The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 117
When Anthony entered Bradford’s cluttered solar that stank of mildew and stale wine, the first thing he saw was his lord sitting at his table with his head in his hands.
Concern swept him.
“My lord?” he said as he approached the table that was strewn with maps and writing implements. “My lord, is something wrong?”
Bradford looked like a man consumed with misery. His response to Anthony’s question was to pick up a missive next to his right elbow, a roll of brittle yellow vellum. His intent was to hand it to Anthony so the man could read it for himself, but he swiftly changed his mind and opened it back up again, staring at the carefully scribed letters. In the light of a dozen candles, burning heavy and sooty into the warm air of the solar, Bradford focused miserably on the words.
“I received this a short while ago,” he said. “A messenger came from Rockingham Castle.”
Anthony was looking at the man in concern. “The gate sentries told me,” he said. “That is why I have come. They said you opened the missive in the bailey and immediately went into distress. Who at Rockingham Castle is sending you distressing messages?”
Bradford sighed heavily. “Sloan de la Roarke.”
Anthony’s features tightened; he knew the man. He also knew that he was a snake, his loyalties paid for and his ambitions expensive. The last time he’d seen Sloan had been right before Teodora had been betrothed to Preston de Lacy, and he’d been rather pleased not to have seen the man since.
Anthony didn’t like him.
“Do I want to know what de la Roarke has to say?” he asked warily.
Bradford was still looking at the message. “Teddy is in trouble,” he said quietly. “What trouble, he would not say, but she is a prisoner of Barric Fitz Hammond at Rockingham Castle, which is where Sloan is. He begs me to come and bring her back to Cerenbeau before something terrible befalls her.”
Anthony went from suspicious of anything Sloan had to say to wildly worried for Teodora.
“Fitz Hammond?” he repeated, aghast. “He is one of the king’s favorites, isn’t he?”
Bradford finally stopped looking at the missive and set it down. “Aye,” he said. “A favorite. A bastard. A man who does the king’s bidding, no matter what it is, and his devotion has paid off handsomely. But why is my daughter his prisoner? This missive tells me nothing more. God’s Bones, my poor Teddy.”
Anthony was nearly more upset than Bradford was. “Then that explains why we have not heard from her,” he said. “Your lady wife has sent her messages, but nothing has come back. And what of Lady de la Chambre? Does he mention her?”
Bradford shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “He makes no mention of Regal. I have no idea what I am going to tell my wife about her daughter and mother, but I do know one thing – Sloan has asked me to come to Rockingham Castle, and come I shall. With my whole damn army, I shall come. I want to know why that Fitz Hammond bastard has arrested my child.”
“But what about her husband?” Anthony demanded. “Where is Lord Barklestone in all of this?”
That question only seemed to agitate Bradford. He stood up quickly, smacking his hand on an empty cup on the table that went flying off into the dimness of the chamber.
“That son of a whore,” he snarled. “I should have never permitted his marriage to my daughter. I should have never agreed with Sloan when he suggested the betrothal to Ridley, but when Ridley died, Sloan was convinced that a marriage to Preston was even better. Nay! I should not have listened to him!”
Anthony was staring at him in shock. “De la Roarke arranged Teddy’s betrothal?”
Bradford came to a halt, realizing he’d not shared that bit of information with Anthony. It hadn’t been the man’s business and, in truth, Bradford hadn’t wanted him to know. It was his dirty little secret. But now, Bradford was certain that Anthony could see that Teodora’s betrothal was far more than a politically savvy marriage with Sloan involved. The man only busied himself on the highest levels of political intrigue.
The secret was out.
“He did,” Bradford said, full of regret. “It was Sloan who had suggested Ridley, to gain access to the House of de Lacy and all of their political dealings. I thought… I thought that Teddy could stay out of the way and listen to what was going on. Just listen, mind you. I never wanted her to actively participate, but simply listen. A wife can learn a great deal of the house she has married into simply by listening.”
