Page 35 of The Scot

Chapter 15

His scout had returned from The Wild Boar, an inn that some called the most strategic location along the border. Every rumor from England or Scotland, whether it be from the north or the south, eventually made its way to the Boar.

And there were whispers of the king’s supporters mobilizing against them. Paired with the information Roysa had brought them, it seemed to indicate the rumors were true.

King John did not intend to make good on his agreement to meet with them. He planned to attack.

Now, if only his men could settle on a strategy. Although they’d been discussing the matter for days, they were still at a standoff. His captain thought they should prepare for a siege only if Ulster marched against them; his marshal thought they’d best do so anyway.

These men had been entrusted to keep Dromsley Castle safe in his absence. In his father’s absence. He respected them and understood their hesitation.

Even so, they were wrong.

If John effectively mobilized Ulster, the order’s mission would begin to crumble. Dromsley was as well positioned as any fortification to withstand a siege. They were well supplied and as prepared as possible. It would last for months.

Although Terric should not have allowed Rory to delay sending the men. Indeed, he’d made a grave mistake in doing so—he knew they could not afford to wait. If the rumors proved true, Dromsley would be under attack the moment the weather broke.

They could not bend lest they break.

“We fight,” he announced over the others’ arguing in his solar. He moved away from the table, his decision made.

“Tomorrow we will plan, though you have my leave to prepare for siege as well,” he said. “Tonight, we eat.” Something they had not done all day.

The marshal and captain did not know him well—before this winter he’d only visited Dromsley on occasion—but Lance had been his friend, his brother in the order for years. He was the only one who did not question his decision or attempt to dissuade him. Lance knew he did not waver once he’d made a decision.

It was done. They would fight.

But he really did need to eat. Tomorrow was soon enough for them to continue their planning.

“My lord?” Gilbert grimaced.

They doubted him, and to succeed, he would need their confidence and support. His father’s face flashed before him. His words rang in Terric’s ears.

If you believe, they will too.

“If Ulster and Langham combined forces, we will undoubtedly be outmanned—you are correct about that. But not outmaneuvered. If victory were not within our grasp, I’d not sacrifice Dromsley’s men unnecessarily.”

Whether it was his tone or his words that put Gilbert at ease, Terric couldn’t be sure. Although he was still not pleased, Gilbert looked slightly reassured as he glanced down at the hand-drawn map of Dromsley and its surrounding lands they’d been studying.

“We will need to discuss a battleground.”

“Aye,” he said.

“And take a full accounting of their combined men.”

Terric agreed again.

Still, despite his extreme hunger, Terric waited. He wished to have his marshal’s full cooperation and confidence.

“We should speak to the men as soon as possible,” Gilbert continued.

He paused, wanting his marshal to know he understood the gravity of the decision he’d made. “I agree,” he said finally.

Satisfied for now, Gilbert gestured toward the door Terric desperately wanted to exit. Because he was hungry.

Not because he wanted to see Roysa.

“Your gown . . .”