“Henri,” Brujon called as he approached. He clapped Henry on the back when he reached them, and said broadly, “You never showed me that new crossbow, how it works.”
Henry did not have a new crossbow. He never used the things, preferring to do his fighting in wolf-form. Something in the Frenchman’s eyes told him that he should follow, though.
The halls of Blackens Gate were eerily empty. Where they might once have passed servants meekly scurrying by, all that seemed left of the humans of Blackens Gate were the odd scrap of bloodied cloth. Once they were away from the wolves, Brujon checking over their shoulder the entire way, he reached into his vest and passed Henry a rolled piece of parchment tied with twine.
“For the master of the Fallow Wolves,” he said, pushing it urgently into Henry’s hand. “I overheard you speaking to Lord Canis. I do not know where your allegiance lies, but I will pay handsomely for your silence.”
“Allegiance…friend, I do not understand you.” Sensing a need for discretion, Henry quickly pocketed the missive.
Brujon looked confused, his gallic brow crumpling farther above his dark eyes. “You are in close confidence with Lord Canis’ eldest son, are you not?”
“I am,” Henry admitted, wondering all the same how close a confidence it was, after all. “I know nothing of his dealing with the Free Wolves of Callais.”
“He has none, yet.” Brujon motioned Henry around a corner. “My Lord Dautreve sent me here to investigate the stories we had heard about your King Edward and his enslavement of wolves in his army. I had hoped I would find, in your Lord Canis, a noble wolf incapable of such treachery, but after what I have seen here, I fear I was much mistaken. Take this to his son.”
Henry could not answer before the man spoke again, clasping his shoulder with such urgency it was almost painful. “I saw you, the night of the full moon. You saved that girl. Did you return her to the cell? Did she perish with the others?”
Mute, Henry shook his head. “She is somewhere safe. I beg you, do not tell anyone else what you saw.”
“I will not. Only…” Brujon’s expression was pained. “Be on guard for Lucas. He watches you the way a cat watches a mouse before he springs.”
“I would not compare a wolf to a cat, at least, not in this company,” Henry warned, trying to lighten the tone.
Brujon would not be swayed from his desperate seriousness. “You must have a care. And you must think of leaving here. Men like us, we have no place among wolves.”
Henry watched him go, the dangerous letter beneath his tunic scraping his skin like an executioner’s sword. It sounded as though the parchment held more than enough reason for Lord Canis to have his head; it was a good thing he did not plan to let him have it.
* * * *
With each day that passed, Henry grew more impatient. He’d hidden the letter well, but he jumped at shadows. There was no doubt that if Lord Canis caught even the whiff of betrayal, he would strike. As Henry packed his saddle bags for his trip to Fallow Manor, he wondered if he should take more than he needed for a few nights. With Lucas spying on him, would it be safe? In the end, Henry decided to take only a few essentials, weapon and a spare set of clothing, and enough money to carry him should he need never return to his bed in the barracks of Blackens Gate. He slung the bags over his shoulder and set off for the courtyard, the letter tucked safely in his vest.
In the castle yard, Roderick trained with his fighting master, in full view of his jeering brethren. They mocked him as he struggled to relearn, with a body tormented by injury, the steps in an impossible dance. When he saw Henry pass the bags to the waiting stable boy, he called off the fight and waved. “Henry. Where are you going on the night of the full moon?”
“Your father has given me leave to visit your brother at Fallow. I thought I might like to run in his company tonight,” Henry answered, pretending, as always, not to notice the other man’s sneering tone. “Would you like to come along? I am sure he would welcome a visit.”
“Come along?” Roderick spat in the dirt, perspiration running in rivulets down his temples. “Are you truly as stupid as I expect a half-human to be?”
The men around him laughed, easily turning their malice to a fresh target. Henry ignored them. “Well, I wish you a good run.”
“Give my best to Ursula, yeah,” a voice called over all the others.
Henry went still. He turned slowly, meeting Lucas’ sneer with an impassive expression, though he really wanted to bound across the yard and beat his head until it caved in like a rotted melon.
“The servant girl,” Lucas clarified, looking around to make sure everyone heard him. “We had an arrangement, she and I. And I’d like to make good on it someday.”
Henry shrugged, though his shoulders felt tight as iron. “If I knew who you spoke of, I’d be glad to pass along the message, friend.”
He mounted up and passed under the portcullis, then plunged his horse headlong into the trees.
The ride from Blackens Gate would have been perilous for any rider who did not know the forest or study the subtle variations of growth over the seasons. Both horse and rider knew the trees and stumps as well as they knew their own breath. It gave Henry some time to cool his anger. He would not arrive at Fallow Manor in a rage, nor would he let on that Lucas suspected Ursula’s whereabouts, at least, not until he could speak to Raf alone. There was no reason to frighten the girl more than she already was.
Every day that he had been away from the Manor, Henry had not been able to keep himself from wondering about Ursula. She had been frightened of him that first night; would she still fear him? Did she fear Raf and Aurelia? He had imagined her lying abed, frail and weak from the ordeal of carrying a child. That had been horrible. He had thought of the possibility that she had escaped, as she had tried to run from him. That had been worse. Raf was a capable enough man with one leg gone, but Henry had barely caught her again when she’d run. She seemed like a wild creature, spurred to rash actions by her terror.
