“Now,” she said quietly. “Tell me why you have come. I am listening.”
Gar drank the entire cup of ale in three gulps, setting the cup down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Adria poured him more and he drained half of it before speaking.
“You know why,” he said quietly, his gaze averted.
“If I knew, I would not ask.”
He paused. “De Brito.”
That drew an immediate reaction from Adria. “Not him again,” she said in disgust. “What does he want now? Is it about the money?”
Gar looked up from his lap. “Money is not what he wants and you know this,” he said. “That was not the deal.”
They were only a few minutes into their conversation and, already, Adria had heard enough. “I know what the deal was,” she said angrily. “I have already told you that I will not marry him.”
Gar sighed sharply. “I made the bargain,” he said, trying not to raise his voice for all to hear. “You know that Silas de Brito supplied me with enough money so that you could be sent to Kenilworth to foster. One visit to one of Lancaster’s lavish tournaments, purposely putting you in Lady Lancaster’s sight, and spending four days heaping praise upon Lancaster and his wife before finally broaching the subject of you fostering at Kenilworth.”
“I did not ask you to do it!”
“I did it for you.”
“You did not,” Adria fired back. “You did it for yourself. You did it because you were hoping I would make connections at Kenilworth for you and your gambling circle and in return, you promised de Brito that I would marry him when I came of age. Well, I will not marry him. I told you I would not when you first told me of your scheme and I will tell you again – I will not marry Silas de Brito. If you came here to ask me again to do it, then you have wasted your time and mine.”
Gar watched his daughter from across the table, seeing her angry, red cheeks, the flash in her green eyes. “I am not asking you,” he said steadily. “I am telling you. You will marry him.”
Adria was shaking her head even before he finished speaking. “I will not,” she said. “If you try and force me, I will scream the entire time. I will create such a scene that you will be sorry you ever tried. Papa, all de Brito wants is the title I can bring him. That is all. If you pay him back the money he loaned you, then he can find his title elsewhere.”
“The Alcester title is an old and prestigious one.”
“It is an empty one,” she snapped quietly. “It is as empty as your pockets.”
Gar didn’t like to be reminded of their abject poverty. Adria wasn’t subjected to it because she served with the House of de Lohr and they were generous with her, but he didn’t have that advantage. He lived in a big house, once rich, now bare and cold and lifeless. He had hoped that his daughter could bring wealth to him through marriage but, so far, she’d been uncooperative and he was starting to lose patience.
“I have come a very long way and you will not disobey me,” he said. “You’ve yet to find a husband at your advanced age, so you must marry de Brito.”
Adria shook her head again. “I will not,” she said. “I will not be forced into anything.”
Gar rolled his eyes, feeling desperate. “Then find a husband,” he said. “You are past your prime, Adria. Do you think some man is going to choose you over a young, virginal angel? More than likely not. If you will not marry de Brito, then find a wealthy husband so I can give Silas his money and be done with him. Otherwise, you must marry him.”
Adria was at her limit of patience with her father. She knew that butting heads with him wouldn’t work, so she forced herself to calm. In truth, she was calm by nature, but her father seemed to release an inner demon in her that she didn’t like, especially when it came to pulling her into his underhanded dealings.
She was always on the defensive with him.
“Papa, I am sorry that your ill restraint when it comes to gambling has brought you to ruin,” she said, trying to be understanding when the truth was that she didn’t understand him at all and never had. “I am sorry that you have used your daughter as something to bargain with. Although I am grateful to have fostered at Kenilworth because it has brought me to Carlisle and Lady de Wolfe, understand that I will not let you pull me down into the quagmire that is your life. Baron Alcester used to stand for something fine when Grandfather bore the title and his father before him. It was a title of responsibility and de Geld was a respectable name, but you have destroyed any semblance of what your father and his father built. I will not marry Silas de Brito and I will not marry a wealthy man simply to get money to pay off your debts. I am sorry you came all the way to Carlisle for nothing. Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do. A servant will show you where you can sleep.”
“Stop,” he commanded softly when she stood up. “Just like that? You would walk away when I need you the most?”
“You do not need me, only what I can bring you.”
Gar looked up at her, pale and distressed. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, trying to think of something to say that would make her stay and talk to him. He finally sighed sharply and looked away.
“You are all that I have,” he said. “If you leave me, what will I have? There will be nothing left. I may as well be dead.”
Adria knew that her father was very good at emotional blackmail. She’d seen him do it to her mother’s family for years so she wasn’t going to fall for it.
“If you feel that way, then I am sorry,” she said. “You may stay here at Carlisle until you are rested, but then you must go home. I do not want you here making trouble.”
He looked at her sharply. “What trouble would I make?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Knowing you, there would be a game of dice tonight after sup and you would be right in the middle of it, gambling with Lord Irthington’s soldiers.”
“Irthington? Who is that?”
“De Wolfe,” she said. “He was given that title when he was appointed the garrison commander. Henry himself bestowed it upon him. Remember? I told you when it happened.”
