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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was the day after the raid upon his encampment as they made their way through the wooded vales of Anglesey. Edward had never gotten this far on the island; the closest he had come was last December when a bridge had been built over the straits but Bhrodi and his vassals had been waiting for the English once they crossed. It had been a disaster he still wasn’t over and now, as his army kept a casual pace along the muddy road, he saw this as a redemption. Bhrodi may have won that first battle for Anglesey, but Edward intended to win the war.

  Edward’s mind was also on other things; the fact that de Wolfe had pulled out during the night and had fled to Rhydilian. He simply couldn’t believe that the man would betray him but, then again, de Wolfe had behaved very strangely as of late. He knew the man’s daughter was married to de Shera and he knew that was why William was so torn, but it really should have been no contest at all. Kingdom before blood. Once he caught up to William, he intended to pound that fact into the man’s head.

  As Edward pondered de Wolfe and his bizarre behavior, he began to hear his sentries taking up the call of alarm. Edward was riding somewhere back in the bulk of his army and once he heard the cries, he spurred his expensive Belgian charger forward through the lines. He ended up near the front of the column as one of his premier knights, a man who had traveled much with him and was solidly loyal, came to meet him.

  Keir St. Héver, an enormous knight with a powerful sword, flipped up his three-point visor, of the latest fashion.

  “Your Grace,” he said in his deep voice. “We have spotted a rider coming from the castle.”

  Edward was mildly interested. “How soon will we intercept?”

  St. Héver turned in the direction of the road, shrouded by the heavy canopy of trees. “Soon, Your Grace,” he said. “If it is your pleasure, I shall ride out to meet him.”

  Edward shook his head. “Nay,” he replied evenly. “Let him come to us.”

  “Very good, Your Grace,” St. Héver responded.

  St. Héver brought the column to a halt. He lifted his hand and gave the command to stop, and the order rippled back through the lines until everything came to a grinding halt. Most of the infantry was on foot but no one sought to rest; in the strange and mysterious land of Anglesey, the English soldiers were on their guard. As far as they were concerned, these were cursed lands.

  The rider from the castle was swift, traveling with surprising speed through the dark trees. Even as the full moon rose, the ground beneath the heavy Welsh trees was very dark and shadowed. St. Héver was at the front of the column, waiting and watching as the rider approached at a distance. As the man drew closer, St. Héver could see that it was a very big man dressed in armor. In fact, he looked English. He was therefore not surprised when William de Wolfe drew his charger up and lifted his visor.

  “St. Héver,” he greeted, for he knew the man. “I have a message from de Shera for the king. I must speak with him.”

  St. Héver merely nodded, turning his charger down the center of the column as William followed. Men and horses parted out of their way until they came to the king. The man was where St. Héver had left him, surrounded by his personal guard. William lifted a hand in greeting.

  “Your Grace,” he said. “I come with a message from de Shera. I would deliver it privately.”

  Edward’s gaze upon William was anything but understanding or kind. “What are you doing, de Wolfe?” he demanded. “You and your army left during the night and fled to Wales. I told you we were to assault Rhydilian together. You deserted me!”

  William shook his head. “If I deserted you, I would not be here at this moment, would I?” he asked a rather droll question. “I had a purpose, Your Grace. Will you hear me or will you let me spout your personal business so that every man may hear it?”

  Edward was bordering on furious. “You do not make demands of me,” he snarled. “I have already sent men to Castle Questing. If you betray me, I will send orders for them to lay siege and confiscate it. I may also have your wife brought to London and throw her in the Tower to punish you for your bad behavior. Well? What do you think about that?”

  William would not let himself get caught up in Edward’s anger. His expression didn’t change. “I will ask you again,” he said steadily. “Do you want me to relay de Shera’s demands out here in the open for all to hear or will you grant me a private audience?”

  Edward grunted in frustration and spurred his charger forward, knocking William aside as he proceeded to the front of the army. William followed the man until he came to a halt several dozen feet down the road. They were alone here, shadowed by the trees and the creatures of the night. Above them, a night owl hooted somewhere. William directed his charger up next to the king.

  “I understand your frustration,” he said to Edward, “but believe me when I tell you that I had to go. I wanted to give one last try to convince the man to submit. I had to do it before you arrived at Rhydilian and he grew defensive by your mere presence. I knew if that happened, there would be no negotiations. I had to speak to him without your threat looming. Do you understand?”

  Edward was still frustrated but he was coming to see William’s point. “Fine,” he grumbled. “So you wanted to give it one last try before I swooped upon him and destroyed him. Well? What is his message?”

  William voice was steady, calming. “De Shera has agreed that to hold out against you would be futile,” he said. “He has authorized me to tell you that at dawn tomorrow, he will surrender Rhydilian to you.”

  Like water to a flame, Edward’s frustration was instantly quenched. He had been so prepared for a verbal confrontation that to hear those words out of William’s mouth actually caused him to choke. He coughed, harshly, choking on the words of argument and anger that had been preparing to spout forth. His eyes widened in surprise.

  “Are you serious?” he demanded. “He will surrender to me on the morrow?”

