. “It’s not your fault, do as you must.” His tanned face held a resigned expression.
She yanked, hard, fast. The arrow slid out, blood covered, taking several small pieces of muscle with it. Immediately the blood began to flow but she stanched it with a cloth.
“It must be washed,” she advised him, “and then I will stitch it. Are you fine?”
At his nod, she began to bathe the wound, dabbing at the edges where the blood had already begun to dry. It was nothing serious, a flesh wound, but it needed attention nonetheless. Carefully holding the edges of broken skin together, she stitched as neatly and quickly as she could, tying off the ends and biting the thread off with her teeth.
“Bennet?” She looked around for assistance.
“Aye, my lady?”
“Fetch the ale, please.” She turned back to Robert and placed a few sprigs of mint against the newly stitched wound. “Hold this,” she instructed, “the linen must bind these to the arm to be effective.”
Robert nodded and gingerly held the herb in place with two fingers. By the time Alyna had finished binding the wound, Bennet had returned with a cup full to the brim of foamy brew.
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