BlackWolfe

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  William grunted impatiently. “Get out,” he said. “I have no time for you today.”

  He started to turn away, to lay back down on the bed, but Daniel’s words stopped him. “I will get out, in time,” he said. “But first, you are going to hear what I have to say.”

  “I told you to get out. I did not mean later. I meant now.”

  Daniel’s jaw ticked faintly. “Always giving commands,” he muttered. “I will not listen to your command, old man. For once, you are going to listen to me.”

  William, who had been preparing to lay back down and go to sleep, paused. De Motte had always been obedient, in every situation William had ever seen him in, so that reply was not only unexpected, but slightly disturbing. William looked at the knight, displeasure on his features.

  “Get out before I throw you out.”

  When he stood up, Daniel unsheathed a long, nasty-looking dagger. “Stay where you are, de Wolfe,” he said. “And if you are thinking on retrieving your broadsword, I can throw this dagger faster than you can retrieve your weapon.”

  William was quickly realizing that something was very, very wrong. He stood his ground, unmoving, quite curious about what was happening with de Motte. Did he truly think to threaten him over the fact he was unforgiving about what happened to Edward? It was a ridiculous thought, and he held absolutely no fear, but he knew that Daniel was correct – he could throw that dagger faster than William could move for his broadsword, which was about six feet to his left, at the head of the bed.

  “What do you want that you would threaten me like this?” he said after a moment. “Is it because I refused to accept your apology? If that is the case, then you are a bigger fool than I gave you credit for. Get out now and I will not tell anyone of this incident, but continue along this path and I will have no choice but to tell Wereford, Teviot, and anyone else who is associated with you. You will ruin your career.”

  Daniel snorted, but it was without humor. “So you would ruin yet another knight?” he said. “That seems to be a habit with you.”

  “I have no idea what you are speaking of, so stop playing games. Tell me what is on your mind so we can get this over with.”

  Daniel stiffened; William could see it. “I am not going to rush through something I have waited my entire life to accomplish,” he said. “You want to hear what is on my mind? Then I am happy to tell you, for my voice is going to be the last one you ever hear and you can pass into the next life knowing that your sins have found you out. I am the Angel of Retribution for my father and the thousands of other men you have killed during the course of your career.”

  William was unimpressed, but his curiosity was growing. “So you have appointed yourself judge and jury, have you?” he said. “Why don’t you tell me why you are really here, de Motte.”

  Daniel shook his head. “That is not my real name,” he said. “My father’s name was de Troiu. Daniel de Troiu. I know you recognize that name because you murdered him.”

  That information drew a reaction from William. “De Troiu,” he hissed, suddenly remembering the conversation between him and Paris and Adam as to the resemblance of de Motte to de Troiu. Was it really true? “I knew Daniel de Troiu and he had no sons.”

  “He had me,” Daniel said simply. “My mother’s name is Miranda. She said she knew you in London, years ago. Lady Miranda le Londe.”

  That drew even more of a reaction from William. “Or course I knew her,” he said, greatly surprised. “Miranda le Londe was in Eleanor’s court years ago. She and Charlotte Kincaid and Vanessa Moresby traveled around in a trio of young women who were heavily courted by some of the knights. Are you saying that de Troiu married her, something we were all unaware of?”

  Daniel shook his head. “She never had the chance,” he said. “You killed him before they could be married. My mother, pregnant with me, then married Thaddeus de Motte. I took his name.”

  Now, the cobwebs of confusion were starting to pull away and William was starting to understand the situation, shocking as it was. Since the conversation with Paris and Adam, he wasn’t particularly surprised to hear that Daniel de Troiu was de Motte’s real father – in fact, now that he looked at the man, he was the spitting image of de Troiu, or what he remembered of him. Adam had seen it, but William really hadn’t until this moment. Perhaps he was just ignoring the obvious. But what was truly shocking was who Daniel’s mother was.

  Or, given the woman’s reputation, perhaps not so shocking.

  He refrained from mentioning that Miranda and Charlotte and Vanessa were essentially courtesans. They would spread their legs for any man who appealed to them and they’d tried, unsuccessfully, to claim William as one of their victims. In truth, William was not surprised to hear that Daniel succumbed to Miranda’s charms, the result of which was standing before him.

  But now that he knew the situation, and why Daniel was here, his concern got the better of him. So much was starting to make sense now, enough so that he was starting to feel some apprehension.

  “So you returned to your father’s former holding of Deauxville Mount,” he said. “Now I understand why The Mount knights met with accidents. You wanted them out of the way.”

  “I did.”

