"I'm sure we can muster up enough men," Gryndall answered. "Plenty of folks around here would jump at the chance to crack a few Viking skulls."
Neither spoke for a minute. In the silence, while the two men stared out at sea, their eyes fixed on the Viking long ships, their horses pawed hungrily at the scraps of hay that could be found in and amongst the cobblestones.
"What I'm worried about," said Gryndall finally as the sea breeze tousled the small hairs of his beard, "is what to do about the rest of the island."
Dalwynn nodded and Gryndall continued speaking.
"For instance, we have a port at Nairn. Apart from Allmander, Francis, and Bran being stationed there, it's completely defenseless. What if the Vikings decide to land there? What if they've already done so? Or what if they've got two ships docked at Hawthorne and are looting and murdering there at this very moment?"
Dalwynn emitted a frustrated sigh. "We can't be sure."
"We can't be sure," Gryndall repeated. "We have to mobilize our militiae and send them here and to Hawthorne and Nairn.
"Divide them up between the three cities with access to the sea."
"Exactly."
"Well, that's a plan at any rate."
Gryndall sighed and stretched his arms over his head to loosen the cramps in his arms. His armour was heavy.
"I want to have pigeons sent immediately to Nairn and Hawthorne. I need to know whether it's too late, whether Vikings have already landed. My hunch right now is that they have not. But we have no time to waste. Because those ships," he said, gesturing towards the three long ships anchored out at sea, "can land anywhere, at anytime. And we need to be ready."
"What about our naval vessel?"
Gryndall shook his head. "There are only two - and they're in Hawthorne's hands. Remember, we sold them to the Merchants' Association two years ago. Hawthorne mainly uses them for transporting goods to the east now."
"'Tis a shame."
"When Copernicus advised it, he assumed we were at peace with Vinland. As did I."
Dalwynn cleared some sputum from his throat and spat. "Well they've got themselves a war now."
"I hope not. But it's looking that way. There's no more order there. Something must have happened to Bergthor. I haven't yet received a reply to my letter. For all we know, he's been dead for a year."
Dalwynn nodded, deep in thought.
"What are we going to do about Clarendon, my Lord?"
Gryndall pursed his lips as he deliberated. "Clarendon can handle herself...at least until we get back. It's inland so it isn't as vulnerable as the port cities."
"And then there's the castle."
"Aye. And Geoffrey should be back by now and he'll have delivered the message to Morcant to prepare the defenses."
Silence again as the two men chewed on their thoughts.
"We'll spend the night here then?" asked Dalwynn after a time.
Gryndall nodded. "At least one night. Maybe more. It depends on what these long ships do and it depends on what we hear back from Nairn and Hawthorne."
Dalwynn released a gust of air. "We're stuck here then."
"Aye. But we're central. From here, we can ride to Nairn just as easily as we can ride to Hawthorne or Clarendon. It's a good spot to be."
"Well we'll see soon enough, won't we?"
"As your queen, I command you to do as my husband has ordered! Why are you refusing!? There are Vikings - "
"My Lady" Morcant interrupted, "please. I will prepare the castle's defenses - but not now. It's not the right time."
"Ooooohhhhh, you incompetent man! There are Vikings at Brinsley! Brinsley! That's a day's ride from here!"
"She's right, Morcant," said Geoffrey as they followed the knight up the stone steps leading to the ramparts. "If they've already landed at Brinsley, they could be here tonight!"
Morcant shook his head. "The king and the others will have caught up with them by now. They'll take care of it."
The knight reached the ramparts first and quickly scanned the tree line. Still no sign of Anwir or any Vikings.
Damn it, Anwir...
He wouldn't be able to hold the queen off much longer.
Chapter Seventeen
(July 15)
Brinsley garrison. Gryndall's room. Mid-morning.
"My Lord."
"Donal."
"Pigeons. From Nairn and Hawthorne. Both arrived in the early hours."
The knight crossed the floor and handed the letters to Gryndall.
