The Dark Spawn (Battle Lords of de Velt Book 5)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Cole and Julian, helped by Addax and Essien, had brought the siege engines across the bridge and they now faced the castle. What they couldn’t see, however, were many men on the battlements, watching them. There seemed to be very few. For a garrison, that didn’t make sense. Either there were two thousand Scotsmen in the bailey, waiting to be unleashed, or the garrison commander had believed in his fortification so much that he’d sent his army out of the walls to fight the English with the rest of William the Rough’s army.

  Neither Jax nor anyone else were quite sure which it was.

  “What do you think, Papa?” Cole asked his father. “How do you want to approach this?”

  They were standing on the road into the village, looking up at the mighty bastion of Berwick Castle. Dark granite walls faced them, impressing upon them just how powerful the castle was. Cole and Julian stood with Addax and Essien, all of them gazing up at those terrible walls, waiting for an answer from The Dark Lord himself. Jax had faced some defiant castles in his lifetime and he was impressed by Berwick, but he liked a challenge. There hadn’t been a castle built yet that could best him.

  Berwick wasn’t going to be the first.

  “I noticed as we crossed the bridge that they’ve let the gate down by the river to fall into disrepair,” he said. “The rest of the walls look solid enough and we can’t get across the moat without the existing bridge. If they burn it, that may create a bit of an obstacle.”

  Cole looked at him. “If the river gate is compromised, we can go in that way,” he said. “Mayhap you create a ruse with the siege engines while we try.”

  Jax was nodding even as he was speaking. “That is what I was thinking,” he said. “If I can keep their attention, then you can select a group of men to go with you and breach the river gate. I suspect it is more fortified than we have seen, but it is worth a try. Otherwise, I’ll have to put you and your brother in the baskets of the siege engines and fling you over the walls.”

  Cole grinned, looking at Julian. Jax made the comment because when they were young boys, they’d nearly done precisely that. The siege engines at Pelinom were stored in the stable yard and when Cole had been about six years of age, he’d talked one of the less-than-intelligent stable servants into launching him and Julian into an enormous pile of hay that had just been brought in from the fields.

  Fortunately, the siege engines, which were catapults, needed some prep work before the boys could be launched and, in that time, Atreus had noticed what was happening and stopped what would have surely been a deadly event. Jax had calmly explained to his sons why it was foolish to try such a thing, but Kellington had simply spanked them.

  Jax could still hear their cries as she pummeled their backsides.

  Cole remembered it, too, which was why he was laughing at his brother, who hadn’t learned his lesson the first time and had gotten into trouble with it again about a year later. But Julian put up his hands in surrender.

  “I am not going to fly over the walls,” he said. “Mother would only find out and beat me again. I am finished trying to fly through the air.”

  Both Cole and Jax were chuckling now, joined by Addax and Essien. In fact, Addax pointed to his younger brother.

  “Es will volunteer, then,” he said. “When we were lads, before we came to The Levant, we had heard of a story of a magic carpet that flew through the air. Es tried to take a hide off a roof one day when our caravan was stopped in the town of Ismailia. He fell into a fountain.”

  Jax eyed the youngest al-Kort brother. “It is a wonder any of you survived your childhood,” he said, returning his attention to the castle. “Unfortunately, I do not think using the siege engines are an option to send men over the walls. The river’s entrance may be our only solution.”

  Cole was thinking on the gate down by the river’s edge. “Gates near water are usually secured with iron only because the wood will swell and warp with the moisture,” he said. “I can bring a hammer and chisel and mayhap we can unseat the hinges of any iron gate we may come across. Or, if we can mount the wall itself, we can go right to the castle wall walk.”

  Jax looked at him. “Go,” he said. “Take your brother and Addax and Essien. Atreus and I will create a diversion by concentrating on the gatehouse while you find a way in.”

  The young knights nodded and moved out. Julian and Cole plunged into the de Velt army, at a standstill several yards away, and pulled out one hundred men, younger soldiers they knew were swift and strong, and motioned for them to follow. They did, bringing ropes and iron grappling hooks, spurred on by Cole and his commands. If they were going to breach an iron gate, they needed the proper tools, but if they were going to mount the walls, then they needed the ropes and grappling hooks.

  The men were moving quickly.

  Night was beginning to fall, which would work to their advantage. They could use the cover of darkness to mask their movements down by the river because once they reached the water, Cole made them get into it. They were going to have to swim around the wall in order to get to the landing on the other side. The wall only went as far as the river, perhaps extended into it by about ten feet.

  They were prepared to get around it.

  Unfortunately, they were slowed down because only about half of the men could actually swim. The others were tethered with the ropes and pulled along, trying to keep their heads above water, and this included Addax and Essien. They came from arid lands and had never learned to swim properly, so Cole and Julian pulled them along, keeping their heads above water as they swam from the recently captured bridge all the way to the water wall of Berwick.

  The water was freezing and the current was strong, but they managed to make it within sight of the wall. Only their heads were visible on top of the water and as they came within view of the shoreline inside the wall, they could see a group of Scots there, waiting. Cole came to a stop, allowing Addax and Essien and Julian to catch up to him.

