Page 43 of Historical Hotties
Marcil nodded. He was dirty and exhausted from being up all night and in no mood to negotiate with Catesby. He was resolute in what he wanted, so this was going to be an interesting exchange. There would be no negotiation.
He seriously wondered if Catesby was going to survive it.
“I do,” he said, moving to Catesby’s table where a pitcher of stale wine sat. He didn’t even hunt for a cup; he simply downed it straight from the neck before licking his lips. “I have spent all night looking at that beastly fortress and with eighty-one men, it will be quite difficult to secure it. Therefore, if I am going to capture this castle, then I want the castle itself.”
Catesby faced off against Marcil in his low-ceilinged solar, having failed to notice that a few of Marcil’s men had trickled in through the door. He was only focused on the greedy mercenary and the man’s ridiculous declaration.
“The castle ismine,” he said sternly. “That is why I brought you here, Clabecq. You will help me gain that castle once and for all and then I shall share the spoils with you. That was the deal.”
Marcil eyed him. “That deal has changed,” he said. “You failed to tell me how big and how impenetrable it was. You lied to me, Catesby. Therefore, the terms have changed. You can keep most of the spoils and the disputed strip of land that started this mess, but I will keep the fortress. My men and I can stop wandering about and settle in one place. Edenthorpe suits me perfectly.”
Catesby was too angry to realize that he should probably disengage with the conversation and regroup when he wasn’t so livid. Instead, he marched on Marcil, coming close enough to the man to snarl.
“I never lied to you,” he hissed. “How dare you call me a liar. I paid you good money to come to England and assess the situation. That was your job. I told you Edenthorpe was an enormous castle. That information was never withheld from you. Clearly, you are simply not up to the task. I would have hired someone else if I’d know you were such a coward.”
Those were the magic words as far as Marcil was concerned. He turned on Catesby, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
“You will never speak that term in my presence again,” he growled. “Do you understand me? You want me to do a job with only eighty-one men of my own and three hundred of your men and I am telling you that it is going to cost you dearly. I want Edenthorpe when all is said and done. It will become mine.”
Catesby took a step back, shaking his head. “Never,” he gasped. “You will do the job for the price agreed upon or you will leave.”
Marcil took a deep breath, perhaps one of annoyance, and set the wine pitcher back to the table. “And that is your final word?”
Catesby was back by the table he used to write on, perhaps just now noticing that his solar had about five heavily armed mercenaries in it. The situation was spiraling out of control very quickly and he was trying not to look nervous, but it was difficult.
He suspected that he and the mercenaries had come to an impasse.
“It is my final word,” Catesby said bravely. “I will not be tricked or coerced by you, Clabecq. We made a bargain and now you are trying to change it. There will be a great deal of wealth to go around once Edenthorpe is captured, but you cannot have the fortress. That becomes mine. I have staked my claim.”
Marcil looked at him a moment, appraising him, before turning casually to his men.
“Kill him.”
His men gladly moved in, weapons drawn. Catesby, seeing that he was about to be cut into pieces, drew the sword that he kept on the wall near the hearth and began swinging it like a madman. Soon, the small solar was filled with sounds of metal upon metal.
Servants hearing the fight ran for Catesby’s men, who were in the bailey. Unfortunately, Clabecq’s men were at the entry to the manse and managed to stop all but one of the frightened servants. The man that got through sounded the alarm. Soon, the entire bailey and manse of Hagg Crag was alive with the sounds of battle, blood, and chaos.
Three hundred adequately trained troops were an even match against eighty-one highly trained mercenaries. Hagg Crag deteriorated very quickly into a roiling mass of death and violence. By sheer number, Hagg’s men should have overwhelmed the Flemish mercenaries. But as the battle wore on and more Hagg men dropped, the more evident it became that the mercenaries were gaining the upper hand.
Holding true to their nasty reputation, they tore through the Hagg army.
Even so, the Hagg men put up a good fight. There were pockets of fighting all over the bailey that eventually ended with death, surrender, or escape. When some of the Hagg men saw which way the winds were blowing, they escaped through the gatehouse and out into the countryside. For those who remained behind, they were poorly matched against the mercenaries, who eventually triumphed.
Inside the manse, Catesby put up a good fight but, in the end, he was no match for four highly trained mercenaries. They not only killed him, but they quartered him and tossed the body parts out of the window. Catesby’s son, who hadn’t even been involved in the situation, was the victim of bloodthirsty mercenaries who did to him what they did to his father.
Edward Hagg ended up in pieces thrown from a window.
The battle, from start to finish, only lasted for a couple of hours. When everyone related to Catesby was either dead or had run off, Marcil and his men began to ransack the manse for anything of value. They started in Catesby’s solar, tearing apart walls, tearing through chests and any solid vessels they could find in their hunt for valuables.
They’d killed the master.
Now, they were going to kill the manse.
With no one to stop them, they were ruthless in their hunt. Nothing escaped their notice or destruction. When they had sufficiently torn apart the solar, they made sure to light it on fire and shut the door. Since the manse was made mostly of stone, it would take some time for the fire to burn through the wooden floors and furnishings, giving them time to search the rest of the place.
As the fire smoldered in the solar, they ran through the rest of the rooms, looking for anything of value. Catesby only hadone son, as his wife had died many years before, and they tore apart his son’s chamber on their continued hunt for anything valuable. They even ransacked the dead wife’s chamber, stealing her jewelry and fine things that had been stored away after her death.
They left that chamber on fire, too.
