William laughed softly. “It is true,” he said. “He has that impish smile that makes you want to smile right along with him. But have you told him any of this?”
Cassiopeia nodded. “I have,” she said. “At least, I tried to. We were discussing nearly the very same thing – of the years of thrown rocks and pebbles – and I told him that I have learned that men do not like it when women flirt with rocks. But at a young age, what did I know? All I knew was that I wanted his attention. But that never occurred to me until later.”
William patted her hand. “Now, you have it,” he said. “But Edward is greatly embarrassed about what happened. That is why I have come to ask a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Will you write him a missive and tell him that you want him to return?”
She jumped right up, rushing over to a table against the wall, over near her dressing area. The table contained odds and ends – vases, dried flowers, fans, a few books she’d brought with her from London, and a writing box. Inside were pieces of parchment, sealing wax, ink, and quills. Already, she was pulling out a piece of parchment.
“What would you like me to say?” she said eagerly, snatching at the quill. “Should I tell him that I was not humiliated by his defeat? That it means nothing to me?”
William grinned at her enthusiasm. Standing up from the chair, he made his way over to the table. “Tell him what you feel,” he said softly. “Tell him that you still feel the same way you did before Daniel’s beating, and that it makes no difference. I do not think you need me to tell you any more than that. Simply tell him what you feel.”
Cassiopeia looked at William with an expression that suggested she was realizing hopes and dreams she never even knew she had. Perhaps it had to do with the attention of a man she never thought she would have. In any case, William could see that she was sincere in every way. Nothing Daniel de Motte did could dampen what she was feeling for Edward.
Now, she had to tell Edward that.
“I will,” she assured him. “I swear, I will. And you will send it to him?”
“As soon as you write it, I will have a messenger go after him.”
The glow in her expression told William more than words ever could. But after a moment, she set the quill down and fixed on him, thoughtfully.
“I was very young when Athena and Helene married Scott and Troy,” she said as memories of her sisters returned. “I was no more than a child and, as you know, my sisters were several years older than me. Helene was older than Athena, but Athena was the first one to secure a betrothal because Helene was playing hard to get. I remember hearing them talk about it and giggle about it, but mostly, I remember how excited they were.”
William cleared his throat reproachfully. “Helene was playing hard to get because your father pitted Scott against another man,” he said. “He said that without competition, it makes the hunt far too easy. He was doing the same thing with you and Edward and de Motte, only de Motte reacted badly to it.”
Cassiopeia nodded in resignation. “I know,” she said, “although he will not admit it. That was exactly what he did.”
“Your father’s thinking sometimes bewilders me.”
“And me.”
A grin tugged at William’s lips. “But we love him anyway.”
“We do,” she agreed. “But continuing on with what I was going to say, for the first time, I understand my sisters’ excitement about marriage. I never understood it until now. Because I was so much younger than they were, we were never very close, but I would like to think that now that I am an adult, we could have shared this moment together. I would like to think that they would have been very happy for me.”
William bent down, kissing her on the forehead. “They would have been,” he assured her. “As are we all. But that happiness will never come to fruition if we do not bring your prospective groom back here.”
Cassiopeia rushed back to her table, pulling forth the ink and quill. “I shall have it finished shortly,” she said. “Will you wait for it?”
William shook his head. “Nay,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Your father kept me up last night, talking, and much like you, I did not sleep very much, but I wanted to speak to you first thing this morning. I think I will go back and lie down while you scribe the missive. Send a servant for me when you are finished.”
Cassiopeia was already pulling up a chair to the table, so eager to scribe out the missive that she was trying to write and claim the chair at the same time. She was going in several different directions all at once.
“Uncle William?” she said.
William was already halfway to the chamber door, but he paused. “Aye, love?”
Cassiopeia stopped long enough to look at him and flash him a bright smile. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything.”
He grinned and continued towards the door. “It is for purely selfish reasons, of course,” he said. “I want another grandson named after me so that your father can be jealous.”
Cassiopeia started to laugh. “You will have to talk to Edward about that,” she said. “He thinks we are having twenty-five sons, so mayhap he can name one of them for you.”
William lifted the latch on the door. “Twenty-five sons?”
Cassiopeia continued laughing. “He will be very disappointed.”
Chuckling, William quit the chamber, thinking that Edward was most ambitious in his hopes for a big family.
But, God, it was so good to hear.
What to do, what to do?
Daniel had been asking himself that very question all night and by the time morning arrived, he had come a several conclusions, not the least of which was the fact that he had run out of time. The scheme that he and his mother had been discussing for years had to come to fruition, but not in the way they’d planned.
It had always been their dream to systematically destroy the House of de Wolfe from within. Burning down the great hall during his wedding reception to a de Norville daughter was only the latest plan in years that had been full of schemes between him and his mother. Years of living down in Surrey as Daniel served his father and helped him manage his lands had fed the outlandish dreams of grandeur when it came to seeking vengeance on William de Wolfe for the death of Daniel de Troiu.
