But in that understanding, Audric knew one thing – that he couldn’t show any fear. The English were intimidating and, truth be told, he’d never been this close to English knights before. Therefore, he answered William firmly.
“It took a day tae reach Jedburgh with yer message,” he said. “I came as soon as I could, as soon as the abbot gave permission. I am tae bless the dead and report back on the situation.”
It wasn’t quite the truth, but it sounded reasonable enough. He figured if he said he needed to report on the situation, then the English would know that he was expected back and not try to move against him. Kill him, even. It might keep the young bucks at bay. But he could see that William was unimpressed.
“The situation is that we cleared Monteviot Tower of a band of reivers who were doing a good deal of damage to my lands,” William said, his tone a bit testy. “I realize that it is the job of a priest to save souls, to save the souls of the good as well as the wicked, but it is my job to protect my land and my people. I did what needed to be done.”
The younger knights banged their cups against the old, worn table, loudly agreeing with William’s statement with a bit of bloodlust in their eyes. Audric looked down the table to see those younger knights again, eyeing him with hostility as if daring him to contradict the great Wolfe.
“No one is disputin’ yer need tae protect yer lands, m’lord,” he said. “Yer lands border these lands.”
“They do.”
“Surely ye have alliances with yer Kerr neighbors?”
William scratched his stubbled cheek thoughtfully. “My wife is from Clan Scott,” he said. “I have an alliance with Clan Scott but Clan Kerr is known to be their rivals. I have never had any trouble with them, however, so you could say that there is a tentative peace. They know me, I know them, and we simply stay out of each other’s way.”
Someone shoved a cracked trencher full of beef and bread in front of Audric. Gravy spilled from the broken side and onto the table, trickling onto his robes, but he didn’t notice. He was more interested in shoving meat into his mouth.
“As I told yer son, this castle and these lands belong tae Red Keith Kerr,” he said, “but I would assume ye already know that.”
William nodded. “There are two minor Kerr clans along this stretch of the border. I assumed this property was Red Keith’s because his lands are concentrated in this area.”
Audric continued to speak and chew, bits of food flying from his mouth. “Do ye know him, then?”
William held up his cup for Patrick to pour him more wine. “I have met him twice,” he said. “Once when there was a convergence of the border clans a few years ago and another time when I was traveling to Wolfe’s Lair. Both times, the man hardly said more than two words to me.”
Audric swallowed the food in his mouth. “That may change now that ye have another outpost on his lands.”
“I have two. Kale Water and now Monteviot. Troy is in command of Kale Water and he might know more about him than I do.”
Seated down the table from his father between James and Patrick, Troy was heavily into his meal. When he heard his name, and his father’s statement, he simply shook his head.
“He keeps to himself,” he said. “His home of Sibbald’s Hold is barely five miles from Kale, but I have seen the man about as much as you have. He does not venture from Sibbald’s and he has very few men. I heard tale that he is not welcome within Clan Kerr, so I suppose that explains why he keeps to himself.”
He was looking at Audric, expecting that the man would elaborate if he knew anything. The priest saw the expression and also noticed that William was looking at him as well. He could see that they were anticipating that he should add something more to the conversation. Audric cleared his throat and shoved bread into his mouth.
“I can only tell ye what I’ve heard,” he said. “Jedburgh is in Kerr lands and they are great patrons of the church. Ralph Kerr is The Kerr, the clan chief, and a great man he is. Keith is his cousin, and I’ve heard tale that Ralph banished Keith because he stole the man’s woman. That is all I can tell ye other than Red Keith is called that for his temper, not for the color of his hair. The man may keep tae himself, but he is nothin’ tae be trifled with. I have a feelin’ ye’ll soon find that out.”
Troy glanced at his father, but William didn’t seem too concerned about it. Without much more to say on the matter, Troy returned to his food. Audric did the same, hoping his interrogation was over for the moment. Still, there was information he wanted, and he waded carefully into that part of the conversation.
“Whether or not Red Keith actually shows his face, it ’tis the truth that ye know how tae deal with Scots,” he said to William. “But if Keith wants his holdin’ back, will ye give it tae him? These are his lands, after all.”
William took a long drink of his wine as he pondered his answer. “Troy says that the man has very few men,” he said. “That is why reivers were able to take over Monteviot in the first place. Therefore, in answer to your question, I will not give it back to him, not unless he can prove to me that he can keep it out of the hands of the outlaws.”
Audric thought that might be the answer. In truth, it made sense because, clearly, Keith Kerr was unable to police his own property. Still, another de Wolfe holding in Kerr lands would not go over well with the bulk of the clan. That could be trouble. As he pondered that possibility, Troy spoke to his father.
“I brought almost five hundred men from Kale,” he said. “I can leave two hundred of them here if you will leave another one hundred. That should be enough manpower for whoever you put in command.”
William was looking at his wine cup. “I thought to put you in command.”
Troy stopped chewing. “Me?” he said. Then, he shook his head. “You need me at Kale. The clans are going to be up in arms over the capture of Monteviot and you will need me at Kale to support Wolfe’s Lair. But you can put me in command of the Lair, Papa. You probably should.”
