Keeper of the Black Stones (51 page)

“After the battle, it'll be chaos,” he was saying now. “It's always that way. Men will have lost their leaders and their direction, and will run amok. It will be incredibly dangerous. When the battle starts, hang back. Stay here, no matter what you see or hear! When it's over, I will come for you, if I can. If I cannot, Reis will take you to Abergavenny. You will go with him without argument, and go home. Forget that this ever happened. Understood?”

“But you'll win. Henry's army will win the battle, and you'll be with us. Right?” Paul asked suddenly.

Doc took a deep breath. “I'm not going to lie to you, Paul. With Lord Stanley on Dresden's side, it will be a toss-up. We may still have the weapons, but Dresden certainly has the men. It will be an even match, at best. I won't know how it's going to go until we're near the end. And by then it will be far too late to change anything.”

He looked at each of us, then firmed his mouth and nodded as though he'd come to a decision. “You must all stay out of harm's way as much as possible. Reis, I'm counting on you to see them safely through this.”

He turned to Reis, who nodded, and clasped him by the shoulder. Then he turned toward me, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears and words that would remain unsaid. Without speaking, he tipped his head to me, turned, and strode away.

“Well that was interesting,” Paul muttered as we started at the space where Doc had been. I was speechless, my mind still reeling from what Doc had said, and couldn't quite come up with a response.

The reaction was clear in my mind, though–we couldn't sit around and watch Doc ride off into battle, casually waiting for it to be over. We had to do something.

Reis must have thought the same thing, because he barked with laughter and stepped quickly toward the tent's entrance. “Care to see the battle that will shape Western Europe for the next five hundred years or so?” he asked, parting the curtains. “Let's see if we can't find something to do while we … wait.” He shot a grin in my direction and I grinned back, immensely glad to have him on my team.

The four of us pushed past him and gathered just outside the tent, gazing at the war camp beyond us. It had been busy before, but was now humming with activity. Doc–or his men–had left five large, beautiful horses standing with two squires just outside the tent, and we strapped our bags to them and mounted up. The squires disappeared immediately, leaving us conveniently to our own devices, and we turned back to the camp.

“I don't know about you guys, but I don't plan to stick around here and miss out on all the fun,” Reis muttered. “Let's go.” He charged forward, the four of us hot on his heels, galloping past knights on horseback, women carrying loaves of bread and buckets of water, and dozens of children running in and out of an endless crowd of soldiers and civilians alike. Everyone was making their way into the heart of Tudor's camp, for their own reasons. We rode quickly through and around them, doing our best to go unnoticed, and keeping a sharp eye out for Doc and his men at arms, who would certainly turn us around and send us back if they saw us.

Once we cleared the last of the tents, the mass of people began to lighten, and a view of the battlefield opened up in the valley below. The battle lines had already been drawn, with men on horseback traveling quickly to and from their respective encampments, in preparation of the coming battle. Groups of them stopped to talk to each other every so often, gesturing
wildly in all directions and then splitting up and galloping away. I could only imagine the conversations going on–the stress of the coming battle, the question of what the enemy would do. The ever-present idea that many of these men wouldn't survive the day. The entire valley was in motion, the air around the men thick with anticipation.

The storm, which had brought down a torrent of rain the night before, had ventured eastward now, leaving only mud and low-lying clouds in its wake. It was cool, but not cold, and I wondered if there was such a thing as a perfect day for fighting. If there was, I supposed these conditions were as good as any.

From our vantage point, we could see Doc–as the Earl of Oxford–in the valley below, surrounded by the thousands of men and horses that made up the bulk of Tudor's army. To our left, well over a hundred banners decorated the slope leading into the valley itself, flowing into the basin in a virtual rainbow of colors. Each banner represented a different lord, I knew, and each would have with him his full array of knights, archers, and foot soldiers. There were hundreds of knights alone, already mounted up, the early morning light shooting sparks off their armor. Behind them stood their squires, ready to assist their masters with weapons and horses as necessary. And there must have been thousands of foot soldiers. These men, lacking the money for expensive armament, were dressed in leather for the most part, though some wore nothing more than heavily padded coats. They carried swords, axes, maces, lances, and heavy wooden stakes. The poorest soldiers carried nothing more than shovels and wooden clubs. A disadvantage, I thought, though getting hit in the head with a shovel would probably knock you out of the game just as much as getting hit in the face with a pole. My grandfather had gathered over fifteen hundred archers as well, and they stood behind everyone else, armed with 5-foot-tall bows and hundreds of arrows each.

All of these men stood, now, awaiting the order to march forward and place their lives on the line. To live or die, be captured or maimed, all to kill the enemies of their lords.

Across the field, a smaller group of men stood apart from this mob of soldiers. Only one banner flew there–a white standard, with a deep red
rose embroidered in the center. There, then, was Henry Tudor. The man for whom this battle was fought. The man who must win it at all costs for the world to continue as we knew it.

I turned my eyes away from him and back to the scene before us. In an odd way, it was breathtakingly beautiful. The colors and the movement of horses and people, along with the suppressed excitement that filled the air, made me breathless with anticipation. I couldn't describe it, but my body was responding to the situation; something in the pit of my stomach knew that something big was about to happen. My instincts were screaming with readiness. I didn't know what I was going to do yet, but I was sure that I had to do
something
. There were too many lives riding on his battle for me to just sit back and watch.