Years of listening to his mother’s bitterness.
Years of conditioning that de Wolfe was the enemy.
The seeds planted had sprouted into a vast and uncontrollable vine, twisting into his mind and heart and soul. Daniel realized he had all but ruined his chances to marry into the House of de Norville, but that wouldn’t stop his hate. Now, there were no daughters left in de Wolfe, de Norville, or Hage families. Those were the big three, the three families that stood together and were, in fact, one large, blended family.
Now, his chance was gone.
He knew today was the last day he had to fulfill the dark, twisted dream that had belonged to him for as long as he could recall. It was part of his very fabric, imprinted into his skin. But now, desperation had set in and madness wasn’t far behind. He was so close to failing that he could taste it in the back of his throat, like bile.
It was the bitter tang of defeat.
But he wasn’t going to let that happen.
He’d spent the night gazing from the window of his tiny cell in the knights’ quarters, watching the rainy evening beyond, thinking on how he was going to end the life of William de Wolfe. They were in the same fortress, and de Wolfe wasn’t surrounded by heavily-armed men like he always was, so the circumstances were perfect. He could always ambush the man and stab him, but he’d been watching the keep for the better part of the night and William had yet to make an appearance. A trip to the stable to check his horse would have been a perfect opportunity but, so far, the man had stayed to the keep.
Perhaps if de Wolfe wouldn’t come to him, he could go to de Wolfe.
Therefore, he had to consider going to the keep. In fact, the keep of Northwood was enormous – f
our stories above ground, and at least one below. Daniel had come here with Wereford on a few occasions and he knew there were guests’ quarters for visiting lords on the ground level near the solar because that was where Wereford had been lodged.
Daniel could guess that was where de Wolfe was. The man was family, and family was definitely housed in the keep. Because they were in a fortress that was heavily-guarded on the perimeter, more than likely, the keep wasn’t secured. Daniel had been watching servants come and go from the keep this time of the morning, so he knew they were going about their business. That meant doors weren’t locked.
That meant he could catch de Wolfe off-guard.
His plan was taking shape.
Daniel had come to Northwood with his usual array of weapons, the same weapons he had strapped onto his body the night he beat Edward into the ground. He had daggers and a big broadsword; all knights carried some variation of that, but Daniel wasn’t going to prowl around Northwood at this early hour with his broadsword in hand. All he needed was for a nosy servant to see him and tell de Norville, and Daniel would find himself in the vault, or worse.
That meant no visible weapons.
As he tucked daggers into his belt and under his tunic, and he had at least four that he was taking with him, his thoughts turned to the man who was his target. To so many, de Wolfe was a legend. To Daniel, he was a killer who had stolen Daniel’s entire life from him. In fact, he was going to tell William that before he cut his heart out. Or perhaps he would simply stab him in the chest and make it look like an accident. In truth, he hadn’t decided yet.
He’d been so careful with the events at Deauxville Mount that had removed three fine knights from the chain of command. Or, at least he thought he had until de Wolfe’s tirade yesterday. The first incident, a rather young knight from a fine family, had taken a kick to the head from a powerful war horse. The man still wasn’t the same to this day, with difficulty with his speech and limited vision in one eye. The second man, a little older and seasoned, had gotten his hand smashed by a door that Daniel had rigged to blow back on him. It hadn’t been difficult, but he’d removed all evidence of the rigging before it had been discovered.
And then there had been the commander himself, a cousin to Brockenhurst who was a very good knight. His accident came during a skirmish with reivers who had managed to make it south, raiding the countryside, and in close-quarters fighting, Daniel had managed to rake his broadsword across the Achilles tendon, severing it and rendering the knight a cripple.
And it had all gone rather smoothly.
Daniel didn’t have any remorse. As far as he was concerned, those men stood between him and what was rightfully his, and as soon as he managed to do away with William de Wolfe, he would consider his father’s death avenged. He hoped it would be a glorious feeling. It was de Wolfe who stole everything from him.
He would make sure the man knew that before he killed him.
It was still very early as Daniel headed out of the knights’ quarters, heading towards the inner bailey. Oddly enough, he was sweating, feeling anxiety like he hadn’t felt in a very long while. He passed through the great gatehouse, which was in the process of changing guards, so no one paid him any attention. Ahead lay the great keep of Northwood, its red stone drying out in the morning sun from the previous night’s storm. The entire fortress of Northwood was so carefully planned and heavily-fortified, sitting on the Scottish border as it did, that to have it so relatively unprotected and quiet was a rarity.
Because he knew where Wereford had been lodged, Daniel knew how to get to the chambers without going through the main entry. There was a secondary postern entry by the kitchens, which were attached to the keep, and Daniel had been through those kitchens before.