  “Deauxville Mount is your birthright.”

  Daniel nodded. “It was until you took it away from me.”

  William held up a hand. “Listen to me and listen well,” he said. “Your father set up an ambush, trying to kill me and steal my wife. Your father’s death was the result of his own arrogance and stupidity. I was not going to fall victim to him because he lusted after my wife.”

  Daniel was unconvinced. “That is what Thaddeus said,” he said. “But Thaddeus admires you. He would lie for you, of course. My mother is the only person willing to tell me the truth.”

  “And what truth is that?”

  “That you were jealous of my father so you set up an ambush and killed him.”

  William was shifting on his big legs, but with every shift, he was moving incrementally closer to the broadsword leaning against the wall. At the moment, he felt that it was fairly important he get to it so he would at least be able to defend himself.

  “Your mother was not there,” he said frankly. “She would not know the truth. I was there and I can tell you for a fact that your father ambushed me. I killed him in self-defense.”

  Daniel’s somewhat calm manner hardened. “Are you saying that my mother lied?”

  “I am telling you that she was not there. She does not know the truth.”

  Daniel’s hard manner continued to harden. “The great de Wolfe has spoken,” he said. “You will forgive me if I chose to believe my mother. It was because of you my father was unable to marry her, denying me my birthright. I have had to fight and scheme to get what was rightly my due when I should not have had to do it. Do you have any idea what it feels like, knowing I have a legacy that was denied to me?”

  William could hear the pain in Daniel’s voice, but he was more concerned with getting to his broadsword. Moreover, it was very hard to be sympathetic to the man, even knowing his circumstances now. Daniel was delusional because he chose to be. He chose to listen to his mother, who was undoubtedly clouded by William’s rejection of her those years ago. Although William realized he was in a fairly serious situation at the moment, it didn’t stop the disgust he felt for Daniel’s clouded judgement and the lies that Miranda fed him.

  Decades of lies that had built up in Daniel’s mind.

  “I do know how you feel, for I have never had a legacy, either,” he said after a moment. “I am the third son of the Earl of Wolverhampton. Everything I have, I have had to work for. I have earned it. I have not plotted or schemed, or disabled good knights simply because I felt they were obstacles to my wants. You could have gone about this another way, Daniel. You could have simply gone to Edward and told him of your situation. Mayhap he could have helped you without you thinking you had to maim men to get what was your due. You could h
ave chosen the right path to follow but, instead, you have resorted to dishonorable, despicable methods. I have no pity for you.”

  Daniel simply stared at him, as if his words had somehow hurt him. “Are you always so cold and unfeeling, de Wolfe? Is that why you kill men with such ease? Because you are cold and unfeeling?”

  “I am cold and unfeeling to fools. Now, if you think to attack me, get on with it. I am weary of you and your conversation.”

  Daniel’s jaw was starting to tick, either because William wasn’t cowering or because he was feeling the rush of battle. It was difficult to know. William kept his eye on him even as he shifted on his feet, sitting down on the bed in a bored manner and then standing up again, only to be several inches closer to the sword. He was fidgeting, essentially, trying to throw Daniel off-balance even as he inched his way towards the sword. He cursed himself for putting it so far away from him in the first place.

  “Stop where you are,” Daniel said as he watched William shuffle. “Move any closer to the sword and I will throw this blade.”

  “You are going to do it anyway, so get on with it.”

  “I will, in time,” Daniel said. “But I wanted you to hear how I loathe you before I sink this into your flesh. I want you to know how I have grown up on hatred of you, how every day of my life since I was old enough to understand, I knew you were the man who had ruined everything for me. Coming to Deauxville Mount was only part of what I knew I had to do; the other part was making sure I avenged my father’s death.”

  William did as he was told. He didn’t inch any closer to the sword, so he stood there and folded his big arms over his chest. It was to protect his chest, actually, when that dagger came flying at him. He wanted to protect his heart and lungs as much as he could.

  “Your vengeance is misplaced,” he said. “Much as you would not listen to Paris as the man tried to talk you out of challenging Edward, now you refuse to listen to what I am telling you. Your father tried to kill me in an ambush. I killed him in self-defense. Your father was a petty, arrogant man and he died because of it. If you think you can kill me now, then get on with it. Your father couldn’t. What makes you think you can?”

  That was a challenge to Daniel’s manhood and he stiffened. “You are a reckless bastard.”

  “And you are an idiot.”

  William was deliberately provoking him to see if he was serious or not. It could have been all talk, in which case William would charge him and make enough noise that it would alert the servants in the hall. Or, Daniel could try to stab him with that dagger, in which case William would avoid it and escape the room. In either case, William was finished discussing the situation with him.

