A Tapestry of Dreams (43 page)

The Scots tried once more, this time just before the sky began to lighten with dawn, near the gate of the keep, after the usual preliminary of running and banging weapons or pots and shouting. The noise, so often repeated, did not alarm the guards in particular, but it did cover the sounds of the men scrambling down and then up the dry moat and setting the ladders.

This time, however, Hugh’s men threw down torches, which he had ordered to be made ready, at regular places all around the walls to make the attackers visible. The men also called out “All safe” along the wall so it was soon clear that there was only one point under attack. And it was easier to drive them off this time, although there were more men and more ladders. Crossbowmen picked climbers off the nearest ladders by shooting through arrow slits and down from the tower roof; dark and moonless though it was, they could make out the moving shadows well enough to aim, and any hit was good enough since it usually toppled the man from his perch.

Still, one of Odard’s troop was killed and two more were wounded badly enough to put them out of action, and four yeomen were hurt, although two said they could still fight. Only two servants were killed—one because he was a coward and backed so far from the fighting he fell off the walkway. Hugh sighed, wishing the numbers had been reversed. The yeomen might not be skilled warriors, but at least they knew what to do with a weapon and were unlikely to run away. Then he shrugged. It scarcely mattered. They might stand off one more attack, or even two, but not more than two, he feared. It was not only a matter of numbers. The men-at-arms, who bore the brunt of the fighting and had to run to whichever place was assaulted, were tiring; he was tiring himself. If the Scots continued these small assaults spaced around the keep, there would come a time when his fighting men simply could not get there soon enough.

Again Hugh started to wonder whether he should surrender—and realized that no one had called on him to give up the keep. He frowned over that, but had not found an answer when suddenly his shoulder was being shaken and Odard was respectfully offering him bread, cheese, and a pot of ale. Hugh blinked stupidly, first at the man, then at the food, and finally, having realized he had fallen asleep, pushed both away with an oath and leapt to his feet to look out over the wall—and blinked even more stupidly. The Scots were gone!

“I was about to tell you, my lord,” Odard said. “No one knows when they left. They must have stoked up the fires and slipped away.”

Hugh shook his head at the man but said nothing. He walked thoughtfully to the edge of the walkway, lifted his tunic, loosened his chausses, and relieved his bladder. Watching the stream break into sparkling droplets as it fell to the bailey, he considered his next step. What he wanted to do was get Audris and Eric out of Heugh. It was too far back to Ruthsson, and however little chance there was of an attack, that small chance was too dangerous for his wife and son as far as Hugh was concerned. Ruthsson was even less defensible than Heugh. Jernaeve was where Audris and Eric must go. It was nearer than Ruthsson—less than five leagues, Hugh thought—and it was the strongest place he knew. Once inside old Iron Fist, Audris and Eric would be safe—at least, safer than anywhere else.

It was easy to decide that his wife and child would be best off in Jernaeve, Hugh thought as he reordered his clothing and armor. There were a few problems—like whether Sir Oliver would welcome them. Hugh picked up his bread and cheese, rested his ale pot on the wall, and stared out at the countryside. No, Oliver’s welcome was the last and least of the problems. Jernaeve was Audris’s, when all was said and done; Oliver might not be pleased, but he had to take her in—and Hugh did not intend to enter Jernaeve. Whatever Audris said, he could not rid himself of the image of the unicorn about to break open the keep. Besides, his place was with Sir Walter. Unconsciously Hugh’s hand stroked his scabbard and fondled his sword hilt. If Audris and Eric were safe inside Jernaeve, he would be free to enjoy that duty.

The real problem would be getting them to Jernaeve. Did he dare take them out of the keep? Were the Scots gone, or was this just another trick? And what of the land between here and Jernaeve? Would there be parties of Scots roaming about? Would it be better to strip Heugh of every fighting man to make the strongest possible escort for Audris, or would it be best to go with only a few to slip quietly and secretly through the woods? And what if at the end of the road they found Jernaeve was besieged?

