DarkWolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Fergus was tired of listening to his sons rage about the implications of their future now that their cousin had married into the House of de Wolfe. He was frustrated enough about it without them stirring the pot. Unwilling to listen to their unsubstantiated speculation, he stood up, stretching his legs. Artis glanced up from the fire when his father stood up.

  “We’re not finished, Pa,” he said. “We have somethin’ tae settle.”

  Fergus shook his head. “We’ll not settle it tonight, lads. And I’ll not listen tae any more of yer foolish claims.”

  “Then where are ye goin’?”

  Fergus gestured in the general direction of the stables. “Tae piss out all of this foul English wine,” he said. “And tae think. I canna think with the two of ye raging as ye are, so I need tae be alone. I need tae think this through.”

  Dunsmore started to say something but Artis put a hand on his brother’s arm, silencing him. Dunsmore looked at him curiously but kept silent as their father wandered away. When Fergus was out of earshot, Artis turned to his brother.

  “He willna do anythin’ about this,” he mumbled. “Ye know that. Our pa is a coward and he willna stand up against his brother. That means we must do somethin’ about this.”

  Dunsmore looked at him with some confusion. “Do?” he repeated. “What can we do?”

  Artis returned to poking the fire, the wheels of thought churning in his mind. “Rhosie doesna want tae be married tae the English,” he said. “Ye saw what we had tae do tae take her tae her own weddin’. Ye saw how she fought it.”

  “Aye, I saw. But what can we do?”

  Artis’ gaze lingered on the fire for a moment. “We help her,” he said simply. “Mayhap she’ll want us tae do away with him.”

  Dunsmore’s eyebrows lifted as he realized what his brother was saying. “Do away with him?” he repeated. “Kill him?”

  “Aye.”

  Dunsmore thought that was a very bad idea. “But ye saw the man, Artie. He’s a knight. More than that, he’s a de Wolfe. Would ye bring the entire House of de Wolfe down on us?”

  Artis looked at his brother. “Rhosie bested him,” he said. “He canna be so indestructible if she bested him.”

  Dunsmore still didn’t like what his brother was suggesting. He was the weaker of the pair, easily frightened, and his brother’s suggestion had him scared. “So what do we do?”

  Artis stopped poking at the fire as he seriously considered the question. “We will talk tae Rhosie,” he said. “We can come up with a way tae rid her of de Wolfe. If she has no husband, then she’ll have no children, and there will be no one Red Keith can give his fortune tae.”

  It sounded rather simple, but Dunsmore knew there was far more to it than the simplistic way Artis was presenting it. He hated it when his brother schemed like this, but part of him was glad for it. He knew that Red Keith’s wealth would stay where it belonged if Artis had anything to say about it.

  It wouldn’t go to the damnable English.

  “We canna talk tae her now,” he said, pointing to the tower. “She’s with the man she married.”

  Artis nodded, leaning back against the cold stone wall of the hall. “Not now,” he said. “Later. Let us go home with Pa and then we’ll come tae visit. By then, surely Rhosie will be a-wantin’ us tae help her. The more time she spends with him, the more she’ll hate him.”

  It was an interesting thought, one that, hopefully, would prove true. If Artis and Dunsmore wanted to protect what was theirs, then surely drastic measures had to be taken. But Dunsmore wasn’t so sure they should take them against a de Wolfe because it was a potentially devastating situation should de Wolfe seek vengeance on them for a murdered son.

  Still… Dunsmore wasn’t so sure they had any other choice. If they wanted to protect what was rightfully theirs, then something had to happen.

  The de Wolfe son had to be removed.

  *

  “Well? Did all go well last night?”

  The question came from William. Troy had just emerged from the tower before dawn to find it full of men ready to depart. In fact, the shouts from the bailey had roused him from his sleep, a sleep so blissful that to pull himself away from it had been difficult. He hadn’t experienced that kind of contentment in a very long time.

  With Rhoswyn’s long, warm body pressed up against him, it had been heavenly, feeling like he was whole again. Losing Helene had taken something from him that, last night, Rhoswyn had unwittingly put back.

  And that scared him to death.

  Because of that, his father’s question startled him. He looked at his father, approaching through the darkness of the early morning, and he resisted the urge to spill out his confusion. It was confusion, because last night he’d sworn he didn’t have any hopes or expectations of the marriage, but this morning might have seen that opinion change.

  “It proceeded without incident,” he said, unable to stifle a yawn.

  William came to a halt, eyeing his son. “She did not become hysterical again?”

  Troy shook his head. “She did not.”

  William was pleasantly surprised. “Then that is good news,” he said. “I will admit that we were worried.”

  Troy’s brow furrowed. “We? Who is ‘we’?”

  “Me,” Paris said as he came up behind William, dressed in full armor at this time of the morning because of the troop movement. “I was worried. God’s Bones, Troy, that is no ordinary woman you married. In my daughter, you had a gentle and obedient woman, but the warrior woman you took to your bed… God help you.”