But Anthony suddenly wasn’t so sympathetic to Bradford. An expression of suspicion, and then realization, crossed his features. Now, it was all starting to make sense. Ridley, Preston, and the marriage in general.
“You mean spy,” he said plainly. “You sent her there to spy.”
“I did not…”
“You did,” Anthony said, firmly enough to cut off Bradford. “I always wondered why you pledged your only child to a bastard like Ridley de Lacy, but now I know. It was because Sloan de la Roarke wanted a spy in the de Lacy household. A spy for King John.”
Bradford felt as if he’d been cornered, and called out, for the worst decision of his life. It would have remained his secret had his rage and shock not caused him to slip, in front of Anthony no less. Anthony had always had a soft spot for Teodora. There was nothing Bradford could do now but face what he had done.
“De Lacy is a powerful man and he is part of the rebelling barons,” Bradford said. “Sloan thought… he hoped… that Teddy could bring us information on the rebellion.”
Anthony’s eyes narrowed. “And, wanting to impress your king, you agreed,” he hissed. “You sold your only child into a life of treachery simply so you could impress John. Isn’t that it?”
Bradford averted his gaze; he found that he could no longer look at Anthony. “You do not understand,” he said. “You do not have lands or titles. You do not know what is like to have that kind of responsibility. Of course I want to impress the king. He has never looked upon me as anything of consequence. I would be lying if I said my move to marry Teddy into the House of de Lacy was not motivated to bring me the royal attention I deserve. I… I suppose I lied to myself when I was convinced that as long as she remained quiet and obedient, and simply listened to what was going on around her, that it would not place her in any danger.”
Anthony was so disgusted that he could barely speak to the man. “Clearly, you were wrong,” he said. “She is in danger. She is the prisoner of Barric Fitz Hammond and her husband is nowhere to be found. Did you not stop to think that Preston assumed Ridley’s betrothal to do the same thing to you that you were trying to do to him? To interrogate his new wife for information on John?”
“It did cross my mind.”
“And you still let her marry him?”
Bradford was already feeling as low as he possibly could, and the hammer Anthony was using to beat him about the head wasn’t helping things. He knew he’d been wrong; he supposed he knew it from the very beginning. The lack of communication from his daughter all of these months had lulled him into a false sense of security, thinking that all was well with her and her new husband. No news was good news, in his mind. He was simply letting the newlywed couple alone in their new marriage, without his interference, before reaching out fingers of solicitation to play the doting father.
And now this.
Clearly, all of that silence from his child meant that something had gone terribly wrong.
Now, he would have to pay the price.
“I cannot change what has happened, Anthony,” he muttered. “Think what you will. What matters now is what I will do. Muster the army. We ride for Rockingham in three days.”
Anthony was so angry, so disgusted, that he was trembling, but the order given by his liege was the one he wanted to hear. At least Bradford was prepared to fight for his child.
He only hoped it wasn’t too late.
“Aye, my lord,” he said through gritted teeth. “A full contingent?”
“A full contingent,” Bradford replied. “And, Anthony – we ride to battle. Bring everything we have. I must fix what I have so badly damaged.”
Anthony thought there may be hope yet for Bradford. Perhaps the man made a grave mistake, but it was clear he intended to try and fix it. Perhaps, there was some hope in that, but Anthony was still furious.
He would be for a very long time.
“Aye, my lord.”
With that, Anthony departed the solar, heading out into the cold January night to begin gathering the substantial Cerenbeau army. When the army had departed the castle in times past, Bradford had always left enough men to help with the cattle raids and chase off the Dorketts, or anyone else who harassed the beeves, but not this time. This time, he was bringing every last man.
He was going prepared to Rockingham.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Early February
Blackthorn Forest
“I have excellent news.”
