De Wolfe Pack 05 - Walls of Babylon (13 page)

The powerful form of Kenton le Bec.

The next day

Nicola was fairly certain that she had never been so cold in her entire life.

It was an hour before dawn as the party from Babylon set out for Manchester’s market. Wrapped in the warmest clothes she had, which included a woolen shift, woolen hose, a heavy traveling dress, and a cloak lined with rabbit fur, she was still feeling the bite of the weather. Her face felt as if it was half-frozen already and they had barely left the gatehouse.

But she kept quiet about the cold because she knew that all of them were feeling it. The clouds had cleared up overnight and a brilliant blue sky await them for their travels to Manchester. At least that part of the trip would be pleasant.

Beside her, Tab rode astride his fat roan pony because Nicola had pleaded with Kenton to allow the boy to come. Tab was mature for his age, a good traveler, and the lad had begged to go. Nicola could not deny him and Kenton had given his permission without much resistance, so Nicola and Tab rode happily, side by side, right in front of the big wagon that they brought to carry their provisions home in.

In spite of the cold, it was already turning out to be a fine day and a good ride. The road was in unusually good condition given the weather as of late, with dirty snow drifts piled up along the side of the road. In spite of the cold, it felt good to be free of Babylon’s confines but Nicola very quickly saw the damage to the land left by two successive sieges. Trees were stripped bare and the land was generally beaten and desolate. Remnants of cooking fires littered the ground. There were also big pits spaced around, dug so the men could relieve themselves. The smell of human sewage was heavy.

But the smell cleared up as soon as they got away from Babylon and down the road a mile or two. The frozen landscape appeared a bit more attractive as they headed east towards Rochdale and Manchester. The horses were rather frisky, having been corralled for so long, and twice Tab’s pony bucked and tried to throw the boy, but he remained steady in the saddle. Kenton, who was riding in front of them, finally told Tab to run the pony up the road and back again so the beast would settle down, and Tab happily complied. Nicola watched with concern as Tab’s fat-butt pony raced up the muddy road.

“’Tis a fine animal, Lady Thorne,” Kenton said when he noticed her look of distress at her son riding at such breakneck speed. “Your son rides him quite well.”

Nicola’s gaze was on her son in the distance, riding hard as the mud flew. “He has been riding since before he could walk,” she said. “His father insisted.”

Kenton watched the boy nimbly turn the animal around at the crest of the road and head back in their direction. “That was wise,” he said. “Where did he plan for your son to foster? He is coming of age, you know. If arrangements have already been made, then I would know of them since I now oversee your family.”

There was haughtiness in that statement but Nicola ignored it. In fact, she began to reflect on her fantasy of Kenton being her husband and the master of Babylon as if Gaylord Thorne had never existed. It was still a lovely, secret fantasy, but one she just as quickly chased away. She didn’t want to be caught dreaming of the man.
Dreaming of the enemy
. She struggled to focus on his question.

“He is only five years of age,” she said. “He is too young to foster.”

“I was sent to foster at four years of age.”

Nicola frowned. “Ridiculous,” she said. “That is far too young.”

Kenton’s lips twitched with a smile. “My mother tells the tale that I was four years of age whilst my father says that I was more like eight years of age,” he said. “They cannot agree. Mother insists I was four.”

Nicola could see that he was struggling not to smile at what was undoubtedly a heated topic between his parents. She couldn’t help but grin. “I am sure to your mother, you were still her baby whether or not you were four or eight,” she said, her gaze moving back to Tab who was thundering towards them. “I know how she feels.”

Kenton opened his mouth to reply but Tab’s pony suddenly slipped in the mud and went down, pitching Tab over its head. Tab went sailing into a snow drift, face-first, as his mother shrieked. She spurred her horse towards her son but Kenton was already there well before she was, reaching out to help the boy from the dirty snow. Odd how Kenton beat her to her own son, as if the boy meant something to him. As he pulled the lad free, someone went to see to the pony.

