The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Henry swung around to look at him. “Is this so? Alexander is dead?”

  “Aye, sire, he is,” William answered. “Adam de Longley is the new Earl of Teviot and shows all the signs of competently handling the task.”

  The king stared back at him a moment. “It would seem that young Adam completed the task I would have asked of you. I must send my congratulations to the new earl.”

  William’s eye narrowed for a brief second, Henry would have him play assassin, as well as champion? As much as he hated Alexander and wished the man dead, he would not have been keen on murdering him. And to refuse would have been to directly disobey the king. He was at once glad that Alexander was already dead, but wondering if inevitably a similar situation would arise again someday. The thought worried him.

  Henry gazed up at William in an alcohol haze until the man became uncomfortable with the attention. What the king was thinking was anybody’s guess and he shifted on his big legs, awaiting the next move.

  “You do not like it here in London, do you?” Henry asked after a moment.

  “I like London,” William replied. “But my home is in the north.”

  “Yet you were born near Worcester,” Henry said. “Your grandmother is Welsh, your grandfather Norman.”

  William grinned faintly. “There is a bit of everything in my family, sire. Those relatives you mentioned were on my father’s side. On my mother’s side, my grandfather was a Saxon, and my grandmother was a Saracen. He married her while on the crusade with Richard.”

  “Both of your grandsires served with Richard,” the king put in.

  “Aye, they did and were great friends,” William nodded. “Which is how my parents became betrothed.”

  Henry knew that, for he had known William’s father, Edward. He had been a highly intelligent man and devoutly loyal to Richard. In fact, Edward de Wolfe was one of the forces behind the Magna Carta, signed by Henry’s father, John.

  “Did you ever know Richard’s Defender, Christopher de Lohr?”

  William shook his head. “Not really, although he and my father were the best of friends. I met him once or twice when I was young.” His eyes went distant, as if remembering the great man who had been Richard’s right arm. “He was my hero. I wanted to be as great a knight as the Defender of the Realm.”

  “Three of his sons served me,” Henry said, reflecting. “Six of his grandsons serve me in various posts, as well as four of his brother’s descendants. David de Lohr was as great as his brother.”

  “One of David’s grandsons, Maddoc du Bois, is one of my closest friends.”

  Henry nodded in recognition. “Du Bois is a mighty, mighty knight,” he agreed. Then he eyed William through blood-shot eyes. “You remind me of him a great deal.”

  “Maddoc?”

  Henry shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Christopher. You have his strength and character. But I doubt even de Lohr had as great a reputation as you do.”

  William was flattered; everyone knew that Christopher de Lohr had been the greatest knight who had ever lived. “I could never live up to the earl’s reputation, sire. I would not even want to try; the man is a legend.”

  “So are you,” the king replied softly, then waved at William simply. “We are far off the subject. Be gone, de Wolfe, for I am fatigued.”

  Grateful for the dismissal, William quit the room.

  *

  The party was on the road before dawn. The fine carriage that had brought Jordan from Northwood now held her sons, Byron, and the wet nurse. Jordan wanted to ride with William, even though she fell asleep soon after they had left Windsor.

  The previous day had been as bright and lovely as this day was soggy and cold. William rode at the head of the column, with his wife wrapped in a heavy fur-lined cloak, sleeping like a child in his arms. It reminded him of the early days, when he had brought her from Scotland, the days when he had fallen in love with her. Gazing down at her beautiful face, he fell in love with her anew.

  Two knights from Windsor accompanied the party. Sir Roan d’Vant sat astride his mighty dappled steed to the rear of the Northwood knights as well as a man by the name of Sir Broderick de Marsh. Both men had served William in Wales and were honored to be asked to accompany the troops back to Northwood.

  They rode hard that day but barely covered thirty miles. When night fell, Jordan fixed comfortable beds for the babies in the carriage while William went through the trouble of pitching a tent. He was tired of being wet all the time. He insisted that his wife sleep with the babes, but she insisted on sleeping with him and argued loudly until he kissed her hard simply to shut her up. She slept with him.

