Chapter Nineteen

By the time Thor and his men arrived at Millford, most of the village was nearly ash.

The first thing they saw, other than huddled and frightened villagers, was men on horseback riding up and down the burning roads and alleyways. There were two main roads in Millford and a variety of small pathways and alleys, most of which seemed to be full of smoke and fire.

“The raiders are still here,” he said to the knights around him. “But I do not understand why.”

Next to him, Darius’ helmed head turned in his direction. “What do you mean?”

Thor pointed to a gang of raiders in the distance. “If they looted what they could and then burned the remainder, why are they still here?” he said. “They should have left long ago. Opportunists do not usually linger over their plunder.”

“They do if they want to collect that which has not been burned,” Darius said, keeping a tight rein on his excitable warhorse. “They are looking for anything of value in the ashes.”

That made sense, and it didn’t sit well with Thor. “Scavengers,” he said with disgust. “Bully, you and True take half the men to the south side of the village. Your task will be to capture a couple of the men so we can interrogate them and find out who sent them. Darius and I will remain here with the rest of the men and flush them in your direction. Go around the village and not through it or you may drive them out before we can capture one of them.”

Clayne and Truett took off, pulling about a hundred men with them as they went. They gave the village a wide berth by heading off toward the southeast, sweeping around the village as they headed for the southern side of the village. Thor and Darius gave them several minutes, during which a few of the soldiers questioned the displaced villagers as to who the raiders were. No one seemed to know. But the interviews were cut short when Thor gave the command to move into the village and chase any lingering raiders toward Clayne and Truett.

Thor and Darius split up once they entered the village. Thor took a group of men down the main road, forcing out some of the outlaws who were still lingering in the heart of the village. Most of them scattered, but a couple of them were cornered by Thor’s men. They grabbed the raiders and began beating them as Thor moved forward, chasing men from their hiding places in burned-out cottages, forcing them south. But a few broke away and took off toward the east, sending Thor after them.

It was a senseless chase.

Thor pursued the men for a short time until he realized there was no logic to what they were doing. They weren’t trying to flee. They were simply going up one alleyway and then down another. They weren’t engaging the Stafford men for a fight and they weren’t trying to run away from them. They were simply going in circles. The fires were smaller now, as the main street of the village had mostly burned, so there was heavy smoke in the air, muddling the senses of smell and sight.

But Thor didn’t need to see these men to outsmart them.

He and his soldiers stopped chasing the particular group they’d been pursuing. Instead, they doubled back on their tracks because from the pattern of the fleeing men, they would be coming by them once again, and perhaps they could capture some of them, enough to find out who they were and where they had come from. Thor was disappointed because he hadn’t even had the opportunity to fight one of them, a most undistinguished situation for El Martillo. He’d fought plenty of men in tighter quarters than this, but as he had observed, these men didn’t want to fight.

They simply wanted to be chased.

It went on into the night. Eventually, Thor and more than half the men he’d brought with him had managed to clear out the alleys and cottages of any remaining raiders, driving them toward Clayne and Truett. In fact, the two knights had managed to capture about ten men, all of them being sequestered by Stafford soldiers, and although they hadn’t interrogated them yet, they didn’t need to. One of the Stafford soldiers recognized a former friend who had gone to serve Lord Dordon a few years earlier and that bit of information made it back to Clayne and Truett, who immediately relayed it to Thor.

As Caledonia had feared, her uncle and cousin were to blame after all.

Near midnight, all of the raiders had either run off or been captured. They had a total of thirty-three prisoners at this point, but no Rotri or Domnall de Wylde. All prisoners were being held near the southern end of town, just off the main road, where a gang of Stafford soldiers were guarding them. With the town now silent and the fires having finally died off, Thor gathered his knights for a conclave.

“It is time for answers,” he said grimly. “This is the most disorganized, bizarre raid I have ever seen.”

Darius, Clayne, and Truett heartily concurred. “They would not engage,” Darius said. “Every time we would come close, they would run off like skittish children.”

Everyone was nodding. “And in circles, no less,” Truett said. “They ran around in circles, groups of them. I nearly collided with Bully at one point when our groups crossed paths.”