William didn’t say anything for a moment. “That is your brother’s post,” he said quietly.
Troy’s features tensed. “And Scott has not been at the Lair in over two years,” he said. There was no patience in his tone. “He is off to the south with Edward somewhere.”
“Even so, it still belongs to him.”
“When are you going to realize that he is not coming back?”
It was an extremely sore subject with both William and Troy. On that terrible April day two years ago when both Scott and Troy had lost their wives and younger children, each men had handled the grief very differently. Scott had run off and left everything behind, family included, leaving Troy to soldier on and endure grief no man should have to endure. Scott’s reaction was to shut down while Troy’s had been to live the agony every day and resent his brother for being too cowardly to face it.
Now, they were on that terrible subject and the men around the table, including Paris, quieted their conversation when the forbidden topic came up. As the father of the women who had drowned, and the grandfather of the children that were lost, Paris was especially sensitive to this manner of conversation. He knew how volatile it could be.
“He will be back,” William said calmly. “He is simply dealing with his grief differently than you.”
“He ran like a weakling.”
“You will not say such things about your brother, Troy.”
Troy slammed his cup on the table, splashing wine onto James. “Are we going to bring up this subject again?” he snarled. “By all means, let us do that. Wolfe’s Lair was Scott’s outpost because he is the eldest. By ten bloody minutes, he is your eldest son. Wake up, Papa; Scott has run off. He does not want anything more to do with you or me or the Lair, and now you have a massive outpost that is without a de Wolfe as a commander because you feel that Scott is going to come walking back into our lives someday. I am telling you that he is not, and you let that massive outpost sit there with Kieran to command it while you stick m
e at a smaller outpost as if it is a consolation in prize for your second-born son. As if I am not a good enough commander to helm the Lair. Oh, hell… do what you want. I am finished speaking to you about this. I am sick of the favoritism you show Scott, as if the rest of us do not matter.”
With that, he shoved away from the table, storming out of the hall, leaving the table sitting in awkward silence. Seated beside his father, Patrick stood up and put a hand on William’s shoulder.
“I will go and speak to him,” he said quietly. “I can calm him.”
William shook his head. “Let him go,” he said. “We have had this conversation too many times. He is correct. He does not understand.”
Patrick was gazing down at his father. After a moment, he sighed heavily. “Nor do I, Papa,” he said. “There is no reason why he should not have command of the Lair. He is more capable than any of us when it comes to command.”
William looked up at his son with pain in his eye. “And I have not given Troy all of my confidence?”
Patrick shook his head. “Not when it comes to that.”
He moved away from the table, following Troy’s path from the hall. As William watched his biggest son head out, James, too, stood up and followed Patrick. Both of them heading out to comfort Troy. William turned to look at Paris, across the table from him.
“Well?” he asked. “Do you think that, too?”
Paris was William’s oldest and dearest friend. They had seen so much in life together, the bonds of which were stronger than blood. Paris was careful in his reply, knowing that whatever he said, William would take to heart.
“I think you spend so much time praying for Scott’s return that you neglect the sons that have not left you,” he said quietly. “I have told you this, William. Scott has made his choice; he has chosen to leave and begin his life again elsewhere. Although I do not blame you for hoping he will return someday, you must not let yourself be consumed by it. It is Scott’s ghost that stands between you and Troy and the rest of your sons, and you are very clear about that. It is painful for Troy to accept.”
William didn’t want to hear the truth but, in hindsight, he knew Paris was correct. He spent a good deal of time anticipating Scott’s return, his prodigal son, and that included having a temporary commander at Wolfe’s Lair. Kieran was his second in command at Castle Questing but ever since Scott’s departure, Kieran had been in command of Wolfe’s Lair. Kieran was there because William couldn’t bear to give the command to another because, in his mind, that would be admitting that Scott was never to return. Therefore, there was truth to what Paris and Patrick and Troy had said – William was holding the Lair for Scott’s return. Perhaps it was time for him to accept that Scott wasn’t coming back.
But he couldn’t give up on a father’s hope.
“Let us get past the settlement of Monteviot and then I will reconsider the situation with the Lair,” William said reluctantly. “The truth is that I do want Troy here because he is the best man for the job, especially if Clan Kerr is unhappy with the fact that we are now in possession of this property. Troy has a relationship with the clan in that they know him and he knows them; if anyone can negotiate a truce, it is Troy.”
Paris lifted his eyebrows at him. “Then mayhap you should tell him that, William. Let the man know you appreciate him.”
William nodded faintly, feeling very badly that his own turmoil with Scott’s grief was clouding his relationship with Troy. “Of course I appreciate him,” he said quietly. “I draw my strength from him. Had he left as well, I am not sure I could have dealt with the pain.”
Paris looked to his right, seeing his own sons sitting there. They weren’t paying attention to the conversation with the older knight, or even Troy’s outburst. Hector and Apollo were in conversation with Kevin and Tobias, sitting across the table from them. They were laughing about something, as they often did. Further down the table were Kieran and Michael, old knights and the best of friends, lost to their own conversation while Case and Corbin, Michael’s two younger sons, were arm wrestling at the end of the table while some of the soldiers took bets.
