Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(128)

Alary looked around to the dark trees lining both sides of the road. Clearly, there were men in them, men with crossbows, but an entire army? He returned his attention to Gaetan.

“I told you not to follow me,” he said. “My scouts reported that we were not followed, but your man was certain his comrades had not given up. He told me so. How did you move an entire army north and I did not know of it?”

Gaetan smiled thinly. “My men have arrows trained on you at this very moment,” he said, “and that shield will only protect one side of you. If I were you, I would do as I have asked. Bring me my man. I will not ask you again. Next time, I will let my army do the asking.”

There was truth to that statement. Alary could only protect one side and he lost some of his smug appearance. He backed up a bit, so there were men behind him and around him, but even those men started to move away out of fear that Alary was an arrow target. When Alary saw what was happening, his humor vanished completely. He eyed Gaetan with nothing short of pure hatred, realizing he had no choice but to bring forth his prized prisoner. If he didn’t, he suspected very bad things were about to happen.

“Bring me the Norman!” he bellowed. “Bring him now!”

Back in the lines, men began to scramble. As Gaetan and Alary gazed at each other in a deadly staring game, back in the lines, Kristoph was being unchained.

Half-unconscious with hunger and fatigue, he hadn’t heard what was going on at the front of the army. But he’d most definitely heard the arrows hit around them, so he knew something was happening. When the guards around him began to unchain him, he began to suspect something quite serious was afoot, but he had no idea what it was until he was brought forward through the lines of Saxon men.

Exhausted, starved, beaten, and in need of both a bath and a shave, Kristoph made his way slowly. He couldn’t move very fast but he was trying. As he emerged from the army, dragged forward by two of Alary’s men, his gaze fell on Gaetan and it was all he could do to not burst into tears; he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life than Gaetan de Wolfe, standing alone and facing off against an army of two hundred men. The man had the bravery of the archangels and Kristoph knew, at that moment, that he would be saved.

There was no doubt in his mind.

Gaetan, too, had never seen any sight quite so wonderful as he did when his gaze beheld Kristoph. But he wanted to burst into tears for an entirely different reason; the man looked like hell. He looked like a starved animal. Normally a muscular man of some bulk, he looked as if he’d lost half of his weight. At that moment, Gaetan’s joy and shock turned into anger so deep that he was having a difficult time controlling it.

He wanted to kill.

“Kristoph,” he said hoarsely. “Come here.”

Kristoph moved to obey but Alary grabbed him by the arm. “Not so fast,” he said. “Your man is a valuable prisoner. We must discuss his release.”

Gaetan realized he was shaking with fury. “There will be no discussion. Turn him over to me or every man in your army will die, starting with you. Is this in any way unclear?”

Alary didn’t like being threatened. Unsheathing a dagger at his side, the same one he’d used to cut off the portion of Kristoph’s finger, he pointed the tip right at Kristoph’s left kidney.

“What gives you the right to come to my country and make such demands?” he hissed. “You do not belong here, Norman. You and your kind have come here to take what does not belong to you and as long as I hold your man hostage, the Normans will do as I say!”

Gaetan could see, in that statement, that Alary was detached from the world at large. Only a fool would make such a statement. What was it Antillius had called him? Alary Insanus. Alary the Insane. Gaetan began to realize that there may be truth to that and his only hope would be to behave as Alary was.

Threats to a man who only understood the language of a madman.

“Holding one Norman knight against the entire Norman nation will not cause them to surrender,” Gaetan said. “Give me my man and I will leave you and your army intact. Continue to threaten him as you do and my army will emerge from the trees and kill every last one of you. Now, take your dagger away from him. Kristoph, come here.”

Alary didn’t move and Kristoph, feeling the knifepoint at his kidney, knew this was the moment of truth. He could move, but he knew Alary would probably shove that dagger deep into his body if he did. He might survive it; he might not. But he was willing to take the chance. All he knew was that this was the moment when he fought back against his captor where he had been unable to fight back before. He was free and he was going to remain free.

But Gaetan had to know that and he had to be prepared. Therefore, he said the only thing he could at that moment, his blue eyes fixed on Gaetan.

“Et pro Gloria dei,” he said quietly.

For God and Glory.

Gaetan knew exactly what that meant. Those were words that preceded a fight, and a fight was upon them. There would be no more talk, no more negotiation. Knowing this may be their end, if they went, they would go out fighting like the knights they were. This was their battle.

Swallowing hard and bracing himself for what was to come, he nodded his head, once.

“Et pro Gloria dei,” he murmured.

He braced himself.

What happened after that was something Gaetan would remember for the rest of his life. It seemed as if it happened in slow motion, but it happened in the blink of an eye. Gaetan saw it and then it was gone, like a flash, and all hell broke loose as an army of men he didn’t recognize came rushing out of the trees, swarming the Saxon army, and pulling men down with their bows and arrows and spears.