Thor turned toward the village in smoldering ruins. “Did anyone notice that the raiders were carrying anything of value?” he said. “Did they even pillage, or did Dordon send them over here simply to burn?”

The knights shrugged, shaking heads, looking off at the village also. “I think they had some things of value that they were carrying,” Truett said. “I thought I saw one of them with a sack of goods in his hands. Not even strapped to his saddle.”

“I have a few men on foot patrolling the outskirts of the village,” Darius said. “In case there are more men hiding. Their orders are to flush them out.”

Thor’s gaze lingered on the village before he returned his focus to his men. “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said quietly as he pointed toward the prisoners. “I do not care how you get the information out of them, but get it. Find out what their purpose was.”

“You should do it, Thor,” Darius said. “Blackchurch taught you how to interrogate a man the proper way. You should be the one to pull fingernails or break teeth.”

That wasn’t exactly what he did, but the gist of the statement was true. Thor had been taught interrogation methods that would make grown men squeamish. He’d had more than one occasion to use them, especially as a mercenary. With a shrug, he nodded his head.

“Then bring me one of the prisoners,” he said. “I will show you how to do it right, you silly children.”

There were grins all around because any one of those men could have interrogated a prisoner and done it quite ably. Perhaps with different methods than Thor would use, but ably nonetheless. Truett and Clayne were turning to collect a prisoner when one of the Stafford soldiers suddenly rushed up out of the darkness.

“My lords,” the man, sweating profusely, said quickly. “You must come.”

Thor looked at him with concern. “What’s amiss?”

The soldier motioned to him almost frantically. “Come, my lord,” he said. “You must see this.”

He turned on his heel and began running, down a grassy slope toward one of the only un-burned structures in Millford. It was a livery, a long stone building, and no one had entered it because the sides were open. They could see what was inside—in this case, there were only a few horses tethered at one end. There were no men hiding inside that they could see. Thor, Darius, Clayne, and Truett entered the livery on the heels of the soldier, watching the man frantically point to a pile of dirty hay in one corner of the livery. It was in the shadows, tucked off in the darkness, but they could all see a pair of booted feet.

Expensive boots.

“I was walking patrol at Sir Darius’ request,” the soldier said breathlessly. “When I passed through the livery, I saw that man lying there. He is quite dead.”

The knights moved over to the pile of hay and found themselves looking down at a well-dressed warrior who looked as if he’d been smashed into bits. It was quite dark in the livery and they couldn’t get a good look at him, but what they could see—his clothing, his shoes—was well made.

Thor crouched down near the corpse, trying to get a good look at it, but it was impossible. He lifted a hand to the knights behind him.

“Find me a lamp or something for illumination,” he said to anyone who could carry out the request. “Quickly.”

Truett rushed off with the soldier, dashing to the Stafford men who were bearing torches against the dark night, and took one of them back to the livery. Truett handed it over to Thor, who held the torch over the body, trying to get a good look at the dead man’s face. It took him about five seconds to realize whom he was looking at.

“Christ,” he muttered. “That is the same bastard who tried to stop my marriage to Callie. That’s one of the de Wylde men. The son.”

Since no one else had ever seen Rotri or Domnall the day of the wedding, they had to take his word for it. “The uncle who has been trying to petition the church for a marriage between his son and Lady de Reyne?” Darius said. “Lord Dordon?”

Thor nodded. “The same,” he said. He suddenly had a very, very bad feeling as he stood up, looking around. “If the son is dead, then where is the father? Was he part of the raid against Millford tonight?”

No one had an answer. They had a dead man, a burned village, and more than a dozen of the raiders as prisoners. But no Lord Dordon, who was clearly involved in some way. Thor couldn’t explain why a sense of foreboding swept him, but he motioned to the soldier who had found the body.

“Find a few men and wrap him up,” he said. “He goes with us.”

With that, he headed out of the livery with his knights around him. Up the slope, they could see the Stafford soldiers gathered, as well as the small group of prisoners. But he was feeling jumpy, apprehensive, and he kept looking at their surroundings as if expecting Rotri to pop up out of the ashes. If the son’s body was in the stable, he couldn’t imagine that the father wouldn’t be nearby.