Cullen had a grin on his face as he spoke. It was sunset on a cold and blustery day, and Cullen and Jerald, along with several other young and hungry outlaws had spent the day in the town of Wellingborough, far to the south of Blackthorn Forest, to scout out the area for potential raids. But what had the men returning in a hurry was the news they’d heard whilst on their quest. It was something that had Cullen quite excited. As one of the young men led Phaethon away to be watered and fed, trying to stay away from the horse’s gnashing teeth, Cullen made his way over to Owen.
“What is it?” Owen demanded, yanking Cullen over to a small fire that was right outside his hut. He was huddled around it with a few other men as Delaine shuffled around inside the hut, preparing a supper of rabbit stew. “Come and sit, Monty. What is so excellent that you are grinning like a fool?”
Cullen tossed off his hood, reaching out to accept a cup of hot wine that someone handed to him. He took a healthy sip of it, feeling it warm his throat. It was cold this season, so much so that he’d grown a beard, something that covered his handsome face but couldn’t conceal the determined gleam in his eyes. With his dark tunic and hooded appearance, as that was how he traveled these days, he looked every inch the outlaw of legend.
He thought like one, too. As he sat down, heavily, Jerald sat down beside him and took his own cup of hot wine. The two of them were now close comrades and friends, working together, commanding a small outlaw force that had, thus far, outsmarted and outfought a much larger army.
It was something to be proud of.
“We have been scouting the towns south of Kettering for more potential targets,” Cullen said. “We were in Wellingborough, in a tavern called The White Hart, and we heard men speaking of their liege, a great supporter of John who was traveling to Rockingham.”
Owen was listening, expecting some great revelation, but what Cullen said didn’t sound too important. “And?” he said, as if expecting more. “What does that mean to us? If it is a great supporter of John, then it means he will be bringing an army with him. John’s supporters do not travel lightly.”
Cullen was taking another drink of his wine, shaking his head as he swallowed what was in his mouth. “Normally, that is true,” he said, smacking his lips. “The men who were speaking of this spoke in a normal tone for a time before dropping to a whisper. They were near the kitchen where the tavernkeeper was, so when they left, I casually went to the tavernkeeper and engaged him in conversation. I pretended I was a traveler, unfamiliar with the area, and we got on the subject of the great fortresses in the area. I wanted to know if the rumor of this lord traveling to Rockingham was common knowledge. As it so happens, it wasn’t. I had to pay the man a good deal of coinage, but it was worth it.”
“Why do you say that?”
Jerald spoke up before Cullen could answer. “Because the tavernkeeper had been listening in on the conversation,” he said. “He told us what we wanted to know, but not before we paid him handsomely. He had heard that the great supporter of the king, traveling to Rockingham, is traveling without a massive escort. Evidently, the man is bringing much coinage with him for the king’s coffers and does not wish to attract attention to himself with a huge army.”
The light of understanding went on in Owen’s eyes. “And he is taking it straight to Fitz Hammond, a man who would be in need of such money with outlaws raiding his territory and stealing from his vassals.”
Both Jerald and Cullen nodded. “Precisely,” Cullen said. “He needs the money to pay for more men.”
Owen was rather amused by it all. “I see,” he said. “Did they say who this lord is?”
Cullen nodded. “Lord Clevedon,” he said. “The man is from Devon. I have heard the name, though I do not know him.”
“And when is this supposed to happen?”
“Anytime now,” Cullen said. “The lord could easily choose to take another route to Rockingham, but if he is trying not to attract attention to himself, he’ll take the eastern road through Geddington.”
“And we could be waiting for him there.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Cullen said. “We shall cover that road daily, from Geddington to Corby, and we can set up a perfect crossfire in the trees where the road narrows, down by Weekley.”
Owen lifted his eyebrows as he saw the plan take shape. “You will be surrounded by a marsh to the north and the east, and impenetrable bramble to the west. They will have nowhere to go if they scatter.”
“That is my sense, as well.”