The soldiers, knights, and archers were all beginning to line up now, getting ready for the first charge, and the valley echoed with the calls of both horses and men. Commanders barked orders from one end of the battlefield to the other, screaming at their men about positions, strategies, and targets. Calling out last-minute encouragements, shouting to their friends for what might be the last time. The cacophony was deafening, the voices of the men intense and battle ready.

Then a dead silence fell over the valley. My gut clenched tightly at the sudden lack of sound, and what little breath I had fled, leaving me silent as well.

Across from our elevated position, Richard's army began to gather atop the hill. They controlled the high ground then, giving them a clear advantage. I wondered fleetingly why Doc and Henry had relinquished this position. It would be a huge disadvantage during the battle, and could be the difference between victory and defeat. My stomach dropped into my feet. Surely Doc had known about the position beforehand. Why hadn't he accounted for this?

“Who's that?” Paul asked suddenly, pointing. I jumped, already tensed for the battle, and turned to see a large group of at least one hundred men on horseback standing on the hill to our right. My mind ran back to my notes, seeking the positions of the different groups, and I gulped.

“Those are Lord Stanley's knights,” I answered quietly. “They stood on that hill and watched the battle.”

“And we're hoping they do the same today,” he guessed, his voice matching mine in intensity. I glanced at him, impressed with this more mature version of Paul, and nodded.

“If William's found his brother, Stanley will stay there, watching. If William
hasn't
found his brother, and Stanley joins Dresden…”

“And what, we're just counting on luck to be on our side?” he asked sharply. “Seems like a stupid plan, if you ask me.”

“Why do you think we're up here, Paul?” Tatiana snapped, urging her horse forward to join the conversation. “This is the best vantage point. If–
when
something goes wrong, we move.”

I grinned at her, thinking the same thing, and was about to answer when a roar from the valley interrupted me. My eyes flew downward, and then across to Richard's army, to see that the battlefield had erupted into motion. Richard's army was charging down the hill toward the men in the valley, the knights and foot soldiers screaming at the top of their lungs. In the valley, Doc's archers leaned forward as one, grabbed their first arrows, and loosed them into the charging army. Henry's knights and foot soldiers bounded forward, yelling defiance at Richard's men.

I gasped. The Battle of Bosworth had begun. My eyes flew to the ridge next to us, then, and I gasped again.

40

“R
eis,” I muttered, pointing toward the hill, “Stanley's men are forming up ranks. They're going to do more than just watch.”

Reis' eyes flew to the men in question, scanning the group quickly and drawing conclusions as they went. “Damn,” he muttered. “You're right.”

“What's going on?” Katherine asked sharply. “Who are those men? What do they mean to do?”

“If they're forming ranks, they mean to charge,” Tatiana whispered in reply. “They mean to enter the battle, on Dresden's side.”

Suddenly the stone at the battlefield was with me, churning through my brain and feeding me information. Telling me what I'd already suspected, and adding to it with details I could never have known. I pulled my horse abruptly toward Reis, intent on the action I knew we had to take.

“William Stanley never made it back to his brother,” I snapped. Reis looked at me, frowning, and I continued. “Reis, if he'd made it, Lord Stanley would be riding away from the battle! Instead, he's getting ready to join Richard. What do you think that
means
?”

“Where's William?” Tatiana asked, pulling up beside me. She was anxious for action, I saw, and ready to follow my lead. Regardless of where we were going.

“Dresden has him,” I replied curtly, sure of the knowledge the stone was giving me. “Just over that ridge, in his camp. We have to go get him, and before Stanley's men charge. If we don't–” I looked over at Reis, trying to gauge his reaction.

“What, just ride into Dresden's camp, past his soldiers and canons and who knows what else, like it's nothing?” Paul squeaked. “How do you even know he's there?”

“Paul, weren't you just saying that sitting around was a stupid idea?” I snapped. My horse pranced under me, sensing my need for action, and my voice grew stronger with conviction. “William is the key to everything. Without him, Doc loses, and the world ends. I'm going in after the man. Are you guys coming or not?”

“I'll go with you,” Katherine said confidently. I glanced at her, taking in her bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and nodded. The stones had led me to her for a reason; perhaps she was going to be an ally now, when I needed it most.

I turned back toward Reis, hoping to find another ally there. Hoping I wouldn't have to leave him behind. “Reis, we don't have much time. We have to go now, or it'll be too late. Once Stanley's forces join Richard's army, Tudor will be destroyed, and Doc will be killed.”

“Are you sure about this, kid?” Reis shouted, gathering his reins.

“Beyond sure,” I shouted back, trying to elevate my voice over the noise of the battle raging below us. “We're living history here, Reis, and if Stanley joins Dresden, history changes. We lose Doc, and we could lose the world.” I paused, waiting for him to decide, then turned my horse back the way we'd come. Tatiana and Katherine followed suit, and I glanced back one last time. “Reis, make up your mind! We're going with or without you, but I'd rather have you on my team here!”