Nicholas was suddenly at his liege’s side, his face taut with concern. He reached out to steady the man, an English messenger, bearing the colors of Edward.
“You are in the presence of Kaspian St. Hèver, commander of Lavister,” Nicholas snapped. “What news do you bring?”
The messenger was close to swooning but he made a valiant effort to maintain his composure. “Hawarden Castle, my lord,” he gasped. “Dafydd ap Gruffydd attacked at dawn.”
“By the Devil’s Beard!” Nicholas cursed softly. He glanced at Kaspian, trying to read the man’s reaction. “Who is in charge of Hawarden?”
“Unless I am mistaken, it is Sir Denys le Bec,” Kaspian replied. He looked at the messenger. “What is Gruffydd’s force?”
“Five hundred perhaps, mostly untrained, but skilled knights,” the man replied. “Sir Denys sent messengers to Lavister Crag Castle, Beeston Castle, and Holt Castle asking for reinforcements. Lavister is the closest. I’ve only been a day’s ride.”
“Were they digging in for a siege when you left or was it simply a melee?”
“Gruffydd was building a siege tower and his men were digging in, my lord.”
Nicholas began shouting orders before Kaspian could react. After sending several men on the run, the blonde knight turned back to Kaspian, his manner laced with excitement. “Dafydd is a fool. Hawarden is well fortified; he’ll never take her. Why in the hell would he even try?”
Kaspian shook his head. “I do not know. I can only think that he believes the castle vulnerable because it has been going through rebuilding phases for the better part of a year and is not up to full strength.” He paused thoughtfully. “However, Hawarden is operational enough to guard the major road from Chester to Bangor and I’m sure Dafydd’s intention is to do as much harm as he can before retreating. Or….”
“Or what?”
“It could be a diversion.”
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow, following his train of thought. “To pull the English troops along the Marches into a skirmish while he takes a lesser castle, one he knows he can capture?”
“Exactly. Dafydd has a few thousand rebels at his command. We saw evidence of that at Beeston. So… where are the rest while some are harrying Hawarden?”
Nicholas shook his head. “I do not know. But I must agree with your logic, Kaspian. Do you think Dafydd would be foolish enough to attempt to take an English castle on the Marches?”
Kaspian shrugged. “It would certainly be a thorn in the king’s side if he did.” He suddenly turned on his heel, marching for the keep, but not before he grasped Madelayne by the hand and pulled her with him. “We send four hundred men to Hawarden and leave the rest here. If Dafydd is indeed eyeing a border castle, we could very well be the target. Send men to Beeston and Holt to tell them of our presumptions. Get the army moving now, Nicholas. There is no time to waste for any of this.”
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. “You will not have the army wait until morning to depart?”
Kaspian shook his head. “I will not,” he replied. “Hawarden is less than ten miles from here. If you leave now, you will be there at dawn. That will be a nasty surprise for the Welsh.”
Nicholas was on the move. It was obvious, even with his injury, that Kaspian was still very much in charge of the fortress in spite of Nicholas’ presence. It brought a sense of comfort to them all in this uncertain time. As Nicholas carried out Kaspian’s orders, bellowing to the men, Kaspian entered the keep with Madelayne trotting after him and mounted the stairs to the upper chambers. Once inside the room that he and Madelayne unofficially shared, he collected his sword from its place against the wall. Madelayne’s eyes widened when she realized what he was up to.
“What do you mean to do?” she demanded suspiciously.
“Defend Lavister, of course,” he said evenly. “I do not trust the Welsh.”
“But you cannot,” she exclaimed softly. “You are healing from a grievous wound. You cannot strain yourself so!”
“I will not strain myself at all. I will simply observe and direct. That is not strain.”
Madelayne’s surprise quickly turned to fury. “You cannot do this, Kaspian. You must listen to me!”
“I am listening to you, dearest. I hear every word you say. But are you listening to me?”