The sun was near to setting when he started down the long slope inside the stone wall surrounding Fallow Manor. At the foot of the hill, the house rose proud and new-looking in the sun. Even the old stone appeared cleaner than it had the year before; the simple splendor of the new additions had rubbed off on even the most decrepit features. Henry spied Aurelia at the corner of the house, her little serving girl trailing behind her with a bucket. No doubt they were off to give something a good scrub; Aurelia seemed to thrive on cleanliness.
Another figure, that Henry did not immediately recognize, moved about the little pen beside the kitchens. Long, copper-colored curls lifted in the breeze, a halo of well-brushed orange behind her. She tossed handfuls of grain out as geese flapped and pecked all around her, and she laughed at them, holding her hair back with one hand. Her laughter reached him on the wind, like fairy music. Her simple kirtle belted high on her waist, and it was that detail, and the round belly beneath it, that made him realize who he stared at.
Ursula had not fled, nor was she confined to her bed with her burden. She kicked the geese back as she made her way out of the pen, and dropped the bucket beside the gate before crossing the yard. She was halfway when she stopped and slowly turned, as if seeking out the stare she could feel.
Suddenly mindful of the fact that he’d halted his mount, Henry nudged the animal to motion and raised a hand in a wave. Ursula’s hand came up shyly before she bolted to the door of the Manor and rushed inside, presumably to warn Aurelia that their visitor had arrived.
He took his time feeding and watering his horse. Aurelia, true to her nature, met him in the small stable. “Well? Are you coming inside?”
“I was testing, to see if you would give in and come to me,” Henry teased. He looked past her, making sure Ursula was not near. “How is she?”
“She is a joy, truly.” Aurelia’s expression darkened. “But she is sad. Henry, I worry for her.”
Without knowing what, exactly, he meant to do,
Henry promised, “I will speak with her.”
“Raf wants to speak with you, first,” Aurelia urged, pulling Henry’s hand. “Before the sun sets.”
“I should brush my horse,” Henry protested, this time not teasing to put her off.
She tugged at his hand harder. “I will send Robin to do it. Inside with you!”
Laughing, he let her pull him along.
Chapter Eight
Ursula watched Aurelia move from one task to the next, never finishing anything and never moving farther than a few steps from the door. In the small indoor kitchen, the hearth was dark, all their cooking done outside while the weather was fair. Aurelia had no reason to be there, unless…
“Are you spying on Raf and Henry?” Ursula wiped her hands on her apron, moving closer as Aurelia shushed her.
“You must think me terribly wicked. But I can’t help it. I know what they’re speaking of in there and I desperately want to hear how it goes.” Aurelia shook her head. It seemed impossible that they had only known each other a few weeks. Ursula felt as though Aurelia were a sister she had not seen in some time, though she would never say so out loud, in case the other woman did not feel the same.
Still, she felt bold enough in their friendship to speak freely to the lady of the Manor. “Raf tells you everything. Why should he care if you walked right in?”
Now, Aurelia seemed too keen to move from the door, hurrying out to the yard. She held up a finger to caution silence until they were a safe distance, then she pulled Ursula to sit on the low stone wall. “What do you think of Henry?”
Ursula thought to answer that she did not think of Henry, but that would have been a lie. How could she not think of him, when he’d saved her life, not just from the wolves in the forest, but in taking her from Blackens Gate? She’d overheard Raf telling Aurelia what his father might do to punish Henry, and Ursula had expected dire news when the messenger from the castle had only brought word of an impending visit. Now, Henry was safe at Fallow Manor, alive and whole, and she felt more relief than she should have.
“I… am grateful to him.” It was all she could manage, in her limited experience.
Aurelia nodded encouragingly. “And you know of his past, how he came to be born at Blackens Gate?”
“I do,” Ursula replied cautiously. Aurelia had no talent for hiding her intentions, and though Ursula could not see them clearly now, another motive lurked beneath the surface of their conversation. “I know that you and Raf call him your friend, and that, as you are kind people, he must also be kind. But what is this about? I dislike secrecy.”
“As do I.” Aurelia looked nervously to the door once more, to be certain they were still unobserved. “Raf and I are happy to have you with us, for as long as you would stay, of course. But he worries for Henry. He says that living life alone is not good for him, and living at Blackens Gate is worse. Raf hopes that Henry could be persuaded to take a wife. And we do hope that you would be that wife.”
“I am a peasant,” she replied automatically. Her stomach clenched, all the same. When she’d been a girl, she’d assumed she would someday marry. Then the beast at Blackens Gate had destroyed any desire she might have had for such an arrangement.
If Aurelia noticed her discomfort, she showed no sign of it. “And Henry is a bastard, with a bastard’s name. It is not a lofty position you would marry into, but your babe would have a father, nevertheless. You would be protected.”
“I would have to return to Blackens Gate.” Ursula struggled to breathe beneath the rising panic that seized her. “They will kill me there, they won’t let the mother of a half-wolf live, he said so!”