“Tab!” Nicola gasped, pulling her son into her arms. “Are you well? Did you injure yourself?”

Tab, frowning, was wiping snow and dirt off his face. “Nay,” he said, grumpy and embarrassed. “I am not hurt. Is my pony well?”

Tab pulled from his mother’s embrace, more concerned for the pony than for himself. He went to the beast as one of the knights who had accompanied them was checking the animal over. As Tab petted the pony, looking it over with great concern, the knight was running his hands all over the animal’s limbs.

“He seems sound,” the knight told Tab. “I believe he is well. He merely slipped.”

Tab nodded silently although he still looked the pony over, just for his own comfort. He took the reins from the big knight as Kenton helped the boy to mount again.

“That was quite a tumble, young Thorne,” the knight who had tended the pony said. “You fall as well as any knight.”

Kenton snorted. “Knights do not fall, Matt.”

Sir Matthew Wellesbourne laughed, a very easy smile on his handsome face. “If you have been told they do not, then someone is telling you lies,” he said. “And if you think
you
have not, then there are men who will say differently.”

Kenton cocked a dark eyebrow. “Nay, there are not. All witnesses have been eliminated.”

“I believe you.”

Matthew grinned at Kenton, and then at Nicola, before turning away to collect his big white mount. Kenton pointed to Matthew as the man mounted his steed.

“That is Matthew Wellesbourne,” he told Nicola. “A finer knight has never walked this earth, Lady Thorne. He is under my command now and shall be at your service.”

Nicola turned to look at the big knight who had helped her son and saw that he was still smiling at her, now dipping his head politely in her direction.

“Lady Thorne,” he said. “’Tis an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Nicola simply smiled politely and returned her attention back to Tab, who was now wrestling with his frisky pony.

“Tab,” she said hesitantly. “Mayhap… mayhap you should ride on the wagon. Your pony is quite wild this morn.”

Tab frowned at his mother. “I can ride him,” he insisted. “I must show him I am the master!”

With that, he spurred the pony back down the road. Kenton watched the boy go, turning to flick a hand at Wellesbourne, who spurred his big rouncey after the boy. Nicola, frowning, watched them ride down the road after each other.

“You must let your boy become a man, Mother,” Kenton said softly. “Tab is capable. You must let him make his own mistakes and take his own falls.”

Nicola turned to look at the man, realizing he was fairly close to her. He had obviously been watching her tense expression, concern for her son and his lively pony. She was torn between agreeing with him and her motherly instincts.

“Why must he become a man at such a young age?” she wanted to know. “Why can he not simply enjoy being a child for now?”

Kenton’s lips twitched with a smile, his gaze warm upon her. “Because he wants very badly to grow up,” he said softly. “He wants to be a man and take care of his mother and brothers. You must let him do this and not undermine his confidence by reminding him that he is still a child. Children have ruled kingdoms, my lady, and they have done it quite well. Tab is a fine young lad and he will make a fine man thanks to you, so you must let him grow up.”

It was a very kind thing to say, one that touched Nicola deeply. It also softened her up to Kenton’s suggestion that Tab must be allowed to grow up. Reluctantly, she turned her attention to Tab and Wellesbourne, far down the road.

“I suppose you are correct,” she said. “When Gaylord passed away, Tab inherited everything from his father. He is already a baron. I suppose I should….”

Horrified, Nicola realized she had divulged information she had sworn never to reveal to Kenton.
A young baron would make a fine hostage
, she had once told herself. Now, she could kick herself for revealing what should not have been revealed. She prayed that Kenton didn’t catch on to what she had said, but there was no way around it. She had been clear and Kenton caught on right away.

“I was not aware that Thorne was titled,” he said. “What title did Tab inherit?”

Nicola sighed heavily. “Baron Marsden,” she said. “His lands run all the way to Rochdale to the west.”

Kenton didn’t seem to be overly impressed or concerned over a titled five-year-old boy. “I also inherited a title when I was young,” he said. “My mother’s father died when I was six years of age and I inherited the Dunscar barony from him.”