  “Look,” he whispered. “There is a line of Scots there. See them?”

  Their mouths were in the water so that they had the lowest profile possible. Julian motioned for the men behind them to stay silent and low as the knights assessed the situation.

  They hadn’t expected a welcoming committee.

  “You know why they are there, don’t you?” Addax said, shivering. “They are waiting for the Northmen. They must be closer than we thought.”

  Cole watched the silhouettes of men move around on the shore. “That was my thought as well,” he muttered. “But it also means the gates to the castle are open from the river, or at the very least, accessible. Julian, if I can give the Scots a moment of confusion, can you and Essien run onto shore and keep those gates open for the rest of us?”

  Julian was peering at the two short, stumpy towers near the water’s edge. “Aye,” he said. “But we will have to prevent those men from reaching the castle and alerting the garrison.”

  “Do what you must. You are a de Velt and we do not fail.”

  Julian nodded firmly. “I will not be the first to do so.”

  “Good,” Cole muttered. “Gather the men close. Those on ropes need to be pulled forward so they can touch the ground. I am going to distract these Scots as much as I can, but we must all rise from the river in a group and charge them. No survivors, no witnesses. Is that understood?”

  The men nearest him nodded, passing the word back. When the men on ropes were being pulled onto the shore where they could stand, Cole turned his attention back to the Scots in the distance.

  “We move,” he said. “Julian, you and Es get to that gate. Don’t even try to fight any Scots trying to stop you. Leap over them if you have to. Just get to the gate.”

  Julian and Essien were laying low, moving closer to the shoreline, as Cole finally stood up and started walking towards the shore.

  “Bhràithrean!” he called, lifting a hand. “Tha sinn air teicheadh às na Sasannaich. An urrainn dhut mo chuideachadh?”

  Brothers, we’
ve survived the English. Can you help us?

  The Scots saw him coming out of the water, a dark silhouette against the night, and instantly moved into a defensive position, but his words were purely Gaelic. He sounded very much like a Scotsman. It was enough of a pause for Julian and Essien to gain their footing and bolt, running straight at the group of Scots. The sun was mostly set, and there were a few torches lit, so they had enough light to see by. They could see the shocked faces of the Scots, having no idea why men were charging out of the water towards them.

  “Bhràithrean, an cuidich thu sinn?” Cole said again.

  Brothers, will you please help us?

  The words, the actions, were confusing, enough to stump the Scots. Julian and Essien barreled through a group of them, seeing an open iron grate in the wall of one of the stumpy towers. As Julian rushed through it, he realized that it led to a barbican that protected a staircase all the way to the castle.

  And there was no one between them and the castle.

  “Cole!” he cried. “We’re clear!”

  That was all Cole needed to hear. Unsheathing his broadsword, it was the signal to his men to charge, and charge they did. One hundred Englishmen rushed the shore where about forty Scots were standing and they never had a chance. The problem was not letting anyone from the castle see what was going on, so they shoved them back against the walls at an angle that made it difficult to see from the castle. More importantly, they had to eliminate their ability to shout, so throats were cut from the outset.

  Bodies were falling in groups.

  Almost as quickly as it started, it was over.

  “The castle, Cole,” Addax said, his dagger dripping with blood. “We must breach the castle now.”

  Cole knew that. There were still some Scotsmen alive, but Cole gave the order to kill every last man and throw their bodies in the river. He left ten men down on the river’s edge to accomplish this and watch the river gate while he took the rest of his men and began to charge up the steep staircase towards the castle. With Julian at his side, and Addax and Essien behind them, they were prepared to do battle.

  The sons of Jax de Velt were on a rampage.

  Once inside the castle, they encountered far more resistance. A few hundred Scots were caught by surprise, but once they realized they were being infiltrated by the English, the swords and axes came out.

  The fight for Berwick Castle began in earnest.

  “What happened?”

  The question came from Christopher to a wounded soldier. There were several more wounded soldiers littering the area, most of them old men who had been stationed to the rear with the provisions and surgeon’s wagons. Several of them were badly injured and there were even a few dead.

  It was clear that something bad had happened.

  This was the scene that Christopher and Alastor and Teviot came across as they moved their armies towards the Ord Crossing – the encampment they’d left behind in shambles. Those men that were able to walk were heading in Christopher’s direction like the walking wounded.

  It was a shocking sight.

  “The Scots,” the wounded soldier said. He was being propped up by Peter, who had leapt off his warhorse to help the man stand. “The Scots came over the bridge and out of the trees and took what they could. They drove several wagons back over the bridge.”

  Alastor turned white as he started to look around. “De Bourne,” he managed to say. “Where are the de Bourne wagons.”

  “They were the first ones taken,” the wounded soldier said, looking at Alastor with great sadness. “These dead are mostly de Bourne. They drove off with the wagons and took Teviot and some Savernake wagons, too. They came so quickly, out of the trees, and started jumping on wagons and driving them off. Those closest to the bridge were the first to be hit and de Bourne was the closest.”