She was infuriated and frightened. “I’m listening to a stubborn creature who continues to defy both God and me by doing what he damn well pleases, and to the Devil with what the rest of us think!”
She had quickly reached a tantrum state. Kaspian suspected that he had to calm her; otherwise, she might very well throw herself down in front of him to prevent him from going about his duties. It was an odd situation, for he had never in his life had to deal with anyone opposed to his will or tasks. But in that awareness, he realized that he wanted very much to appease her.
“I swear to you that I will not strain myself in any way,” he said soothingly. “Should anything arise that requires physical exertion, I will have the others take care of it. Is that satisfactory?”
Madelayne eyed him, halfway mollified, half not. “You shouldn’t be doing this at all.”
“I know. But I would feel better if I could observe the situation first hand.” He smiled at her and reached out, gently, to touch her fingers. “Moreover, I must help Nicholas prepare the men to depart for Hawarden. It is the warrior in me, Madelayne. I cannot help it. ’Tis my duty.”
In spite of herself, she responded to his touch and soon their fingers were intertwining. He gently tugged her toward him, kissing her hand when she came within range.
“You are a child, Kaspian St. Hèver,” she scolded softly, watching his lips drift across her fingers. “A spoiled, obstinate child.”
He grinned. “I’ve been called worse.”
She tried to resist his smile but could not. “Observe and direct, that’s all?”
“Observe and direct.”
“Promise?”
“On my oath as a knight.”
There was nothing more she could say. He had the better of her and they both knew it. “Go, then,” she said. “And be mindful that you keep your promise or I’ll let you suffer the consequences without lifting a finger to help you.”
“You are a cruel woman,” he said softly.
He kissed her once, twice, deeply the third time and quit the chamber. Long after he was gone, his taste lingered on Madelayne’s lips. She licked them repeatedly.
From the chamber window nearly two hours later, Madelayne watched Nicholas and four hundred men depart for Hawarden Castle beneath a half-moon. It was a very short time to prepare a departing army but there was a sense of urgency in the air that drove the men to their duties faster. The weather was mild and the sky clear, making for decent traveling conditions even at night. Once Nicholas and the army left, however, she fell asleep after a time, awaking hours later and realizing Kaspian had not returned.
Wrapped in a heavy woolen robe, she went in search of him, thinking that she did not want him standing on the wall all night in the cold, irritating his healing scar. Surely he could not have gone further than the wall in his promise to observe and direct. But the only senior knight she saw, from her perch on the steps of the keep, was Thomas as he paced his rounds. It had never occurred to her that Kaspian had intended to ride with the army. The thought had never entered her mind because he was still so very weak. And that was what Nicholas was here for, was he not?
Her anxiety took flight. Too timid to approach the soldiers and ask where Kaspian was, she went to the last place she could think of, a small room on the first floor of the keep that the knights sometimes used to gather in, the one that used to be the guard’s room. A faint glow radiated from the small window cut into the old door. Gingerly, she opened the ancient panel.
Kaspian’s blonde head was bent over the table in the middle of the room, a table so large that they had literally built the room around it. It was strong enough to support several men sitting atop it. He was clad in his mail, l
ooking for all the world as if he were fully prepared to go to war. Hearing the door creak open, he had lifted his eyes, not surprised to see who stood in the dim light. In fact, he smiled.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?”
She stepped into the room, feeling a bit guilty, as if she should not have come. But there were no words she could find to describe the relief she felt upon seeing him.
“I… I couldn’t sleep,” she lied softly. “I’ve gotten so used to your snoring that I can’t sleep without it.”
He went to her, pulling the woolen cloak more tightly about her in the chill of the room. “A gracious fabrication, madam,” he said. “But I happen to know that I keep you awake with it. I’ve seen you fall asleep in mid-afternoon because you’ve been up most of the night.”
She tried not to look sheepish. “Not because your snoring keeps me awake,” she said. “If I have been up in the night, it has been tending you, my lord.”
