Serpent (42 page)

As the words were translated, men began to yell
in the affirmative. If the men seemed curious as to why de Shera hadn’t said anything yet and why it was his wife relaying battle commands, they did not say so. For the past several hours, they had been riding high on their plans to attack the
Saesneg
encampment and the fact that de Shera rode with them was enough to bolster their courage. In fact, when Kevin spurred his charger out of the trees and thundered north towards Edward’s camp, the men filtered out after him in firm support. Penelope scrambled to mount her charger and, collecting a torch handed to her by Edward, she and her brothers brought up the rear of the group.

Edward’s camp before dawn had been surprisingly busy
as the Welsh raiding party closed in on them. Near dawn, the sentries hadn’t been as vigilant as they should have been because Kevin was nearly upon them when the cries of alarm finally when up. The first thing Kevin did was kick one of the sentries in the head as he rode past, throwing the man to the ground as Welsh spears, thrown by some of Bhrodi’s men, took down three more sentries. Coming to the first tent, Kevin threw the torch onto the top of it and the oiled fabric began to burn.

The Welsh poured into the eastern edge of the camp, throwing spears at the inhabitants and throwing torches at the tents. It was instant chaos as the camp came alive and men began to grab weapons, preparing to fight the onslaught. By the time Penelope, Thomas, and Edward entered the camp, there was a good amount of chaos with men running in their direction.
Thomas and Edward were dressed much as their sister was, in the dark tunics and woolen caps of the Welsh to disguise them and they, too, were uncomfortable without their expensive plate armor, but it could not be helped. They had to travel, and fight, lightly in order to be convincing. Edward knew they were looking for the king’s tent and, having spent the past few weeks with the man, knew it would be towards the center of the camp. He motioned to his siblings.

“Come
this way!” he bellowed.

The three of them tore off, having no idea where Kevin or the
teulu
commanders had gone. There seemed to be men everywhere and several tents were already burning furiously. In the dark of night, with sparks soaring into the air, Penelope and her brothers thundered through the encampment. Penelope had tossed her torch onto a particularly large tent, knowing it must be someone of importance, and proceeded to draw Bhrodi’s sword. She wanted everyone to see it, to know he was back in their midst. The Serpent had returned.

Just as the three of them drew around a corner, Edward brought them to an abrupt halt
. He pointed off to the northeast where a massive tent and a corral with several excited horses were situated, set off from the rest of the encampment. There were also several soldiers around it and even more that were starting to mount the horses. They would soon be coming after them.

“That is Edward’s tent,” he said
quickly. “If we are going to hit it, do it now while the men are still mounting. After you throw your torch, Thomas, ride as fast as you can out of here. We must get out now because Edward’s men are arming themselves and mounting. We do not want them chasing and catching up to us.”

Thomas nodded sharply and spurred his charger forward. Edward’s guard saw him coming and rushed forward to meet him
. Penelope and Edward were right behind him, however, and Penelope began swinging Bhrodi’s massive sword, making contact on more than one occasion. It was such a heavy sword that even though she was adept at sword fighting, it wasn’t long before she grew exhausted. But her intervention had helped Thomas; he had managed to launch the torch onto Edward’s tent and the material had caught fire.

Seeing the king’s tent begin to burn was all the confirmation Penelope needed to turn for home. The fire was spreading rapidly and there would be no opportunity for them to put it out before it did significant damage. Maybe the king was inside and it would damage him as well. She could only hope.
Every lick of flame had Bhrodi’s name on it and she took great delight in the destruction. But as she watched the fire burn, she failed to notice that two of Edward’s guard had been able to mount and were now charging out after her. Startled by the sight of men nearly upon her, she dug her heels into her charger and launched herself off in the only direction that wasn’t blocked. She headed south.

Separated from her brothers and from the rest of the Welsh, she thundered south where there were several smaller encampments spread out. She could hear the rush of horses behind her but she didn’t dare turn around to look; if she could hear them
, they must indeed be close. Off to her left was an open area and she thought to gain ground on them there because her charger was very fast; the horse had Spanish Jenette blood in it and had a good amount of speed.
              But it wasn’t fast enough. She realized one of the soldiers had managed to get up beside her and he took a swipe at her head with his sword. Penelope ducked, barely avoiding being beheaded, and she abruptly pulled her horse up so the pursuers ran past. Reining the horse to the left, and heading south again, she picked up a couple of more soldiers on her tail and she dodged between a pair of tents, emerging on the other side to a blockade of English soldiers. There were three of them and they had effectively cut her off. When she tried to turn around, four more men came up behind her.

She was boxed in.
Greatly disappointed, and very frightened, Penelope held tightly to her excited horse as she eyed the English soldiers.

“You Welsh bastard,” one man snarled. “We’ve got you now. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

Penelope still had Bhrodi’s sword in her hand and she lifted it; there was no one around to help her, no one to save her. She knew that her life as a Welsh raider and her life in general was at an end. It had been a good life; she had no complaints. She was simply sorry that she would never be able to grow old with her husband, or see his face when she presented him with their first son. Aye, it was a terrible regret but she couldn’t linger on any of that now. Death was approaching and she intended to meet it well.