Owen thought it was all quite clever. But he was also considering all of the information, wondering if it sounded too convenient. Cullen wasn’t foolish by any means, but he was rabid when it came to damaging Rockingham. There was a lust for vengeance there not normally seen, and he would take any and all opportunities to inflict damage. That kind of vengeance could be reckless but, then again, Cullen hadn’t led them astray yet and they had more food, clothing, and money in the outlaw village than they knew what to do with.
Owen would, therefore, go with the big knight’s instincts.
As Owen mulled over the coming ambush, Cullen finished his wine. He could tell by the expression on Owen’s face that the man was pondering the information a bit more deeply than he let on and Cullen knew why. He knew that Owen had been questioning his motives behind the increase in outlaw activity, but never the results because they had been excellent.
They’d created much havoc for Barric Fitz Hammond.
Their tactics against Rockingham, in fact, had been complex and violent. They would hit small villages, just enough to create havoc without really creating any destruction, but they would steal things. Food mostly, but weapons and money and other items of value could be taken. Mostly, the raids were designed to draw out the Rockingham army to confuse them, to spread them out, and every time, the Rockingham army had taken the bait.
Death was involved. Cullen had lost a few men, but Rockingham had lost more. They formed ranks and were organized, while Cullen fought in the shadows like an animal. Ambushes were the order of the day and the outlaws had been true with the aim of their crossbows, although there was one tall, slender Rockingham knight in particular who always seemed to pop up where least expected, staying out of the main body of fighting and unleashing arrows from a nasty-looking crossbow.
Cullen had seen that long-legged, slender knight, thinking he reminded him of someone he knew, once, but unable to single out who, exactly, he reminded him of. All he knew was that the knight had dead-eye aim and had cost Cullen a few men. But Cullen never really got a good look at the Rockingham crossbow archer because the outlaws were always fleeing by the time the Rockingham army was engaging. They were running as Rockingham was just getting started.
Their tactics were to hit hard and run fast, but the rewards were great.
Rewards they were enjoying now, with better food and clothing as the winter settled in. As Cullen set aside the empty cup and accepted a wooden bowl of rabbit stew from Delaine, more of Owen’s men came running up, emerging from the darkened trees to the west. Cullen was slurping down the stew, but Owen looked over to see Dessa approaching with a group of younger people who had been watching the road leading in to Rockingham.
Watching the main road to Rockingham was their responsibility whilst Cullen and Jerald created bedlam in the villages. Cullen would not take Dessa into battle with him, no matter how much she begged, or how much Delaine pleaded on behalf of her sister, so the young woman was relegated to watching the roads.
But she was good at it, as she had a sharp eye, and she had been able to deliver some valuable information at times. But Cullen wasn’t paying much attention to her as she approached; he was focused on his food.
“We have news, Owen,” Dessa said to her brother-in-law, her eyes flicking to Cullen to see if the man was listening to her. “A massive army has been sighted, coming east from the road to Marketborough.”
News of an army instantly had Cullen’s attention. “How is that possible?” he demanded before Owen could speak. “I was in Wellingborough earlier and there was no talk of an army today.”
Dessa looked at him; the brave, strong knight with the big dimples that she secretly pined after. But the man had never taken any notice of her. The harder she tried, the more he ignored her. It had gotten so bad that her friends had taken to teasing her about it, much to her embarrassment.
Therefore, when dealing with Cullen these days, she was short-tempered with him, hurt that he didn’t see her the way she saw him…
A love interest.
“Wellingborough is to the southeast,” she pointed out. “This army has come directly from the west, meaning they must have come up through Northampton and bypassed Wellingborough altogether. That is the major road north from London.”
Cullen swallowed the food in his mouth, a glint of unease in his eye. “How do you know they have come from London? What banners are they flying?”
“The crimson background and three golden lions.”
Owen bolted to his feet. “The king,” he hissed. “That is the royal standard. And they are heading to Rockingham, you say?”
