“I beg yer pardon?” She rushed to catch up with him.
“He can stay back in the woods with ye. I’ve seen how he looks up to ye. Take advantage of that admiration and show him how to be a proper archer.” William shrugged. “It will get him in battle like he wants but also keep him safe. Like we want.”
She pressed her lips, quiet a moment as she considered. “Aye. I’ll do it.”
“Thank ye.” He smiled at her in appreciation. Despite her fierceness, there was a tender side to her. It was a balance within her that appealed to him greatly. “Now, let’s get some food.”
Fib met them as they neared camp, his face bright with excitement. “We need to attack tonight.”
His words took William aback. “What do ye mean?”
Duff joined them and scratched his thick dark beard. “We nearly ran headlong into several guards on our way back to camp. We were no’ seen but overheard a plan to shift soldiers deeper into Scotland tonight. The replacements coming up from England are delayed by weather and willna arrive until the following day.” He slid a look of irritation at Fib. “The lad is correct. If we want the advantage, we should attack tonight.”
5
William gathered his men that night and made for Mabrick castle. Even as he did so, the action didn’t sit well with him. He preferred more reconnaissance, a chance to understand better the activity and numbers within the castle.
However, not only did this night present fewer guards, the moon was blanketed behind a curtain of clouds, which would further mask their attack. It would be their best opportunity for victory. To squander such a chance would be foolish.
With only the main gate as an entry point into the castle, they would scale the walls with grappling hooks. Kinsey would be hiding in the outlying forest with Fib, shooting at the guards as they attacked William and his men.
It would not be an easy conquest. Taking a castle was always risky. William knew that. But if they could claim Mabrick Castle, William’s worth would be proven to his king. And to his father.
They waited to attack until the dead of night when most would be sleeping. William and his men assumed their positions in the forest, crouched down in wait.
A lone guard walked the parapet, his head visible above the crenellations. After he passed, time dragged on at an excruciating crawl as they waited for another. The whisper of leaves brushing against one another in the breeze was the only sound to be heard.
They saw no one else until the same man reappeared a while later. William waited until he had passed.
“Now,” William said as loud as he dared.
His men were like hunting dogs straining at their leads, shooting off across the stretch of lawn to the castle. Their fiercest soldiers, including him, Reid and Duff, launched the grappling hooks simultaneously. They spun the weighted end three times and, with a nod to one another, sent the heavy iron sailing up into the sky and over the crenellations where they raked across the stone and held.
The sound was harsh in the quiet stillness, but it was swift, with each hook catching at almost the same time.
William tugged his rope to ensure it held. It did. He tightened his grip and put first one foot, then the other to the pockmarked stone. As quickly as he dared, he began to scale the castle wall along with several of his men.
He was nearly halfway up when the lone soldier gave a shout of alarm.
An arrow flew from the forest, and the cry was cut short.
There wouldn’t be much time now. Hand over hand, William climbed, his gloves gripping the coarse rope with ease while his legs helped brace his weight.
“Cut the lines,” one of the men called out.
The stomp of rushed footsteps came over the side of the wall, indicating more guards had arrived. Another arrow was launched from the forest.
“Faster,” Reid ground out as he hastened.
William’s arms and back were on fire with the effort of climbing; the soles of his leather boots gripped the wall to the best of their ability. Though they were close to the top, they still had some distance to go. His grunts of effort mixed with those of his men.
They were near enough now to hear which arrows missed as they skittered across the stone, and which hit with a quiet thunk and a gritted cry from its victim.
The rope in William’s hands vibrated with the effort of someone sawing at the thickly woven fibers.
His heart slammed harder in his chest, and he moved past the exhaustion of his muscles.
Finally, William reached the top. He threw one leg over the crenellation as he drew his sword, plunging it into the neck of a guard who was furiously cutting at the rope of his grappling hook. The man staggered back and fell.
A glance below confirmed Reid was two handgrips away from joining William, and only one other man, called Alec, held on to a rope near the top. William launched at the guard trying to slice through Duff’s rope.
Reid was at William’s side as he ran his blade through his opponent, followed by Alec and Duff, who arrived safely and without incident.
Five others joined them moments later, their swords flashing and slashing at the Mabrick guards.
All at once, there was an explosion from the right. The ground rumbled beneath William’s feet, and the boom was so deafening, it left William with a high-pitched ringing in his ears. But it did nothing to dull his vision, nothing to shield him from the sight as a massive bolt punched through first one of his men, then a second. The thick stock of metal continued onward, glistening with their blood as it sailed into the night.
The two men had been standing near the edge and pitched over without once crying out—as they were dead before they fell.
A moment of shock descended on the battle, and for the blink of an eye, no one moved. Not William and his army, nor the Mabrick guards.
“Get the archers.” The shouted order launched everyone back into action. Amid the ring of clashing weapons and roars of men was the unmistakable rasp of another bolt sliding into the weapon that had killed two men in one blow.
A cluster of eight guards rushed toward them, an amount they could certainly take.
The massive boom thundered once more, causing the stone beneath their feet to shudder. A heart-rending cry came from beside William, and he knew he’d lost another man.
Damn.
The attacking guards redoubled their efforts, forcing William and his men back. William braced himself but still found his heel hitting the hard stone wall behind him. He cut down the man in front of him, and his falling opponent was immediately replaced with a guard who was taller, stronger.
The man struck like an ox, each blow so hard it made William’s bones rattle. Back, back, back, the man pushed as William’s other heel met the stone.
An arrow flew past his shoulder and sank into the man’s throat. Blood gushed from the wound, and the guard dropped. As he fell, William caught sight of an oblong iron barrel with a flame flickering at its rear.
Boom!
Fire flashed at its front as a massive bolt shot out. This time, however, it hit a crenellation with a splintering crack, taking a chunk out of the stone. Another English guard attacked William.
“They have an archer,” one of the Englishmen called out.
The back of William’s neck prickled in fear.
Beneath the sounds of battle came the familiar creak of a dozen bows being drawn. Only this time, William knew they would be pointed toward the woods, in the direction of Kinsey and Fib.