It just didn’t make sense.

“What’s wrong, Thor?” Darius asked what they were all thinking. “What are you looking around like that?”

Thor could only shake his head. “Something is not right,” he said. “We need to return to Stafford immediately. But we’re taking the prisoners with us.”

Darius and Clayne, who had served with Thor the longest, knew the man didn’t panic without reason, but he was currently exhibiting a good deal of anxiety. Before Darius could ask him what his suspicions were, they all heard a high-pitched wail as it grew louder very quickly. Knowing what the sound was, as all fighting men did, the knights threw themselves onto the ground as a crossbow bolt sailed overhead. A second one came quickly on the heels of the first, slamming into the back of Truett’s thigh as he lay on the ground.

Under attack, the Stafford men began to scatter for cover.

More arrows were flying, but they were big bolts, not the small ones meant for men. These were larger bolts, usually meant to take down horses or warriors with a good deal of protection. Realizing they were vulnerable to whatever was flying overhead, Thor rolled over to Truett, who couldn’t sit up or move because the bolt had gone through the meaty part of his thigh and pinned him to the ground. Exposing himself after two more bolts landed close to them, Thor sat up, ripped the bolt out of Truett’s leg, and pulled the man to his feet as they ran for cover.

Thor, Darius, and Truett made it back to the livery without being hit. Clayne went with the men, rushing into the smoking ruins for cover. That left the prisoners unguarded, and they began to scatter.

Thor watched them rush off into the darkness.

“Damn,” he muttered. “We’ve lost our opportunity to find out what we’re in the middle of.”

“An ambush,” Darius said. “This is clearly an ambush, Thor. Is it possible that the de Wylde son was going to warn us and they killed him for it? It looks as if he has been beaten to death.”

Thor looked at him, pondering that question, before shaking his head in confusion. “I suppose anything is possible at this point,” he said. “But I know who would know.”

“Who?”

“Whoever is firing those bolts at us.”

Darius nodded, understanding the implication. “Capture or kill?”

“I don’t see that we have a choice unless we want to be pinned in the livery forever.”

“How would you like to proceed?”

Thor could see the slope and the muddy area that formerly held the prisoners from one of the livery windows. “We need to draw them out,” he said. “Someone must act as the decoy, and then those of us who are safely sheltered will see where the bolts are coming from.”

“And then we move.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll go,” Truett said, moving toward the livery entry with his bloodied thigh. “They already got me once. What is one more bolt?”

Thor grabbed his arm as he walked past. “Not you,” he said. “You cannot move fast with that leg.”

Truett pulled his arm out of Thor’s grasp. “Watch me.”

Thor rolled his eyes, grabbing at him again, but Truett was out of his reach. Resigned that the man was going to try to get himself impaled again, Thor and Darius moved to various vantage points near the livery windows that faced the village, and when Truett stepped out and made himself a giant target, the bolts began to fly again. Two zinged past Truett and, as he dashed back into the livery, the third one skimmed his left shoulder and tore his clothing.

“Good work, True,” Thor said, peering at the torn shoulder to see that it was barely a scrape. “You survived.”

“I told you I would.”

Thor cast him a long look. “The night is not over yet.”

As Truett agreed with a grin, Thor darted over to the north end of the livery, leaving Truett and Darius to follow. They had a fairly clear field of vision from this vantage point of the village, including a few stone outbuildings that hadn’t burned.

“There were three bolts,” Thor said, peering out into the darkness. “That means three men out there with crossbows. Remove your mail, your protection—anything that makes noise when you move or weighs you down. We have to find these men and move swiftly.”

They began to strip down, all of them, as Clayne suddenly rushed in through the entry, tripping and rolling and ending up back on his feet again.

“God’s Bones!” he exclaimed. “Whoever is firing is doing it with skill!”

Thor had his mail off, his helm off, and was going to work on repositioning his broadsword around his waist. “Indeed they are,” he said. “And they have us trapped, so True and Darius and I are going to go after them, but we need your help.”

