“You did not fail him,” he said. “In his final moments, Jeremy was as brave as you had ever taught him to be. He was honorable in his actions as he went to punish the man responsible for all of this chaos, and he was strong and noble in his cause. He died a glorious death, Gordon. Mayhap he was not happy in life but, in the end, he was the man you wanted him to be. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Those words brought Gordon pause. First there was disbelief, but then there was joy. Through the mounds of grief heaped upon him, he heard Scott’s words and he lifted his head to look de Wolfe in the eye.
“He was brave?” he asked, his lips trembling.
Scott nodded. “He was gloriously brave.”
“Who killed him? Who was it?”
“Adam.”
Gordon seemed to stiffen, a tide of rage rising in his chest. He went from a sobbing mess to a man ready to kill, all in the blink of an eye. “Where is he?” he demanded. “Where is this coward who has killed my son?”
Scott didn’t reply, but Stewart did. “There,” he said, pointing a few feet away. “He is there.”
Gordon’s head jerked in the direction Stewart was indicating and he saw upon the ground a body with a neck twisted all the way around. The body was lying on its back but its face was in the mud, and Gordon recognized the armor. It was, indeed, Adam. It was a brutal, nasty way for the man to die and he stared at the body for a moment before looking to Scott.
“What happened to him?” he asked.
Scott looked the old man straight in the eye and spoke without hesitation. “For you, I killed him,” he muttered. “For Nathaniel, I killed him. We shall never speak his name again, for he is not worthy of our remembrance.”
Gordon was still trembling, still weeping, but the gratitude in his eyes was brighter than the sun. Reaching up, he touched Scott on the face.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “You have given an old man more comfort than you know. Now… you will please give me my son. I will take him.”
Gently, Scott handed Jeremy over to Gordon, who wrapped his arms around the body and began to rock him like an infant. He simply hugged him, eyes closed as he rocked. It was one of the saddest things that Scott had ever seen but it also brought him back to the day of Athena’s death when he should have done the same thing to her. He should have held her and bid her a farewell just as Gordon was doing to Jeremy but, alas, he hadn’t been strong enough then.
Now, things had changed.
Slowly, he stood up, his legs cramped from having been bent beneath him for so long. Stewart and Milo were behind him and they helped him to stand, helping him regain his balance. Scott put a hand on Stewart’s shoulder in thanks as he turned away from Gordon and Jeremy.
“Lady du Rennic will need to know the fate of her brother,” he said quietly. “If you have need of me, I shall be with her.”
With that, he trudged across the bailey, heading for the spiral stairs that led to the upper floor. All around him, the ground was littered with the dead and dying, but he didn’t notice. He was singularly focused, needing to feel Avrielle in his arms as he’d never needed anything in his life. Her warmth, her life, would reassure him that all was well in the world and grief, as he’d known it, was a thing of the past. Jeremy’s death had made it so, as if he’d somehow absorbed the man’s strength into his heart as well as into his soul. Somehow, someway, Jeremy’s strength was with him and he would honor the man with every opportunity.
He died a glorious death.
That was how Scott chose to remember him.
After a long embrace and a full cup of wine, gulped down, Scott found the strength to tell Avrielle the story of her brother’s glorious death.
Instead of tears of sorrow, she’d wept tears of joy for a brother finally redeemed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Five Weeks Later
“If you teach the pup to sit down and give him a reward, he will learn much faster,” Scott said. “That is a smart dog. I believe you can train it to behave properly.”
Stephen wasn’t so sure. In the sunny bailey of Canaan on a brilliant spring morning, the weather was turning warmer as summer approached. Wolfe the Puppy was growing into a very big dog with big paws. The friendly dog loved everyone it came across. The dog was desperate to be petted and loved, and more than once had ended up on Scott’s lap when he was trying to sit down and eat a meal. But it was part of the family, so much so that Scott permitted the dog to attend his wedding to Avrielle.
Scott smiled to himself as he thought of that day, nearly four weeks ago, right after the battle for Canaan against Lord Sadgill. The wedding had taken place after Jeremy’s burial at St. Michael’s Church in the village of Shap, the same church where Nathaniel du Rennic and many of his ancestors had been buried. The old Norman church with the thick Norman columns had seen a good deal of life and death over the years, and Avrielle was determined to be married at the church so both her brother and Nathaniel, in a sense, could be witness. Scott didn’t contest her; he was pleased to have the spirits of his friends included as well.
He knew he had their blessing.
It had, therefore, been both a somber and a happy occasion, something that some would have been odd to observers. But considering the circumstances, neither Avrielle nor Scott thought it odd in the least. Theirs had been an unconventional courtship, anyway. Nothing had been the norm with them.
Even Gordon was touched by their desire to have their wedding near Jeremy’s freshly-closed crypt, as painful as it had been for him to bury a son, but he was comforted to be gaining another one in Scott de Wolfe. In all, he felt it was a joyous occasion of life moving forward, of a son who, at the end of his life, had redeemed himself, and of his daughter finding a husband who was clearly in love with both her and her children.
For Gordon, life had come full circle as it was meant to be.