It occurred to him that whoever was in the kitchen would see him enter and it further occurred to him that when William’s death was discovered, he might very well be the first suspect unless he could make it look like an accident. He’d been wracking his brain about that, trying to figure out how to do it, and the best he could come up with was making it look as if William accidentally fell upon his own dagger. Daniel could kill him with one of his daggers and then position the body to make it look as if it was one of de Wolfe’s weapons that had killed him. The great Wolfe of the Border would die not in battle, or in glory, but in an ignoble accident.
Daniel didn’t care how it looked. All he cared about was that he died.
And he would.
The kitchen yard was busy at this hour as the kitchen ovens were working full-bore to produce bread for the morning meal. Fortunately, the cook and other kitchen workers didn’t pay any attention to him as he passed through the yard and into the door that led to the kitchens on the lower floor.
This was where the vaults were, and the well, accessed by a small, heavily-fortified door and then an iron grate, like a small portcullis, that was inside the door itself. Even if the enemy managed to get through that iron and wood door, they would still face the grate, which was heavy-gauge steel and built right into the stone structure of the doorway. If they wanted to breach it, then they would have to damage the stone, which was a near impossibility.
Daniel made it through the kitchen and into another room that had a steep, narrow staircase that led to the floor above. This was the level that contained the ceremonial hall, which was also called the great hall even though there was an actual, enormous great hall in the inner ward that was mostly only used by the soldiers and the rank and file. The ceremonial hall was still very impressive and big, and covered more than half of the lower floor. The other half was the solar, and various rooms, including the guests’ chambers.
And that was Daniel’s destination.
The ceremonial hall was virtually vacant at this hour, dark and cold, except for the servants sweeping out the enormous hearth. It smelled like old food and burnt rushes as he passed through the hall and into the foyer. Branching off from the foyer were two corridors – one to the left, one to the right. Daniel took the one to the left, knowing that the biggest and best quarters were the first door to his right, an enormous panel of oak latticed with iron. This was where only the most revered guests were lodged.
De Wolfe fell under that category.
Even though Daniel was uncertain if de Wolfe was on the other side, he lifted his hand and knocked, anyway. The voice that answered was one he recognized.
His instincts had been right.
Lifting the latch, he entered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
William had nearly been asleep when he heard the knock on his chamber door.
Frustrated, because he was certain it was Paris come to bother him this early in the morning, he rolled onto his back and grunted unhappily.
“Come,” he boomed.
He heard the door creak open and as he sat up, he saw Daniel entering. Rubbing his good eye, he grunted again.
“I thought you were Paris,” he said.
Daniel stepped further into the room, but he didn’t get too close to William. “Nay, my lord,” he said. “I have not seen him yet this morning, to be truthful. I… I am preparing to depart for Deauxville Mount.”
William yawned as he looked up at him. “You will give my regards to Wereford.”
That was it. No farewell, no softened words after yesterday’s contentious encounter. It was clear that there was no forgiveness for Daniel in William’s mind – he made it evident in his posture, in the tone of his voice. Nothing had been forgiven about Edward’s beating.
Daniel, sensing this, simply nodded his head.
“I will, my lord,” he said. “May I tell him that our alliance is intact?”
William looked away, scratching his head. “We have long been allied with Deauxville Mount,” he said. “Nothing has changed.”
“I will continue to serve with honor, my lord.”
William did look at him, then. “It will take some time to regain yours as far as I am concerned. I will not speak of what hap
pened to Edward to Wereford, but know that you are not forgiven. I am unsure if you will ever be.”
Now, he’d spelled it out. William wasn’t in a forgiving mood to a knight who had humiliated his son, not even the next morning when he’d had time to sleep on it. Realizing that, Daniel didn’t say anything for the longest time. He simply stood there, shifting on his feet, perhaps even uncomfortably, until William finally looked over at him, wondering why he was still standing there.
“Well?” he said. “What more do you want?”
Daniel had a rather odd look to his eyes. It was almost a dazed look, as if his thoughts were miles away. He was looking straight at William, seeing him but not seeing him. William frowned, but before he could say anything more, Daniel spoke.
“I understand what you mean, my lord,” he said. “I have had that problem for many years, since I can remember, in fact. I cannot forgive the man who killed my father.”
William stopped his scratching and yawning, looking at Daniel with concern. “Chessington is dead?”
Daniel held up a hand, a gesture to beg patience. “Allow me to explain,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if this moment would ever truly come and there is much I wish to say. It is true that I imagined this moment, time and time again, but the reality of it is much different. It is difficult to know where to start.”
William wasn’t following him. “What are you talking about?”
Daniel pointed a finger at him. “You,” he said, moving back towards the door and more or less placing himself between William and his only avenue of escape. “I am talking about you. You have lived a very long time, my lord, and you have done a great many deeds against a great many people. The Scots call you the Scourge of the Border while the English call you the Wolfe of the Border. Virtually the same name, but the reputation between them is much different. The Scots call you a killer.”
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