“What?” Clayne asked, coming over to assist Truett with his broadsword strap. “What can I do?”

“Create a diversion,” Thor said. “Distract them so they do not see us leave the livery. Have some of the soldiers scatter and create moving targets. It is dark enough that it will be difficult to hit them, so try to keep them safe as they move. But we need that diversion.”

Clayne nodded, but he was watching Truett struggle with his injured leg. The man had had a bolt pierce his entire left thigh but pretended as if it didn’t matter.

Clayne pointed at him.

“You are going to take True?” he said. “Look at him, Thor. He is injured. He cannot move swiftly. I’ll go.”

Truett ignored him as he tried to find a comfortable position for his left leg. “If you say another word about my capabilities, I’m going to load you into a crossbow and fire you,” he said. “I’m perfectly capable, Bully. Go and do as Thor has asked.”

Clayne looked at Thor beseechingly, but Thor simply shook his head. “You heard him,” he said. “He will fire you into a tree if you persist. Besides, I need you with the men. Go, now. Do as I say.”

Annoyed that he wasn’t going to have the opportunity to take down one of the enemy crossbowmen, Clayne shot a nasty look at Truett, who caught it in his periphery and lashed out a fist, catching him in the chest. With the wind knocked out of him, and rubbing his sternum, Clayne headed over to the door that opened up to the slope and, beyond that, where the Stafford men were hiding. As he dashed out, the arrows began to fly.

Thor, Darius, and Truett made their move.

Thor was focused on the outbuilding that was about twenty yards in front of him. The building next to it had burned down, but the structure he had seen the bolts emerge from was stone. It was some kind of smithy shack, as those were usually built with stone because of the intense heat from the forges, so he crouched low to the ground as he moved, staying behind the burned-out shells of cottages, inching his way toward the stone building.

At one point, Clayne and the Stafford men began moving around because two more bolts flew out of the stone building, right at the group. That made Thor move more swiftly because he wanted to surprise the attacker and could only do that if the man was distracted. Reaching the stone building, he pressed himself flush against the wall, hearing someone moving inside. The door was closed from what he could see, so as Clayne created more of a diversion, Thor came away from the wall, braced himself, and kicked the door as hard as he could.

The panel collapsed and Thor charged in. Because it was such a small building, he didn’t unsheathe his broadsword because he risked hurting himself in close quarters, so he produced a dagger that could easily slit a throat. The shack was very dark and he was aware of a body in front of him as he crashed into it, grabbing for a head so he could slit the throat.

But his opponent was skilled.

The moment he grabbed for the body, the person inside the shack used the crossbow and cracked it right across Thor’s forehead. The force of the blow was enough to stun him, but he kept his footing even as he could feel the blood running down his face. He dug his fingers into the man’s hair—and he knew it was a man by this point—with the intent of dragging him out of the shack so he could have room to fight. He didn’t want to fight in such a tight space because things could go wrong quickly. Heaving and yanking, he managed to pull the man to the door.

That was when the man began to seriously fight back.

Somehow, the dagger in Thor’s grip was knocked away and it became a fistfight. Thor was big, and powerful, with hammer-like fists—hence the El Martillo moniker—and he put those knuckles to good use as he pounded the man who had been trying to kill him. He still had his broadsword strapped to his right thigh but didn’t want to bring it out until he could get the man completely clear of the shack. The man wasn’t going easily, however, and used his big feet to kick Thor in the right knee, bending it awkwardly. Grunting in pain, but furious at the blow, Thor didn’t hold back.

The fists were flying.

They cleared the shack and began to beat each other soundly. Thor had the advantage of height and strength, and he used it. He also began to use his feet, sweeping the man’s legs out from under him and them pouncing on him. But the man grabbed a fistful of dirt and smashed it into Thor’s face, momentarily blinding him, and they both lost their balance. Together, they rolled down a slight incline onto a pathway below.

The fight continued.

