De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (11 page)

"Madam," he said slowly, "not only will I not break your careful stitches, I will most certainly not create a bigger hole, as you so bluntly put it. This I vow."

He was too close, too hot, too intense. Nicola could feel her face growing warm. "I... I believe you," she stammered.

"Do you truly?"

"Aye."

"Then no more temper tantrums. I interpret them as a lack of faith in my abilities, which contradicts what you were saying earlier. Are you always so fickle?"

"I am not fickle at all. But I do not want to see...."

She trailed off and he was seized with her potential train of thought. Kenton, sensing what she was about to say, encouraged her.

"What do you not want to see?" he asked softly.

She was having difficulty answering him, difficulty meeting his gaze. Everything about him was overwhelming her. "We have enough wounded without you going back to the battle and making yourself a target. The biggest target of all, I might add."

"You did not answer my question. What do you not want to see?"

He wasn't going to let her go peaceably. She scowled at his persistence. "I do not want to see you end up with another wound," she snapped before she could stop herself. "Will you let me up, please?"

He couldn't think of a good reason not to let go of her, so he did. She stood up, dropping the needle on his leg and reaching down to pick it up. Her fingers came into contact with his massive thigh and even though it was covered by armor and mail, she could still feel the heat. It was terrifying in a giddy sort of way. She was halfway across the floor when his voice stopped her.

"My thanks, Lady Thorne,” he said, his voice low. “I am in your debt."

She turned around to see that he was standing up, gingerly trying to rotate the shoulder to see just how much movement he had out of it. He was determined to return to the battle and she stood there a moment, more worried than she cared to admit.

"Take care that you do not injure yourself further," she said quietly.

She started to quit the room but he called after her. "Wait."

She paused at the door. "Aye?"

He stood there a moment, staring at her. Then, slowly, he walked over to her, all the time rotating his shoulder and testing his injury. Nicola thought he might have concern with it somehow, that perhaps her stitches were too tight and he was concerned with them tearing. But he didn't say a word. Leaning over, he grasped her with his good arm and pulled her against him, slanting his mouth hungrily over hers. It was a sweet kiss, one full of promise and passion, and Nicola immediately folded. Not a flicker of resistance did she give as Kenton suckled her lips, his tongue licking at her, his teeth nibbling on the tender flesh of her lower lip. It was a kiss among kisses, a taunt of the pleasures of the flesh that the man was capable of, and Nicola collapsed against him and let him do whatever he pleased.

But the kiss went no further even though she surely would have let him. When he finally stopped kissing her, he didn’t release her. He simply gazed into her flushed face, his eyes glimmering warmly at her. A flicker of a knowing smile crossed his lips and he let her go, turning to head out of the chamber, still rotating the arm, walking away as if he hadn’t just sucked the breath right out of her.

But he had. Nicola stood, rooted to the spot, long after he was gone. Her heart was pounding and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. She realized she was quivering. Her hands were shaking so that she was about to lose the needle she was still holding.

Carefully, she sat down on the bed behind her simply to regain her wits. Was it truly possible for a man’s kiss to overwhelm one so much that they could barely think? Evidently, it was, but she had never experienced such a thing. She had no idea that a man’s touch could be so thrilling. In a sense, as much as Kenton le Bec’s presence was an unwelcome thing, it was also coming to be something that excited her. The man was taking liberties and she was letting him.

Did she truly want to leave Babylon when the potential for something so thrilling was here? When
Kenton
was here?

… she wondered.

The battle for Babylon waged for six additional days, only brought to an end when a furious storm rolled in and very nearly drowned Edward’s army out. The moat of Babylon filled up and overflowed, creating great torrents of water and mud and debris that rolled downhill and into Edward’s encampment at the base of the hill that held the castle. At first, the storm was very cold rain but as the day passed, the temperature dropped and it turned into miserable, slushy snow. It turned into torrents of a mess.

At that point, it was misery for everyone. The men inside of Babylon had to deal with a bailey full of mud and puddles of half-frozen water, and because of the siege by Kenton and his men the previous week, supplies were running low. Babylon had, in essence, been at war for weeks upon end without any reprieve or chance to replenish supplies. Because of this, Nicola and the old cook, Hermenia, were forced to become very creative with what remaining supplies they had left.

The big pig that had been slaughtered and roasted at the commencement of the battle was now only skin and bones, and Hermenia had the cook fry the skin in hot fat to make big crunchy slabs, giving the men something more to fill their bellies. There were a few more pigs in the stables, not as fully grown as Nicola would have liked, but she had little choice in slaughtering them if she was going to feed a castle full of men, including her sons. Therefore, she had Hermenia slaughter three young pigs and the meat was roasted and put into great pots to be made into stew that would feed the army for days.

Dried winter vegetables went into the pots – dried beans, peas, turnips, carrots, old celery leaves, and slabs of raw pig fat to season up the broth. There was salt, fortunately, and sacks of peppercorns, so the stew was well-seasoned as it bubbled away in three big pots out in the kitchen yard. Hermenia and a few soldiers rigged canvas covers over the pots so that the falling snow wouldn’t ruin it and they stood back, bellies rumbling, as the delicious smells of cooking pork filled the air.