Nicola turned to look at him, mildly impressed. “You are titled also?”

“I am,” he replied. “I have a castle in Yorkshire that belongs to me also, through my mother, called Steelmoor Castle. Unfortunately, Edward likes it a great deal and I have been forced many times over the years to return to defend it. Henry keeps a big contingent of men there.”

Nicola simply nodded. She wanted off the subject of young barons should Kenton come up with the idea to use Tab somehow because of it. Silently, she turned back to her palfrey and Kenton came up behind her, helping her to mount the horse. Quite literally, he lifted her up and put her on it and she smiled politely to the man to thank him. Stone-faced Kenton smiled back.

The rest of their ride into Manchester was uneventful but before they entered the city proper, Kenton had his ten-man escort, including two knights, remove their tunics bearing Warwick’s colors. He didn’t want to charge into town announcing who he was even though Manchester was mostly held for Henry. Still, it was his directive and duty to secure the entire town for Henry’s cause but until he could do that, they had to tread carefully. He didn’t want to get into a fight with Nicola and Tab in their midst.

By the time the party entered the city walls, the sun was starting to rise and people were leaving the big church at the conclusion of matins. The church of St. Mary was very old, having been built on the site of an even older church, and it had been packed with worshippers on this frozen morning.

As their group progressed into the heart of the city, they followed the flock of worshippers towards the street of the great market, as most people in Manchester, and in other great cities, usually did their shopping on Sundays after worship. Soon enough, the big street with its many vendors opened up wide before them and the patterned protocol of market shopping was in full swing.

With the street in sight, Kenton called a halt to the party. There was palatable excitement in the air, the bustle and hustle of a busy city around them, and Kenton moved their group off of the main road and up against a building that was both a residence and a seamstress according to the painted sign above the door. Leaving two men-at-arms guarding the horses and the wagon, Kenton took Nicola, Tab, Wellesbourne, and the remaining eight soldiers to the street where farmers and merchants were doing their business for the day.

The very first vendor they went to was a sheep farmer. The man had his sheep in a makeshift corral, great wooly beasts with spindly black legs. Several of the ewes were pregnant, the farmer told Kenton, and Kenton had the man point them out. Meanwhile, Tab wanted to pet the fuzzy animals, including three tiny lambs, and ducked under the corral railing, pursuing the sheep as they walked in a nervous bunch away from the boy. Nicola alternately negotiated with the farmer and told Tab to get away from the sheep. The boy was chasing them in circles around the corral, so much so that it looked like someone was stirring a great pot of sheep. Still, he managed to catch one of the lambs and he hugged the beast happily.

Nicola was very good at bartering and Kenton stood out of her way as she deftly handled the farmer; as Babylon’s chatelaine, she was much better at negotiating good prices than he was. Kenton wasn’t one to negotiate at all, which Nicola was to discover with the next merchant. After they purchased six pregnant ewes, three ewes with lambs, and a ram from the sheep farmer, they moved on next to a man who had dozens of sacks of grain – oats, rye, barley, and wheat – and his stall was the most crowded.

It was somewhat of a frenzy with a dozen customers demanding service. Unwilling to wait his turn amongst the throng of people, Kenton had Wellesbourne and the soldiers chase all of the customers away by flashing swords and balled fists, and then Kenton went to the merchant and put the tip of a dagger to the man’s throat and demanded the best deal for all of his sacks. Exasperated, Nicola was forced to step in, remove the dagger from the man’s throat, and negotiate for the price for every single sack of grain the man had. They needed it badly and were willing to pay.

Fortunately, the farmer wasn’t one to hold a grudge against a man who held a blade to him and soon enough, the men-at-arms were loading the bags of grain onto the wagon. The farmer, who had a great deal of land to the north of Manchester, had been very smart about storing his grain so it would not become wet or moist and grow mold during the winter months. He’d kept it very dry, off the ground on pallets of wood and stone, and therefore he’d made it a valuable and quality crop. It was a good haul.