One answer came just as Hugh lifted the cheese to his mouth, but it was an answer that only raised more questions. A flicker of color at the edge of the trees drew his eyes, and close attention made out a man moving in a regular pattern just inside the screen of brush. Was he a careless guard who had exposed himself and given away the secret that his Scot companions were hiding in the wood… or was his exposure deliberate, to convince Hugh’s men that an army lay in wait for them to open their gates when actually their forces had stolen away?

Later, when the noon sun was cooking him inside his armor as he paced the walls, partly to keep himself awake and partly to keep his men alert, he saw a column of smoke rising like a pillar in the still air not more than half a mile away. A man cried out in anguish, but Hugh did not turn or ask why. Doubtless it was his house and barns that were burning.

At a greater distance a larger pall of smoke rose. That must be a village, Hugh thought bitterly. He was sure the Scots were gone from the woods and were out looting, but there was nothing he could do. He had not enough men to try to drive them off, and he still did not dare take Audris and Eric outside the walls, because there was no way for him to discover how many troops were wreaking havoc in the countryside or how large the troops were.

Aside from the spreading signs of destruction, the land was empty and silent, the trampled fields around the keep shimmering in the heat. Hugh slept most of the afternoon, preparing for a renewal of the night attacks. He woke periodically, drenched in sweat, to drink warm ale, but toward evening a strong breeze tore apart whatever wisps of smoke still marked what had been men’s livelihood and mixed them with black thunderheads. Before the storm broke, one of the huntsmen that Hugh had sent out slipped out of the woods and was let in. He had been to Belsay, and it was taken and burnt. He could not say what had become of the people, because he could not get too close.

Scots, not a wild rabble such as had attacked Heugh and Belsay, but a real army, were pouring down the road that came from the Rede valley and heading, he was almost sure, toward Newcastle. But there were no more Scots near Heugh. He had circled the keep working in and out through the woods and fields for about a mile. Every house and stead he had seen had been put to the torch and the fields trampled and torn—but the Scots were gone.

By the end of his report, Hugh could hardly make out what he was saying for the crashes of thunder, and then the rain came in torrents. Hugh came down from the walls and gave permission for most of the men to come down too and take shelter, since the huntsman said the area around the keep was clean, and he bid Louis send guards up only for an hour at a time. He looked out from the door of the guardroom at the heavy drops, already forming puddles and splashing in the bailey, wondering if he could be cruel enough to send the huntsman out again.

The man had been without sleep for two days and a night and was near to falling off his feet, but Hugh was desperate to know if a second Scottish army had come down the Roman road to Corbridge. And then he realized it would be useless. Tired as he was, the man could never go so far and come back in time for Hugh to use the information. Hugh found a small silver coin in his purse, gave it to the huntsman, and dismissed him. The startled look and stammered thanks reminded Hugh that Sir Lionel had probably not been so generous and made him wonder wryly whether he was spoiling Heugh’s servants or teaching them his ways.

He pushed those thoughts aside, knowing he was only letting his mind wander because he was reluctant to decide whether to try to escape Heugh. The thunder was now rolling away, the black clouds laced with lightning were racing into the distance, but the rain, although no longer falling in sheets, was steady, and no break in the clouds showed, even where the storm had passed. Hugh bit his lip. If the rain continued, it might be best to go as soon as it was completely dark. Armies seldom moved at night, and there was little chance of blundering into a large camp, which could be heard and seen at a distance. Even raiding parties were far less likely to roam about at night, especially in the rain. Hugh stood up and shouted for Odard and Louis.

Odard nearly wept when he heard Hugh intended to leave, and it took some time for Hugh to convince him that the keep was now in little danger. “They must take the great places—Newcastle, Prudhoe, Jernaeve—before they make a real effort to break Heugh. They are moving south and will not turn back now, for the land grows richer to the south, and they have already destroyed everything here.”

“But we are only twelve now,” Odard said, his old voice shaking. “What can twelve men do?”

