WolfeLord: de Wolfe Pack Generations

by Kathryn Le Veque

  No love.

  Adria realized that it was something she had hoped for with him.

  Love.

  Without another word, she quit the small hall, heading out into the inner bailey with her bloodstained dress and a broken heart. When people saw her coming out of the keep, gore-splattered, the rumors and whispers began to fly, but Adria didn’t hear anything. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have cared.

  All she cared about at that moment was her own quagmire of grief.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The morning after Lily’s death brought an unexpected event.

  It was just after dawn when the sentries on the walls began taking up the call. A contingent had been sighted coming in from the south and by the time the sentries were aware of it, a small army of about five hundred men was already halfway through town, heading straight for the castle. The buzz began to move through the men.

  De Lohr standards.

  Will hadn’t slept all night, and what a harrowing night it had been. Adria had disappeared after their conversation and he had been torn between going after her and letting her deal with the situation in her own way. Going after her finally won over, but he was distracted by the arrival of the wet nurse and the midwife, who promptly went to Lily’s chamber to help with the baby. The burden had been on Jordan through the night and although she was quite capable, the one thing she couldn’t do was feed the tiny infant who was still alive. The wet nurse took over and the baby received the first of what would be many excellent meals.

  There was hope he would live.

  With the child well-tended, Will’s focus turned to Lily and funeral arrangements. Will had sent word to her father when he’d first been told of her deadly diagnosis, but Chris de Lohr was far to the south on the Welsh Marches. Will had asked him to come but, even so, he couldn’t be sure that the man would respond.

  He had his answer the morning after Lily’s death as the de Lohr contingent approached.

  Meanwhile, Atticus had taken the news of his mother’s death hard, so hard that he didn’t want to sleep in the big chamber where she was and Will allowed him to sleep with the other pages. They had their own small chamber in the knights’ quarters and he seemed to be happier surrounded by boys his own age, including his nemesis, Bradford.

  Marcellus, however, was another matter altogether.

  After saying his farewells to Lily the day before, he’d spent the entire night wandering the walls of Carlisle. Will knew that because he’d seen him. The man hadn’t said a word to Will, not one bloody word, but he saw him in the torchlight sometime before morning wiping his face of tears as he walked his rounds. Clearly, the man was devastated but Will couldn’t muster the energy to become emotionally involved in Marcellus’ comfort.

  That would have been an odd thing, anyway.

  The husband comforting the lover.

  It was a strange night for Will, mostly because of how he found himself feeling about Adria and her disappearance. The poor woman had endured something horrific the day before and she’d risen to it. She’d shown incredible bravery and clarity of thought when everything else around her was chaos. He found that both endearing and attractive, and even though the hours after Lily’s death were the most inopportune times to realize his strong attraction for her, that was exactly what happened. He felt sorrow for Lily’s passing, of course, but he found himself more interested in the living than in the dead.

  And he suffered some guilt because of it.

  News of Lily’s passing, of course, had been spread by the servants who had cleaned her blood from the floor and, in little time, everyone at Carlisle knew what had happened. Oddly enough, no one really expressed their condolences to Will, perhaps fearful of his reaction. Hermes and Ronan did, however, and they were quite saddened by it, but everyone else seemed to avoid Will, afraid to look him in the eyes, whispering to each other of their pity for him.

  It was a tragic situation all around.

  Late in the night, when Will could no longer stand it, he’d gone looking for Adria only to find her sleeping in the stable loft. Ronan had seen her go in but not come out, and Will found her curled up in the loft, cozy in the hay that surrounded her. He’d found a blanket and gently put it over her, but she hadn’t awakened. He left her there with Ronan keeping watch over the stable area. In fact, none of the Carlisle knights, including Scott, slept that night and most of the soldiers seemed to be up and moving, too.

  It was a tense and sorrowful night after the death of Lily de Wolfe.

