Wildewood Revenge (27 page)

“Of course, Mademoiselle...and I
am
the King of England.”

Chapter Twenty Nine

It was well after dark when Miles and Grace crossed the park and finally reached the safety of
Wildewood
. Their return shocked the household, and brought home to them all the seriousness of the situation they faced.

Edmund had watched for them all afternoon from his position on the wall. John had attempted to replace him but he would not give up his post. He strained his eyes in the growing dusk not certain of their approach until they were almost upon him. He yelled to John to open the gate.

Grace had not the energy to withstand any of the filly’s recent antics. Miles anticipated trouble from the youngster and attached a lead rope to her bridle; as a result the journey was surprisingly uneventful. The horses, like their riders were dispirited and craved the security of their stable. Grace was in a state of shock. Her eyes glassy and her cheek swollen and not even the welcoming torchlight atop the main gate or Edmund’s excited shouting could shake her torpor. They passed through the entrance and the gate was quickly and securely bolted by John. Tom looked on in horror at the state of them.

Nodding his gratitude to the men, Miles pushed the horses the last few yards to the stables. He could barely dismount, his muscles seizing up, his body wracked with pain. His face was a mass of bruises and wounds, one eye completely closed. He dismounted slowly and Edmund ran to take the reins.

“My lord, you are injured,” the boy cried, as he attempted to shoulder Miles’ weight.

Tom rushed to help, grabbing Miles’ arm as he staggered back,
sharing the burden with Edmund. “What has happened?”

“Does our lady require assistance?” added John as he took hold of the filly’s reins.

Miles waved away the many questions. The men were naturally concerned but there would be time for that later. They both needed to rest. He shook off his attendants and helped Grace from the pony.

“Edmund, see that the horses are well looked after tonight - they are hungry and tired.” He smiled crookedly at the boy. Edmund’s concern was plain to see.

Gerard would not come tonight. All the same he bade John and Tom to mount a watch. “Place some fires a short distance from the gate,” he suggested, “that way you’ll be able to see if any unwelcome guests come a calling.”

“Do you expect them?” asked John gravely.

“No, but we must always prepare for the worst.”

“And hope for the best?” added John.

Martha rushed from the kitchen wringing her hands in dismay. “Lord above us, what has happened?” she fussed around Grace. “Poor child, she is struck dumb with shock.” She
bustled
her out of Miles’ reach and he had not the energy to prevent it.

“Your face, my lord; who has done this?” she cried. They all looked awkwardly at the mess of Miles’ face. No one made comment on the unusual strapping.

“See that Grace is made comfortable, Martha,” said Miles, wearily. Martha nodded and placing an arm around her shoulders she shepherded her indoors.

“You are injured, my lord, do you need anything?” asked John, quietly when the women had left them alone in the yard.

Miles grimaced. “I expect I’ll be pissing blood for a week, but other than that I’m fine, John. In fact better than that, I am focused, and tomorrow we will all be focused. For now though Grace and I both need to rest. I know I can rely on you to watch our backs while we do so.” He reached out and patted the giant’s arm, then turned and entered the house.

Martha boiled water, her remedy for all ills. She ran both of them a bath and they soaked in the scented warmth together, in the privacy of Grace’s room. Neither of them spoke, there was no need. As the warmth seeped into their bones; Miles in particular felt the benefit in his protesting muscles. He gently washed her hair and she used a soft cloth to clean the blood from his face. Food was provided, but neither Miles nor Grace could stomach it. No one asked the whereabouts of Belle. Later, when the household was finally quiet, Grace lay in Miles’ arms and he held her gently, warm and safe. She wept silently against his bare chest and the feel of her tears against his skin scared him. He had almost lost her. He could never let that happen again.

*  *  *

Throughout the following afternoon the valley folk began to arrive at
Wildewood
. First came the brothers, Sam and Joseph, lanky young men straight off the land with calloused palms and heavy picks. They were not alike in looks but their relationship was unmistakable in the way they walked and in the humble way in which they offered their services. They had heard from Berryman, the Lord of
Wildewood
needed help and they had come.

From the deep woods came the Foresters, a father Jack and his son
Robert, rugged well-built men, they carried mighty axes and possessed the strength to wield them fearlessly. With them came Jack’s wife Peg a daughter May and a cartload of poultry: chickens, geese and capons. Raised in the woods, they were fat and content and were released into the walled garden where they would be safe from foxes. Peg and May joined Martha in the kitchen, where they set about cooking for the growing household.

The Scots arrived next: six young men led by an elder dressed in the weave of his clan. They had come as Alex Stewart’s representatives to join the defence of
Wildewood
. They did not socialise immediately but nodded curtly to John, who manned the gate, and settled themselves outside the stables where their shaggy horses were tethered and fed by Edmund. Like their horses, they were fearsome looking, wild and otherworldly.

Late afternoon brought four families, all of them farmed within the bounds of
Wildewood
but closely bordering the vast holdings of
Ahlborett
. They feared Gerard’s retribution and came for the safety of
Wildewood’s
stone retaining walls and brought what little produce they had left after such a hard winter. Foodstuffs went straight to the kitchen where Martha now presided over a growing band of helpers. The livestock which included four pigs and a pair of goats went into the walled garden and the children, who now numbered eight, were set the task of tending them. The nanny goat was an instant hit, the billy goat less so as he had a tendency to butt and had a dreadful odour.

