William held up a finger as if the thought had just occurred to him. “But we’ve no’ considered something else,” he said. “What of the House of de Bourne, the descendants of Bloodaxe? Alpin took it upon himself tae send them missives, asking them tae join our rebellion in exchange for more lands. What do we know of them?”
“Alpin did that tae ingratiate himself tae ye, yer grace,” MacDuff said. “The man wanted yer favor. He’d wipe yer arse if ye asked him tae.”
William simply lifted a hand to silence the man. “So would ye if I demanded it,” he said, listening to the men snort at MacDuff’s expense. “Canmore is an ambitious man, ’tis true, but I knew what he had done. In truth, I was curious tae see if the House of de Bourne would respond. They’re a powerful family and they hold the Kielder Pass – one of the main roads intae Northumberland. Do we know if de Bourne has responded tae Canmore’s missives?”
He looked at the gaggle of men around him as they shook their heads. No one seemed to be certain, but more than that, no one had been particularly close to Alpin Canmore. He was a vassal of the Earl of Dalkeith, who was busy recruiting men in Galloway. He’d been away for a few months, meaning he probably knew nothing about a de Bourne response.
Only Alpin Canmore would know that.
“Yer grace, it’s my sense that Alpin would have told ye had he received a response from de Bourne,” MacDuff said. “The man couldna keep it tae himself and he’d want tae shout it tae ye from sheer pride, so it’s probable that de Borne hasna given his answer yet.”
William nodded. “Ye have a point,” he said. “I would have known it almost as soon as Canmore did.”
“Exactly.”
William reclined against the back of the chair, rubbing his hands together because the joints ached. At his age, they ached badly at times. He pondered the Canmore situation quickly.
In his mind, there was only one path to take.
“Then it is possible that de Bourne hasna responded and possibly willna,” he said. “And we must further assume that Alpin Canmore is dead. We must also assume that he told de Velt everything he knew and he knew about Berwick, but I dunna want tae send a great army there tae reinforce it. I’ll send a few men with a message telling MacHeth that the English know that Berwick will be the place where the Northmen are tae enter England. That way, he’ll be prepared.”
“But ye’ll send him no army?” MacDuff confirmed.
William could hear some disapproval, perhaps disappointment, in MacDuff’s tone. “As ye said, it would only draw attention tae Berwick now,” he said. “But that doesna mean I willna send an army when the time for the Northmen’s arrival draws near. If they’re already on their way, they should be here by June and the mists that crop up from the sea that month will cover the arrival of their ships. It will also cover the movement of an army tae support Berwick.”
The men around him, including MacDuff, nodded in agreement. But there was still one more item outstanding.
“Let us speak of de Bourne again,” MacDuff said. “If Canmore has been sending him missives about joining us, then he knows our plans. If he sends word tae Canmore agreeing tae join us, there is no one there tae accept the missive.”
William looked up at him. “’Tis true,” he said, “which means we must send someone tae de Bourne to find out just what his intentions are. Tae have the House of de Bourne with us would be a blow tae the Sassenach army.”
“Ye mean John’s army?” MacDuff ventured.
William shook his head. “No’ John,” he said. “The man is a fool. He is only concerned with himself and feuding with his own barons. If it was only John tae be concerned with, we could reclaim Northumberland and he wouldna know until it was too late. Nay, lads, ’tis no’ John we are concerned with. ’Tis William Marshal. The man has his finger on the pulse of England and the warlords will follow him. If The Marshal knows of our plans, then we will have a fight on our hands. Mark my words.”
“The Marshal is no’ the king, yer grace.”
“Who do ye think controls England, Alexander?”
It was the truth, a snappish bit of reality to the Scots who would doubt The Marshal’s involvement in England’s affairs. After a moment, MacDuff nodded faintly in agreement. It was absolutely the truth and they all knew it. William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke, was England, and if he knew of the Scottish plans, an invasion into Northumberland just became more difficult.
William Marshal wasn’t about to let them in without a fight.
“Then mayhap that is why de Velt did what he did,” MacDuff said quietly. “Think about it – he devastated Fountainhall, but at whose command? Surely the man dinna take the initiative himself.”
William turned to look at him, his yellow-eyed gaze intense. “Then ye have yer answer,” he muttered “If I was a gambling man, I would bet upon the fact that The Marshal told de Velt tae attack Fountainhall because he knows my plans.”
“Then what will ye do?”
William sighed heavily. “We go tae Castle Keld and the House of de Bourne,” he said. “We discover if they are with us.”
“And if they are no’?” MacDuff pressed. “What if they are the ones who told The Marshal about the missives from Alpin? What if that is where it all started?”
William grunted at the possibility, something he was thinking about but didn’t want to voice. “Then we send enough men through the Kielder Pass tae raze Castle Keld if de Bourne goes against us,” he said. “De Velt destroyed Fountainhall. I’ll take Castle Keld in revenge. It’ll be their punishment for telling The Marshal about Alpin’s missives. Alexander, the directive is yers. Prepare my army tae depart for Castle Keld in two days.”
“Aye, yer grace.”
William’s gaze lingered on the man for a moment before turning away. “The Marshal wanted tae send me a message through Ajax de Velt?” he mused quietly. “I’m about tae send my reply.”
Every man in the hall understood what that meant. The destructive volley of threats and promises had begun. De Velt had fired first.
Uilliam mac Eanric was going to answer… loudly.
A small army of Scots left.
CHAPTER THREE
Castle Keld, or simply The Keld
Northumberland, England
Three Days Later
“Christ, Cori!” A big knight with dark hair and big, scarred hands was standing in the doorway, hand to his nose. “What in the hell is that stench?”
It was a disgusting scene he had walked in on. The lady of the castle had just lanced an infected boil on a soldier’s thigh and the smell from the infection was filling the chamber. It was a smaller room attached to the knight’s quarters of Castle Keld, a chamber used for a few purposes, including bathing or surgery if the need arose.
On this particular morning, the lady of the castle was pressing on the boil, making sure all of the poison was draining out of it and into a bowl that a servant was holding, but it was a ghastly sight and an even more ghastly smell, just as the knight had suggested.
It didn’t take long for that stench to overwhelm the already squeamish servant.