Everyone else had resigned themselves to the fact that Kieran was growing weaker by the day. His heart hadn’t been particularly healthy for the past several years. But only in the past year had they begun to see a steady decline in a man William had called the strongest man in the north.
In Kieran’s prime, there wasn’t a man in England or Scotland who could best him in feats of strength. A massive man with a big neck, broad shoulders, and hands of steel could rip men apart without the aid of a weapon, Kieran was an immovable object on the field of battle and had survived wounds that would have killed a lesser man. But this mountain of a man had a calm manner about him and always had; he was cool in any circumstance, cooler still in the heat of battle. He also possessed an ageless wisdom, something that William now sought. He needed Kieran’s level head to help him decide what to do about Penelope’s missive.
There were decisions to make and William feared he couldn’t be objective about them.
As he approached Kieran’s door, the panel opened and a small, round woman appeared. She had a tray in her hands and she closed the door behind her, glancing up to see William approach. Lady Jemma Hage had been a lush Scottish lass in her youth, and she was still lovely even in her advanced years. The fiery woman Paris had branded a banshee those years ago had been the rock of Kieran’s family, her strength beyond compare. William smiled when their eyes met.
“How is your husband today?” he asked.
Jemma’s forced smile told him something he didn’t want to know. “He is eating better,” she said in her thick Scots accent. “He finished his entire nooning meal. He hasna done that in a while.”
William looked at the tray she was carrying; there was a small empty bowl, a wooden plate with crumbs, a cup, and little else. To him, it didn’t look as if there had been much food to begin with, but he didn’t say anything. He simply smiled.
“Good,” he said. “He shall be back on his feet in little time. May I see him?”
Jemma’s smile faded. Like everyone else at Questing, she knew that William was in denial of Kieran’s health. To him, Kieran was simply resting and would soon resume his place as the commander of the de Wolfe armies. But it wasn’t the case, and Jemma as well as Jordan had tried to tell William that.
He simply wouldn’t listen.
“Ye may,” she said. “But I must speak tae ye first.”
William’s expression lost its warmth. If she was going to say what he thought she was going to say, then he didn’t want to hear it.
“What is it?” he asked warily.
Jemma sighed faintly, seeing that William was already on his guard. “William,” she said quietly. “I know ye dunna want tae hear this, but ye must know that the physic says that Kieran is growing weaker. We’ve been trying tae tell ye this, but…”
As she knew he would, he averted his gaze and pushed past her. “He is not,” he said, cutting her off. “He is simply growing old; we are all growing old. It is age and nothing more.”
Jemma reached out and grabbed his arm before he could get past her. “Would ye stop?” she hissed. “I know ye dunna want tae hear such things and surely, I dunna want tae say them, but Kieran will not rise from his bed as ye hope. The physic says his heart… ye know he has a bad heart. It is only a matter of time now before…”
William cut her off again, yanking his arm out of her grip. “It is not true,” he said, moving to the door. “I cannot believe you.”
“William,” Jemma snapped as he put his hand on the door latch. “Ye’re only making this harder. Ye need tae accept that Kieran is dying. Do ye think it doesna pain me tae say so? Do ye think I want tae lose the man I’ve loved most of my life? For my sake, ye must stop pretending everything will be okay again. Ye drive a stake through my heart every time ye do.”
William paused at the door, his jaw ticking faintly as he listened to Jemma spew things he refused to believe. His hand was on the latch but he didn’t open it. Gradually, his hand came away and he turned to Jemma.
“Please, Jemma,” he said hoarsely. “I cannot… I cannot face this.”
“And ye think I can?”
William’s jaw continued to flex. “You are giving in to the physic’s opinion. He is not God. He does not know everything.”
“He knows enough tae know that my husband is dying.”
William’s jaw stopped flexing as she laid bare the truth of the matter. It was so very difficult to hear. “I… I simply cannot believe it.”
Jemma understood. William was very attached to Kieran, and Kieran to him. The older the two became, the deeper their connection.