Each man carried a weapon of sorts, be it a knife a pitchfork or hammer. All carried a bow and a quiver of arrows, and all were expert in its use. Their survival depended upon them being able to hunt and kill, be it rabbit or Gerard’s deer.

By evening
Wildewood
had twenty additional men capable of maintaining a defence and after they had all been fed, the Scots, minus their elder, Angus Baird, melted into the forest to keep watch. John told the children a story around the fire in the great hall and when they were sufficiently sated they were put to sleep on clean straw by their mothers. The men gathered at the table with Miles to discuss the plan. Grace sat at his side. Miles still carried the evidence on his face of his encounter with Guy, but both he and Grace were rested, focused and heartened by the support shown by the folk who had given themselves to defend
Wildewood
. If Gerard thought he would find them dispirited and beaten underdogs, then he was mistaken.

The men listened in silence as Miles described the previous day’s events and one or two did glance warily at Grace when mention was made of Gerard’s plan to have the Bishop of Durham condemn her as a witch. However, Miles’ unquestioning loyalty to her, seconded by John, was enough to convince them she was no more a witch than they were. Those that may have harboured doubts reasoned it was far better to have her power on their side if that was indeed the case.

They had to assume, explained Miles, that the bishop’s aide,
Philibutt
of Mayflower, had a day’s head start on his journey to Durham. At the rate his tiny pony travelled, though, Miles estimated he would have got no further than Hexham.

“He must not get to Durham,” said Miles.

“Consider it done,” replied the Scotsman and he rose to leave the table.

“He must not be killed,” added Miles. “Detain him and bring him here, we need his evidence to condemn Gerard and Guy.” He found it difficult to say Guy’s name. He regretted not running him through when
he had the chance. His regret festered and threatened to intrude on his strategy. He reluctantly pushed thoughts of Guy to one side. Revenge was all the better for waiting.

“Who will believe such a man when placed against such a great nobleman?” asked Jack Forester. “If he is as easily corrupted as you say, then he will not stand as a good witness.”

Jack was right, they needed more than the odious Mayflower, but he was all they could hope to have for the moment.

“We could petition the king,” suggested Grace and was met by stunned silence. Miles smiled patiently at her. She obviously did not understand how things worked.

“Why not?
Is the king not involved in all of this in a roundabout way? Gerard has been making accusations against him. Wouldn’t he be grateful for the chance to finally put him in his place?” she pressed on. “The king gave you
Wildewood
. He took it from Gerard and gave it to you. He must hold you in some regard. Surely any judgement made by him would have to be upheld by Gerard.”

Miles conceded she was correct, but things were never that simple.

“The king is in London. By the time we got word to the royal court, Gerard would have an army encamped around our walls and a stake positioned at the gate.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. Grace was putting on a brave face, but he knew her experience with Guy affected her more than she was prepared to admit. She’d cried herself to sleep the previous night and in her dreams she relived her fear. He’d held her as she’d whimpered and fought the nightmare. He watched her visibly pale at his mention of the stake. Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it reassuringly.

“John, how quickly do you think a man could get to London on a swift horse?”

“Not quickly enough, my lord, for he would also need to get back with the king’s reply and I doubt Gerard would find it difficult to stop him.”

“
Yer
do not need to go to London.”

All heads turned to seek out the owner of the voice, who lurked in the shadows beyond the reach of the candlelight.

“Who goes there?” called Miles. “Come forward into the light and show yourself.”

Belle stepped forward nervously and there was a collective murmur. Miles silenced them with a raised hand.

“What have you to say for yourself, Belle?” asked Miles quietly, so quietly she was forced closer to hear him.

The others held their tongue. They too were interested in what the girl had to say. Miles had chosen not to deal with her since their return. He’d left her to her grandmother, accepting Martha would exact an appropriate justice. He did not quite trust himself. She’d endangered Grace and he could not forget that, no matter her youth or whatever excuse she may offer.

Grace watched as the girl stood fearfully before Miles. It had taken courage for her to present herself at such a gathering. The animosity directed toward her was palpable.

“Come closer, Belle,” she requested kindly. “You’re quite safe, no one will harm you, and we just need to hear what you have to say.”

Miles glanced at Grace, she may have the capacity to forgive; he doubted he shared it.

“
Yer
don’t need to go to London to petition the king, he’s coming
here - to
Alnwick
.”

“How do you know this?” suddenly Miles was hopeful,
Alnwick
was a mere twenty five miles away.

“The men who escorted the bishop’s aide, I overheard them talking. They said King Edward was coming to
Alnwick
and Gerard was beginning to unravel. I didn’t know what they meant.” She glanced at Grace who smiled encouragingly.

“When did they say he was arriving?” asked Miles.

“When they were in the kitchen,
yer
asked grandmother to feed them and I served them their food.”

Miles shook his head. “No that’s not what I mean, Belle. Now think, when did the men say the king would arrive at
Alnwick
?”

Belle frowned as if trying to remember, her answer could prove vitally important.

“I don’t think they mentioned what day he would arrive but they did say he would attend Sunday High Mass. I remember, because they said Sir Gerard would be expected to attend at
Alnwick
, rather than take mass at
Ahlborett
, and he was fearful it may be a trap. They were to join Sir Gerard’s escort just in case.”

Sunday, was four days away, they had to hold Gerard off till then, but that was not so bad. He no longer had Guy and his henchmen at his disposal and four days would give them time to pull all of the pieces of their plan together.