R
ather than embarrass her father with her capture or risk a horrible, tortuous death, she would die the only way she knew how. She would die like the knight she was trained to be, for the blood of The Wolfe flowed in her veins. She knew that her life would be coming to an end very shortly and she would not go down without a fight.

“Very well,” she hissed. “Do what you must but know that I will not make an easy kill for you. If you want me, come and get me.”

She wielded the sword defensively, spinning her horse around because of the knights behind her. She was positive one of them was going to sneak up behind her and gore her.

“Do it!” she yelled. “If you are going to kill me, then get on with it!”

It was not a Welshman who had yelled at them. It was, in fact, a woman who spoke flawless English. That moment of confusion cost them because as they looked at each other in bewilderment, great armored horses from the darkness swept upon them and, as Penelope watched, the seven English soldiers who had cornered her when down in a bloodied and loud collapse. Men fell, horses ran off, but nothing came close to touching her. She remained still as stone right in the center of the action. When she finally looked at the horses who had charged in from the darkness, she came face to face with her father.

“Papa!” Penelope gasped. “
You have come!”

William was in battle armor from head to toe, every inch the mighty and formidable Wolfe. He looked at his daughter with something between great anger and great relief.

“Get out of here,” he told her. “Ride back to Rhydilian and stay there. I will not be far behind.”

“But… Papa!” she cried softly. “What do you mean? Why are you coming?”

Before William could answer, Kieran charged up beside her and gave her horse a shove. “You heard your father,” Kieran boomed. “Go back to Rhydilian and wait for us!”

Penelope was terribly confused but she did as she was told. As she turned her horse around, Paris rode up, blocking her off.

“Did de Shera come with you?” he demanded.

Penelope shook her head. “He is badly wounded,” she said. “But you already know that. Why did you ask?”
              Paris was brittle with fear, with frustration. “Because men are shouting that they have captured de Shera,” he snapped. “
Who
are they speaking of, Penny?”

Penelope’s jaw dropped and her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Kevin is dressed in Bhrodi’s armor,” she was starting to weep. She spun her horse in the direction of her father. “If they think they have Bhrodi, then they have Kevin instead. Papa, you must save him!”

Filled with panic, Kieran was already racing for the center of the encampment. Paris, giving Penelope an expression of pure disbelief, tore off after him. Only William remained behind, his gaze on his youngest daughter.

He realized he couldn’t become angry with her. She was doing what he would have done
in the same situation, what any of them would have done, to avenge the person they loved. He would have done it for her a thousand times over, and she for him. She was a de Wolfe at heart, loyal to those she loved, and he simply couldn’t become angry. But he was very frightened for her. He struggled to maintain his calm.

“You will head south
across this field,” he told her. “There is an old road at the end of the meadow that runs all the way to the coast. Follow it and it will lead you back to the ferry that crosses to Anglesey.”

Penelope reined her animal towards him, reaching out to grasp his hand. “I love you, Papa,” she said, tears on her cheeks. “
Thank you… for saving me, thank you. And thank you for sending Bhrodi back to me.”

It was no time for a family reunion. He squeezed her hand and let go
. “Go home,” he told her again. “I will be there as soon as I can.”

“But why?”

“Just
go
, Penelope,” he told her, reining his horse around to follow Paris and Kieran’s paths. “Get out of here. I will see you later.”

He started to take off and she yelled after him. “Thomas and Edward are here, too!” she cried. “Find them, Papa!”

She swore she heard the man groan as she, too, took off into the night.

⌘

Kevin was beginning to wonder if he hadn’t been knocked off his charger by the same morning
star that had injured Bhrodi. It had all happened fairly early in the raid and he didn’t remember much other than the chain of the morning star wrapping around his arm and yanking him right off the horse. He’d fallen awkwardly and had landed on his forehead and face, which had knocked him unconscious. When he’d come to, he was being dragged by two of Edward’s knights into a tent on the northern perimeter of the encampment that had not been burned in the raid.

The smell of smoke was heavy in the early morning sky as the knights tossed him into the tent
. There were more men there, men with swords and armed with crossbows, and they had promptly beat him. He was wearing armor so the damage wasn’t too bad until someone caught him in the mouth with a booted foot and knocked a couple of teeth loose. Blood poured and his mouth was full of it, but the beating didn’t stop. It went on for several long minutes until they simply grew weary of kicking him.

So he lay on the ground and pretended to be injured. He was positive that if he sat up or tried to rise that they would start beating him again, so he simply remained on the cold,
damp earth, smelling the acrid smoke and listening to the sounds of battle die away. He cursed himself for being stupid enough to have gotten caught.

Kevin wasn’t entirely sure how long he lay there, listening, but he was suddenly pulled into a sitting position as someone yanked the helm off his head
. Others were yanking at his plate protection, using dirks to slice through the leather straps and pull it off his body. He was roughed up by the stripping and more began to kick at him. On the breastplate that he had worn was the de Shera coat of arms and the motto, nicked and faded with age. The soldier who had pulled it off of him studied it closely.