  William nodded. “Aye,” he said. “He asks that you camp here for the night and in the morning, Rhydilian will be yours.”

  Edward was deeply pleased, feeling rather full of himself and his omnipotent power as king and conqueror. “That is shocking news, de Wolfe,” he admitted. “Shocking but pleasing, I must say. But what about de Shera? I want him, too. The man is a rebel, you know. We cannot let him run free.”

  William sighed heavily. “That is something you and I will discuss,” he said. “De Shera and my daughter are in love, which makes it very difficult for me to happily turn him over to you. It would make my daughter quite miserable. Would you be willing to let him return with me to Questing to be put under my management? I can guarantee he would not take up arms against you.”

  Edward was so happy about the fact that he would have Rhydilian on the morrow that he was willing to negotiate about de Shera’s fate. Suddenly, William was in good standing with him again as a faithful knight who had once served his father with equal faith. All was well in the world once more.

  “We will discuss it,” he said, but his tone hinted that he would not be happy with such a compromise. “You will sup with me tonight and on the morrow, we will ride to Rhydilian together and claim it.”

  William shook his head. “You will understand if I respectfully decline, Your Grace,” he said. “I would like to spend the evening with my daughter. She and I have much to discuss about her future. I am sure you understand.”

  Edward did, but he wasn’t happy about it. “Always your daughter,” he muttered. “This whole thing happened because of her. What about me? Where is your love and respect for me?”

  William grinned. “I have demonstrated it all of your life,” he said. Then, he pointed a big gloved hand off to the north. “There is a meadow up there bordering a marsh. The land is even and there is a lake bordering the marsh with fish in it. It should make for good eating for tonight.”

  Edward looked towards the north where the man was pointing. All he could see was glistening grass bordered by groves of trees, all silver and s
hadowed beneath the full moon. He nodded shortly.

  “Very well,” he said. “I will tell St. Héver to settle the men there.”

  William turned his steed for Rhydilian. “I will see you on the morrow, then.”

  “You will escort me to The Serpent’s door.”

  William just looked at him. There was so much he wanted to say, as Edward’s words could not have been more ironic. After a moment, he simply nodded.

  “I believe you are already there.”

  As William rode off into the darkness, Edward gave little thought to the odd comment. Soon enough, his men were settling down in the meadow bordering the marsh, preparing a comfortable encampment beneath the brilliant silver moon.

  *

  “Is he camping in the marsh, Father?” Patrick asked as William rode in through the gates of Rhydilian. “Were you able to convince him?”

  William dismounted his charger as his biggest son made demands. “Aye,” he said. “He is camping in the marsh, in the same place that we camped when the beast attacked us.”

  Ianto and Gwyllim, having just come from the keep, joined the conversation. Ivor had never returned from the raid on Edward’s encampment and was presumed dead, so the remaining teulu commanders were more diligent than ever with Ivor gone and Bhrodi injured. They were working side by side with the English, trusting them, to ensure this night saved them all. They listened to William’s statement to Patrick with great interest as Kevin, Edward, Scott, and Troy also came to join their group.

  The English knights had been on the wall, watching the exchange with Edward from a distance and they, too, had heard the last part of William’s sentence. It was what they had all been waiting for. Now the die was cast and there was just one more element left in order to put their plan in motion. With everyone crowded around William, de Wolfe focused on the teulu commanders.

  “De Shera told me that the beast comes out to feed on a full moon, just as there is a full moon tonight,” he said, “but he also said that he has a horn that brings the creature forth?”

  Ianto nodded. “The horn brings forth an angry beast,” he replied. “I have sent Yestin for it.”

  William nodded firmly. “Excellent,” he said. “Will it work if we blow the horn from the battlements?”

  Ianto shook his head. “It will only work if we blow it from the swamp,” he said. “The beast’s hearing is not very good on land. Gwyllim and I will go. We know how to get in and how to get out without being seen, and we will bring the beast of the marsh down upon your king. Those who do not die will flee. They will never want to come back here again.”

  William sighed heavily, feeling excitement and regret as well as exhaustion. Regret that he was about to sacrifice many fellow English, but there was no going back. This had to be done or everything would be lost.

  “That is the hope,” he said. “It is the hope that Edward will forget all about Anglesey and leave Rhydilian well enough alone if he knows a beast protects it. The man will be fortunate to escape with his life.”

  The others agreed. “Where do you want us, Uncle William?” Kevin asked, indicating himself as well as the de Wolfe sons. “Would you have us remain on the walls?”

  William nodded. “I believe that would be the best place for you,” he said to them. “You will keep Edward’s army in your sight at all times. You will witness what happens. We will leave nothing to chance. Patrick, you have command of the wall. All things will coordinate through you.”

  As Patrick nodded firmly, Kevin spoke again. “And if Edward breaks free and rides to Rhydilian for shelter?” he asked softly. “What then?”

  William looked at him. His one-eyed gaze was deadly. “You will make sure he does not see anyone on the battlements,” he said. “For all the king knows, everyone at Rhydilian is in the keep preparing for surrender. There will be no one to hear his cries. And you will not open the gates.”