“Ye must,” she said quietly. “Not facing the truth will not change things.”
William closed his eye as if to ward off what she was saying. He knew she was right, but he didn’t want to agree. He simply couldn’t.
“I met Kieran when I was quite young,” he said after a moment, realizing there was a lump in his throat. “I am sure you have heard the story. He and Paris and I were all fostering together at Kenilworth, with the same master, before our master moved to Northwood Castle to serve the Earl of Teviot. We all came to Northwood together, including Kieran’s brother, Christian. I think I was ten years and four; so was Paris. Kieran was a year younger, and Christian was not quite nine years of age. Even back then, Kieran was a lad of considerable strength. Paris and I would go around making bets with the other squires that Kieran could wrestle them to the ground and we made a good deal of money off of Kieran’s strength. But then, our master heard what we were doing and punished us. He took all of the money we had earned from the bets, telling us that the money belonged to him and not to us. Did Kieran ever tell you about that?”
Jemma was listening to the story with a faint smile on her lips. “He has told me some of it, but not all of it,” she said. “He said ye whored him out.”
William burst into soft laughter. “We did,” he said, his white teeth flashing. “God help us, we did. And he went along with it, the big dolt that he is. But even then… even then, Jemma, I knew that Kieran and Paris and I would be friends forever. There are some people who mark your heart like that. Kieran has always been the brother I wish I had and the thought of losing him… I cannot face it.”
Jemma’s smile faded as she saw William tear up. He was emotional in his old age. “I cannot pretend tae know the bonds of men who have faced life and death together,” she said quietly. “All I know is that the bond they share is as strong as anything I’ve ever seen, and I know Kieran feels the same way about ye. If avoiding the truth is the only way ye can deal with the situation, then I’ll not fault ye. But Kieran knows his time is limited and he worries about what will happen when he leaves us all behind. All I ask is that ye dunna worry him needlessly about it. If he sees that ye’re strong and accepting, it willna make him so anxious.”
William sighed heavily and hung his head for a moment. There was a simple but powerful truth in her words. Finally, he nodded.
“I understand,” he said softly.
Leaving Jemma standing in the corridor with her tray of dishes, William opened the chamber door and stepped inside. He immediately spied Kieran, lying on a very large bed that faced the windows, and he could see three small boys crowded up on the side of the bed as they spoke to Kieran.
William forced a smile, seeing three of his grandsons. They were also Kieran’s grandsons, as William’s daughter, Katheryn, had married Kieran’s son, Alec. Edward was the oldest, at nearly ten years of age, followed by Axel, who was eight, and Christoph, who was five. Edward was the spitting image of William, while Axel and Christoph looked much more like Kieran’s side of the family. As William approached the bed, Christoph ran towards him.
“Poppy!” he cried. “They have my sword and will not give it back!”
William took Christoph’s hand as he came next to the bed to see, exactly what was going on. Kieran was holding a small sword, very dull, with Edward and Axel looking at William quite innocently.
&
nbsp; “We were showing it to Kee,” Edward insisted. They called Kieran “Kee”, something Edward had called him when he’d been very young because he could not pronounce his grandfather’s name. It was a pet name that all the children called their grandfather. “Axel gave Christoph the sword, but Kee thinks it is too heavy for him.”
William recognized the sword he’d had made for Edward when the lad was quite young, something Edward had given to Axel, and now Axel had given it to Christoph. He held a hand out to Kieran, who handed it over. He pretended to feel the weight of it.
“It is rather heavy for a young lad,” he said to Christoph. “Axel, why did you give this to your brother without permission?”
Axel frowned, looking very much like Kieran in that gesture. “Because I want a new one,” he declared. “Edward got a new sword, so why can I not have a new sword?”
William looked at Kieran, who simply shook his head. “All young men want the latest and finest weaponry,” he said. “We did.”
It was true, but William didn’t want to get into an argument with his grandsons, not when he needed desperately to speak with Kieran. He handed the mock weapon back to Axel.