  The next day of travel was much the same, with the exception that it rained heavily the entire day. William was absolutely firm that Jordan ride in the carriage where it was dry. She did, reluctantly, but kept peeling back the oiled cloth to catch glimpses of her husband as he rode tall and proud with the rest of his knights.

  The third dreary day passed into the fourth, fifth, and sixth, and they were drawing closer to Northwood. Jordan was glad. She was tired of the ride even though the twins had been good as gold and slept much of the time. But she was anxious for Northwood and for Jemma, and she still had not asked William what had become of her family. The time had never seemed quite right, for there had been so many other things going on, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know. Mayhap if could postpone the truth she could still keep her hope alive.

  She was riding with William again on the seventh day. The sun was peeking in and out of the clouds, turning the ground into a steam bath every time its rays warmed the earth. During the morning, she and William had spoken of Lewis’ fate and Adam’s new title. Although she should not have rejoiced over the death of a man, secretly, she was glad Adam had killed his brother. She had more reason to hate Alexander than almost anyone.

  The ride progressed and the mood turned jovial, and Jordan was laughing as she listened to Michael and Deinwald complain, to Deinwald pick on Ranulf, to everyone teasing Corin. The knights had even managed to pull Roan and Sir Broderick into the revelry, being quite cruel to them in a good-humored sort of way.

  The small caravan was passing through a particularly dense section of forest when she felt William stiffen behind her. He abruptly reined his destrier to a halt.

  “What is it?” Paris was beside him.

  William was scanning the trees. Paris followed his gaze, studying the landscape, but saw nothing. After a moment, William relaxed somewhat.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Jordan, please go back and ride with the babes.”

  She twisted around to look at him. “Why?”

  His hands were already on her, lowering her to the ground. “Just do as I ask, love. Just for a little while.”

  With a shrug, she gathered her skirt and picked her way through the muddy road until she reached the carriage. Seeing that she was safely inside, William lowered the faceplate on his visor. Paris saw him and was alarmed.

  “What is it, William?” he asked with quiet urgency.

  “I do not know yet,” William replied. “This gauntlet of road unnerves me. Tell the men to be alert.”

  Jordan was in the carriage and did not see the knights sling their shields over the left knee, nor did she see the faceplates go down. The men-at-arms put their hands on the hilts of their swords.

  The column began to move and she busied herself by cooing to Troy, who was grinning happily back at his mother. He had nearly doubled in size since his birth and had surpassed his brother in weight. Byron sat opposite her, next to the busty wet nurse, remarking how much this son looked like his father. Jordan proudly agreed.

  She was first aware of trouble when the carriage suddenly jerked to a halt and she heard William shout something she didn’t understand. Alarmed, she moved to pull back the oiled cloth when the side of the carriage was pelted violently with something that sounded like falling rocks. She didn’t even imagine that they were arrows.

&nbs
p; Her first thought was to protect her sons. She and Byron put both boys on the floor of the carriage and surrounded them by heavy blankets, pillows, and anything else they could find. Not a word was spoken between them, but the wet nurse began to cry and Jordan pulled the woman onto the floor as well. She was scared out of her mind but she knew that William would protect them.

  This was exactly what William had feared. The stretch of road through which they were passing was a perfect spot for an ambush and he suddenly found himself defending against an onslaught of screaming soldiers. He saw archers in the woods and ordered his archers to take out the positions, but strangely, he saw no knights on horseback. In spite of that, however, he knew immediately that they were heavily outnumbered and he maneuvered his steed toward the carriage.

  “Go, man, go!” he roared to the two soldiers driving the horses.

  The men obeyed immediately, slapping the frightened team with the reins and cracking the whip into the withers. The carriage lurched several feet forward, only to be slowed by an onslaught of enemy soldiers. William and the other knights drove their destriers toward the carriage in an attempt to clear the way and set the rig free.