  Kevin cocked an eyebrow. “Not even to our king?”

  “Not even to our king.”

  Kevin nodded, his gaze lingering on William for a moment as he turned away and headed back for the battlements. He understood now what William already understood; blood over a kingdom. Family above all. Edward sought to destroy part of William’s family and he would not tolerate it. Now, it was a fight for survival and William intended to win.

  As Kevin moved away with the de Wolfe brothers in tow, Paris and Kieran emerged from the keep. Seeing that William had returned made them walk quickly in the man’s direction.

  “Well?” Paris demanded. “Is he setting up camp in the marsh?”

  William nodded. “He is,” he said, his gaze lingering on his oldest and dearest friend. “How is de Shera faring? Is his fever still raging?”

  Paris shrugged. “It is not getting any worse,” he said. “Penelope will not leave him, however, not even to see the beast make a meal out of Edward. She remains at his side.”

  William sighed, his gaze moving to the big, imposing keep silhouetted against the starry night. “I do not expect her to,” he said. “She fears for her husband’s life.”

  Paris had been a healer for many years and was more competent than most physics. William trusted his word on matters such as this.

  “I do not believe the fever will claim him,” Paris said. “It is bad, that is true, but de Shera’s surgeon seems competent. He has taken good care of him. But the sister, however, is another issue.”

  William looked at him with some surprise. “What do you mean?”

  Paris lifted his eyebrows. “She carries a very big baby and she is a very small girl,” he said, somewhat quietly. “The baby is breech and I have tried twice to turn him around, but it is very tight. I will go in a little while and try again. She is so young, William. Her body is simply not prepared for this birth.”

  William was feeling some sadness at that prospect. “Is Thomas with her?”

  Paris nodded. “He is.”

  “He is fond of her, you know. At least, that is what Penelope has told me.”

  Again, Paris nodded. “He is up there singing to her, very softly. It is sad, truly.”

  William was quiet a moment. “If it looks as if she will not survive this birth, get him out of the chamber,” he said softly. “I do not want him distressed by something he cannot help. He is still young, Paris. I do not want an experience like this affecting him for the rest of his life.”

  Paris nodded faintly. “If the girl does not survive the birth, it will be distressing to your wife and to Jemma. I believe they felt rather responsible for her while they were here.”

  William lifted his eyebrows, consigning young Lady Tacey to the grace of God. “Do what you can,” he said. “You stay to the keep with de Shera and his sister. That is where you are needed most.”

  Paris turned and walked away, leaving William standing there with Kieran and the two teulu commanders. There was a lingering sadness over Tacey’s state and Bhrodi’s ill health. William glanced at the teulu commanders, seeing distress on their faces. Their entire world was changing, perhaps even about to shatter. But they were soldiers and soldiers had to endure. Clearing his throat, he changed the focus.

  “This horn that calls the beast,” he said, speaking on the first subject he could think of. “De Shera tells me that it is very old.”

  Ianto, still lingering over Tacey’s situation, struggled to pull himself out of his gloom. “It is, my lord,” he replied. “It belonged to the Northmen who brought the beast with them.”

  “And it will truly call this creature forth?”

  “It will indeed, my lord.”

  “Have you had occasion to do that?”

  Ianto could see that Bhrodi hadn’t told de Wolfe why, exactly, they had the horn or what they did with it. The man’s question told him that. He wondered how de Wolfe would react if he knew that de Shera used the creature to exact revenge on his enemies. But he supposed it didn’t matter now; they were all in this together. After a moment, Ianto nodded.

 
“Indeed we have, my lord,” he said. “The beast of the marsh has a taste for human flesh. Lord de Shera’s father and forefathers summoned the creature to smite their enemies, just as we are doing tonight. What we do on this dark and clear night is something the lords of Rhydilian have done for generations. Your king will become the latest victim in a long line of many, all enemies of the House of de Shera.”

  William was listening to the man seriously. “Then that is why he suggested this,” he said. “You have done this before.”

  Ianto nodded. “Many times, my lord.”

  It made perfect sense. De Shera was known as The Serpent but not merely because of his deadly battle tactics; there was something more to that reputation, something that blended into legend. As de Shera had once told him, the beast of the marsh and Bhrodi de Shera were one and the same. Perhaps that was really true. Now, the English enemies would fall victim to that legend as well.

  As William pondered the many facets of Bhrodi de Shera, he noticed a figure emerging from the keep. But it wasn’t any figure; it looked suspiciously like Bhrodi and when William realized that Penelope was emerging with him, hanging on to him, he was jolted into action. As he ran for the keep, he saw Paris at the top of the steps as well and he could hear the man’s distressed voice. It was obvious that Paris was very unhappy. Still, Bhrodi, hunched over and moving like a cripple, seemed determined and Penelope right along with him. They were descending the steps but William ran up to meet them, an astonished expression on his face.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded. “De Shera, you are going to put yourself into an early grave.”

  Bhrodi’s arms were wrapped around his gut, his face pale and sweaty. But the look of determination on his features was powerful enough to move mountains.