Honor & Roses (38 page)

Robin merely crossed her arms, waiting.

“Very well,” said Alric. “You’ll recognize Octavian immediately. He is about my height and build. But his father hailed from Africa, thus his skin is dark—not as an Englishman who has browned in the sun. Much darker than that. You’ll know him.”

“Good enough,” said Robin, who looked intrigued by the description. “What message shall I give him? Keep in mind I may only have a moment to deliver it.”

Alric told her, and she nodded, saying, “I’ll go now, while I still have light.”

“Take care, Robin,” Rainald added.

“Yes, my lord!” Robin flashed a wide smile and then was off.

* * * *

They waited. There was nothing else to be done. Alric spoke with a few of the beggars who knew the town well, and was assured that Rainald would be welcomed back.

Meanwhile, Cecily visited each and every one of the Meaholt residents, providing food from Rainald’s stores, as well as tending to their illnesses. The acts of generosity seemed to heal Cecily as much as them. Alric was proud of his wife, that such a simple thing could give her so much joy. It gave him hope that she would be happy even if he couldn’t provide her with the wealth she’d been born to. But they first had to end Theobald’s usurpation. If they couldn’t breach the gates of Cleobury, all was for naught.

Robin returned a few hours later, looking none the worse for wear.

“Trouble?” Alric asked.

“Not for me,” she replied airily. Then she stood aside for the one who followed.

“Octavian,” Alric said with a smile. “Glad I am to see you!”

“Alric!” Octavian hastened his steps. “God knows I feared I’d not see you again.” He bowed to Cecily. “This girl Robin said you were safe, my lady, but I’m pleased to see the truth with my own eyes. Your nurse will be overjoyed.”

“My nurse? You mean to say you know where Agnes is?”

“She’s at Cleobury. Rafe brought her back with him.”

“He did?” Alric asked. He couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice. “Why would he care?”

“When you see him, ask him.” Octavian looked to Cecily again. “I suppose I should not tell Agnes anything yet.”

“She’s prone to gossip,” Cecily said, though she was beaming. “Oh, I can’t wait to see her! But yes, keep silence for now. She’ll forgive me for it once she sees I’m safe. Thanks to you and the others who got me out of that place.”

Octavian made a little sound as if he was embarrassed to take credit. “Anyone would have done the same.”

Robin gave a skeptical laugh at that, but quieted when Rainald shot her a look.

Alric told Octavian nearly all that had transpired, and explained that Rainald intended to capture Theobald to bring to the king’s justice.

“We need to take Cleobury,” Alric concluded. “No easy task. I know because Theobald put me in charge of shoring up the defenses.”

“But you got out tonight,” Cecily said.

Octavian gave a little smile. “Getting out of a place is much easier than getting in. I could have escaped days ago, but I had no allies near, nor was I sure where to go. So I waited for a sign or message.” He nodded to Robin, saying, “And so one came.”

“We must decide when and how to take Cleobury before you go back there. We’ll need you to alert our people and be ready for our attack. And you must not be discovered to be missing before we make our move.”

“To work, then,” Octavian said. “Between us, we’ll see Cleobury fall, and Theobald taken.”

“And Rafe, if he’s Theobald’s man,” Alric said sadly.

“Rafe will be a challenge,” Octavian said. “He’s a better fighter than either of us.”

“Would he truly take up arms against us?” Alric asked. “A brother as he once was?”

“He has been much in the confidence of Theobald since our return. They speak together every day, and no one else is in the room. Aside from Laurence, of course.”

“Discussing what?”

“I know not,” Octavian said. “But between them, they’ve hatched some plan. Whether against your return, Alric, or another scheme with the Welsh forces, I couldn’t say.”

“Focus on the defenses of the manor,” said Rainald. “Alric has told me of the gates and the new stockade wall. But he has said he also trained men to shoot and defend those walls. Would those men be persuaded to not fight, at least long enough for our own forces to get inside?”

“You mean can we confuse them?” asked Octavian.