“You will not give this to your brother without permission,” he said. “If I find Christoph with it, I will take it away from you both. Is that clear?”
Axel nodded solemnly, as did Christoph, but Christoph was starting to cry. He began to wipe his eyes furiously.
“Can I not have it, Poppy?” he asked, rather pathetically.
William was quite a pushover for his grandchildren, so it was difficult to stand tough against them. He had to force himself.
“Not that one,” he said. “Mayhap I shall commission a new one for you, one that is not quite so heavy for you.” When Christoph’s tears instantly disappeared, William motioned to the door. “Go, now. I must speak with Kee.”
There was grumbling all the way to the door as Axel wanted to know why Christoph would get a new sword, but not him. He was the one who wanted a new sword, anyway. When they started squabbling next to the door, William cleared his throat loudly and pointed to the door again, and they quickly disappeared through it. As the door shut on the complaining grandsons, William turned to Kieran.
“I told you not to spoil them so much,” he said. “Now they all want swords?”
Kieran grinned. “Doesn’t every man?”
“They are not men yet.”
“They have Hage and de Wolfe blood. They were men the moment they were born.”
William cocked an eyebrow. “And excellent point,” he said. Then he paused a moment, scrutinizing Kieran. The man looked pale and his breathing was labored as it always was these days, but the dark eyes were still bright. “Your wife says you have had a good day today. How do you feel?”
Kieran shrugged. “The same,” he said. He pointed to a stool near the bed. “Sit down. Visit with me a while. All I have had is children and women to talk to this morning.”
William snorted as he pulled up the stool and planted his big body on it. “I have actually come on business,” he said, his humor quickly leaving him. “Serious business, Kieran. I received a missive from Penny today.”
Kieran’s eyebrows lifted. “Lady de Shera? What does she have to say?”
William thought to tell him, but he couldn’t quite put it into words. Instead, he handed over the missive to Kieran, who took it curiously. William sighed heavily and averted his gaze, so Kieran unrolled the missive, turned it towards the light, and began to read.
William dared to look up a few moments later, when Kieran was about halfway through, and he saw the man’s eyes widened. It was Kieran’s daughter, Rose, who had been married to James at the time of his death, so Kieran had a stake in this almost as much as William did. Kieran read through it once and then started a second time, now reading the missive aloud.
“… the utmost importance that I relay to you the following information told to Chris de Lohr by Corbett Payton-Forrester, who was the garrison commander for William de Valence at Gwendraith Castle until the Welsh captured it. Corbett has told Lord de Lohr of a new wave of Welsh rebellion moving through Southern Wales, led by a man who is rumored to be the bastard son of Llywelyn the Last. He is rallying the Welsh and already several castles have fallen to the rebels. Upon the capture of Gwendraith Castle, Corbett was taken prisoner by this son of Llywelyn. He has met the man, and seen his face, and has told Chris that he believes this new Welsh leader to be none other than my brother, James. He has begged Bhrodi to come to Lioncross Abbey to discuss this new threat and Corbett’s assertion that the new Welsh leader is my brother that we believed dead. We are leaving on the morrow, but you must come to Lioncross, too, Papa. If this new Welsh leader truly is my brother, then you must come immediately. My love to you and Mama, Penelope.”
Hearing the missive read aloud did something to William; the shock he’d experienced after reading it for himself was replaced by a massive measure of apprehension. There was something about hearing it in Kieran’s calm, deep tone that sent bolts of anxiety through him and he stood up, unable to sit because his body was beginning to twitch. He began to pace over towards the windows.
“It must be a ghost,” he finally said, “a phantom dredged up by the Welsh to throw the English off-balance. It is no secret that James died in Wales. We were all there, Kieran. I held him and you held him. He was dead.”
Kieran could hear the edginess in William’s voice, the uncertainty as well. “We certainly thought he was,” he said. “Paris said he was.”