  Alastor thought he might vomit. Ares, next to him, suddenly charged out towards an area where several men were laying dead in the grass and began calling for his sisters. He was followed by Atlas and Anteaus, who began shouting for their sisters as well, begging for a reply.

  “My God,” Alastor breathed as Christopher grabbed him for support. “My daughters… Cori and Gaia… where are they? God help me, where are they?”

  Adam, whose own Teviot wagons were taken, sent his son to look for their men, but Christopher passed a concerned glance at Peter, who let go of the wounded soldier and jumped onto his charger. He followed Ares in the search for the de Bourne daughters, but Christopher turned to his brother, next to him.

  “Search the trees for them,” he hissed. “Hurry!”

  David thundered off with about thirty men behind him. They plunged into the woods and began searching all around the road that led to the bridge. All the while, Alastor sounded as if he were gasping.

  “Not my daughters,” he breathed, trying not to panic. “God, please. Not my daughters.”

  “We will find them,” Christopher reassured him. “The Scots would not take them simply to kill them. They make valuable hostages and hostages are not treated poorly. Remember that, Alastor. I am sure they are quite well, if not a little scared.”

  But Alastor found no comfort in that. He put a gloved hand over his face, trying very hard not to weep. He could hear his sons calling for their sisters, and the guilt and terror he felt was overwhelming.

  “She did not want to come,” he whispered tightly. “My youngest, Gaia. She did not want to come. She wanted to stay at home, but I forced her to come with her sister. Dear God, what have I done?”

  Christopher had his hand on the man’s shoulder in a supportive gesture, watching as men rushed about the scene, looking for the wounded and searching for the women.

  It was a chaotic situation, but one that couldn’t take priority. He knew that. The Scots were watching them, closely enough to use the Ord Crossing to capture some of their wagons and women along with them, which changed the dynamics of the situation.

  Now, the Scots had English hostages.

  That changed things considerably.

  Christopher waited a few minutes, watching the de Bourne brothers search in vain for their sisters. Some of his men, including his brother, were already helping the wounded, while still others were dragging the dead into an organized pile.

  He sighed faintly.

  “Your daughters are not here, Alastor,” he said quietly. “Recall your sons.”

  Alastor was leaning forward on his saddle horn as if he had no strength left. Grief threatened to overwhelm him. He nodded, but he didn’t make any effort to call to his sons, so Christopher sent men to round everyone up. He would leave a few men behind to collect the dead and attend the wounded, but The Marshal had to know what had happened. He turned to Adam, riding off to his left.

  “You are missing wagons, too, are you not?” he asked.

  Adam nodded seriously. “It seems so,” he said. “But I also saw wagons belonging to me with the group that we just passed, the one moving up to follow the rest of the army at Berwick, so I did not lose all of them. At least I did not lose my daughters…”

  He trailed off, an expression of pain across his face. He was feeling greatly for Alastor, who was weeping silently and trying not to show it. The knights began returning to the main body of the army and Christopher raised a fist to gain their attention.

  “This situation changes our objective,” he said. “Our original intention was to decimate the Scots army, but now they evidently hold the de Bourne sisters as hostages. Mayhap that was their intention all along, so it seems to me that we must reconsider our orders. I do not want to go rushing headlong into the Scots only to have them hurt the women.”

  That was a very real possibility and they were all quite aware. David reined his horse next to his brother.

  “They could use those woman to keep us at bay, Chris,” he said, hoping Alastor wouldn’t hear him. “We cannot let this entire battle be dictated by two women hostages. You know this. There is too much at stake. Hell, they
could use them to keep us off the Northmen when they come, too.”

  “I’ve considered that.”

  “Mayhap they’ll threaten to kill them if we advance against them.”

  Christopher held up a hand to quiet his brother. David had a point – they couldn’t let two women dictate their actions, as unfortunate as it was. But they also couldn’t let the women be harmed.

  He looked around to the men surrounding him – David, Peter, the three de Bourne brothers, Alastor, Adam and John de Longley. Fine men and fine knights. But his gaze mostly moved to Peter.

  An Executioner Knight.

  That gave him an idea.

  “Come,” he said. “We retreat back to our original encampment from this morning, where we first stopped and mobilized. But first, we secure this bridge with three hundred men. David, break out enough men from all three armies. Those men will remain here and hold this bridge at all costs. The rest of us – we return. Plans have changed and we must discuss the situation with The Marshal before proceeding.”

  It seemed reasonable enough. Alastor wasn’t too keen to leave that very spot, the last place his daughters were, but Christopher and Ares managed to convince him that they needed to retreat in order to plan the rescue of his daughters. Everyone was acutely aware that the hostage situation wasn’t a good one.

  They needed to figure out how to get the women out alive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Her head was killing her.

  Corisande had awoken beneath a big oak tree, the last shades of day turning the landscape dark and eerie. She had no idea where she was but the moment she started to move, Gaia stilled her. She begged her to remain silent and unmoving.

  That only confused Corisande further.