The Wolf of the North: Wolf of the North Book 1

by Duncan M. Hamilton

  ‘I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again for so long. Ever since I knew I would be coming back home.’

  ‘It’s been a long time. I didn’t expect you would ever come back,’ Wulfric said. ‘When did you decide to?’ It sounded cold, and wasn’t how he meant it to come out.

  ‘I always planned to, it just took longer to do everything I wanted to do.’

  He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘University. It takes at least two years to get a diploma. Once I got in, I had to find a way to pay for it all. I worked as a tutor to earn enough, and that took up a lot of my time, so it took me nearly three years to finish it. I really loved the work though. It’s why I decided to come back and start a school here.’

  ‘You didn’t write to me…’

  ‘Would you have been able to read the letters if I had?’

  He blushed, knowing that the honest answer was no, but thought the comment was unfair. He shrugged. ‘You could still have sent them.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just didn’t think I’d be away for so long. At first I thought only a year, then it was two, then three. The longer it went, the harder it got to write. I know it’s not a good excuse.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I thought you’d have moved on.’

  ‘Will you miss the city?’ he said, changing the subject and hoping to make the conversation more comfortable to bear.

  She cocked her head. ‘Not happy to have me back?’

  She was teasing. He smiled. For a moment he felt the years that separated them melt away. ‘No, that’s not it. I just thought, after living in a city, Leondorf might seem… boring.’

  ‘Leondorf has changed. It feels strange. There are so many faces I expected to see. It’s silly really. Almost like I’d forgotten what happened.’ She smiled thinly. ‘It’s good to see the village doing well again.’

  ‘So. A school?’ Wulfric was grasping for anything to talk about. ‘What made you think of setting one up here?’

  ‘A couple of things. If Leondorf’s children are to compete in the world that’s been opened to them, reading, writing, and arithmetic will be great assets. There are lots of schools in the south, but none here. That’s not the main reason though.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Wulfric said.

  ‘Someone told me to learn things in the south that would help the village…’

  Wulfric smiled. She remembered. It gave him hope. There was a moment of silence. He felt awkward around her, and hated it. He had wanted to see her for such a long time—but now that she was right in front of him, all he wanted was to get away from her.

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I have to go and unpack. I just wanted to come and find you first and say hello. I’ll see you later?’

  Wulfric nodded, feeling torn between wanting her to leave him alone and wanting to take her up in his arms, for everything to be back the way it was before she left. He watched her go, remembering the day he had watched her ride south with her uncle. The largest matter between them had remained unmentioned—their betrothal. He felt like a coward for not bringing it up. He could face death in battle, but couldn’t face a woman with his feelings.

  WULFRIC LAY AWAKE for hours that night, going over every moment of their short conversation in his head. He forgave himself his clumsiness. He had been all set to leave the village and was on his way to say his goodbyes. Her arrival had turned his world upside down, something that seemed to happen every time he thought he knew the direction his life was going in.

  To his surprise, she called early the next morning and suggested they take a walk, asking that he show her around and point out all the changes to the village. When she left, it had been little more than ash and hastily built shacks. He made small talk by pointing out all the new buildings, as though they were not obvious enough, being so different from the Northlander ones, but gradually they settled into their old rhythm. It was late in the morning when they found themselves back at the tree. Wulfric too was starting to feel as though no time had passed; that moment could be mistaken for any one of hundreds. She stood in silence for a moment, drinking in the scenery.

  ‘I missed this view. There’s nothing in the city that can compare to this,’ she said.

  She was silent again for a moment, and Wulfric didn’t want to spoil it by saying something foolish.

  ‘You never married,’ she said, breaking the silence. ‘I’d convinced myself that you would. I’m sure any of the girls of the village would be only too happy to be your wife.’

  There had been plenty of opportunity. As she had said, he was an eligible husband for any of the young women of the village, and several people had encouraged the idea. Both Stenn and Farlof had married within weeks of coming of age. His mother grew impatient with him, and constantly tried to convince him to agree to this match or that, but he always refused, never with any clear reason behind it other than a seemingly general malaise.