Paris loved moments like this. He found such satisfaction in seeing his friends with sons of their own, all strong and intelligent young men, the future generation. There was a great deal of pride there. There were other sons, of course – Alec Hage had remained at Berwick with Adonis, Paris’ youngest son, while Patrick and Kevin heeded the call to battle. William had two younger sons, Thomas and Edward, and Kieran had his youngest son, Nathaniel, who was fostering at Northwood and hadn’t come on the battle march. So many young men, all of them ready and willing to continue the fight of their forefathers.
But there was one missing and it was a hole that all of them felt.
Paris understood William’s lament over Scott. Paris lamented the man’s loss, too, but he knew as William did that all men grieve in their own way. They could only hope that Scott would come to his senses at some point and return to the fold. Even with all of the young men, arm wrestling or laughing or eating, it was clear that someone was missing.
And Paris knew that no one felt that loss more than Troy.
Before he could reply to William, however, there was shouting down at the end of the table. Evidently bored with the arm wrestling, Case and Corbin had confiscated the mandolin from the soldier who had been wandering around, singing songs. Case managed to acquire the instrument but Apollo saw it and made a grab for it, yanking it from Case’s grip. When Case tried to take it back, the older and bigger knight shoved him back by the chest.
“Easy, lad,” Apollo said. He was very much like his father, suave and rather full of himself. With his bright red hair and stunning blue eyes, he was quite handsome. He was also an excellent performer. He began to strum the mandolin for all to hear. “Let me give the men some decent entertainment, de Bocage.”
Case was outraged. “I can entertain better than you!”
Apollo grinned slyly. “You cannot carry a tune,” he said. “Let me show you how it is done.”
As Case scowled, grossly offended, Apollo played a few chords and began to sing.
There once was a lady fair;
With silver bells in her hair.
I knew her to have,
A luscious kiss… it drove me mad!
But she denied me… and I was so terribly sad.
He was singing quite dramatically and, at this point, the soldiers around them were listening and cheering him on. They all knew the song and when the chorus came around, they all began to sing at the top of their lungs.
Lily, my girl,
Your flower, I will unfurl
With my cock and a bit of good luck!
Your kiss divine;
I’ll make you mine,
And keep you a-bed for a fuck!
It was a bawdy song, one that had the half-drunk men laughing and cheering. When Apollo started the second verse, which was as lewd as the first, half the room was singing along with him. Paris grinned at his son, who reminded him so much of himself. Apollo was never shy about anything and the men loved him for it.
As Paris turned around to collect his cup, he caught William’s expression. The man was staring into the dregs of his cup as if his mind were a thousand miles away and Paris’ good mood faded. It was hard to show joy when William was so worried about Scott and Troy. It was a terrible burden for a father. It was true that Paris had lost two daughters when Scott and Troy lost their wives, but somehow with their deaths, he was able to reconcile them. They were with God and they were at peace. But with William… one son was lost and the other in turmoil.
There was no peace for his sons.
“Go talk to him, William,” Paris said softly. “Atty and James can only comfort him so far. He needs to hear from you.”
William glanced up at him. “And tell him what?”
“Tell him that once things are settled here, you will be giving him command of the Lair. It is time.”
Willia
m gazed at Paris for a moment before simply nodding his head. But there was huge and heavy sorrow in that gesture, something that stabbed at Paris’ heart. There was such finality to it. Without another word, William set his cup aside and stood up, leaving the table and heading from the hall to find his sons. Paris watched him go, his gaze inevitably falling on Audric, who was still sitting at the end of the table, shoving food into his mouth.
But as Paris looked at the priest, his eyes narrowed. It occurred to him that the priest had heard everything that was said, including the discord between William and his sons. When Audric happened to look up from his food and make eye contact with Paris, the older knight took on a menacing expression.
“You heard none of that conversation,” he hissed. “Do you understand me?”
Audric quickly took on a look of both surprise and fear. “Hear what, m’lord?” he asked. “I heard nothin’.”
Paris scooted down the bench, grabbing the priest by the shoulder. It was a biting grip. “And that is the story you will adhere to,” he rumbled. “If I hear that you have been spreading rumors about unrest in the House of de Wolfe, I will cut out your tongue.”
Audric was trying not to cower. “I told ye, I dinna hear anythin’.”
Paris’ eyes narrowed dramatically. “Swear it?”
“I do.”
Paris released the man but he didn’t take his eyes off him. Audric spent the rest of the evening being glared at in a fashion that made him want to run from the hall screaming. It was only pure hunger that made him remain and finish his meal but, after that, he was fairly certain he would brave the dark night simply to make it home to avoid the big knight’s poison stare.
Truth be told, he’d lied. He had, indeed, heard the entire conversation and that told him a great deal about what was happening in the House of de Wolfe, the exact information he’d been hoping to glean. It may be risking his life to repeat it, but his superiors would hear about it.
A weakened House of de Wolfe might very well mean strength for the clan who wanted their property back.
*
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 215