Gar shook his head slowly. “I do not recall,” he said. “So the man has a title, does he?”
“He does.”
“And he married a de Lohr,” he said, sounding bitter. “That means he is not only the son and heir to a great earldom, but his wife is the daughter of an earl which means he’s as rich as Croesus. Some people have all the luck.”
Adria didn’t want to engage him in that conversation because it wouldn’t end well. Her father was the jealous sort.
“He is a good man,” she said. “He was born into a good family and he has prospered. You cannot begrudge him that.”
Gar eyed her. “He has brothers, doesn’t he?” he said. “Cousins? Surely some of them are unmarried.”
Adria wasn’t going to have that conversation with him, either. She pointed to the food on the table.
“Eat your fill and I will send a servant to show you where you sleep,” she said. “There will be a great feast tonight, so do not miss it. But if I find you gambling with the soldiers, I will throw you out of Carlisle myself. Do I make myself clear?”
Gar just turned away from her, pouring himself more ale. Adria’s gaze lingered on him a moment before heading from the hall to find Lily and tell her that her father had arrived for a visit. Of course, she would make it sound as if Gar had missed her terribly and had come to see his only child on a social call, but that wasn’t the truth. Adria wished it was. She wished she had a father who actually loved her.
As her father had said, some people had all the luck.
But she wasn’t one of them.
CHAPTER THREE
“And how is your father faring, Adie?” Lily asked.
The day was closing in on sunset, the sky streaked with clouds of red and gold. The evening’s feast was a couple of hours away yet and Adria had just returned to Lily after seeing to her father’s comfort. He tried to speak to her again
about de Brito, but she’d simply walked away like she had in the hall. Now, she had the blue woolen fabric for the tunic laid out on the floor in front of the hearth so that she could spot any imperfections and avoid them in the construction of the tunic.
She was also trying to forget her conversation with her father.
“He seems tired, my lady,” she said after a moment. “It was a long ride from Coventry.”
“Was the weather good?”
Adria looked back to the fabric. “I did not ask him, but I assume so,” she said. “This has been a mild month as far as weather goes.”
“True,” Lily said, popping a raspberry into her mouth. “I was thinking of sending a missive to my family with your father when he returns home. Do you think he will deliver it?”
Adria shrugged. “He should, my lady,” she said. “I am sure he would like to deliver the message and enjoy a day or two of hospitality at Lioncross Abbey Castle.”
Lily was sitting in her favorite chair, the heavily cushioned one, with her feet on an equally cushioned stool. That seemed to be her standard position these days. Her hand rubbed her belly gently.
“I wish I could go home,” she said wistfully. “I’ve not been in a couple of years, you know. Not since we came to Carlisle. It seems so far away.”
“That is because it is,” Adria said flatly, looking at her with a smile on her lips. “It is quite far away, so you’ll not be doing any traveling until the babe is born. And what do you think it will be? I’ve yet to ask you today.”
Lily grinned. “I know I change my mind daily,” she said. “But, truthfully, I feel like I did when I was pregnant with Atticus, so I think it is a boy. But then I stand up and the babe seems to be lower in my belly than Atticus was. Athena was low.”
“So it is a girl?”
Lily shrugged. “It is either Alec or Amalia,” she said. “I have decided.”
“Have you asked your husband?”
“He will agree with whatever I want.”
That was true, mostly. Will was an aggressive knight, a booming commander and a brilliant tactician, but when it came to his wife, he folded like most men did. Before she could answer, however, the chamber door flew open and Atticus appeared.
“Mam!” he shouted, running to her. “Can I bring my dog?”
Lily reached out to stop him from climbing on her. “Bring your dog where?”
“To Poppy’s feast,” he said. “Can I bring him?”
Lily didn’t relish the thought of riding for four days with a squirrely little boy and his energetic dog. She stroked his red head.
“I will think on it,” she said. “Where is your father?”
“Here.”
Will came in through the open chamber door, looking like a child who was being forced to do something he very much didn’t want to do.
He cocked an eyebrow at the pair.
“Well?” he said, spreading his enormous arms. “Do what you must. But know that I am here under protest. And since you are making me do something I do not wish to do, I will make you do something you do not wish to do.”
Lily eyed him warily. “What is that?”
Will turned to the doorway, crooking his finger at someone out on the landing. Tarraby de Solis, the army’s surgeon, entered the chamber timidly and Lily rolled her eyes.
“God,” she hissed. “Must I?”
Will glared at her. “If I must, you must,” he said. “Tarraby, tell her where you have learned your craft so that she may be put at ease. She believes you are a simply a barber who cuts into men for pleasure.”
Lily was gearing up for a nasty retort, but Tarraby spoke before she could get it out.
“I have attended university in Paris, my lady,” he said. “I have also studied in Toledo before I came to Oxford to learn my trade. While many physics and surgeons simply learn the trade from another tradesman as an apprentice, know that I have specifically trained as a physic at university. It is my education that has seen me practice medicine throughout England.”