  But it was difficult to get close with so many soldiers in the way, all swinging their swords in a frenzy. William found that he actually had to use his shield as he fought back, using the pressure of his knees to guide his horse toward Jordan and his sons.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a man on horseback dressed in bright, shiny armor. He jerked around to get a better look and was neither surprised nor dismayed to see that it was none other than Daniel de Troiu charging toward them.

  “Damnation!” he spat, furious.

  Paris was off to his left and beheld the same sight. “William!” he shouted. “De Troiu is after Jordan!”

  William knew that; God in Heaven, he knew it. His anger brought him incredible strength as he tore through enemy soldiers as if he were slicing though butter. Yet he could see that de Troiu’s soldiers were creating an effective path through their mass for the earl to pass through, directly to the carriage. The earl was taking great pleasure in approaching the carriage where his target lay. Somewhere above all of the shouting and screaming, William managed to roar Jordan’s name to warn her.

  Jordan heard him and her heart went into her throat. Why had he called her? Sweet Jesu,’ was he calling her with his last dying breath? She stood up and peeled back the oiled cloth with shaking hands.

  There was a war going on around her and she cried out when the sight met her eyes. She could see William, several yards away, fighting furiously, trying to part the sea of men to get to her. The other knights were also engaged in fierce battles, but it seemed as if they were also trying to reach her. Everyone was trying to move toward her. Why?

  De Troiu was nearly at the carriage and William knew that he would not make it in time to defend his wife. He was fighting as hard as he could, spurring his animal bloody in his attempt to reach her, but he was not going to make it. He had a crossbow tied to his saddle, but in order to get to it he would have to lower his shield and leave himself vulnerable. There were so many enemy soldiers that each of his men were grossly involved in their own fights, and there was no one to protect his back as he retrieved, cocked and aimed the bow. No matter. He would have to take the chance. That bastard would not get his wife. Fighting off panic, he struggled to release the bow.

  Jordan was startled silly when the door to the carriage suddenly ripped open and she almost fell out. A gauntleted hand reached down and grabbed hold of her hair, but she fought and kicked and screamed like a banshee, scaring the twins awake, and they began crying. Thinking quickly, Byron maneuvered himself enough to be able to reach into his bag, withdrawing a sharp dagger. He managed to grab one of Jordan’s flailing arms long enough to press it into her palm.

  “Come with me now or I kill your sons on the spot!” the helmeted man bellowed.

  Jordan froze, recognizing the voice but not believing what she was hearing. She was stunned; de Troiu would go through all of this trouble to kidnap her? Was the man daft?

  But her mind was working with lightning speed. She had a dagger clutched in her left hand; if she could get close enough to de Troiu she could kill him. With him dead, his men would retreat and countless lives would be saved. God, she hated the thought of killing a man. Killing and death made her ill; it always had. But this was a matter of life and death, and she would protect her sons and William at all costs.

  But, in order to get close enough to the earl, she would have to mount up beside him. She ceased her struggles almost immediately.

  “I will come with ye!” she cried in a shaky voice. “Leave my babes alone. I will come.”

  De Troiu didn’t let go of her even as she willingly climbed aboard his destrier. Purposely, she mounted facing him.

  His booty retrieved, de Troiu let go of her long enough to grip the reins and prepare for his escape. He had what he had come for and was jubilantly certain that when she returned to Deauxville Mount with him, she would want to stay. To hell with de Wolfe. In the end, he alone would have the final satisfaction of the Scot woman. The champion’s wife would be his whore, and William, if all went well, would be killed by the baron’s personal troops. ’Twould teach a lesson to all of England that Daniel de Troiu was not a man to be denied anything. But that was his last coherent thought before his captive turned into a cold, calculating killing machine.

