Page 49 of So Close To Heaven
“Aye.” He agreed, scanning the message quickly before saying to Ciaran, and all those around, “They’ll be hampered by their own weight, dragging carts and fodder, heavy horses. We ken the hills and passes—we can strike where they are weakest, vanish afore they gather their wits.”
Ciaran nodded grimly. “A wolf cannot kill a herd entire, but it can harry the flanks, scatter the stragglers, bleed the beast till it limps.”
Alaric nodded. “We canna face them head-on,” he said, “but the land itself will be our ally.”
“Our men together—near three hundred—we can strike their flanks, harry their scouts, cut their supply lines.” Ciaran furthered. “If naught else, we’ll learn their intent.”
“Aye.” Alaric’s blood surged hot, the old hunger for battle rising in him. “We ride, then. I willnae be caught sleeping while the lion passes by—the MacKinlays can be ready to march within the hour.”
The hall stirred as men caught the sound of steel in his voice, their mood sharpening to match his own.
Ciaran nodded and seemed to calculate his own readiness before advising, “The Kerr army can march today as well, within hours.”
Immediately, orders began to fly, men scattering to see to wagons, arms, and provisions. The air grew thick with urgency.
Alaric strode from the dais and the hall, calling sharply for Mathar. The captain appeared from outside the gate and Alaric wasted no time. “The English march north in force,” he told him grimly. “Three thousand, mayhap more. We’ll nae stop them, but we’ll slow their stride. Rouse the men. See every mount watered and shod. We march as soon as all is in readiness.”
Mathar bowed and hurried off, shouting for soldiers, armorers, and smiths.
The next hour vanished in a blur. The bailey of Caeravorn was stirred to a mighty din, horses whinnying and armorers, saddlers, and farriers busy attaching heads to spears, shoeing destriers, and outfitting supply wagons. Alaric and Ciaran oversaw it all, walking the yard, calling out commands. The smithy’s forge was kindled and not allowed to die so long as there remained a blade to be sharpened. The ruckus was not filled with dread, but was merry; a group of Kerr men even sang in their delight to escape the listless idleness of peace.
But when there were no more orders to give, when preparations sustained without him, Alaric found his steps turning toward the keep, where Ivy likely sat unknowing at the far side of the keep.
Alaric found her where he half-expected—seated once more at the stranger’s bedside. Unlike so many sickrooms he’d visited, dark and depressing, the chamber was bright and airy, the door cracked open, the shutters thrown wide. The coarse blanket had been straightened, the pillows fluffed, and Ivy herself sat close, bent forward, her chin propped in her hand, her other hand resting lightly atop the quilt, stroking the back of the woman’s hand. There was nothing of death’s shadow here; Ivy had somehow made the chamber feel almost hopeful.
She startled when Alaric pushed the creaky door open further, then sagged back with a weary exhale. He saw itthen, instantly—the faint shadows under her eyes, the pallor of sleeplessness.
“Ye stayed here the night.” His tone was more accusation than question.
Ivy rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “I didn’t want to leave her alone. I didn’t want her towakealone.”
He stepped nearer, the boards under his boots groaning. “Ye shouldnae be running yerself ragged. Ye’ve the bairn to consider.”
Her lips pressed thin, as if offended by the insinuation that she didn’t take care for her babe. “My baby is fine. But if I were in this woman’s place, sick and confused and in a world I didn’t understand, I wouldn’t want to wake up either alone or with strangers hovering over me. I need to be here when she wakes.”
Alaric’s jaw set, but he did not argue further. A familiar light sparked in her eye—that stubborn spark that no command could quench.
Instead, he got on with the purpose of his visit. “We ride before the sun sets,” he said. “Word came—an English host, three thousand strong, pushing north. They dinna march with fire and sword this time, but they’ve already clashed with one village.” He paused, shrugging, while Ivy’s mouth fell open. “We have to go,” he said simply.
Her hazel eyes locked on his. He did not miss the flicker there—fear.
“Caeravorn will be well guarded,” he told her, softly but firmly. “The house guard remains. And I’ll leave Kendrick and Ewan with ye. Naught will touch ye here.”
Ivy rose to her feet, a wee bit less graceful than she’d been even weeks ago. “I’m not worried about me,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m worried aboutyou.”
The words filled him with a heat he hadn’t felt in years, a sharp, heady mix of wonder and something dangerously closeto joy. He stared at her, at the truth plain in her face—shewasconcerned for him.
No one had ever said that to him. Not once. Not even Gwen—stoic Gwen, who had stood tall beside him, who had spoken always of honor and the will of God, but never of fear forhim.
To be worried for Alaric himself—as if he were more than his duty, more than his sword—that was something wholly new. And it tugged, hard, in some place he hadn’t even known existed.
He forced in a slow breath, but his voice came rough all the same. “Dinna fear for me, lass, but keep guid energy for the babe—”
“Oh,” she gasped. “You won’t be... you don’t think you’ll be back in time for the birth?”
“I canna say,” he answered, though her quiet disappointment rattled him more than he cared to let on. He shook himself, as though casting off the poignancy of her words, and straightened to his full height. The commander returned, hard-eyed and unyielding. “While I’m gone, ye’ll heed me, Ivy,” he said, his voice clipped. “Dinna wander without escort—dinna leave Caeravorn at all, dinna go further than the village. Dinna speak with any soul ye dinna ken. If aught seems amiss, ye go straight to Kendrick or Ewan. Keep to yer chamber at night, bar the door.”
Ivy’s brows lifted at the litany, but she seemed to bite back a smile. “Yes, sir,” she murmured, half-teasing, though her eyes betrayed the sting of worry. “And you—just...be careful, Alaric. Please be safe.”