He snorted. “Again, your tact is astonishing.” He gazed down at her a moment, taking in the beauty of her face, and felt himself warming inside. “You really should go back to bed. This is no place for you.”
She shrugged. “I was worried about you. The cold will aggravate your wound.” She looked around him, at the vellum on the table. “What is keeping you so occupied that you must spend the night in this Godforsaken room?”
He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the table. “A map,” he said, gesturing to the dark lines on the tanned hide. “This is the border of England and Wales. The red marks you see are the castles. Lavister is here,” he thumped the map, “and Hawarden is here.”
Madelayne could read but the map looked like a bunch of squiggles to her. “I saw Nicholas and the army leave,” she said. “What has you so worried about Hawarden, Kaspian?”
He shrugged, his blue eyes riveted to the map. “I’m trying to see if there is any pattern to Dafydd’s attacks,” he said. “He may be planning something I’m just not seeing. Having been ill for these past weeks, I’m afraid my mind hasn’t been as sharp as it usually is.”
“Do you see a pattern?”
“Not yet. But he’s up to something; I can feel it.”
Her eyes moved from the map to his face, studying his strong profile in the light of the taper. It was quiet and peaceful, and she realized as she gazed at him that the only reason she had come to find him was because she couldn’t stand to be away from him, not even for a couple of hours. He was coming to fill her whole world like some great flowing energy, filling the holes that used to exist, creating a complete person with his aura. He caught her staring at him and he smiled.
“What is it?” he asked softly.
Her cheeks flushed. How could she say what she was feeling without sounding like a silly woman? Shaking her head, she looked away. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I should return and leave you to your work.”
He grasped her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. “I asked you a question, madam. Why were you gazing at me so?”
She tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. He put his arms around her, trapping her, when she pulled harder. “Why?” he asked again.
She tried to avoid his eyes but they inevitably met. He was smiling at her and softly, in resignation, she laughed. “Because I wanted to,” she said with feigned irritation. “Is that so difficult to understand?”
“No,” he said. “Provided you let me stare at you as well without thinking me a fool.”
“I would never think that.”
They stared at each other a moment longer, laughing awkwardly when there was nothing more to be said. Kaspian thought that he would take the opportunity to kiss her again but the door to the room suddenly burst open and Thomas loomed in the archway.
“My lord,” he said, the tension in his voice evident. “Our patrols have captured a spy. You had better come.”
Kaspian was on the move, Madelayne in hand. Without a word, he quickly escorted her to the steps of the keep, leaving her standing to watch him walk away. He and Thomas disappeared into the gatehouse and instead of letting them go about their business alone, Madelayne decided to following. She was wildly curious about what was transpiring, for spies were intrigue and mystery that piqued the imagination. She knew very well she should retreat to her chamber, but she somehow felt the need to know of the danger Kaspian, and Lavister, was facing. As if the spy would somehow cause Kaspian to jump into action and she must be there to stop him.
The gatehouse of Lavister Crag, as massive as it was, also contained the vault. There were two sublevels, one beneath the other, and Madelayne could hear voices as she entered. She knew they were down below her in the innards of the structure and, silently, she slipped down the spiral stairs, staying well out of sight. It was dank and musty, and more than once she struggled to keep from sneezing. Slipping into an alcove on the stairwell that was meant to store weapons, she felt like a spy herself as she listened to the voices below.
The light from two torches filled the room, causing shadows to dance on the wall. Thomas and Kaspian were muttering between them in tones she could not discern, hisses resonating off the walls. Kaspian’s voice sounded like echoes of thunder.
“You might as well tell us what we wish to know,” Thomas could finally be understood. “Your life is forfeit if you do not. Speak and we may spare you.”
The alleged spy was small and thin, and had been caught by a patrol lingering at the base of the hill that led to Lavister. His black eyes glared up at his captors, unafraid.
“I do not know anything. I am a farmer.”