  Troy looked at his former father-in-law, sensing that all was not well with him. He’d not spoken to him much about the marriage other than right after the bargain his father had made. All four of the older knights had closed in on him, trying to convince him that the marriage to the Kerr heiress was the wise thing to do. But the more Troy thought on it, the more he realized that Paris, throughout the night, hadn’t said much of anything about it. His father and Kieran had been doing all of the talking.

  That told him that something was amiss.

  “It will be fine,” William said, looking pointedly at Paris. “Troy is married to the woman and that marriage will create a strong alliance.”

  Paris still didn’t seem apt to discuss it. He simply turned away, calling to Apollo to ensure the troops from Northwood were ready to depart. Both Troy and William watched him go.

  “What is it with him, Papa?” Troy asked. “What is wrong?”

  William sighed as he returned his attention to his son. “I am not entirely sure, but if I could guess, he does not wish for you to remarry,” he said quietly. “He seemed in support of it initially, but as the evening progressed and he ingested too much wine, he started lamenting over Helene’s memory.”

  Troy looked at his father, puzzled. “What about her memory?”

  William lifted his big shoulders. “Mayhap he sees it being wiped away with your new wife,” he said. “I cannot be for certain that is what he is feeling, but I suspect that might be the case.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Nay, but I have known Paris for most of my life. I know how he thinks.”

  “And he thinks I am disrespecting Helene’s memory by taking another wife?”

  William could see that Troy was working himself up. He put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Nay,” he said flatly. “He has not said anything to that regard. You know that he would not. But you are Helene’s husband and to see you married to another… certainly, Paris must feel torn about it.”

  Troy stared at his father a moment before charging off, pushing through the crowds of men who were gathering in the pre-dawn. He was following Paris and the man hadn’t moved too far away before Troy was behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him to a halt. When Paris looked at him, surprised that he had so forcefully pulled him to a stop, Troy got in the man’s face.

  “Is that what you think?” he hissed. “That my marria
ge to Rhoswyn is disrespectful to Helene’s memory?”

  Paris was taken aback. “Who told you that?” he demanded. “I never said such a thing!”

  “Is that you think?”

  It was evident that Troy wasn’t going to back off or back down. There was an intensity in his eyes that only Troy de Wolfe was capable of. He had his father’s hazel eyes that, when aroused with anger, took on an almost animalistic gleam to them. Something hard and unnatural. That was what Paris saw now and he hastened to clarify the situation.

  “I do not think that,” he said honestly. “But it does seem… sad that you now have a wife who is not my daughter. You married her when she was so young, Troy. It has always been you and Helene. And now your father has used you to forge an alliance with Red Keith. I will admit, it did not bother me in the beginning, but I have had time to think on it. It will be strange knowing you are married to another woman and not my daughter.”

  Troy gazed at the man a moment before dropping his hand from his shoulder. In truth, he could see Paris’ point of view. He understood it well.

  “Mayhap I am married to her, but she will not take your daughter’s place,” he said quietly. “She is a wife in name and nothing more. Have no fear. She can never wipe Helene’s memory from me, not ever. It is ingrained in me as surely as the stars are ingrained in the heavens. That will never change.”

  Perhaps that was something that Paris needed to hear at that moment. These were days of change for him as well. It was bad enough losing his daughter but now he felt he was losing her memory as well as her husband took on another wife. But he didn’t voice that; it wouldn’t do any good.

  Patting Troy on the cheek, he turned away from the man and continued on to his troops where Apollo was organizing the party. Troy watched him go as William came up behind him.

  “Thank you for telling him that,” William said softly. “I think he needed to know that.”

  Troy turned to his father. “You heard?”

  “Aye.”

  Troy drew in a deep breath, the air full of morning dew and free of the smoke that had been so prevalent the last few days. He looked around the bailey, so full of men, and found himself rather disappointed that he wasn’t going with them.

  “No one likes what you have done, Papa, least of all me and Uncle Paris,” he said after a moment, “but we both understand why you did it. I will make the best of it and so will Uncle Paris. Now, how long do you wish for me to remain at Monteviot? Now that we are allied with Red Keith, there is really no reason for me to remain. I can just as easily put another knight in charge while I return to Kale Water.”

  He was changing the subject away from the emotional part of the situation and on to the reality of it. William simply went with the shift, unwilling to discuss the marital aspect of it any longer because nothing could change it. Troy and Paris would accept it, as they had to, and that was all he cared about. He’d been in command of his empire for so long, but it was moments like this that made him feel old and worn and tired. He didn’t like playing with people’s lives but, at times, it was necessary.

  Such was the burden of command.

  “You mentioned that you were going to send for Brodie and Cassius,” he said, moving with the change in focus. “Do you still intend to do that?”

  Troy shook his head. “As I said, since we are now allied with Red Keith, I see no reason to overly fortify Monteviot, and that includes pulling my knights from Kale Water. But I might send Brodie here when I return to Kale. I would like to have at least one of my knights in command.”

  The gates of Monteviot began to swing open; the sounds of grating iron and chains could be heard all across the compound. The troops for Berwick were up near the gate, Patrick’s troops, and Troy knew that they would depart first.

  “I would bid farewell to Patrick before he leaves,” he said. “While I am gone, think of what you would have of me here at Monteviot. Tell me if there is anything you wish for me to accomplish. I am eager to return to Kale Water and do not want to spend too much time here.”