William made it to the windows, looking out over his beloved Castle Questing. “Christ,” he finally hissed. “The guilt I felt at leaving James behind. The anguish I went through, that I still go through, not having brought my son home. You know this to be true, Kieran, and now this? Why would Corbett Payton-Forrester, whose father is a good friend of mine, say such a thing? Has he no idea how this will hurt my family?”
Kieran’s gaze moved back to the yellowed parchment. “William Payton-Forrester is a man beyond reproach,” he said. “He has raised his sons in the same way. You know Corbett; he is a good man. He knew all of your sons, including James. I do not think he would make a mistake on a subject as fragile as this one is. If he says that he has seen James, then mayhap you should take him at his word.”
William whirled around to face him. “This is madness. My son is dead.”
Kieran met his gaze. At the same time, he lifted up the parchment. “Is he?”
William stared at him. Then, the tears began to come as his mind allowed the possibility that what Corbett said was true. What if… what if… what if? With a growl, he closed his eye, warding off something that was both impossible and painful.
“Nay,” he hissed. “It cannot be. It is a mistake. James died in Wales five years ago. We all saw it; we saw it when we fled like cowards and the Welsh stripped my son of his de Wolfe tunic, waving it in the air like a victory banner as we left him behind. We saw it. I even went back to look for his body a year after the battle, and there was nothing. You know I went back for him, Kieran. I could not leave my boy there.”
Kieran could see the anguish in William’s expression. “I know you did,” he said. “You did all you could to recover him, but you were unable to. William, no one wants this to be true more than I do. You know I loved James like he was my very own son. When he married Rosie, I was overjoyed. No one understands your pain more than I do.”
“And now?” William demanded as he moved away from the window, coming towards Kieran. “Now what? I am so angry that I want to kill but, in the same breath, I feel such… such guilt. Christ, Kieran; what if he wasn’t dead when we left him in Wales? That very possibility has filled my nightmares and has left me sickened with the thought that I’d left my wounded son in Wales. I abandoned him. And now? My God… now, is it true?”
Kieran could only shake his head. “There is but one way to find out,” he said quietly. “Do as Penny asks. Go to Wales and see for yo
urself.”
William seemed to calm unnaturally fast at the simple, but truthful, words. He stared at Kieran a moment before retracing his steps back to the bed, sitting heavily once again on the stool. He suddenly looked very old and very weary.
“I knew that was to be my destiny the moment I read the missive,” he muttered. “If James is alive, really alive, then I must know. But… God, Kieran, what if he hates me for leaving him there? I do not know if I can survive such hatred from my sweet James.”
Kieran reached out, grasping William’s hand. He squeezed it tightly. “You must remember who you are speaking of,” he said. “We are speaking of a man who loved you more than anything on earth. He would understand why you left him behind.”
“Then why did he not come home?” William asked painfully. “If he did not die, and has survived these years, why did he not come home?”
“I do not know.”
“He had a wife and children here. Surely that would be enough to bring any man home.”
Kieran let go of his hand and sat back in his bed. “And that is another issue,” he said. “Rosie. She has since remarried and is very happy. I do not know how she is going to take this news.”
William shook his head. “Do not tell her, not until we know for certain,” he said. “Until I discover the truth, there is no reason to tell her. Right now, there are far too many questions with no answers. But should any of this be true, my fear of James’ hatred is all too real.”
Kieran sighed heavily. “You will not know anything until you go and discover the truth for yourself,” he said. “But whatever happens, William, know that you did all you could in Wales. Had there been another way not to leave James behind, we would have taken it. You cannot shoulder any guilt for that.”
William lifted his eyebrows, a gesture of resignation. “And yet, I do,” he mumbled. “I always will. But you are correct; I will not know the truth of Corbett’s report until I go to Lioncross and speak to him. Then I shall go to Wales and see for myself.”
Kieran squeezed his hand again. “And I wish I could go with you, with all my heart,” he said. “But alas, I am afraid I cannot make the journey. It is difficult for me to admit that, but it is the truth.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 267