“Farmers do not carry weapons.”
“I told those idiots who captured me that I was hunting. I’m not a warrior.”
“A farmer who hunts at night with a Welsh crossbow?” Thomas shook his head. “You cannot honestly expect us to believe that.”
“Believe what you will. That’s the truth.”
“Somehow I doubt that. Let me see your left hand.”
The man’s calm facade wavered. “Why?”
Thomas gestured to a pair of soldiers standing beside the prisoner, who immediately wrestled the man’s bound hands into view. Thomas inspected the middle finger on the left hand, running an experienced eye over the area.
“Your finger is bent at the topmost joint and heavily calloused as well. This is the hand of an archer.” His stare was hard on the man. “How does a farmer explain that?”
The man didn’t say anything for quite some time. Kaspian, observing, never intervened in an interrogation unless nothing else could be done to obtain the information sought. Thomas was usually quite brilliant at such things and Kaspian simply sat back, as most good commanders do, and observed while his second in command waged the confrontation.
“So you are planning to do away with me, then,” the man finally muttered. “The longer I do not tell you what you want to know, the longer I’ll live.”
“Untrue,” Thomas countered. “If you do not speak, we will simply do away with you and be no worse off than we were before. You may want to consider that.”
Uncertainty flickered in the prisoner’s eyes. “Then, in truth, I will tell you that I am only an observer. I know nothing of any value. I cannot help you.”
“What battles have you seen with Dafydd?”
The man sighed in resignation; there was no use in going through the ruse of denial any longer. He wasn’t particularly strong and thought perhaps his cooperation would save his life. The words came quickly. “Many,” he said. “Most recently, Hawarden.”
“So it was Dafydd,” Thomas confirmed, casting a long look at Kaspian, who was back in the shadows. “We had heard as much. You realize that we have an army heading to Hawarden as we speak.”
“I know.”
“I suspect that is why you are here, is it not? To report back to Dafydd on the movement from Lavister?”
The man hesitated a brief moment before answering. “Aye,” he said. “But it will not matter what you
do or how many men you send. Hawarden will fall.”
“You are confident.”
The man’s dark eyes glittered. “I know Dafydd,” he said. “The siege of Hawarden has been going on for days. From the beginning Dafydd was determined to slaughter. I saw him personally swing a flail at an English knight and hit him in the head. Knocked him clean off his mount. I… I heard the knight pray, softly, because he was so badly injured. But Dafydd had no mercy. He killed him.”
An ominous sense of disgust arose in Kaspian as the man continued. “The knight lay in the mud and called for his wife and unborn child. He didn’t weep, mind you, but more a prayer for their safety. He asked God to watch over his family. But Dafydd stood over him with a look of death in his eye. He was determined to have the first kill of the battle and he did. He bashed the knight’s brains to mush. He had to set an example to the rest of us.”
Thomas looked at Kaspian and they both thought the same thing: Cairn. It was the same thing that had happened to Cairn, that brutal savagery of the Welsh towards the English that was meant to send a message to all of England. And send a message, it had. They were all prepared for the worst.
“Dafydd means to destroy everything his brother has worked so hard to secure,” Thomas said after a moment. “Doesn’t he realize he is only going to destroy himself and Wales in the process? Edward will never relent and we have far more men and resources than you do.”
The man shrugged his shoulders wearily. “We must try. If it were Dafydd invading England, would you not try to stop him?”
Kaspian’s voice came from the shadows. “We are warriors, not politicians. We fight where and when we are told and our opinions have little bearing.” He stepped closer, into the light, his focus on the spy. “Dafydd cannot possibly imagine that he will take Hawarden.”
“It was quite a battle the last I saw. He will try.”
Kaspian gazed at the man a moment, his blue eyes hard. “He would have to be insane to try, which leads me to believe that Hawarden is not his true objective.”
The man lowered his eyes. “I cannot read his mind. I would not know.”