  Eventually words came to him. ‘None of them were you.’

  She blushed and looked away.

  ‘You were waiting for me to come back?’ she said, her voice hesitant and uncertain this time, unlike her usual self-assured tone. With the question asked so bluntly, the answer was clear.

  ‘Yes.’

  44

  Donato’s hand trembled as he took the parchment scroll the Ambassador slid toward him.

  ‘The Most Noble and Puissant Markgraf has sent the necessary patents to her Royal Highness, The Princess of Ruripathia, to have them signed and sealed. Copies will be made and sent to you, as will the charter annexing Leondorf and its surrounding lands into the Principality of Ruripathia, and more specifically, as a barony within the Elzmark. All that remains is for you, as… headman of the village, to sign this deed.’

  ‘“Mayor” is the title I believe the people have taken to using,’ Donato said.

  Ambassador Urschel nodded. The fruition of several years of hard work, grovelling, and negotiating was about to be realised, but they always had to make it known who was really in charge, as though that was not already obvious. He read through the document as carefully as he could considering his heart was racing. He frowned.

  ‘There’s no mention here of the other part of our agreement. There’s no mention of me personally.’

  ‘Once the pledge of fealty has been signed by you, and the patents sealed by the Princess, the Markgraf will have the authority to appoint a new baron. Until then, it’s beyond his power. Anything that stated otherwise wouldn’t be worth the paper it’s written on.’ The Ambassador smiled.

  Donato drummed his fingers on the table. He had seen enough of the world to know when he was being lied to, but on this occasion he wasn’t sure. Did the Ambassador plan to have the new barony of Leondorf for himself? Donato didn’t think so. The man had shown no love for the place, and spoke often of how much he looked forward to going home once the annexation process was complete.

  ‘Were a foreigner to be appointed Lord of Leondorf, I think he would find a very hostile reception.’

  The Ambassador laughed. ‘Worry not. I’m not trying to take advantage of you. Both the Markgraf and I appreciate the help you’ve been. You’ve done right by us, and we’ll do right by you. You have my word that as soon as the charters and patents are signed, you will be appointed lord of this barony. In any event, we’d be hard pressed to find anyone competent in the south who would be willing to come up here on a permanent basis. The territory is very valuable to the Markgraf. You’ve demonstrated your ability to do what the Markgraf needs done here. Of course, you will be required to go to Elzburg to swear your oath to the Markgraf before everything will be official.’

  ‘That won’t be a problem.’

  ‘Before we conclude our talks, there is another matter.’

  Donato felt his smile fade and had to concentrate to maintain it. Too close for it to come to naught now. Whatever it was, he knew he would have to do it. ‘Another matter?’

  ‘Yes. Something particularly close to the Markgraf
’s heart.’

  The Ambassador reached for a plate of dried fruits and cheeses on the table in front of them. They were all exotic items, the fruit came from Shandahar, far, far to the south while the cheese came from Venter, on the other side of the Middle Sea. Luxuries like these could not be found for at least a hundred miles around them, and they would never have found their way to that remote part of the world had it not been for Donato’s enterprising ways. They would have credited the table of the Markgraf himself, and carried the price to prove it, yet Urschel treated them as though they had been hand picked from the nearest cow turd. He toyed with a small, shrivelled purple fruit before dropping it back on the plate in disdain. Donato wondered if it would always be thus, when he had sworn his oaths to the Markgraf.

  ‘It’s a… delicate matter that the Markgraf would like to have dealt with in as discreet a way as possible.’

  Donato nodded in as earnest and sincere a way as he could muster. Delicate matters that needed discreet attention could, in his experience, be very advantageous to him.

  ‘There’s a girl.’

  Always a vice. Money, women, booze or drugs. What rotten lives these southerners lived. And to think the high and mighty warriors of Leondorf thought him to be a degenerate. If only they knew. He nodded again. It was ugly, but if that is what it took, then he would accommodate it.