“Or convince them to not interfere.”

“I don’t know,” said Alric. “Cleobury is their home. They’ll defend it against an enemy—and we can’t tell them the true lord has returned because we need to hold that trick until the last, or Theobald will get wind of it.”

“A distraction, then. I have one in mind,” said Octavian. “You have about thirty fighters here with you. Pretend to attack the eastern wall, as if you want to gain access by climbing. That will pull most of the defenders to that side.”

“Meanwhile,” said Alric, “I’ll be in place to run for the north wall, nearest the trees. Octavian can give me a signal and provide a diversion.” He looked at the young knight. “Once I’m inside, I can make my way to the main gate, open it, and destroy the mechanism so it can’t be closed again. Only I know the exact way to do it.”

Rainald gave a sharp nod. “Once that gate is open, our main forces can come in. I wish we had more men,” he added. “Right now, the odds are very much in Theobald’s favor.”

“There are men at Hawksmere,” said Cecily.

“Under guard,” Alric reminded her. “If we summon our men to join us here, the Welsh mercenaries will follow. We’ll still be outnumbered…and we risk more lives.”

Cecily smiled. “I think I have an answer to that, one that will allow our men to join us while keeping the Welsh stuck at Hawksmere. Will you hear me?”

“Always,” Alric said, thinking he might have the most beguiling wife in the world.

Cecily outlined her plan, which was simple, safe, and satisfyingly vindictive.

“God save us against evil women,” Octavian said. “They would be undefeatable.”

“My daughter would make a great general,” Rainald added. “I second her plan. Let us proceed.”

The following dawn found Alric
in position behind the bulky shadow of Cleobury manor. The air was terribly still, with a clarity brought on by a sudden drop in temperature, heralding the advancing autumn. Not the best conditions for an attack, for the air would carry even the smallest sound to the defenders on the wall.

He knew better than to move, through he wanted to keep the blood running through his limbs. How could he fight if his arms and legs were stiffened by the cold? At least he had a blanket. The thick wool was dyed green, and it was intended for camouflage as much as warmth. Alric shifted a bit underneath the blanket, waiting for the agreed upon signal.

It came just as the sky was beginning to lighten the east. The smell of smoke, which had been faint before—just the normal smells of the kitchen, where the fires were rarely put out—suddenly grew stronger.

He heard a faint cry of, “Fire! Fire!” The voice was distorted from where Alric was positioned, but he knew it for Octavian’s. The trap was set.

Alric counted to ten, then ran for the stockade wall. There was a small wicket gate in this side. Under Theobald’s rule, the door was kept barred from the inside, and a guard was meant to patrol the location.

But Octavian had done his work well. Alric pushed the door open without a sound, then stepped inside, where he saw a man lying on his back, bound and gagged. Alric took the blanket he’d carried in and threw it over the guard, obscuring his view.

“Sorry, friend,” he said. “With luck, you’ll be released soon. Until then, don’t struggle.”

Turning back to the open door, Alric muttered, “Inside with no alarm given! Good. That’s done. Now to get to the main gate and open it.”

He eased the wicket gate shut, barring it again so no one would notice anything amiss.  He waited a beat, then moved toward the courtyard, which was just past the structure nearest the gate, a room for the storage of cheeses, barrels of ale, and casks of wine. Alric moved cautiously along the wall of that building for about twenty feet.

In the distance, he heard more voices, as people rose from their beds to the cry of
fire
. The courtyard began to fill with thick, smudgy smoke.

He just stepped to the corner nearest the courtyard when he heard a footstep. He froze.

“Well met, brother.”

Out of a deeper shadow stepped Rafe, his sword drawn.

Alric shifted, putting a hand to the hilt of his own sword. “I have no wish to fight you, Rafe,” he said.

“Of course you don’t,” Rafe said with a dark laugh. “I’d win any real fight between us.” He shifted sideways, matching Alric’s move. “I knew you’d be here. Octavian might fool most people, but I could tell he was up to something. When I heard him call fire just now, I was certain.”