  William nodded. “You’ll spend enough time to see everything properly repaired and the area settled,” he said, grabbing on to Troy’s arm when the man went to move away. “And you will speak with Keith before you go back to Kale Water. You will at least try to form some kind of bond with the man, Troy. You are his son now and it is important, for the sake of peace and the sake of family, to have a relationship with him.”

  Troy nodded, distracted. “I will,” he said. “Let me see to Patrick and then we shall speak more before you depart. And where is James? I must see to him as well.”

  William let him go, watching Troy as he headed towards the gates. The land was now starting to turn shades of purples and pinks as the sky above turned colors from the rising sun. As he turned back to the troops from Castle Questing, which were to the rear of the bailey, he caught sight of Audric emerging from the hall.

  The priest ate and drank himself into oblivion the night before, so William was surprised to see that the man was up and moving so early. As Troy went off to bid his brothers and friends a good journey, William made his way over to the priest, who seemed to be rubbing his eyes and staggering somewhat. In fact, by the time William reached the man, he had to grab him to steady him. Audric looked up at him, blinking his eyes.

  “Och,” he said, seeing the rather amused expression on William’s face. “It seems that I canna drink Sassenach wine and not feel the effects of it the next day. What do ye make it with? Poison?”

  William kept a straight face. “The blood of unpleasant priests.”

  Audric eyes widened but he saw the flicker of a smile on William’s lips so he broke down into a grin. “I always said the English were a wicked lot.”

  “I cannot disagree with that, but we’re no worse than the Scots.”

  Audric sighed faintly, nodding but realizing that hurt his head, so he quickly stopped. “That be true, in many ways,” he said. Then, he spied Troy near the gates, talking with a pair of big English knights. “So yer son survived the night, did he? I had me doubts.”

  William’s gaze moved to Troy also. He was speaking to Patrick and James. But as he watched, Corbin and Case came over to his son, as they were preparing to depart also, and Troy slapped Corbin on the side of the head and the others laughed. Considering how the young knight had harassed Troy’s new wife last night, the smack was well deserved. William fought off a grin at the camaraderie – and the irritation – of old friends.

  “I had my doubts also,” he admitted, returning his focus to the priest. “But he says that everything is well this morning.”

  “Have ye seen his wife tae ask her the same question?”

  “Nay,” William said. “But I am sure she will show herself soon enough. Her father is preparing to leave, also.”

  He was pointing off to the southern end of the hall – the exterior of it – where Red Keith and his men had spent the night, wrapped up in their dirty tunics and sleeping beneath the stars. Audric snorted.

  “Could nothin’ ye say convince the man tae spend the night in a room full of Sassenach?” he asked.

  William shook his head. “Not even when I promised to sleep between him and my men,” he said. “There was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise.”

  “It seems he dunna trust those he’s now allied with.”

  William knew there was some truth to that. “That is what I wish to speak to you about,” he said. “I think it is important for you to remain here for a time, at least while my son and his new wife are coming to know each other. Your counsel may be crucial to this marriage being a success. Will you consider it?”

  Audric looked at him with some surprise. He hadn’t been expecting such a request and was therefore unprepared with a firm answer.

  “I dunna know if I can,” he said. “I am expected back at Jedburgh.”

  “I will write to your abbot and ask permission, then. I feel that your presence here is important
, Audric. You know the couple; you have seen how they met, how they married. You understand the situation. They may need you.”

  Audric did, indeed, and it was a volatile one. After a moment, he sighed. “I suppose I could spare some time tae remain,” he said. “But send the missive tae the abbot today. I dunna want the man wonderin’ where I’ve gone.”

  William felt some relief that the priest had agreed to remain behind. “Good,” he said. “I will send the missive off before I leave here this morning. Let me attend to it now. Meanwhile, go and tell Keith Kerr that you will be remaining for the sake of his daughter. I am sure he will find some comfort in that.”

  “Unless he thinks I’m here tae give her or her husband last rites when they tear each other tae pieces.”

  William grinned. “I am confident that will not happen.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and headed off into the collection of English men, his destination the provisions wagon from Questing that held all of his possessions, including his writing implements.

  Audric watched him go, thinking the man held a strong belief that the unexpected marriage between his son and Keith’s daughter would succeed. He could hear it in the man’s voice. From what Audric had seen, he wasn’t so certain, but he’d been asked to stay and mediate. Or counsel, as de Wolfe had put it. Either way, he was in a position to help this alliance and he didn’t take that lightly. He didn’t think his superiors would, either. Somehow, he suspected that peace along this entire stretch of border depended on it.

  Not surprisingly, Keith was glad to hear of Audric’s plans. But he didn’t wait for his daughter to show herself, thinking it would be better if he didn’t. After her first night as a married woman, he might not like what she had to say, so he and his men left Monteviot as the big contingent from Berwick flooded from the gates.

  Keith felt like a coward for leaving his daughter without finding out how she fared with her new husband but, in hindsight, perhaps it was best if he didn’t know.

  As he’d been saying all along… it wasn’t as if he could change things.

  Rhoswyn would have to find her own way now.