  ‘She was tutor to the Markgraf’s two children. An excellent teacher and a fine young woman by all accounts. She chose to leave Elzburg suddenly, and his Lordship’s son and daughter are inconsolable. He would very much like the young lady to return to his court.’

  A tutor. His children. Of course. Donato suppressed a smirk. They had dressed it up to the point where it was almost believably respectable. He was happy to play along, if that was how the Ambassador wished to put things. It would likely cost him some money, but so be it.

  ‘I’m delighted to be of assistance to the Markgraf in any way that I can, but I’m afraid I can’t see how, in this situation.’

  ‘Let me explain. The girl. She comes from this village originally, and I am given to believe has returned here in the past few days. The Markgraf is extremely eager for her to return to Elzburg. I can’t emphasise that enough.’

  ‘If she’s here, as you say, then I might be able to influence her choice. As always, the Markgraf’s pleasure is my own.’

  ‘Her name is Adalhaid.’

  Donato’s head pounded with a sudden headache as though it had been hit with a hammer. It took all of his will to hold the obsequious smile on his face.

  DONATO WAITED for the Ambassador to leave before allowing his mask to slide. He felt like his head was going to split asunder. He was so close to being a nobleman, of ensuring the future prosperity of his family. He had seen to it that the warrior class would never again strut around the village as though they owned it. Before he died, Leondorf would be a prosperous city with all the luxuries of the south. One day his descendants would rival the Markgraf for wealth and power. Now all that was in jeopardy because of some slut.

  ‘Adalhaid’ was the only name in the village that would pose a problem. He knew she was back. She and Wulfric had been glued to one another in the week since her return. The village was abuzz with talk of their impending wedding. Wulfric was nothing now; surely being the Markgraf’s kept woman was a far better prospect. He sneered at the Ambassador calling her a tutor. Did he really think Donato was so naive? He wondered what Wulfric would think if he knew his flame-haired beauty had been the Markgraf’s bit on the side. The sneer on his face faded when he realised Wulfric would gut him at the first mention of it.

  He couldn’t begin to imagine what the reaction would be when he suggested she return to Elzburg to resume whatever it was she was doing there before. What Wulfric had done to the soldiers in the inn would be a pale comparison to his reaction to an attempt to separate the two again. Was it too much to hope that they wouldn’t find one another so agreeable after all the time apart?

  He massaged his temples. Why could things never go smoothly for him? There always had to be some catch, something that made his life more difficult than it needed to be. He had nearly made his son a warrior, then his eye was taken. He had nearly made himself a nobleman… No. He would not lose this. He had put too much of himself into it. He rarely encountered a problem that could not be solved in one way or another, and he was sure this one was no different. It was only a question of how far he was willing to go for his solution. He couldn’t care less if the girl went south willingly or not, but she would go and he would be made Baron. He was confident that he could manage her; a solution would come to him soon enough, as it always did.

  Wulfric was a different matter. He had gone from being an arrogant pain in his neck to a truly dangerous young man. He had already got a taste for killing and he seemed to revel in violence, as his conduct in the inn had shown. If Donato tried to force Adalhaid back to Elzburg, people would die, and he would most likely be one of them.

  IT SEEMED AN ODD, but perhaps fortuitous coincidence to Donato when his guard led Adalhaid into the council chamber only minutes after the Ambassador had departed. She was among the last few people he would expect to have call on him. Would it be too premature to start exploring her thoughts on returning south?

  ‘Good morning,’ he said, adopting as welcoming an air as he could. ‘What can I do for you today?’

  ‘I want to discuss setting up a school in the village,’ Adalhaid said, not waiting to be invited to sit.

  ‘But we already have a school. Aethelman takes classes still. As I recall you were one of his students.’

  ‘The school in the kirk was fine for the way things were, but it’s not enough anymore.’

  Donato started to raise his hands dismissively, but Adalhaid cut him off.