But in spite of the happiness around him, Scott was still a man with some inner turmoil. Ever since Jeremy’s death, Scott had been talking about going to Lioncross Abbey Castle in Herefordshire to visit his eldest sons. He’d made that promise to Jeremy and he was eager to keep it, eager to apologize for the rift he’d caused and hoping his sons would be understanding. He feared that at their youthful ages, they might not be, but it was a chance he was willing to take. He’d known how foolish he’d been since Athena’s death and, if it took the rest of his life, he was going to try his hardest to make amends.
And those efforts also included his father.
William de Wolfe was heavy on Scott’s mind these days. He’d had a few long talks with Gordon about his father, late at night and over a pitcher of wine. Gordon was convinced that William would welcome Scott back with open arms. So was Stewart, who reminded Scott of the message he’d relayed from William.
You are his firstborn and no matter where you go, or what you do, he will wait every day for your return. You are his son, my lord, and there are no words to describe the pride he has in you. He says to tell you that he will wait for you no matter how long it takes.
The message gave Scott hope that all would be well with him and his father again, someday soon.
Now, five weeks after Sadgill’s destruction, Canaan was peaceful and serene once again, and those within her were living in harmony, including Scott for the most part. He and Avrielle were blissfully happy in their marriage, with the grief they had both suffered through for their respective spouses nothing more than a bittersweet memory. The only thing that gave Scott a moment of pause these days, or perhaps a moment of melancholy, was the trip he’d planned to Lioncross Abbey because he was loath to leave his wife behind, who could not take the infant on such a long journey. Avrielle had encouraged Scott to go without her because she believed this was a trip he needed to make alone, to focus on his sons and nothing else. He knew she was right.
But he still hated to leave her.
“Look!” Stephen suddenly cried. “Look at Wolfe!”
Scott shook himself from his r
eflections, focusing on the dog that was now sitting politely in front of Stephen. He grinned.
“He is being a good dog,” he told the boy. “Now you must reward Wolfe. Where is the meat I gave you?”
Stephen pointed to the dog. “I gave it to him.”
Scott lifted his eyebrows. “All of it?”
The boy nodded. Shaking his head with the humor of it, for he’d given the boy a good chunk of beef to use as rewards to train the pup, Scott pointed in the direction of the kitchens. “Go,” he said. “Get the pup more meat. But do not give it to Wolfe all at once. Give the pup small pieces only when it deserves a reward.”
Flashing him a toothy grin, Stephen ran off and the dog chased after him. Scott chuckled as he watched them go, thinking it was time for him to check the posts. He had duties to attend to but he’d been playing with Stephen and Wolfe all morning. Finally, he was taking some time in his life to simply enjoy it. As he headed off towards the southern gatehouse, he could see Milo heading towards him. In fact, Milo was trying to gain his attention.
“My lord,” he called out. “Word from Ravenstone!”
That had Scott’s immediate interested. “From Stu?”
“Aye,” Milo said as they came together near the gatehouse. “A messenger just arrived to announce the birth of a third son for Sir Stewart Longbow and his wife, Lady Susannah. Mother and child weathered the birth well. Stu says to tell you that they have named the child Scott.”
A smile spread across Scott’s face. “I am deeply honored,” he said. “Send the messenger back with my congratulations and tell him that his son had better be handsome. I want no homely baby named for me.”
Milo laughed as he turned for the gatehouse. “I will make sure the messenger does not tell him in front of his wife. She might not appreciate the humor of that statement.”
Scott waved him off, grinning as he thought on Stewart’s reaction to that jab. As promised, he’d sent Stewart back to Ravenstone Castle shortly after the Sadgill defeat and Stewart had taken about five hundred men and Jean-Pierre with him, leaving Milo, Raymond, and Stanley with Scott. Until the situation in Cumbria was fully settled, and because there were rumblings of Cumbrian lords unhappy with what happened to Sadgill, Scott planned to keep most of his army and knights with him for the foreseeable future.
In truth, he wasn’t particularly worried, but it paid to be vigilant. He was just about to take the stairs to the battlements when he heard the cry from the sentries going up, announcing incoming riders. That wasn’t unusual, for there always seemed to be someone going in and out of Canaan, especially because they were on the road leading from Carlisle to Kendal, so Scott didn’t give it a thought. If it was anything important, Milo would find him.
On his rounds, he got involved in a task in one of the former guard chambers that had been converted into an armory. Gordon was there, working with a smithy from Shap who had come to help repair some of the weapons from the Sadgill battle, and they paused in their duties to show Scott what they were working on. Stronger steel, better weapons. Scott was pleased.
Gordon was also in the process of designing another one of his ballistas, only this one would be a unit that could be broken down and quickly reassembled. Using small pieces of wood, he showed Scott what he meant because he felt a ballista that could be broken down would be far more feasible in battle than a big siege engine that had to be constantly moved by a ten-horse team. Scott liked the idea so much he became involved in Gordon’s scheme, making suggestions, until Milo entered the armory.
“My lord,” he said to Scott. “You have a visitor.”