  Given the chaos going on in and around Carlisle Castle, the arrival of de Lohr on the morning after was something of a surprise. Will was in his solar with Scott when he heard the sentries, emerging into the outer bailey just as the portcullis in the main gatehouse began to crank open, the massive iron grate straining on its chain. The de Lohr contingent began to pour in through the gates, looking muddy and weary and worn out. They looked as if they’d done nothing but ride straight through, from the Welsh Marches to Carlisle, and that went especially for Chris de Lohr as he rode in astride his expensive cream-colored war horse.

  Will and Scott went out to meet him.

  “My lord,” Will greeted him as he came near. “Why did you not send word of your impending arrival? I would have sent an escort out to greet you.”

  Chris had the faceplate flipped up on his helm, his sky-blue eye ringed and weary. Those who had known his grandfather, like William de Wolfe, said that Chris was nearly the exact image of him with his blond hair and trim beard. He wasn’t as fair as Christopher had been, but he had the man’s size and eyes.

  He was a de Lohr to the bone.

  “There was no time to send you anything,” he said, dismounting his horse stiffly. “We simply wanted to come. Come and embrace me, Will.”

  Will did. It was like being hugged by an angry bear who only wanted to squeeze and shake. He was a little larger than Chris, and a lot younger, so he could have easily fended the old man off, but he let him squeeze and pretend he was still the strongest. When Chris caught sight of Scott, he embraced him, too, and held him as if he were the man he loved best in the entire world.

  “Scott,” he said, even kissing the man on the cheek. “How I have missed you, my dear friend.”

  Scott was pleasant. He was polite. He even smiled at Chris and patted him on the cheek. But he was feeling decidedly unfriendly given the actions of the man’s daughter towards his beloved son, no matter if Will had been resigned to the situation. It was a situation that should have never happened.

  If Will was edgy from being up all night, that was nothing compared to his father.

  Unfortunately, that set the stage for what was to come.

  But Chris was oblivious to what was going on and what had happened. For all he knew, everything was still as it was when he had received Will’s missive. He indicated the two large knights behind him.

  “Greet my sons,” Chris said, yanking off his heavy gloves. “Becket and Morgen have attended me. They wanted to come and lend their support.”

  Will greeted Lily’s older brothers. Becket had the blond de Lohr looks, while Morgen took after his Welsh mother. He had dark hair and striking blue eyes, an even-tempered man who was well liked. But Becket was someone Will had always bonded with.

  “Beck,” Will said, extending his hand in greeting. “Welcome to Carlisle.”

  Becket had his helm off, smiling wearily as he took the man’s hand. “It’s been a long time, Will,” he said, sliding out of the saddle. “Are you still screaming at your army with loudmouthed insults to motivate them?”

  Will smiled weakly. Even the de Lohrs knew of his reputation for slick insults that were both hilarious and accurate. “Not lately,” he said. “I leave the army to Marcellus and Ronan and Hermes these days. I’m a lord, you know. I have others scream at my army for me.”

  Becket grinned. “Come this way,” he said, motioning the man around his horse to one of his saddlebags. Will didn’t notice that he’d
put the horse between them and his father as he untied the saddlebag. “My father has been frantic to get to my sister. Tell me she’s well.”

  He was whispering, pretending to show Will a new dagger when he really wanted to lay the foundation for his father’s mood. But Will couldn’t lie to him. He couldn’t even soften the blow.

  “We lost her yesterday,” he muttered. “You must help me with your father if he is on edge.”

  Becket closed his eyes tightly for a moment, steeling himself, before putting the dagger back in the saddlebag.

  “God help us,” he breathed. “I will do what I can. Was she… was she in pain?”

  Will could see the pain of an older brother asking about his only sister. Discreetly, he put his hand on Becket’s arm. “She gave birth, so there was some pain,” he said. “We did everything we could. That is why my father is here. But you should also know that there have been some… developments in relation to Lily. My father is on edge also.”

  Becket looked at him, frowning. “Why? What’s happened?”