"Hawthorne..." Gryndall read aloud, slowly, as he unfurled the piece of parchment and flattened it against the top of his leg.
"Nothing to report. No sign of Vikings. Will send out scouts. Will remain on the lookout. Will send a pigeon every day to report on status until Viking threat is gone. Advise us if you need militia sent to assist."
Gryndall folded up the letter and set it beside him.
"How about Nairn?" asked Donal, looking on anxiously.
"We'll see."
Gryndall unraveled the second rolled-up parchment.
"Nairn..."
He scanned the letter and Donal saw his face grow pale.
"What is it, my Lord?"
"Vikings landed here last night," Gryndall read aloud. "Counted at least three hundred. Maybe more."
Now it was Donal's turn to pale.
"Three hundred!?"
Gryndall nodded and rose from his chair.
"My Lord...?"
The king picked up his sword belt, buckled loosely around the bed post, and fastened it around his waist. His face was stone. Hard. His eyes, unflinching.
The knight repeated himself. "My Lord...?"
Gryndall turned and met his gaze.
Donal stared back at him.
"What's the matter? What is it?"
"We've been tricked."
"Tricked? I don't understand. How? By whom?"
"By those whoreson Vikings," Gryndall growled, turning and kicking the chair he'd been sitting on.
The wooden piece of furniture flew across the room and clattered noisily against the floor.
"I...I don't understand," said Donal, ignoring the king's outburst.
Gryndall whirled around, eyes blazing.
"Don't you see!? They had two fleets. One landed here. First. To distract us and to keep us out of the way. Meanwhile, the other fleet landed at Nairn. Those Vikings are probably marching on Clarendon as we speak. And I'd be willing to bet a thousand crowns that their numbers are greater than what we saw here."
He swallowed to remove the knot from his throat, choking back angry tears.
"Ygraine...Tyrion..."
Donal shook his head. "You mean...the attack on Brinsley was just some sort of distraction?"
"That is exactly what it was," answered Gryndall bitterly. "And those Viking longships anchored a few miles out - "
"Also, part of the distraction," Donal cut in. "By keeping us guessing where they'll go next, the Vikings on those ships are effectively stalling us, keeping us here while the Vikings from the other fleet gain a foothold inland. And unfortunately, that foothold is likely to be Clarendon."
"Those ships we can see from the harbour front are probably manned by no more than two dozen men. Every available man they have is marching on the capital. And we're here...A DAY'S RIDE AWAY!" Gryndall bellowed, swatting at the water jug that stood on the table at the foot of the bed.
He sent the object flying into the opposite wall where it promptly shattered into a hundred pieces.
"Well, let's go, my Lord. Now. We shall leave this very instant."
Gryndall gave his face a vigorous massage, sniffed, and cracked his neck. "We shall - but we may be too late."
Morcant is sitting at the desk in his chamber, hoping Anwir and the Vikings arrive soon.
A letter from Antolis addressed to Gryndall. Lying open on the desk. It had been brought to him as he was the knight in command in the king's absence.
Morcant massaged his beard with t
he ends of his fingers. It was a lucky thing he'd gotten it.
The entire plan would have been lost. He would have been seized, imprisoned, and hanged as a traitor.
He shuddered at the thought.
His thoughts were interrupted however by a sudden rapping at the door. He pocketed the letter just as the door burst open and in walked Ygraine and Copernicus.
"What is the meaning of this!?" the knight demanded, rising from his chair. "You can't just come in here, my Lady! These are my private chambers!"
"This is my castle to rule while my husband is away," the queen replied hotly, "and as such, I shall go where I please!"
Morcant was slightly taken aback by her aggressive manner. He looked at the old man, standing beside her.
"I don't see anything being done to prepare the castle's defenses," she said angrily, causing him to return his attention to her. "Shall we assume you are choosing to disobey my husband's orders? Your king's orders?"
The knight said nothing.
Ygraine and Copernicus took a step closer.
"Are you not a Knight of the Order?"
"I am that, my Lady," he answered indignantly.