Now that they were free of the confines of the shack, Thor was determined to end the fight once and for all. Grabbing his opponent by the hair, he slammed the man’s face into the rocky ground, several times, enough to stun him. Climbing off the man, he took several steps back and unsheathed his broadsword, taking an offensive stance as the man shook off the stars dancing before his eyes and rolled over onto his bum.

That was when Thor could get a good look at him.

His eyes widened.

“De Lucera?” he hissed in disbelief. “Cristano de Lucera? What in the hell are you doing?”

Cristano spat the dirt out of his mouth, touching a loose tooth before answering. “You are supposed to be dead, de Reyne.”

Thor had to admit that he was a little stunned, but as he stared at de Lucera, things started to make sense just a little.

“You did this?” he said, gesturing to the village. “You instigated this… this raid?”

De Lucera sighed heavily and stood up. “Will you at least let me claim my broadsword and make this a fair fight?”

Thor held up a hand. “Wait,” he said, more angrily. “Answer my question. You instigated this raid?”

De Lucera’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. “I was not alone.”

That comment brought the light of realization in Thor’s mind. “De Wylde,” he rumbled. “De Wylde and his son.”

De Lucera shrugged. “You haven’t said whether I can gather my sword.”

“Why did you kill the younger de Wylde?”

De Lucera shook his head. “I did not,” he said. “We do not know what happened to him. We found him that way, as if he’d been crushed or trampled.”

“Where is his father?”

“I do not know, but the son’s death drove him mad. He is probably off killing himself.”

Thor’s frustration was only growing with those answers. The truth of the situation was coming to him in pieces. “Start from the beginning and I may show mercy,” he said. “Tell me what is happening here. Are you saying this raid was instigated by you and de Wylde to try to draw me out of the castle so you could shoot me down with a crossbow?”

“Let me collect my sword and I will tell you everything.”

“Tell me everything and I may let you collect your sword.”

De Lucera was at an extreme disadvantage and knew it. It wasn’t as if he had much to bargain with. He thought that if he was honest with de Reyne, the man might let his guard down a little, which would help even the odds. Unless Adan and Benedicto were going to come to his aid against a superior opponent, he was on his own.

“After you exiled us from Stafford, we had nowhere to go,” he said. “I have served Stafford for many years. I know the land; I know the people. I did not want to go far and start anew, so I went to Dordon. He is Lady de Reyne’s uncle, after all. I asked him if he would consider accepting my fealty and that of my cousins.”

Thor could only shake his head in disgust. “He is also my wife’s enemy, and surely you must have known that,” he said with skepticism. “Therefore, you went to him in the hopes that he would accept your fealty so you could remain close to Stafford and possibly cause problems for my wife and me. I would be more apt to believe that than any other explanation, so do not lie to me, de Lucera. I know you better than you know yourself.”

De Lucera wasn’t going to deny it. There was no point. “As it turns out, there is someone who hates you more than I do,” he said, a glimmer of irony in his eyes. “When you married Lady Stafford, that sealed Dordon’s hatred for you. While I was content to bide my time against you, Dordon was not. He wants you dead, de Reyne. With you gone, he is once again in control of his niece’s destiny.”

“He was never in control of her, not ever.”

“Mayhap not, but with you gone, it makes the woman more vulnerable to his wishes.”

Thor wasn’t surprised to hear it. “So he moves beyond trying to marry his son to his niece,” he muttered as the pieces of the puzzle began to come together. “Now, he simply wants to kill me so Caledonia will be alone again.”

“That is correct.”

“But even if I am dead, Caledonia is alive and he cannot have Tamworth if she is living,” he said. “God, don’t tell me… He wasn’t going to try to marry her himself, was he?”

De Lucera shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I am going to marry her, assume Stafford, and give him Tamworth.”

He said it so factually, as if it was nothing outrageous, but Thor found himself shaking his head in disbelief.

“Clearly, you two had a scheme,” he said. “And that crossbow was meant to kill me.”

“It was.”

Thor had to wrap his mind around the whole plot. The poor village of Millford was caught in the middle of a power struggle and an attempted assassination while Cristano de Lucera sat calmly a few feet away. A man who had been promised Caledonia and Stafford Castle for his role in Thor’s death.

It was astonishing.