  ‘If people from the village can’t read, write, and do arithmetic, we’re asking to be taken advantage of by the southerners. If they can, they will thrive. That’s good for the village. It’s good for everyone. You included.’

  It was a difficult argument to counter and, caught off-guard, Donato couldn’t think of a reply. He didn’t want her putting down roots, or starting work on a project that might incline her to stay, but he needed to be subtle in his opposition.

  ‘If you are decided on the idea,’ he said, ‘I’m not going to stand in the way.’

  ‘I’ll need money to set it up,’ Adalhaid said. ‘Seeing as it will be such a benefit for the village, I was hoping you might advance that money from village funds.’

  He wanted to smile at this first opportunity to make things difficult for her. ‘That might be a problem.’

  Adalhaid raised an eyebrow. ‘I was under the impression there was quite a bit of wealth passing through here. Silver, I believe. It’s quite the topic of conversation in Elzburg. Is Leondorf not benefitting from that at all?’

  ‘It is, of course. We’ve been spending considerable sums rebuilding the village and we have to pay for the soldiers. There really isn’t much left over.’

  ‘It won’t take very much. All I need is a room, and perhaps credit with some of the craftsmen in the village.’

  ‘Things don’t work like that here anymore. Coin is king I’m afraid, and without it, you’ll have a very hard time getting anything done.’

  ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Mayor.’

  Donato smiled sympathetically. ‘Unfortunately, for the time being at least, I’m afraid that’s not the case. Perhaps if you come back to see me at harvest time, there might be some spare coin to help you set up.’

  She smiled and stood. ‘Thank you for your time,’ she said, before leaving.

  Donato watched her go. Her years in the south had served her well. Polite, courtly, and possessed of a sharp mind. The school was a fool’s errand, however. What use was schooling for mine labourers and whores?

  RODULF HAD no idea what the stone was, or what it did, but for some reason it dominated his thoughts. He kept it with him at all ti
mes, and felt distress whenever he allowed himself to be separated from it. When alone he would study it, but its mysteries never became any clearer.

  There was a knock at the door, and his father’s servant appeared. The man was nervous. The last time he had disturbed Rodulf, he had been beaten him for his impudence. Rodulf wasn’t in the mood for teaching manners, however. He was feeling good. It was one of those days when he believed things were going to go his way.

  ‘Your father would like to see you,’ the man said.

  ‘I’ll be along directly,’ Rodulf said, his eyes still locked on that strange little piece of metal. He dropped it into his pocket and followed his father’s man to the Great Hall. Donato sat at the head of the Great Table, massaging his temples. The servant exited silently, leaving Rodulf with his father.

  ‘You look vexed, Father,’ he said.

  ‘There’s been a development,’ Donato said. ‘A problem.’

  ‘What now?’ Rodulf said. He tried to hide the hint of exasperation in his voice. His father was a master of trading and squeezing every last copper of profit from a deal, but sometimes he seemed to lack the drive to knock obstacles from his path. Was he getting too old?

  ‘The Ambassador wants Adalhaid to return south.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ Rodulf said. ‘She and that whoreson Wulfric are to be married.’

  ‘I know,’ Donato said.

  Rodulf smiled. At long last, he had his excuse. ‘Not going to happen so long as Wulfric lives, that is,’ Rodulf said.

  45

  As Belgar had aged, each old wound—even those long healed and almost as long forgotten—came back to remind him of the recklessness of his youth. On a cold, damp day, he could barely move. He had fought many battles, but couldn’t remember even one that had placed as much strain on him as those he had been fighting in the Great Hall since the Ruripathians arrived. At times it felt as though he was talking to himself. If he had any sense he would just shut his mouth, but once, in a past so far away he could barely remember it, he had been the First Warrior. That mantle had passed to another when he became too slow to deserve it, but the responsibility and the sense of duty never left. He could never sit by without raising his voice if he felt the wrong choices were being made for the village, no matter how much easier it would make his life. The frustration was eating away at him though, chewing through his soul such that he feared when his turn to join Jorundyr’s Host came, there would be nothing of it left.