  Will shook his head. They couldn’t risk whispering any further without someone figuring it out, so Will came around the horse and greeted Morgen. As the de Lohr army began to disband around them, the sons joined their fathers and Will made a gesture towards the keep.

  “Come,” he said to Chris. “Let us go inside and you may rest. My men will disband your army.”

  Chris was nodding, handing off his helm and traveling robe to the nearest soldier as they began to walk in a group towards the inner gatehouse.

  “Where is my daughter?” he asked. “I am anxious to see her.”

  Will looked at Scott, expecting some kind of help from him, but Scott remained oddly stiff and silent. Will could see that it was up to him to handle the situation, at least as much as he could.

  “Let us go inside the keep,” he said again. “You must have made incredibly good time to have arrived here as quickly as you did. I assume the weather was on your side?”

  Chris nodded. “Fortunately for us,” he said. “I pushed my men to do thirty-five, mayhap forty miles a day, so they’ve hardly slept and they’ve eaten while they were traveling mostly. After I received your missive, I knew I had to come. Lily’s mother insisted.”

  Will was glad the man hadn’t asked for Lily again, but they still weren’t to the safety and privacy of the smaller hall yet. They were just approaching the inner gatehouse drawbridge when Atticus suddenly appeared, running in Chris’ direction.

  “Avus!” he shouted. “Avus!”

  Avus was the Latin term for grandfather, something the de Wolfe grandchildren had called Chris from the beginning. Delighted to see his youngest grandson, Chris came to a halt and opened up his arms. Atticus stopped short of throwing himself into his embrace and the old man roared with laughter, grabbing the boy by the hair and pulling him into one of those angry bear hugs.

  Atticus howled.

  “It is music to my ears to hear his screams,” Chris said, laughing. “Atticus, lad, I’m so happy to see you. Have you missed me?”

  Atticus was throwing fists to try and break his grandfather’s hold, so much so that Will had to step in and still the flying fists. He pulled Atticus out of Chris’ embrace and set him on his feet.

  “What did you bring me?” Atticus demanded.

  Chris and Becket and Morgen were grinning, getting a good look at the lad they’d not seen in at least two years. He’d been young then, but still full of fire. At six years of age, he was positively a terror.

  “I’m not sure,” Chris said, putting a big hand on Atticus’ head. “We’ll go through my saddlebags and see if there is anything you want to keep.”

  The mere idea lit Atticus up. “Now?”

  “Nay,” Chris said. “After I have seen your mother.”

  “But Mama is in heaven.”

  Chris froze. In fact, they all did. His eyes widened as he looked at Atticus. “What did you say?”

  “We lost Lily yesterday,” Will said softly. He had no choice. “I was trying to take you into the keep where I could tell you privately. She gave birth to another grandson, but she did not survive the birth.”

  Chris looked at him with such horror that Will was physically struck by it. He could see the grief filling every line of the man’s face.

  “My angel is gone?” Chris said. “She is dead?”

  Will nodded. He wasn’t unsympathetic about it, a father losing a child, so he put his hand on the man’s shoulder to ease him as Becket and Morgen came up alongside him, each man trying to be of some comfort to his father.

  “She is,” Will said. “She passed away yesterday afternoon and there has been no time to send you word. I was planning on doing it this morning, in fact, but you have arrived and must hear the terrible news from my lips. Mayhap it is best this way.”

  Chris was trying very hard to keep his composure. He paused, struggling, digesting every horrible word that Will had delivered.

  He simply couldn’t believe it.

  “Tell me what happened,” he finally said. “Tell me everything that happened.”

  Will nodded, but he was trying to direct the man inside. “Shall we go into the keep?” he asked, looking at Becket with silent encouragement to move the man forward. “Let us go where we can speak privately. You do not want the soldiers to witness your grief, my lord.”

  Chris started to walk, but it was stiffly. “Tell me now,” he said. “Tell me as we walk. What happened to my angel?”

  “As I said, we lost her in childbirth, yesterday. We…”

  “Nay!” Chris roared, interrupting him. “From the beginning!”

