It was a nice room, spacious as far as guard rooms were concerned, with a table, two big benches, and a large hearth spewing out heat and smoke into the low-ceilinged chamber. Damien and Colm had already entered the room but the others hung back, waiting for William and Patrick. William entered, followed by his enormous son, who wandered over to the edges of the room, lingering in the shadows as William went straight to the table where a rather thin, pale man with curly dark hair sat, swathed in dirty woolens.
Alec, Hector, and Anson came in last, going to stand with Patrick in the darkness as William took the lead. If something happened and Patrick snapped, they needed to be near the man to stop him.
William came to a halt a few feet away from the Scotsman, studying him intently. He seemed like any normal Scots, clad in dirty clothing and pale-skinned. But the Scots were cunning as a whole. William knew that because he’d spent a good deal of his life battling against them. They were very smart and very deadly. With that in mind, he spoke.
“I hear that you seek a word with me,” William said quietly, seriously.
The seated man eyed him without fear. Considering he was surrounded by English, it was an impressive show of bravery.
“Are ye William de Wolfe?” he finally asked.
William nodded. “I am. Tell me your name.”
The Scotsman scratched his dirty head before replying. “I am Gordon.”
“That is not your name.”
The man nodded, giving William a rather quirky smirk. “’Tis true,” he said. “I am called Tommy Orry.”
“Why do you seek me, Tommy?”
Tommy puffed out his cheeks as if wondering where to start. Or, perhaps, he was wondering if coming here had been a wise decision in the first place. In any case, he shifted around nervously before replying.
“I’ve heard ye have the lass from Coldingham,” he said. “The lass that the Swinton took. Do ye have her?”
William didn’t reply right away. He could literally feel Patrick’s apprehension as the man lingered over in the shadows, just out of his line of sight. But William kept his manner calm.
“If I do?”
Tommy leaned forward on his chair. “Then I have some information ye might want.”
“Why would you think so?”
“Because Ysabella said ye sent a missive tae Coldingham about the lass. She said ye were friendly towards the lass.”
William was trying to piece together what the man was saying without showing how confused he was. “Who is Ysabella?”
“Mother Prioress.”
Now, William was growing about as apprehensive as Patrick undoubtedly was. “I am not sure what you are trying to tell me, but you had better come out with it,” William said. “Make sense, man. Why have you come and what does this have to do with the lass from Coldingham?”
As if on cue, Damien slammed a cup down next to Tommy, half-full of old ale. It splashed onto the table. But it was wet, and Tommy was thirsty, so he took the cup and drank the entire thing. Damien had given it to the man to perhaps loosen his tongue and it worked. Tommy smacked his lips and began talking.
“Richard Gordon of Clan Gordon is Ysabella’s brother,” he said. “He took over as Clan chief when their father passed. But he also took over their need for vengeance agin’ Clan Haye because, years ago, when Ysabella was a young lass, a son of Haye forced himself upon her and beget her with child. The child wasna born alive and Ysabella’s father bought her way intae Coldingham since she wasna a marriage prospect any longer. There has been a sense of vengeance agin’ the Haye ever since that time. When Juliana Haye brought her infant tae Coldingham, a bastard child of a Norse king, Ysabella took the baby in. But… she had a plan for the lass.”
William could hardly believe what he was hearing; it was a great shock. But as great a surprise as it was to him, it was even greater for Patrick. He came out of the shadows at that point, his face pale with astonishment.
“A Norse king?” Patrick repeated. “The Mother Prioress told you that?”
Tommy nodded. “I heard her say so. The lass is his bastard.”
Patrick looked at his father. All of the astonishment he was feeling was reflected in his eyes. So it was true! Now, the pieces of the puzzle were falling together a bit more; pieces that all seemed to fit together in odd and mysterious ways. But he didn’t say anything more and Tommy, nervous of his presence, began to speak faster.
“I’ve come tae tell ye not tae send the lass home,” he said, eyeing Patrick but mostly focused on William. “I know Ysabella told ye tae send the lass back tae Coldingham, but if ye do, they’ll kill her. Richard Gordon intends tae kill her in revenge for the wrongs committed agin’ his sister by Clan Haye. He paid the Swinton tae take her from Coldingham tae make it look like reivers had taken the lass, but the truth is that he wanted her.”
His rapid-fire delivery and sudden end left the room lingering in shocked silence. William looked at his son, who was looking at Tommy in mute revulsion. William finally reached out to touch the man on the arm.
“Atty…,” he murmured. “Are you well?”
Patrick nodded, stiffly, his focus still on Tommy. “Why did you come here to tell us that?” he asked the man. William could hear a quiver in his voice. “Brighton means nothing to you and you certainly have no allegiance to the English, so why tell us? I do not understand why you are here?”
Tommy gazed steadily at the hulking Sassenach. “Because what Richie wants tae do tae the lass isna right,” he said quietly. “Do ye know what he intended tae do? He wanted tae nail her tae a cross and post her on Haye lands. He wants tae crucify her. If ye return her tae Coldingham, that’s exactly what he’ll do. And it isna right tae kill an innocent lass like that. I came here tae tell de Wolfe tae keep her or send her somewhere else. Just dunna send her back tae Coldingham.”