"Well then. Did you not pledge to protect our nation and its people?"
Morcant cleared his throat. He looked uncomfortable.
"I did, my Lady."
Ygraine scoffed. "And yet you do nothing! You sit here," she thrust an arm forward and gestured towards his desk, "twiddling your thumbs and doing Merlin knows what. Meanwhile, Vikings are arriving this very minute!"
Her hand shot towards the window.
"Ask Copernicus! I've sent scouts out and they've just returned and reported to me that Vikings are on their way! They could be here in half an hour! Why aren't you doing anything!?"
His ruse was up. It ended here and now.
Morcant glanced quickly at the doorway. Could he make it around them and lock them in?
"My Lady...please...you misunderstand - "
Without warning, the knight circled around them, knocking Ygraine aside as he passed, and drew his sword once his back was to the door.
"You two are becoming something of a nuisance."
"What? Morcant? What are you - "
"SILENCE!"
Evidently Ygraine was not accustomed to being spoken to this way.
She looked surprised, but then her eyes narrowed and her cheeks grew red.
"YOU TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR! TRAITOR! YOU WILL HANG WHEN ALL OF THIS IS SAID AND DONE!"
"That's quite unlikely," he said, calming himself as he took a step backwards, towards the doorway.
Copernicus looked at him. "How long have you been deceiving us?"
"Long enough to know what side I want to be on," Morcant answered, stepping backwards through the doorway and into the corridor.
"Your actions won't go unpunished."
"Are you going to be the one to punish me, old man? I think not - "
In the second that Morcant had taken his eyes off the queen, she'd rushed forwards, towards him.
He slashed out with his sword - instinctively - and the blade caught Ygraine in the neck.
A deep gash. Blood spurting from her jugular.
"MY LADY!"
Her eyes conveyed intense shock and Copernicus caught her as she fell. He lowered her to the floor - his old bones being unable to hold the young woman for more than a second.
Ygraine's hands were clamped tightly on the wound now - but it was too late.
Watching the scene unfold, Morcant's eyes widened.
He dropped his sword.
"Look what you've done!" Copernicus cried, glancing hopelessly from the knight to the dying queen.
"I didn't...I didn't...I didn't mean to!"
Horrified, the knight took one last look at Ygraine - her bloodied hands, her bloodied dress - and then took off running.
"COWARD!" Copernicus roared after him, his voice echoing along the length of the corridor. "TRAITOR!"
He broke into a coughing fit then, the shouting putting too much strain on his aged vocal chords.
He looked at Ygraine. Her eyes. She knew she was dying.
"My Lady..."
He helped her lie back on the floor and he cradled her head with his hands. The blood was pooled all around them now and causing the wool of his frock to stick to the stone floor.
"My Lady..."
Ygraine looked at him one last time before her eyes went blank and her body went limp.
"Oh, my Lady..."
He rose from the floor, his eyes brimming with tears. He strode over to the window and through watery lenses, saw a long line of Vikings streaming from the Great Wood.
"Oh..."
War drums sounded. He looked down into the courtyard below and saw the peasants of Clarendon lining the ramparts to get a better view of the Vikings. There was worry in all their voices and several women began screaming.
He spotted three men grappling with the chains that operated the drawbridge - trying in vain to raise it up - but to no avail. Morcant had either sabotaged them or they didn't know how to use them. Either way, the castle would soon be filled with Vikings. An hour. Half an hour. Maybe less.
His thoughts returned to Ygraine.
My poor queen.
Tyrion.
Suddenly realizing the great danger the infant heir to the throne was in, he hurried from the room.
He had to find Winifred.
The castle is in chaos.
People yelling and screaming. Women running around frantically trying to grab hold of their children amidst the chaos. Men, in teams of three and four, handing out spears and swords and pitchforks and butchers' knives to every boy and man they see. Livestock and chickens running to and fro, bleating and clucking. Complete disorganization.
"SILENCE!"
Anwir, standing outside the gates alongside Erik the Bald and surrounded by Viking foot soldiers, looked up at the Carthalians assembled on the ramparts.