Unfortunately, hunger eventually won over and men began eating it before it was completely cooked. As they entered the seventh day of siege and the black clouds overhead showed no sign of stopping, the men of Babylon sucked down the bubbling stew, hot and salty. Liesl and Raven, helping old Hermenia, manage to fill two big bowls of it for Nicola and the boys and, along with some cheese Hermenia had stashed away and stale bread, took it up to the family’s chambers on the fourth floor. There, the three little boys devoured the meal whilst Nicola and her serving women took the leavings.

During the past seven days, Nicola hadn’t seen much of Kenton. He’d spent all of his time upon the walls of Babylon, fighting off Edward’s forces or launching offensives against them. She had seen him from her window on several occasions, a massive man in frozen armor upon those mighty walls, a fixture there as if he’d been defending Babylon his entire life.

Nicola came to wish that he had been defending Babylon all this time instead of Gaylord, a secret fantasy that Kenton was her husband and not Gaylord, the man who had beat her, the man who had ultimately been killed by his own son in an ironic twist of fate. What if Kenton was her husband and he was here, defending Babylon against an enemy, protecting their children and their home. To even think on such a silly fantasy gave her a warm, giddy feeling, something to dream about and secretly entertain whilst warfare and death went on around her. Truly, there were plenty of both.

Nicola had spent every day of the siege down in the great hall, helping Kenton’s surgeon with the wounded. Some men were hardly injured whilst others had sustained mortal injuries. One young man had been hit by an arrow through the belly, severing his spine, and the remainder of his life was measured in hours. Nicola sat with him, telling him stories she often told her sons, stories of valor and great deeds, while the young man quietly died. That death had particularly affected her, seeing a young life cut so needlessly short. After that, she’d retreated to her room for the rest of the night and into the day. She was finished with death for a while.

She was fairly certain that Kenton knew of her presence in the great hall, among the wounded, because she saw his knights several times – the big red-haired knight, the one that looked like a bear, and then the blond knight with the thick neck. They had come in, usually bearing wounded, and they would notice her. She knew that because she always turned to see if it was Kenton coming into the hall, so her gaze would lock with that of whatever knight happened to be there, but so far Kenton had yet to set foot back into the hall of the wounded. She was certain his knights had gone back to Kenton and told him that the Lady of Babylon was doing her duty.

She hoped, in some way, her dedication to his men would earn his respect as a woman who was capable of performing under pressure. As the days passed and the battle raged, she realized that she wanted it. From a man she was terrified of in his first days at Babylon to a man she was increasingly enamored with, her opinion and thoughts of Kenton le Bec were rapidly changing.

All thoughts of Kenton aside, Nicola also saw Warwick on occasion, which usually caused her to flush red and run in the opposite direction. Like Kenton, the man had remained in the heat of the action, upon the walls, fighting off men who had once been allied with him. Nicola knew that Warwick had once been allied with Edward because Gaylord had fought with the man in years past, so Warwick was something of a distasteful enigma to her – she didn’t understand a man who could switch sides so easily from one king to another. Gaylord had once told her Warwick tended to side with the man he knew could provide him with the most power. To her, Warwick was a sword that could be bought.

Towards the end of the seventh day of the siege, the snow began to fall in earnest and it was a white-out condition that saw both armies retreat into shelter. Those in Babylon were much better protected than Edward’s army and by the time dawn began to color the eastern horizon on the next day, the snow eased enough for Edward’s army to leave.

Conditions were too terrible to continue the siege and the commander in charge of Edward’s forces was willing to concede defeat. His men were exhausted, freezing, and hungry, so without any fanfare or fuss, Edward’s army skulked off at first light, leaving the walls of Babylon, and her inhabitants, relatively intact.

Upon the great walls that embraced Babylon’s keep and occupants, Warwick, Kenton, and his knights were watching the retreat of Edward’s forces. The snow was still falling, sticking to the skin and eyelashes, although it wasn’t falling nearly as hard as it had been earlier. Kenton stood next to Warwick as they watched the figures through the mist disbanding below, fading off into the falling snow and leaving the land stripped and devastated behind them.

“They are heading southeast,” Warwick said. “They will cross the Black River, pass Huddersfield, and it is my guess they might head to Conisbrough Castle to regroup. It would be wise to take a contingent of men after them to harass them while they are weak. They could potentially splinter. That would further weaken Edward’s strength in this area.”

Kenton, with snowflakes hanging off of his dark eyelashes, looked at the man. “Do you want me to take some men and go after them?”

Warwick shook his head. “I was referring to me,” he said, turning away from the wall and wiping the melted snowflakes off of his face. “There is a larger contingent of Henry’s men in Wakefield at the moment and I will join them. Now that Babylon has held, I have every confidence it will continue to hold. Your duty, Kenton, will be in subduing the surrounding countryside and claiming it for Henry. You will also keep this road and exact tolls from anyone who travels upon it. This is a very important road between Lancashire and Yorkshire. It is imperative that Henry control it.”