“Something is not clear,” Thor said after a moment. “Did de Wylde promise you this before his son’s death? Because he wants Callie to marry his son, you know.”

“He promised it to me after Domnall’s death, if I would help him kill you,” de Lucera said. “De Reyne, he was originally going to abduct you and ransom you back to your wife. But that changed at Domnall’s death. After that, he simply wanted you dead. For the price of your life, he would demand the wealth of Tamworth.”

“Then it is about the money?”

“It seems to be. Money and power are all that matter, are they not?”

Thor grunted. “There are a few more things worth living for.”

“Like what?”

“A good woman.”

It took de Lucera a moment to understand what he was saying. “Ah,” he said. “You mean Lady Stafford.”

Thor eyed the man in the darkness. “You saw what her marriage to de Tosni was like,” he said. “You saw how he treated her. How he entrusted their children to that charlatan, Madam Madonna. Where is the woman, anyway? She left Stafford with you.”

“She went with us to Dordon,” de Lucera confirmed. “She did not stay, however. She wanted to return to Whitby Abbey, where she evidently came from, in the hopes that she could become a nurse for another noble family. She did not seem overly distraught about not returning to Stafford. She said that she would not serve under a whore.”

He meant Caledonia, and it was a struggle for Thor to keep his temper at bay. “Lady Stafford is no whore, I assure you,” he muttered. “Madam Madonna did not wish to return because she knew her reign of terror was over. She knew that Callie would not stand for her any longer. Hell, de Lucera, you served at Stafford. You saw how that woman treated the children.”

De Lucera was unmoved. “It was not my concern.”

That rubbed Thor the wrong way. Three starving little girls were not his concern? All of those adults at Stafford and no one could take responsibility for the children.

That disgusted him.

“So I see,” he said, feeling that the conversation was at an end. “Let us sum up this situation, de Lucera—Madam Madonna has gone to prey on another family, the younger de Wylde is dead, and you are now my prisoner. But that leaves Lord Dordon.”

“What about him?”

“Where is he?”

De Lucera shrugged. “As I said, his son’s death drove him into madness,” he said. “I do not know where he is.”

That was probably the truth, but Thor had to make sure. “Would he have gone back to Dordon?” he asked.

“He was more concerned with seeing you dead. I do not think he would go home.”

Thor was starting to get that bad feeling again. Off in the distance, he could see the Stafford army moving about and saw, distinctly, when Truett came into view dragging a body. Thor suspected it was one of the de Lucera cousins who, more than likely, were the ones shooting the bolts. If Cristano was, this surely his cousins were as well. Therefore, they had managed to subdue those who had caused the chaos at Millford, evidently for the sole purpose of killing the new earl of Tamworth and Stafford.

But they were missing one key player.

Rotri de Wylde.

That bad feeling grew worse.

“De Lucera,” Thor said slowly, trying to keep his apprehension down, “I am going to ask you one question. Your answer will determine whether or not I kill you where you stand, so think hard and answer well.”

Cristano sighed sharply and tensed, preparing for what was to come. “What is it?”

“Did you and de Wylde concoct this raid to draw me out of Stafford so de Wylde could get to my wife while I was busy fighting off the raiding army?” Thor asked through clenched teeth. “Does the fact that de Wylde isn’t here mean he has gone to Stafford and to Caledonia?”

De Lucera shook his head. “That was not the original plan,” he said. “But, as I said, the death of de Wylde’s son did something to him. Even as Domnall lay at his feet, Dordon was demanding your death. I suppose it is possible that he has gone on to Stafford, knowing I would kill you and knowing we had made a bargain about your widow.”

“Would it be fair to say that he has gone on to collect her?”

“Given how badly he wants you dead, I would say that is fair.”

That was all Thor needed to hear. He moved to shout to his knights, but de Lucera took advantage of the distraction and grabbed for his broadsword. The entire situation deteriorated into chaos again, but when Thor finally got the upper hand, he didn’t hesitate in doing what needed to be done.

De Lucera’s head went rolling one way while his body fell the other.

Before Thor drew another breath, he was running for his horse.