“The smoke seems real enough,” Alric said, unwilling to implicate Octavian further.

“Oh, it likely is. It’s fitting, I admit. Theobald has a certain fear of fire…I wonder how that came about,” Rafe added, giving another knowing laugh.

“My fight isn’t with you,” Alric said, more anxiously.

“I’ve sworn service to Theobald,” Rafe said, “and you seem to be working against him. So your fight is with me.”

He drew his sword. “Very well.”

Rafe’s eyebrow went up. “You’re certain?”

“I swore an oath to defend my own lord,” Alric said. “I keep my oaths,” he added.

“Who is your new lord?” Rafe asked, ignoring the jibe.

“You’ll find out.” Alric lunged, hoping to catch Rafe before he was ready.

But Rafe was always ready for a fight. He parried, keeping Alric’s blows well away from him. Still, he gave a bit of ground, and Alric pushed the fight slowly toward the open.

The knights were now visible to those in the courtyard, and even the threat of fire wasn’t enough to distract everyone. A few guards on the tower pointed and called out, but no one ran to Rafe’s aid. When two knights fought in single combat, it was between them and them alone.

Yet onlookers gathered, calling out questions and shouting for either one or the other. Combined with the pluming smoke filling the air, the effect was more confusion.

Alric focused only on Rafe, who kept up a brutal assault with his blade.

“How long do you think you can keep this up?” Rafe asked.

“I can fight all day if I need to,” Alric returned.

“Not against me, you can’t.” Rafe emphasized his point by sending the tip of his sword whistling past Alric’s ear, dangerously close.

“You missed,” Alric gasped.

“Did I?” Rafe adjusted his grip, but didn’t let his guard down. “Perhaps you can do better.”

He truly didn’t want to kill Rafe, not even after all that happened. But he would strike a blow that would end the fight. Unless he was lucky, or could use a new diversion.

A diversion came, but it was not the one he wanted.

Theobald, finally awakened, now stood in front of the stone manor house itself, looking down at the courtyard in dismay. He sighted Alric and Rafe fighting and turned red with fury.

“What is this? An enemy infiltrates my home and only one man fights against him?”

A nearby guard began to offer a stuttering reply, but Theobald cut him off. “If you would be of use, go send for the Welsh!”

Behind Theobald, Laurence hovered, looking askance at the whole scene.

The guard scurried off, and Theobald shouted, “Sir Rafe, you are better than this renegade! Why do you not strike him down?”

“Why don’t I do that?” Rafe asked, his tone conversational, so only Alric could hear him.

“What
are
you doing?” he asked Rafe. “You’re drawing this out. Why? For amusement?”

Just as Alric spoke those words, a booming sound rolled through the whole manor, followed by the cries of dozens of men.

The gates opened, and a force of men outside seized the moment, pushing into the manor grounds.

“I thought I was preventing you from doing that,” Rafe said, sounding surprised at last.

“Cecily also knows how to open the gate—I told her. She slipped in the wicket gate just before you found us. She hid while I moved. You missed her.”

Rafe actually smiled. “Well done. I am outmatched, I see.”

“Do you surrender?” Alric asked, holding his next strike.

“It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how it feels to lose a fight.” Rafe stared at Alric for a moment, his eyes haunted, belying the easy banter he’d thrown all morning. “If I lose, I should like it to be to you.”

He deliberately lowered his sword.

Theobald, who was watching closely, howled in rage.

Alric kept his sword high. “Drop your weapon,” he told Rafe. “I would hate for there to be a misunderstanding somewhere.”

“I hope your reinforcements are ready for a fight. Even if you take Cleobury, Theobald will have a way to summon his mercenaries.” Rafe delivered his warning even as he laid his sword carefully down on the ground, followed by his dagger.

“The reinforcements he keeps at Hawksmere?” Alric asked. “They are already defeated.”

“How many men do you have?” Rafe asked. “And who do you serve now?”