Kenton hadn’t paid any attention to the clutter but Conor, with time on his hands and boredom threatening, had organized the messy table. Now, everything was neat and orderly because that was the way he liked it. Even when the missive fell back to the tabletop, he simply couldn’t leave it laying there so he put it neatly off to one side.
Sighing heavily, he struggled not to let his frustration show. Kenton was facing strong resistance at Manchester yet he was here, growing fat and lazy with his inactivity. He thought seriously on sending Kenton a missive and asking if he could trade places with Gerik or Ackerley, but he knew that Kenton would deny him. Neither Gerik nor Ackerley had the acumen to completely run a castle, but Conor was fairly certain his presence here was more than simply a nod to his command ability. He was fairly certain it was to keep him and de Russe separated.
With a grunt of displeasure, he sank back in the cushioned chair and put his muddy boots upon the tabletop, thinking heavily on Manchester and battles and Gaston de Russe. Since their harsh words those days ago, they had both managed to steer clear of one another or, at times when they could not avoidit, they had simply ignored each other. Conor thought he had been quite professional about his behavior towards de Russe and was therefore insulted that Kenton had chosen to take de Russe with him into battle and leave Conor behind. Conor was, in fact, grossly offended.
As he sat there and stewed about being left out of a battle, he caught sight of someone entering the solar. The boots came down off the table as one of his soldiers entered the chamber, edging close to the blazing hearth because it was quite warm in the room. The soldier had just come from the walls of Babylon where it was breezy and quite cold.
“My lord,” the soldier said. “Two scouts have returned from their usual patrol to inform us that a large army is moving up from the south.”
Conor stood up, concern on his pale features. “An army?” he repeated, confused. “Where on earth did they see this army?”
The soldier edged even closer to the warm blaze. “About three hours ago,” he replied. “The scouts were on the edge of Huddersfield when they saw the army approaching from the south. They watched the army for as long as they could and they think that the army is traveling the road to the south of us, the road that parallels the road that runs from Huddersfield to Babylon and on into Rochdale. It seemed to the scouts that the army took a turn onto that road. They are now heading east, towards Manchester.”
Manchester, where Kenton is. Conor didn’t like that thought at all; he was thinking on the roads to the south of Babylon and of all of the big armies that were also to the south of them.Conisbrough, he thought ominously. Was it even possible? Of course it was. There could be no one else, at least no one that was any closer than the massive garrison of Conisbrough. Kenton suspected Conisbrough would move on Babylon at some point only he didn’t think it would be so soon. He thought he hadweeks, mayhap even months before that happened. Evidently, that was not to be the case. The more Conor thought on it, the more concerned he became.
“There are two roads south of us,” he finally said. “One that is not very far at all; we can see it from the battlements. And there is a second road that is over the range of hills further to the south. Which road do they mean?”
The soldier wasn’t entirely sure. “I believe the road that is over the hills,” he said. “Shall you speak with the scouts, my lord? They are in the gatehouse.”
Conor nodded firmly. “I will, indeed.”
Conor charged from the solar followed by the soldier. He was in the entry, heading for the door to the keep, when he caught sight of Nicola as she emerged from the hall with her boys in tow. Tab was begging his mother for something while Teague seemed to be deliberately tripping Tiernan, who fell onto one knee with his brother’s bullying and came up swinging. Nicola came to a stop and put out a hand, stilling the brotherly fight. Conor called out to her politely.
“My lady,” he said. “If you require service of me, I will be upon the battlements.”
Nicola had her hand on Teague’s balled fists. “Very well,” she said politely.
“I would assume the evening meal will be at its usual time?”
Nicola nodded. “It will.”
With a forced smile, Conor quit the keep, heading towards the gatehouse beneath the cold and dark sky.
Nicola watched the man go, her thoughts lingering on him as she turned for the stairs that led to the upper levels. Conor had kept a polite distance from her and she from him, but even so, the distance wasn’t enough. Every time she saw him she was reminded of Kenton, which wasn’t particularly a surprise considering the man occupied nearly every waking thought.
Nicola thought that his departure would help her forget about him, to help her to hate him and all he represented, when, in fact, it did just the opposite. Time had tried to heal that ache. She wanted to go to him and tell him why she was so angry with him, so hurt, and hope that he had an explanation about his words that she could believe. She’d never even given him the chance to explain, but at the time, there had been no reason to. She had heard him speaking, unguarded, to his men. That was explanation enough.
… wasn’t it?
Torn with grief and confusion and longing for a man who had only been using her, Nicola tried to shake off thoughts of Kenton le Bec as she directed the boys to the stairs. She trailed along behind them, stopping Teague from clobbering his brother again, as they made their way to the upper floor. They were nearly to the top of the flight of stairs when a soft call came from below.
“My lady?”
Nicola paused, looking down to see Janet standing in the darkened entry below. “What is it?” she asked.
Janet looked around nervously before silently motioning for Nicola to come to her. Nicola looked at her curiously and Janet did it again, this time pointing frantically in the direction of the kitchen. Curious, not to mention oddly concerned, Nicola instructed Tab to take his brothers up to their chambers. As Tab began dragging them up the remainder of the steps, Nicola went to Janet.
“What is the matter?” Nicola asked as she came off the stairs. “Why are you…?”
Janet shushed her softly. “Not here, my lady,” she whispered. “Hurry, you must come with me.”
She dashed off and Nicola quickly followed. Janet wasn’t usually the jumpy type so the maid’s manner had Nicola naturally intrigued. She soon found out why.
Seated just inside the kitchen door near the hearth, with a steaming cup of wine in his hand, sat the stable boy Nicola had sent to Conisbrough over a week ago. Hermenia was hovering over the lad, spooning great globs of hot stew into his frozen mouth, as Janet and Nicola entered the low-ceilinged kitchen. It was quite warm, and quite smoky, as Nicola quickly went to the shivering lad.
“Hux?” she gasped, reaching out to touch the boy and realizing that he was literally frozen solid; his clothes were hard with ice. “God’s Bones, Hermenia. We must remove his clothing. It is like a block of ice!”
Hermenia set the bowl of stew down. “I know it, m’lady,” she fretted. “But he couldn’t move his face. I thought to warm it at the very first.”