Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(126)

The knights were businesslike and methodical in their preparation. There was a sense of anticipation but no sense of fear; this was simply what needed to be done, the moment they had been preparing for on the long journey north. Each man was ready, willing, and able to fight to the death for Kristoph’s freedom. And if Gaetan had been feeling some guilt over risking the lives of many for just one man, he needn’t have worried – to each one of them, this was what needed to be done. A brother needed to be rescued and they were going to fight to the death to do it.

As they finished collecting their gear, more hooves were heard out on the road and St. Hèver rushed to the edge of the tree line to see Wellesbourne approaching. He waved the man into the trees and, together, they headed back to the rest of the men, buried deep in the shielding foliage. Wellesbourne approached and saw the preparations for battle.

“You have seen him,” Wellesbourne said to St. Hèver. “Thank God you came before I did. The army was blocking my path to leave town and I had to rush round the walls to get to my horse. It took valuable time.”

Gaetan, in full armor with his shield slung across his back, faced Wellesbourne. “Where was the army when you left?”

Wellesbourne was winded from his wild ride. “They were just heading to the west side of town,” he said. “They are not moving slowly, as I suspect Alary wishes to make it to Tenebris by nightfall, so their pace is quick. They are more than likely thinking of the warm meal and bed that awaits them at Tenebris and not of any dangers on the road ahead.”

Gaetan nodded as he digested that information. “That is good,” he said, “because we intend to surround him with an army.”

Wellesbourne’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What army?”

Gaetan glanced at St. Hèver. “Explain it to him,” he said. “I must go take my position out on the road.”

Kye nodded. “Aye.”

Gaetan paused before he left, looking at his men once more. Eight of the best knights in the world and he was exceptionally proud of them. He could have very well felt apprehension at this moment but he refused. He could only feel pride, honor, and determination. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes.

Men of such bravery were surely immortal.

“Alary of Mercia cannot best us,” he told them in a tone that suggested pure confidence. “Although we cannot know what the end of this battle shall bring, suffice it to say that it shall end and whatever that end shall be, know that I look to each and every one of you as the bravest men I have ever known. It has been a privilege to fight at your side, good knights. It is you who have given me a sense of purpose and I shall always be grateful, no matter what comes. Et pro Gloria dei.”

The knights were looking at him by this time, pride and loyalty reflected in their expressions. They knew, as he did, that they were facing terrible odds. There was a very good chance that one or more of them would not make it through. But still, they were willing to risk their lives for their brother, for their comrade. There was nothing more worthwhile or noble in life.

It was the most important battle they had ever faced.

“Et pro Gloria dei,” Téo whispered to him.

Instead of the usual handshake, he embraced him as a brother would. In fact, all of the knights embraced Gaetan and each other. That was not usual with them but, in this case, it was vitally important to make that contact because if any of them met their deaths, then it was important for the parting to be well-made with embraces of brotherhood and of love. And those words, For God and Glory, were a blessing to each and every one of them, for if the end was near, then God would certainly be waiting for them. If they died, it would be with the love and devotion of their fellow knights.

It was time.

Gaetan headed out to the road, knowing that his men were taking positions in the trees behind him. Once he came through the trees and onto the road, it was dim with the setting of the sun but he knew, at any moment, he would not be alone.

He had a man to meet.



Gaetan was standing right in the middle of the road as he began to see shades of Alary’s army. The sun was setting and the scenery around him ever-dimming and, true to what Wellesbourne had said, the army was moving at a clipped pace, clearly wanting to make it to Tenebris by nightfall.

Gaetan wasn’t sorry he would have to disturb those plans. With his crossbow in one hand, though not raised, he simply stood there as the army entered the portion of the road where there was a dense collection of trees on both sides.

As Gaetan watched them approach, he couldn’t help but notice they hadn’t slowed down. He knew they saw him because men had pointed in his direction but, still, the pace remained swift. The men were noisy, kicking up dirt as they went, and the sheer rumble of many feet, hooves, and wheels gave the army a steady roar.

Wellesbourne and St. Hèver had been correct; there were many mounted warriors, heavily armed. But Gaetan held his ground, even when they came closer and he began to see facial features of the men. Not knowing what Alary of Mercia looked like since he didn’t have Ghislaine to identify him, he would have to ask. As the army drew nearer still, he raised his crossbow.

The gesture was unmistakable.

“Halt!” he bellowed.

The men in the front of the army heard him and were looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. But they didn’t slow down; they kept coming. Gaetan was forced to encourage them to obey his command; he released his crossbow, landing the arrow right in front of one of the men on horseback. A split second after he launched his arrow, several more came sailing out of the trees, all of them landing on the road in front of the advancing army.