Kenton nodded sharply. “Aye, my lord.”

Warwick began to take the stairs down through the gatehouse, narrow spiral stairs that were difficult to navigate for men of Kenton’s size. He ended up taking the steps sideways, following Warwick down.

“Rochdale is to the west, Kenton,” Warwick said, bumping his shoulder armor against the frozen stone walls. “It is imperative that the town be brought under Henry’s control. That will be your next task – to subdue and control Rochdale before moving on to Manchester.”

Kenton nodded. “I thought as much,” he said. “Rochdale and Manchester are big towns. I will need at least a thousand men or more to cover them.”

Warwick reached the bottom of the steps, into the cold, muddy gatehouse. “You shall keep fourteen hundred men,” he said. “I want Babylon well supplied with soldiers. I will take the rest with me, on to Wakefield. You will send word to me when Rochdale is under your control and we will celebrate once you contain Manchester. You are the Lord of Babylon now, Kenton. Command your realm with fairness and swift action.”

“I will, my lord.”

They were heading out of the gatehouse now as a group, out into the inner ward that was full of men camping on the frozen ground. A thick haze of smoke from the fires blanketed the area, made worse by the snow that was falling. It kept the smoke low and heavy, stinging their eyes as they walked through it.

“One last thing, Kenton,” Warwick said as they made their way to the keep. “Be wary of Conisbrough Castle to the south of you. Edward owns it. It is stocked with his men. I’ve not yet heard of the castle taking any punitive action in this area, but it is a foregone conclusion that they know Babylon now belongs to Henry. As I said, it is my belief that the retreating army will head there to gather more forces. That will bring the garrison to your doorstep.”

Kenton was well aware of Conisbrough, a very big castle that belonged to Edward. “Indeed, my lord,” he said. “I shall watch them closely.”

Warwick’s gaze was moving up, through the smoke, to focus on the monstrous keep ahead. “Edward is undoubtedly unhappy that we now have Babylon,” he said, an ominous hint of warning to his tone. “The siege we experienced over the past few days might only be the beginning. I have a feeling there will be many such sieges to come. That being the case, I will reinforce your knight ranks with two additional knights who have been in my service for a couple of years. Sir Matthew Wellesbourne and Sir Gaston de Russe are two of the finest men I have ever seen in action. They may be young but they are seasoned. They fight like men who have been doing it their entire lives. I believe they will make an excellent addition to your ranks. You will rely on them heavily. I trust their judgment and so will you.”

Kenton thought on Wellesbourne and de Russe; he knew them both and his opinion was the same as Warwick’s - he’d never seen finer knights. In fact, he was quite pleased with Warwick’s suggestion.

“I know Matt and Gaston,” he said. “I have fought with them in the past on occasion, although they have mostly been with you and not out with me and my strike force. I am honored that you would leave them in my command, my lord.”

Warwick paused by the steps that led up into the keep. “Wellesbourne is very much loved by the men and will make an excellent commander by your right hand,” he said. “No offense intended for de Birmingham or Forbes or le Mon, but Wellesbourne has a wisdom that nearly exceeds mine. And de Russe… God’s Blood, you know his reputation. He rips men apart with his bare hands.”

Kenton cracked a grin. “I have seen evidence of that,” he said. “I have heard rumor that the men have started calling him The Dark One.”

“It is no rumor.”

Kenton chuckled. “Then I will try to stay on his good side.”

Warwick’s gaze lingered on Kenton. “I would suspect he had better stay on
yours
,” he said. Then, he turned for the keep. “I will meet with my advisors now and we will plan our advance on Wakefield. Where will you be so that I can send Wellesbourne and de Russe to you?”

Kenton gestured inside the keep. “Into the hall,” he said. “I’ve not eaten since yesterday. They can find me in there.”

Warwick simply nodded and took the stairs into the keep with Kenton on his heels. But they separated as soon as they entered the tall, two-storied entry. Warwick went into Gaylord’s solar to the right of the entry whilst Kenton continued on into the hall in front of him. His thoughts were lingering on Wellesbourne and de Russe but he was quickly distracted at the sight of all of the wounded in the hall and the great hearth that was breathing smoke and sparks into the room in a vain attempt to ward off the cold. Stepping further into the hall with the hope of obtaining something to eat, he spied Nicola almost immediately.

The chatelaine of Babylon was kneeling down next to a wounded man, feeding him something out of a bowl. Kenton took a moment to simply look at her; her lovely blond hair was braided, tucked back into a kerchief, and her beautiful face held a warm and comforting expression. God, he’d never seen anything so lovely or reassuring in his entire life.

It was a weak moment, one weak with emotion and fatigue. All he wanted to do at that moment was go to Nicola and take her in his arms, taking solace in her warm and soft body, feeling her flesh in his hands and her scent in his nostrils to remind him that there were still things of beauty left in the world. War seemed to erase all memories of peace and joy from him. At the moment, he was feeling fairly exhausted and desolate. He realized, at that moment, that he needed her.

Needed her!

It was a shocking thought. He’d never needed anyone or anything in his life.

Until now.