"What do you want?" a broad shouldered peasant called down.
"A happy conclusion to this unfortunate business."
The Vikings didn't understand a word, but several among them grinned. Toothless grins.
They resembled dogs licking their chops. Impatient to claim their prize. Booty. Women. Treasure. Good food.
"We are four hundred," Anwir continued, opening a hand and waving it at the rows of Vikings standing behind him. "Four hundred Vikings. I know your king is away."
"TRAITOR!" one toothless, middle-aged woman yelled from another section of the rampart.
She pointed a finger at him.
"TRAITOR!"
Anwir shrugged and smiled apologetically.
"Your king is the traitor. He has betrayed his people. Where is he? Why is he not here? He should be defending you. No?"
As he spoke, the priest scanned the ramparts for Morcant. There was no sign of him.
"Your brave Knights of the Order. They aren't here either."
There were nervous murmurs and several grumblings from the peasants and courtiers amassed along the ramparts.
Anwir smiled. He was sowing doubt and discontent.
"Why should you have to suffer because of their incompetence? Open the gates and we shall enter peacefully. Leave them closed, and we shall break them down and things will be rather unpleasant for you all afterwards."
"We will never surrender!' cried a gangly teenager.
All eyes were on him as he hurled a heavy stone directly at Anwir.
The priest moved his head as the projectile whistled past and struck a Viking square in the face.
"ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!"
The Viking pounded his shield with his axe and the war drums began to beat once more.
"As you can see," Anwir said irritably, "these men are like bees. Anger them, and they shall sting you. Open the gates and let us enter without resistance, and you shall not be harmed."
"Winifred! Winifred!"
Copernicus. Hair disheveled. Eyes wild.
Hands shaking.
"Winifred!"
She hadn't been in the maid's quarters. She hadn't been in the kitchen. She had better be in the laundry.
"Winifred!"
The old man reached the bottom of the stairs and shuffled through the doorway.
Rebecca was washing linen, on her knees, hunched over a large metal basin full of steaming hot water.
"Rebecca! Have you seen Winifred? Where's Winifred?"
The young maid stared at him. She seemed annoyed.
"She's around. Why? What's the matter? You look as though you've seen a ghost."
"What's all this shouting? Who's shouting my name?"
Copernicus whirled around and found himself face-to-face with the older of the two maids. She stood there, blinking, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
"Oh, Winifred! Quickly!"
He seized her by the arm and pushed her back towards the doorway through which she'd just come.
"There's no time to lose! Where's Master Tyrion? Is he in the nursery?"
Winifred looked perturbed and she swatted Copernicus' bony arm away.
"Yes, he is. Now what are you raving about? What's gotten into you, Copernicus?"
The old man shook his head, wheezing. He'd worked himself up into a proper sweat.
"There's...no time to explain...Vikings...they're coming. This very minute."
"Vikings?"
"Vikings!?"
Rebecca rose to her feet, her eyes displaying her fear.
"Yes," he answered, glancing at both of them. "Vikings...please. Winifred," he said, turning back to the older of the two maids, "you need to take Master Tyrion...take him far away from the castle...take him somewhere safe."
He began to push her towards the doorway.
"Now, hold on just a minute!"
The maid planted her feet firmly on the floor and Copernicus could push her no further.
"What's the meaning of all this? And why are you acting like a crazy person?"
"Winifred. Listen to me," said Copernicus, his voice unsteady now as tears filled his eyes, "Ygraine is...dead."
The maid looked at him, practically cross-eyed. "Dead? Ygraine?"
"Yes."
The woman's hand flew to her mouth.
"Oh...oh my! No! How?"
"No..."
Copernicus nodded grimly, tears flowing down his wrinkled cheeks, as Rebecca appeared between them.
"She's dead? How? What happened? I don't believe you."
"It was Morcant," he answered, wiping the tears from his face. "He killed her. It was not altogether purposeful...I don't think he meant to harm her when he drew his sword - "