“I am leaving Louis here, with all but five of my troop, and there will be those who managed to escape the raiders but whose farms have been burned. Take them in and train them as best as you can.” He looked at Louis. “Hold the place if you can, but if an army comes, take any terms that will preserve the lives of those within. Also, try to keep your arms and horses if you can. If you must yield the keep, go back to Ruthsson and take with you any servant or yeoman who wishes to go. I do not know whose keep this is, but—”

“My lord,” Odard cried, “Heugh is yours. Your—”

“Well, if it is,” Hugh interrupted, suppressing the surge of interest he felt, “it can be taken back, so do not die to hold it. Heugh cannot be burnt like Belsay, and I do not think they will try to throw down these walls. King Stephen will drive out the Scots in the end, as he has done before, and the lands will be returned to their rightful holders.”

While he spoke, Hugh watched Odard, wondering if the old man would resent his order to abandon Heugh and that he had placed Louis in charge. But while Hugh explained, it became clear that Odard felt only relief. And Louis seemed pleased, which Hugh felt was reasonable, for Louis must know that if he performed well under this burden, he would be rewarded, possibly with a permanent place. Not Heugh itself, but say Trewick; there was room for a “lord” at Trewick. Hugh was tempted to follow that pleasant path of thought, but again checked himself. He had finished one unpleasant task and was reluctant to begin another that might be far worse: telling Audris they had to brave the night, the rain, and the Scots only to part—he to go on to war, she to take refuge in a place where she might not be welcome.

It was almost dark now, and the rain was steady. There was no more time to delay. Hugh made sure that Odard and Louis understood what to do, added a few details, suggesting if they had to yield that they try to turn Heugh over to one of David’s Norman or French barons rather than a Gaelic or Pictish chieftain. Then he left them and walked through the bailey toward the inner keep, rehearsing in his mind what he would say to Audris. He was very uneasy; he had not seen Audris since she had run down to warn him that the hired men-at-arms had left Heugh and suggested he dress the menservants up to fool the Scots. What would he do if he found her shivering with fear? Could he force her out to face a greater fear?

He saw her before she saw him—she was sitting on the dais in the large carved chair, looking ridiculously like a little girl playing “princess,” or rather “mama,” since she was rocking Eric in a cradle with her foot and singing softly. A violent medley of emotions—a sudden enormous hatred for the Scots who threatened the peace and comfort of this most precious of all creatures; an exquisite pang of love, quite literally a pang, for Hugh felt a sharp pain in his chest; an overwhelming desire to protect, to enwrap her in his own body if necessary—stopped him in his tracks. Something made her look up then, and she saw him and leapt to her feet to run to him, crying, “You are safe! You are safe!”

He held her tight, struggling for breath in the aftermath of that violent upsurge of caring, but when she lifted her face to be kissed, he saw that she had been crying, and for a while longer he could say nothing, only cling to her and kiss her, as her eyes pleaded he should. But when he broke the kiss and loosened his embrace, he found that she was smiling, her face illuminated with joy. Hugh drew a deep breath, bracing himself to destroy that joy and bring back fear.

“Beloved, it is true that the Scots are gone, but we are not safe. Heugh has not enough men to defend it. I must take you to Jernaeve.”

Audris frowned and the joy dimmed, but she did not seem fearful, and after a moment she nodded. “Very well. I know you are right. Jernaeve will be the safest place. But Hugh, have you not thought that Jernaeve is likely to be under attack also? And are there not likely to be bands of Scots marching here and there?”

Hugh sighed. “You are entirely too clever, my heart. I had hoped you would not have thought of those dangers so you would be saved from fear, but at least it saves me from seeking reasons that would not frighten you for dragging you out in the night and the rain.”

“I am not afraid.” Audris shook her head. “However reckless you are of your own safety, my soul, you are careful enough of mine and Eric’s. I know you would find the safest path for us—and if none is safe, the best of those possible.”

“That is just it—the best of those possible,” Hugh said. “But none is very good.” He went on to explain his reasoning and his arrangements concerning the people now in Heugh, ending, “If Jernaeve is besieged—”

“Let us not consider that for now,” Audris interrupted. “Near Jernaeve I know of caves, places in the hills where we can hide until you can decide what is best for us to do. If we are to go tonight, I must tell Lady Maud to make ready.”

“Who is Lady Maud?”

But he knew who it must be even as Audris answered, “Sir Lionel’s wife. The lady you met here.” She hesitated at the expression on Hugh’s face, and then went on, “You cannot leave her here.”