  It was the desperate cry of a father and Will took up pace beside him as Becket and Morgen crowded in around their father.

  “I told you in the missive that Lily injured herself when she fell last month,” he said as steadily and clearly as he could. “My physic believed that the fall caused the nourishment sack for the child to pull away from the womb. Lily was bleeding internally and when the child was unexpectedly born yesterday, there was nothing to be done. Lily lost consciousness because of the loss of blood and simply never woke up. Her passing was… peaceful.”

  They were in the inner bailey by now with the keep straight ahead. Everyone was herding Chris into the keep, into the small hall, where he could grieve in private. Scott was bringing up the rear with Atticus, but before the child entered the keep, he sent him off to the kitchens to tell the servants to bring refreshments for their visitors. It was simply a ploy to remove Atticus from a situation that was sure to get worse before it got better.

  As Atticus ran off, Scott followed the others into the keep.

  “My sweet angel,” Chris was saying as he sat heavily at the nearest table. “What am I going to tell her mother? Kaedia will be shattered by the news. What am I to tell her?”

  “Tell her that Lily met her death bravely,” Becket said, sitting next to his father with his arm around the man’s shoulders. “Death in childbirth is like the death of a warrior – it is glorious and for the right and true cause. Mother will understand that.”

  “I do not understand that,” Chris said, slapping his hand on the table as the tears began to come. “I do not understand why this has happened. Lily was a good lass, true and compassionate. I do not understand why God took her from us.”

  Neither Becket nor Morgen had an answer for him. They simply sat with him, their arms around him, trying to give him some comfort. Will and Scott sat across from them, watching the sorrowful scene.

  “You have a new grandson,” Will said. “He is small, but he is strong. I have every faith that he will survive.”

  Chris had his head in his hands, elbows on the table. He didn’t say anything to the news of a new grandson; he hadn’t the first time, either. He just sat there with his head in his hands.

  All he seemed to focus on was Lily’s death.

  “I was not here to comfort her,” he said mournfully. “My God… is that wh
at I will remember for the rest of my life? That I was not here to comfort my daughter when she needed me?”

  “Lily was not without comfort,” Will said. “My own grandmother is here and she spent a great deal of time with Lily yesterday. It is my grandmother who is tending to the new child, so Lily was comforted. She was well tended to.”

  Chris looked at him. “I notice that you do not mention that you gave her comfort,” he said. “I hoped that things would be better between you when you assumed command of Carlisle, but I will go on the assumption that I was wrong. Why were you not there to give her comfort, Will? You are her husband. You should have never left her side.”

  “I was with her a great deal,” Will said, hearing hazard in Chris’ tone. “There was only so much I could do.”

  Chris growled. “Then it is like it was before, is it?” he said. “When you were at Lioncross, serving me, and you ignored Lily. Do not deny it, for I saw it myself. Is that what happened here at Carlisle? You ignored your wife and she was condemned to die alone?”

  “She did not die alone,” Scott suddenly hissed. Before Will could stop him, Scott began spewing venom straight at Chris. “She had her lover to comfort her, as you damned well know. A knight you permitted her to fornicate with throughout her marriage to my son, so do not sit here and put the blame on him when it was you who created this mess. Will is a victim of your daughter’s infidelity!”

  Chris’ face turned red and his tears vanished unnaturally fast as the insults and accusations began to fly hard and fast. “What’s this?” he demanded. “What’s this you say to me?”

  “You heard me,” Scott growled. “Your daughter was an adulteress with your full knowledge, so you will not tell us what a pure angel she was. She was anything but a pure angel.”

  “Bite your tongue!”

  “She was a whore!”

  Everyone at the table bolted to their feet as Scott practically threw himself over the tabletop to get to Chris, who was equally eager to get at Scott. Will and Becket and Morgen had to throw themselves between the old men, struggling to pull them apart as meaty fists began to fly. Scott made contact with the side of Chris’ head, and also his own son’s head, as Will manhandled his father away from the table.