Page 148

Dawn turned into mid-morning and the mist began to burn away, revealing glimpses of bright blue sky above.

It was still cold as Four Crosses settled down to a busy day.

Brend, having been informed of his mission as he broke his fast, had already departed for Lioncross Abbey, taking the message of what was transpiring at Four Crosses straight to the earl.

The damaged wall was almost halfway repaired and sections of the wall walk that had been damaged during the bombardment were also being repaired.

Men were fixing the roof of the troop house with more sod they had dug up from the hillside and in the kitchen yard, the cook was boiling a pig.

The smell of pork was filling the air and causing men to lick their lips in anticipation.

It was a relatively normal day in a series of days and weeks that had seen few days like this.

Jamison was standing at the open gatehouse, deep in discussion with a few Four Crosses men as well as Thad.

Four Crosses had no moat, with only the tall outer wall for protection, and Jamison was of the opinion that a moat and earthworks on the exterior of the castle would be excellent for its defenses.

Of course, no alterations of that magnitude could take place without de Lohr’s approval but Jamison thought that it was something to discuss with the earl when he arrived.

He rather liked planning castle defenses and had an excellent eye for design.

Once, he had expressed interested in wanting to be a builder but his father had killed those dreams quickly.

No son of George Munro was going to be anything other than a warrior.

Therefore, planning out castle defenses was great fun to him. As Jamison watched some of the men pace off what would have been a decent-sized moat, he caught movement at the gatehouse, turning to see all three de Llion sisters emerging through the gatehouse tunnel.

Jamison’s attention was immediately drawn to Havilland.

Her long hair was in two braids and she wore a dark green tunic that hung to her knees, baggy leather breeches, and boots that went as high as her ankle.

Madeline was beside her, with her hair twisted up in that severe top-knot she always wore, while Amaline brought up the rear with her wildly curly red hair.

Jamison didn’t move to greet the women. He thought it best to maintain a civil but polite manner with them, especially with the situation with Madeline now.

Truthfully, he couldn’t even look at her, knowing what her lover had done to her the night before.

That skinny, arrogant girl had been used in ways that prostitutes were often not.

Big arms folded across his chest, his gaze lingered on the approaching women before casually returning his attention to the project at hand.

“Measure out two feet from the wall and then begin yer measurement o’ the moat,” he said to the men who were using a length of hemp twine to mark out distances. “It ’twill have tae be at least twelve feet across so men canna easily breach it.”

“But why not put it all the way against the wall?” Thad wanted to know. “Why are you leaving ground between the wall and the moat?”

Jamison glanced at him. “Because if we dig too close tae the wall, we could undermine it by weakening the foundation.”

“What are you doing?”

Havilland asked the question and Jamison turned to see that she was standing fairly close to him.

Madeline stood next to her, arms folded and back straight, while Amaline still stood behind the pair, seemingly uncertain.

More than likely, it was because she was still terrified of Jamison from the brutality of their first meeting.

But Jamison didn’t give any regard to Amaline or Madeline; he smiled politely at Havilland.

“I am thinking on reinforcing the fortress wit’ a moat,” he said. “It would make her much stronger in the face of the Welsh attacks but the problem is that it would take a long time tae build. Digging all of that dirt doesna come quickly or easily.”

Madeline snorted. “A moat,” she said, inferring that he was an idiot. “We do not need a moat.”

Jamison’s gaze lingered on the girl a moment before flicking his hand at the damaged wall under repair.

“Ye need something,” he said, “because yer walls are not as strong as ye think they are. ’Twas only by God’s good graces that the Welsh werena able tae mount the walls.

The next time, we mayna be so fortunate. ”

Madeline wasn’t convinced, shrugging her shoulders haughtily. “It seems like a waste of time to me.”

“Why?”

She looked at him, rather nastily. She didn’t like to be questioned. “Because Four Crosses has stood for many years without a moat and it has survived many attacks,” she pointed out. “Do you think we know nothing, Gael ?”