Crucify. Patrick looked at his father with such horror in his eyes that William was visibly moved by it. He reached out to touch his son, reassuringly, trying to give the man some comfort. But Patrick simply walked away from him, pacing the room as if in danger of losing his mind or his temper. No one was sure which. Patrick ended up pacing around with a hand over his mouth, struggling to come to terms with what he’d just heard. It was revulsion like nothing else they’d ever witnessed.
Crucify Brighton.
“You were brave to come here,” William finally said to Tommy, although he was glancing at his son with worry. “I will make sure you are rewarded. That is why you really came, wasn’t it?”
Tommy shrugged, wondering why the Sassenach around him seemed so disturbed by the news. As if there was something personal about it. “If ye have a mind tae,” he said. “I just didna want the lass’ death tae be on me conscience. I canna face God with that shadow on me heart.”
“Are you telling me that Mother Prioress is in on this… this travesty?” Patrick finally spoke from across the room as he continued to process the information. “She is the one who arranged for Bridey to be abducted by the Swinton and make it look as if reivers had taken her?”
Tommy wasn’t certain who Bridey was but he assumed the big knight meant Brighton. “Her brother did it,” he said. “But she helped him arrange it. They’d been plannin’ it for years, in truth, but they waited until the lass came of age. Killin’ a small lass means little, but killin’ a grown woman… it would mean somethin’ to the Haye.”
Patrick looked to William as if the man could help him process this terrible information. William felt a great deal of pity for his mighty son, a man who was usually so very in control of his emotions. But not when it came to his new wife, a woman he clearly adored. And the news coming from the Scotsman was enough to rattle all of them, men that weren’t even in love with Brighton. They didn’t have to be in love with her to see what a horrible plan had been centered around her. It was appalling in so many ways. William finally looked at Damien.
“See that Tommy is fed and given a bed,” he said. “I’ll reward the man b
efore sending him home.”
Damien nodded, pouring Tommy more ale now that the first round of questioning was over. William went straight to Patrick, taking the man by the arm and pulling him from the guard’s room, out into the fresh morning air.
“Breathe, Atty,” William said softly. “Just… breathe and be thankful this man came to us before we headed to Coldingham. God has been merciful.”
Patrick simply nodded, laboring with every fiber of his being to do as his father instructed… breathe. Just breathe. He was trying, so very hard, to remain calm in the face of what he’d heard.
“My God,” he finally muttered. “The brutality of it… the sheer brutality of it. How could they even think to crucify an innocent woman?”
William remained strong, if only for his son’s sake. He could sense that Patrick was a hair’s breadth away from snapping. “I do not know,” he said. “I have never heard of such things and I have been fighting the Scots on the borders for nearly forty years. I have never in my life heard of anything like this.”
“But… crucifying her? Nailing her to wood and posting her for all to see?”
William was trying not to imagine the mental image Patrick was painting. “As I said, I have never heard such things. The clan chiefs I know would never stoop to such brutality, not even in vengeance.”
Patrick came to an abrupt halt, bent in half, and vomited the breakfast he had eaten with Brighton onto the dirt of the bailey. His emotions were twisting his guts to pieces. When he finally stood up, wiping the back of his pale lips with his hand, the pale green eyes flashed with fire.
“I am going to the Gordon stronghold and raze it,” he hissed. “I will find Richard Gordon and I will draw and quarter him. Then I shall post his body for all to see.”
William knew he meant every word, as passionately as he’d ever meant anything in his life. The man had every right to be furious, but William couldn’t let him follow through on his threat, for many reasons. Calmer heads had to prevail.
“Unless you want to start a border war the likes of which we have never seen, I would suggest you think again about how to punish Richard Gordon,” he said evenly, reaching out to grasp his son’s arm with an impassioned plea. “Atty, I understand what is in your heart. There were times in the past when your mother had been in great danger, so I understand your pain very well. In fact, she had been kidnapped by rival clans when she was pregnant with you. It is a miracle you survived, but you did, and I refuse to believe it was because you would ultimately start a border war that would kill us all. Nay, lad – taking your army into Scotland to destroy Richard Gordon is not the answer.”
Patrick’s revulsion was being replaced by anger the likes of which he’d never known. Like a shooting star, the anger rose and flared within him faster than he could control it. He yanked his arm from his father’s grasp.
“As long as Richard Gordon lives, Bridey will be in danger,” he snarled. “If there was such a threat against Mother, would you so easily sit back and advise temperance? I do not think so. You would want to eliminate the threat just as I do. I will not stand for anyone who threatens the life of my wife.”
William was coming to think that he may have a serious problem on his hands; he’d never seen Patrick so livid, which was not a good thing in a man as big, powerful, and capable as his son. Therefore, he labored to keep on an even keel if he had any hopes of defusing the situation.
“If someone was threatening the life of your mother, I would not stand for it,” William said firmly. “But I also would not run off and possibly get myself killed in my quest to protect her. You are far more valuable to your wife alive than dead, Atty. You must keep a level head and we will calmly, and smartly, deal with this matter.”