“You would not have to return.” Aurelia tried to soothe her. “Henry is not so foolish as to take you back there, and he has wanted to leave Lord Canis’ service for some time. If he took you to wife—”
“Then I would be a convenient excuse! But I know men. He might seem eager enough to find the solution to his problem, but months from now, when I am nursing another man’s child? Years, when that child grows and looks like another man? He would cast me aside, as any man would, and I will be worse for it!” She got to her feet, ignoring the ache in her back as she did. She could not stay here, not if she were to be treated like a slave again. She ignored Aurelia’s calls as she ran, her chest burning from the exertion and her sobs.
But where would she run to? Lord Canis’ lands surrounded them, and there was no village nearby, no place to turn that was any better than where she was. The sun had nearly set, and soon there would be wolves roaming the forest. She sank down in the middle of the fallow field, bitter and helpless.
Alerted by Aurelia’s shouts, the men came out. Ursula didn’t spare a look back; she could hear Henry’s boots as he ran across the field.
“Don’t run!” he shouted after her, though she had no intention of running. “It is too close to nightfall.”
She did not want to face him, embarrassed by her outburst, embarrassed more because she knew what they had discussed about her in the hall. “I will not plunge headlong into a forest full of wolves, if that is what worries you,” she assured him when he came closer.
He offered her a hand up. “You are upset. I wager you were as surprised by their solution as I was?”
She did not answer.
“Please. Come inside. I have very little time before the moon rises, and I would not leave you here, angry at all of us.”
She took his hand and let him help her to her feet. He did not release her, his fingers tightening just slightly around hers as he led her toward the house. He did not take her in through the kitchens, where Raf and Aurelia stood, arguing in low voices. Usually, the sight of the two in an argument made Ursula smile, for she knew they could never stay cross with each other for long. Tonight, she was not in the mood for smiling.
The hall had grown dark; Robin had not yet lit the fire to stave off the chill of the night, and Henry fumbled to light a candlestick. Once the flame caught, he set the candle on the table and motioned her over to sit on the bench beside him. “I gather Aurelia told you what Raf proposed for us?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak without bitterness.
“And I gather it is not something you would want.”
Was that disappointment in his voice? What call had he to be disappointed? “Once, I might have.”
Her admission made him chuckle, and she looked up finally. When she met his eyes, any distrust she might have felt fled. It was not in this man’s nature to lie, at least, not to lie well. He had too honest a face. “But not anymore?”
“I…” It had been so easy to say in her anger, but now that anger had fled. “I don’t think you would be happy with me.”
He took a breath. “That is your objection? You worry about my happiness?”
“You wish to leave Lord Canis’ service. Once you do, perhaps you’ll resent me? For being the means to your freedom, but another prison all the same.” She could not help the flush that came to her face. Less than a year ago, a proposal from a man like Henry, whether she knew him well or not, would have given her such pride and hope that it might have killed her. Now, it seemed a very cruel joke. “I carry another man’s child, Henry.”
“I have noticed.” His mouth bent in a gentle smile. “If that were an impediment, would I still be here, speaking with you on the subject?”
When she could not think of a way to argue that response away, he continued, “Raf has offered to take me into his service, as a bailiff. He has no head for numbers, and until now his coffers have been managed by his wife. You can imagine that it’s a point of pride to him to remove her from those duties. That is my escape from Lord Canis. Raf is certain his father will let me go, for that purpose, as any holdings Raf takes on will benefit his father in the taxes he pays.”
“Then why the marriage?” She felt more foolish than ever, for thinking that she might somehow rescue him as he had rescued her. “Surely there are other women—”
&n
bsp; “There are women all over England,” Henry agreed. “But you need protection of a kind Lord Canis cannot put asunder. If you are married to me, he cannot send Lucas here to claim you as his own.”
“Lucas?” She furrowed her brow, and then horrible clarity told her who he meant.
“He knows of the child, and he asked after you, before I left.” Henry looked away uncomfortably. “I do not like to worry you, especially not with such a decision weighing upon you. But you must know that you are still not secure here.”
“And a marriage…that would secure me?” She swallowed what felt like a tangle of knives in her throat.
He took both her hands in his, startling her. His palms were rough and hot, and made her too aware of the rest of him, big and close beside her. “I would not undertake so serious a sacrament lightly. I have nothing to bring to our marriage but the promise that I will keep you, and the child, safe. I would raise him as my own. You would be giving me a gift, Ursula, for I never expected to have a wife or a child.”
It was not the poetry she’d imagined as a young girl, and Henry was no soft youth promising the chaste love of stories. Still, her heart fluttered. He was a good man, and he wanted good for her. There was not much more that she could hope for, for herself or her child.
“I feel the babe move,” she said, breathing the secret she had not told even Aurelia. “He is strong, already.”
Henry’s eyes fell to her stomach, already round beneath her kirtle. “Wolf-children are uncommonly strong. You must have a care, not to exhaust yourself carrying him.”
“You would…” she couldn’t bring herself to ask, for fear he would reject the notion. “You would treat my child as though you fathered him?”
Wolfs Honor Page 5