Scott, trying to build a ballista model with Gordon, glanced at him. “Who is it?”
“I am not at liberty to give you that information,” Milo said. “I have been instructed to tell you to come to the hall immediately.”
Scott paused in his building and frowned. “Who is it, Milo?”
Milo shook his head. “My orders come from a higher source than you.”
Now he was perturbed. Handing the wood back to Gordon, Scott moved past Milo, giving the man an unhappy look as he did.
“There is no higher source than me,” he muttered.
Milo followed him as they took the stairs to the ground level. “My apologies, my lord, but in this case, there is.”
Scott came off the stairs, passing through the solar, which was linked to the hall by a narrow passage. “Did my wife send you to fetch me?” he asked. “What is she up to?”
Milo simply shook his head, which both frustrated and intrigued Scott. Marching through the solar and on into the hall, he fully expected to see Avrielle standing there, but his wife was nowhere to be found. There were, however, three big men being offered wine by a servant. They had their backs to him so Scott couldn’t see their faces until one of them turned slightly and he saw the profile.
It was his father.
Scott’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of William de Wolfe. In fact, he must have gasped or otherwise made a noise because William turned to look at him, startled, as did the other two men with him. Scott only had eyes for his father at first. But, inevitably, he looked to the other men, who weren’t really men at all as much as they were young men who looked a good deal like him.
William and Thomas de Wolfe had come, too.
Scott’s eyes widened at the sight of his sons and he clapped a hand over his mouth in utter astonishment. Beyond that, he wasn’t much capable of thinking clearly and he suddenly reached out, grabbing the face of the nearest young man, which happened to be young William, his eldest. The lad had grown by leaps and bounds and was now taller than his father, a soaring example of the de Wolfe lineage he so proudly bore.
“My God,” Scott rasped. “Will. Is it really you? And Tommy… Sweet Christ…”
He reached out to touch Thomas’ face, too, who had grown out of his awkward youth and now stood taller than his older brother, looking very much like his grandfather, Paris. The boys gazed back at their father with a mixture of apprehension, hope, and joy.
“It is us, Papa,” William said, his voice deep and steady. He glanced at his grandfather, hesitantly. “Grandfather said we needed to come. He said it was important. I am sorry if you are displeased to see us, but…”
Scott cut him off, tears streaming down his face at the sound of his eldest’s voice as a young, mature man. It was like music to his ears. He kissed the boy on the cheek, hugging him, as he pulled Thomas into the same embrace.
It was the best embrace of his life.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, trying not to weep openly. “Forgive me for running away when you needed me the most. Forgive me for being so selfish in my grief over your mother’s death. I know now I should not have run, but I was so afraid… I do not know of what. Of losing myself, of being overwhelmed with pain. All I know is that I should not have run from you and you can never know how sorry I am. Please, please forgive me.”
The boys fell into his arms, embracing him as they realized their father was pleased to see them. It was a reunion as they never imagined it would be – one of acceptance and delight. No anger, no gruffness. Simply joy. In fact, the very air around them was filled with the love and adoration of father to son, of son to father, something as timeless and beautiful as the world itself.
“We forgive you, Papa,” young William said, his voice cracking. “We love you. We only wanted you to know that we love you. That is why we came. We hoped you would speak to us.”
Scott was truly devastated by that statement, wiping at his face and kissing Thomas on the cheek. “I cannot begin to make up for those years we lost, but I swear to you that I will try,” he said. “A man lost in grief is not himself. I let that grief become who I was. It has taken time for me to realize that. I will never leave you again, I swear it. I am your father and there are no words to describe the pride and love I have for you. Please believe me. I shall never fail you again, not ever.”
William and Thomas were in tear
s themselves, but they were happy tears. Tears of young men who had been found again by the man they loved best in the world. Scott couldn’t seem to stop touching their faces, looking at his boys who had become such strong young men. He ran his hand through Thomas’ thick reddish-blonde hair.
“You look like a de Norville,” he said, laughing through his tears. “You have your Grandfather Paris’ face. How handsome you have become.”
Thomas grinned, looking very much like his grandfather in that gesture. “Grandfather Paris says I did not inherit the de Wolfe darkness.”
Scott laughed again. “Nay, you did not,” he said, his gaze suddenly moving to his father. “Nor did I. But I am a proud de Wolfe son just the same.”
William de Wolfe had tears in his eye as he looked at his eldest son. He couldn’t even speak. When their eyes met, his features threatened to crumble and Scott went to him, throwing his arms around the man and pulling him close. No words were needed between them because there was no greater satisfaction in the world than the embrace of a father and son. The emotions filling the room were palpable and Scott took a moment to simply savor them.
“Papa, I love you,” Scott whispered in his ear. “No matter where I go, or what I do, I will always return to you. I am sorry it has taken me so long to come to my senses. Please forgive me for being so foolish.”
William clung to him. “You are my firstborn,” he said hoarsely. “You are my pride and you are my joy, Scott. I knew you would come home someday when you were ready. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and I knew that when you found your happiness again, you would be ready to return to me. Something in you had to heal before that could happen and I understood that.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 208