Patrick’s chest was heaving with emotion as he faced off against his father. “If a man like Richard Gordon wants to crucify an innocent woman, I doubt the man thinks calmly or smartly,” he snapped. “A man like that knows only brutality. If that is what he knows, then that is what he shall receive.”
From the corner of his eye, William could see some of Patrick’s men filtering in from the guard room and he was glad; it would take all of them to control Patrick should the man decide to physically demonstrate his fury. All he had to do was keep Patrick calm until his men drew closer and then they would be better able to stop Patrick from doing something foolish.
“Not now,” William begged softly. “Listen to me, lad. We must think this through before you do anything. For the sake of the entire family, you must think this through.”
“This has nothing to do with the family and everything to do with protecting my wife!”
By this time, Patrick’s men had reached them and they heard the last few words spoken by Patrick. Because he was enraged, they were becoming rather enraged themselves. The entire situation had them on edge. Alec was the first one to speak.
“I am with you, Atty,” he said. “What would you have me do?”
William threw up his hands. “You are not going to do anything,” he said, loudly, emphasizing the fact that his word was law above all. “I am your liege and you will obey my command. We are not charging blindly into Gordon lands like animals. We will return to the hall, sit down, and discuss what needs to be done rationally as men do. Is that clear?”
The knights were looking at Patrick but nodded to William’s question; a command from William de Wolfe was not meant to be disobeyed and they knew it.
“That is an excellent idea, my lord,” Anson said, one of the calmer knights of the group. He began to push Colm towards the hall and reached out to tug on Hector. “Come along. We will solve nothing standing out here.”
Hector wasn’t so apt to be pushed around but he moved nonetheless, leaving Alec standing next to Patrick, staring at the man as if waiting for the command to go charging off into Scotland.
“Atty?” Alec asked. “I will do what you want me to do. What is your wish?”
William reached out and shoved Alec in the direction of the hall. “You will do what I want you to do,” he said in a tone that left no room for doubt. “Get into the hall. I will not tell you again.”
With a lingering glance at William, enough to show that he didn’t like being pushed around but not enough to show disobedience, Alec began to follow the others. Patrick, however, was still looking at the ground, grinding his teeth.
“Where is Damien?” he asked hoarsely.
William looked around but didn’t see the knight, the man who had been Patrick’s best friend for many years. “He is probably still with the Scotsman,” he said. “That is where I would be. I would guess he is trying to see if he can discover any more information before sending the man away.”
“Do you intend to reward the Scot for the information?”
“I do.”
Patrick merely nodded. William took him by the arm again, gently pulling him towards the hall as he began to walk. But Patrick wouldn’t move.
“Da?”
“Aye?”
Patrick lifted his head and looked at his father. “I cannot go to London,” he said quietly. “Not… not with everything that has happened. I cannot leave.”
William was rather surprised with not only the change of subject, but the statement itself. “Why not?” he asked. “You can go to London and take Bridey with you. You can take her far away from the Gordons and the threat against her. In fact, I should think that would be the best place for her.”
Patrick shook his head, now looking skyward as if to beseech God for wisdom and clarity in the matter. “I have looked forward to the royal appointment with Henry more than I have ever looked forward to anything in my entire life,” he said, his tone strained with emotion. “But you know what it will be like if I take Bridey with me. I will never see the woman because my entire attention shall be with Henry. My time will belong to him. When he travels, I travel. If he decides he needs me by his side, then that is where I must be for as long as he wants me. Worse still, I am to be i
n command of his personal guard. That means his life is my life. I will never see my wife, ever. How could I take her to London and ask her to live alone for the rest of her life? Because that is what will happen. You know this to be true.”
William did. He could see where Patrick was leading and he sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the man’s decision and the intensity of his disappointment. Truth be told, he felt some disappointment of his own. Patrick was meant for such great things; he had always believed that. But, perhaps, they weren’t the great things William has hoped for. Perhaps Patrick had to make his own great things happen, away from the crown. Perhaps the royal appointment was something that simply wasn’t meant to be.
He struggled not to let Patrick see his disenchantment.
“Is that what you will decide, then?” he asked his son. “That you will decline Henry’s appointment?”
Patrick looked at his father. “I must.”
“Do you base this on your own wants or because you think it is best for your wife?”
Patrick faltered. “It is best for us both,” he said. “Da, I know you do not agree with the fact that I married Bridey after knowing her so short a time. Now this marriage has put a stop to your great dream for me, the dream of a royal appointment. It was my dream, too, until I met my wife. Now, I find that my dreams have changed. She has become my dream. When I look at her, I see the joy of a life I never knew I would have. I see our future, our unborn sons, and a legacy as you have had. I see the continuation of de Wolfe greatness. I see all of these things but, more than that, I see my life and it belonging to me, not to Henry. If I go to London, my life will end and the king’s life will take over. Does that make sense? Now that I have had a taste of my own life, I want it. I will not give it up. I have already made a name for myself. But in becoming Henry’s Lord Protector… Nighthawk will cease to exist.”
William listened to the impassioned speech with a good deal of pride and understanding. The disenchantment he’d been feeling was gone and a faint smile crossed his lips.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 159