There was that ugly word again, making another appearance. It was clear that she was challenging him. Havilland, standing next to her sister, cast the woman a threatening glance to shut her up.

“The ground is full of rocks,” she said, indicating the obvious nearby as rocks jutted from the earth.

“It is not a bad idea but I do not know if it is practical. It would be very difficult work and it would take years. I doubt we could get conscript labor from the area to do it, which means our soldiers would have to do it. That would leave our fortress unprotected.”

Jamison thought that was a very intelligent point but, then again, he was seeing the beauty in everything about Havilland these days.

He thought she was the smartest woman he knew.

“The Welsh serfs wouldna help ye,” he said, shaking his head as he looked around at the landscape, at the stark hills and rocks that made up Wales.

“The Welsh are barely beyond living out o’ caves as it is.

Backwards, dirty people who fight and live like animals.

Yer work force would come from hired English.

I’m sure de Lohr can put his finger on quite a few o’ them. ”

Havilland was watching the men as they measured out the size of a potential moat. “Are you going to suggest he fortify the fortress?”

Jamison was careful in his reply, knowing anything he said would get back to the Welsh rebels through Madeline.

He shrugged, turning to watch the men scratch dimensions in the earth.

“It was a thought,” he said. “I was pondering how tae protect the walls when the next wave of Welsh barbarians come.”

He was calling the Welsh names for a reason. He wanted to see if Madeline would react to his slander but he didn’t want to look at her to see if he was gaining headway, so he began to walk, pointing out things for Havilland to see.

“The wall could be extended upward,” he told her, pointing to the top of the wall. “Right now, without a moat, yer walls are vulnerable tae ladders or war machines. Have ye ever seen any used against ye?”

Havilland was following him, as was everyone else, moving like a herd with Jamison leading. “War machines?” she repeated. “Like trebuchets?”

He nodded. “Those, and mobile fighting platforms,” he said. “Ye have enough wood around here tae build any manner of devices tae mount the walls. I’m afeared that the next time the Welsh come, they may do just that and we willna be prepared.”

All of it was meant for Madeline’s ears. He was making it sound as if they were weakened and uncertain, when the truth was quite the opposite. Thad was following, listening as well, but unlike Jamison, he kept his eyes on Madeline. He wanted to see her reaction.

But Madeline didn’t change expression much except to show, increasingly, that she believed Jamison to be a fool.

She rolled her eyes repeatedly to what he said, shifting about on her feet impatiently as her sister listened to what the man had to say.

It was clear she had no respect for him or what he was saying, and wished she was anywhere else but standing there listening to him yap.

Rude didn’t quite encompass her behavior; disrespectful was more like it.

If Jamison noticed Madeline’s shifting and sighing and eye rolling, he didn’t let on.

He kept talking defenses with Havilland, who seemed to be hanging on every word.

With such lovely attention, he didn’t have time for Madeline’s antics but, at one point, he looked up and saw that she was shaking her head.

She didn’t agree with something he’d said. He zeroed in on her.

“And ye, Madeline?” he said, not even bothering to formally address her. “Ye have something different tae say about all of this?”

Realizing she was in his crosshairs, Madeline’s head came up and she looked around her, at all of the attention on her. She struggled not to look as if she’d been caught in her face-making and foolery.

“I… I simply think it is all a great waste of time,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “Four Crosses has stood for over one hundred years against Welsh attacks. What makes you think you know better than the men who built her?”

It was a semi-valid point and Jamison took it seriously.

“Because the men who built it were fighting unorganized tribes, men who had spears and bows and arrows, and little else,” he said.

“The Welsh who fight today fight with different tactics. They are better trained and better equipped. As they grow as fighters, so must Four Crosses grow as a fortress or she will fall. She came very close tae falling with the last battle, so measures must be taken tae ensure that doesna happen again.”

Madeline shook her head. “They will not breach the castle.”

“They almost did, lass. Did ye not hear what I said?”

She flamed at the term lass, something she clearly didn’t like. “But they did not ,” she emphasized. “We do not have the money or the manpower to make the changes you are suggesting.”