  Jordan flipped up the visor to come face-to-face with de Troiu’s sky blue eyes. They were the only part of the man that was vulnerable. What she had to do would take lightning speed and the courage of a lion. If she hesitated, she would be lost. Do it! Her mind screamed. Do it now!

  Gritting her teeth, she brought the dagger around and plunged the blade as hard as she could into the earl’s left eye, smacking the hilt with the flat palm of her right hand. Cold, hard steel plowed through his skull, and carved into his brain. The searing pain and agony were cut off by near instantaneous death.

  Blood spurted everywhere; all over the white skin of her neck and into her hair. De Troiu did not even have time to scream; he was dead before he hit the ground.

  His soldiers, seeing that their lord was dead, began to scream ‘retreat.’ Jordan bailed off the rearing destrier and jumped back into the carriage, out of the way of the cursing, screaming, fighting men. At her feet, de Troiu lay in a growing pool of blood. His men were trampling his body in their attempt to withdraw. Sickened and terrified, she turned her face away and pressed herself into the cold wall of the carriage.

  As fast as it started, it was over. De Troiu’s men retreated back into the woods like hunted rabbits, disappearing. Jordan turned her face long enough to watch them go, then immediately her eyes sought William.

  He could get to her now. Driving his horse toward the carriage, William jumped off before the animal came to a stop and grabbed Jordan to him. She was gasping with panic, clinging to his neck with a death grip. Holding his frantic wife, he turned to his men.

  “We move!” he bellowed breathlessly. “Take the wounded with us and leave the dead!”

  William’s mind was like so much mud as he moved mechanically toward his horse, just wanting to mount and get the hell out of there. He could hear Paris and Kieran yelling orders around him to get the men and the carriage moving, but at that moment his entire world was on the shaking, sobbing figure in his arms.

  “Love, you have to let go of me so that I might mount,” he whispered.

  She continued to gasp loudly as if she hadn’t heard him. When he tried to put her down, she gripped him harder and would not release him. Paris rode up beside them and William turned to him, holding his arms out from his sides to show the captain that Jordan was supporting herself entirely on her own. Her arms were around his neck and her face was buried in them, her body trailing down the length of him. It was a pitiful sight.

  There was no way in hell she was going to let him go.

  “Help
me, will you?” he pleaded to Paris in a shaken voice.

  Paris vaulted from his horse and came around, trying to gently pry Jordan from William’s neck. She screamed and kicked at him, but between the two of them they managed to get William remounted and Jordan up in front of him. Hastily, the column moved forward.

  It was an eternity before Jordan was rational enough to loosen her hold. Hesitantly, she raised her head from her protective ball and looked to her husband.

  “Are ye all right?” she asked hoarsely.

  He flipped up his visor, his gaze full of concern and relief. “I should be asking you that question. Did he hurt you?”

  Her eyes welled up and her lip began to quiver. “I killed him.”

  He could not stand it. He ripped off his helm and it clattered to the mucky ground. Somewhere behind him, one of the knights dismounted to retrieve it. His gauntleted hand grabbed her head and he kissed her furiously with the force of his relief. He had never been so scared in his whole life and he was so damn proud of her. Knowing her feelings about murder and violence, her bravery had been nothing short of astounding.

  De Troiu’s blood was caked all over her, reminding her with every glance of what she had done. William was desperate to get his troops out of the woods and into the open where they would access their wounded and rest for the night. With de Troiu dead, there was little chance of his troops returning. He was also eager to get Jordan bathed and calm.

  The movement through the trees went agonizingly slow with the wounded they were carrying. It took most of the afternoon but finally at sunset they broke through and into a vast, open plain with sweetly rolling hills in the distance. The sky was gray and threatening as they proceeded for a few miles before William ordered a halt.

  Byron came forth from the carriage, bag in hand, and immediately began to order the wounded congregated. William had nearly forgotten the physician was with them and was greatly relieved to see the little man take things well in hand.