Lily looked at him in disbelief. “You have been educated at university, yet you find yourself practicing your craft on the Scots border?” she said. “Why are you not in London with the king?”
Tarraby, a small man with thin, blond hair and a narrow face shrugged his shoulders. “The king has his own physicians,” he said. “They are men of better breeding, finer families, and I have neither. But I served Humphrey de Bohun before I served the Earl of Warenton, and now I serve Warenton’s grandson.”
It was an impressive resume and Lily grunted. “I see,” she said. “Then I am ashamed I never asked before. I thought you were just a soldier who had decided to become a surgeon.”
Tarraby shook his head. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “I would make a terrible soldier.”
“But you are excellent with battle wounds. My husband says so.”
Tarraby smiled weakly. “I go where I am needed, my lady.”
“And you are needed here,” Will said, pointing to his wife. “Lady de Wolfe took a fall last month and she has been having pains ever since. I want you to examine her and tell me if anything is amiss. This is for my own peace of mind because my wife and the midwife seem to think there is no issue.”
Tarraby nodded, heading into the chamber with an old, worn satchel filled with his medicaments and instruments.
“My lord, you will leave the chamber,” he said, but he looked at Adria, still bent over the fabric. “You will remain and help me, for the lady’s comfort.”
Adria looked at Will, wide-eyed, but he nodded. She returned her focus to the physic, nodding hesitantly. “As you wish.”
Will slipped out, thrilled to have escaped being fitted for his grandfather’s tunic – at least for the moment – as Adria shut the door behind him. Tarraby put his satchel on the nearest table.
“Please bring me a bowl, if you have one,” he told her.
Adria went into a small alcove in the chamber, one that held a wardrobe for clothing and other dressing essentials including a big earthenware bowl. She emerged with it and brought it over to the surgeon, who poured something on his hands from a phial he carried in his satchel. The liquid dripped into the bowl.
Adria watched him curiously.
“What is that?” she asked.
He didn’t dry his hands, but simply shook them out. Whatever liquid he poured on his hands dried quickly.
“It is distilled from grain,” he said. “It cleanses the hands.”
“For what purpose?”
“To keep poison from transferring from me to anyone I touch,” he said. “My teacher in Toledo said that all things must be kept clean if we are to heal properly. I adhere to that rule although I know many do not. You cannot heal a man if you are pushing your own poison into his wounds.”
Adria thought that was a rather interesting view. She shrugged and followed him over to the chair where Lily was sitting. He couldn’t get a good look at her there so he made her get onto the bed with Adria’s help.
When Lily lay back, the examination began.
*
He knew they were going to find him.
Like a hunter, Will knew that Adria would find him and make him stand still while she measured him for a tunic that he still didn’t think was a good idea, but far be it from him to try and change Lily’s mind.
She was as stubborn as he was.
As he headed out of the keep, he happened to see Atticus and Bradford playing with their wooden swords again. The small inner ward contained a stone great hall, kitchens, and a chapel built into the wall. The hall in the keep was smaller, low-ceilinged and stuffy, and usually used for smaller meals while the great hall itself could hold five hundred men with ease, double that if they were crammed into the rafters.
Atticus and Bradford were over near the kitchens, where the servants were moving about as they prepared for the evening meal. There was an old, round kitchen servant who tended to Atticus these days because Lily couldn’t move
around with ease. Will tended his son as much as he could, but he had other pressing duties that required his focus. He could see old Myrtle as she scolded Atticus for skidding around in the mud, the same mud that Lily had slipped in last month. Atticus brushed her off and essentially told her to leave him alone, so she swatted him on the backside and took his sword away. Will grinned as the old woman grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him with her into the kitchen interior.
Poor Atticus was going to have to learn to respect his elders.
Listening to his son howl, his attention turning towards the inner gatehouse, he was thinking on checking the posts before heading to the hall for supper when he caught sight of Adria’s father, St. Ansgar de Geld. Will only knew the man slightly, having met him twice before, but what he heard from Lily about the man wasn’t good. He was a gambler, one who had managed to blow through the family fortunes, so Will had to wonder what the man was doing here. He hoped he wasn’t trying to glean money from his daughter because Will was fairly certain she didn’t have any. Lily paid Adria for the dresses she made, but there was little opportunity to make money.
Something about the money-hungry father made Will feel a little protective over Adria.
He knew Lily would have been, too.
“My lord,” Gar said pleasantly as he approached. “It is agreeable to see you again.”
Will greeted the man who didn’t look anything like his beauteous daughter with his stringy hair and red, bulbous nose. “Alcester,” he greeted politely. “You are a long way from home.”
Gar smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “I have not seen my daughter in quite some time and thought to pay her a visit,” he said. “I hope it is not inconvenient.”
Will shook his head. “You are always welcome at Carlisle,” he said. “But we are leaving in a couple of days to travel to Castle Questing. My grandfather is having a celebration of his day of birth and at his age, we are very fortunate to have him for one more year.”
WolfeLord: de Wolfe Pack Generations Page 7