  Something needed to happen.

  Daniel shook his head at William, incredulous. “God’s Blood,” he muttered. “Do you always face death like this?”

  “I have been facing death longer than you have been alive, de Motte. You are wholly unworthy to think you can be the one to kill me.”

  “We shall see.”

  “I am not sure that we will.”

  It was enough to push Daniel over the edge and he produced the dagger in the blink of an eye. William saw the flash and, suddenly, the thing was sailing across the room. William moved to dodge it, but he wasn’t fast enough. It hit him in the left shoulder, near the joint. William grunted in pain as the blade penetrated deep.

  For a moment, no one moved. Daniel had been aiming for the center of William’s chest and now realized he hadn’t hit his mark when he looked to see the hilt of the dagger sticking out of William’s shoulder. With morbid fascination, he watched William reach up and yank that nasty, jagged dagger out of his shoulder.

  For an old battle dog, a knife to the shoulder was nothing. It was child’s play. Now, William had a weapon, but he tossed it away, instead moving bedside to grab his broadsword, unsheathing the weapon in a flash.

  Daniel produced two more daggers, holding both of them up, ready to throw them straight into William’s gut. But William didn’t wait for them. Bleeding profusely from the shoulder wound, he charged Daniel with his broadsword in a skilled move, driving Daniel straight back into a table that was against the wall. Daniel almost tripped on it, but he was fast – he managed to move around it, grabbing the chair that was next to it. Lifting the heavy chair, he swung it at William as hard as he could, straight for the man’s head.

  Even with the sword up, William couldn’t defend against a big chair swinging at him. The action rammed the broadsword back into him but he managed to turn it so the edge didn’t slice into him. He wasn’t able to prevent it from making contact with his head, however, and it was a heavy blow. He went down, the sword scattered, and Daniel ended up on top of him.

  The fight for William de Wolfe’s life was on.

  After a night of rotten weather, the morning had cleared into a bright, new day.

  A trip that should have taken just a few hours took several more because the summer storm had stirred up the mud on the roads and swelled the streams. As Edward and Thaddeus finally saw Northwood Castle beneath the brilliant morning sun, it was a welcome sight.

  For Edward, most of all.

  When he saw the castle, he dug his heels into his horse’s side and the animal took off, running across the road that was just starting to dry out. The men at the gatehouse recognized him and the great portcullis began to lift, inch by inch. Edward waited rather impatiently for it to lift all the way so he could pass beneath it. As he had Thaddeus traveled through and emerged into the outer ward, Deinwald was there to greet him.

  “You’ve returned, have you?” Deinwald said, grabbing hold of Edward’s horse. “I am glad to see it. I thought you might have gone back to Questing.”

  Edward dismounted his horse. “I did,” he said. “I was returning to London when I ran into this knight. He had much to say.”

  He threw his thumb in the direction of Thaddeus, who was dismounting his horse with some effort. Deinwald peered at him.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Thaddeus de Motte,” Edward said. “Daniel de Motte’s father.”

  Deinwald’s eyes widened at the sight of Thaddeus. “By all the saints,” he breathed. “Is it true? Where did you find him?”

  “In Wooler,” Edward replied, looking around the outer bailey and, in particular, the knights’ quarters. “Is Daniel still here?”

  Deinwald couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Thaddeus, but he nodded. “Aye,” he said. “He has not left. In fact, I saw him heading up to the keep only a few minutes ago.”

  Edward’s gaze instinctively moved to the keep. “Is my father here?”

  “He came yesterday, well after you had left.”

  Edward’s jaw ticked faintly. Knowing what he knew how, he was feeling more apprehension than he’d ever felt in his life. “Have you seen my father this morning?”

  “Nay. What is this all about, Edward?”

  Edward couldn’t shake the anxiety. “I am not sure,” he said. “But I need you to come with me. Are there any other knights around here?”

  “Hayes de Reyne is on the wall,” Deinwald said, pointing to the curtain wall and to a big, dark-haired knight on the wall walk. “Do you want me to summon him?”

  “Aye.”

  Deinwald emitted a piercing whistle between his teeth, catching the attention of the men around him and a few on the wall, including Hayes. When Deinwald motioned to the knight, the man made his way to the gatehouse with all due haste. He was just coming out of the stairwell when Edward turned to Deinwald.

  “Bring him,” he said. “You both come with me. I fear we may have trouble. And send someone for Paris and Teviot. I assume my father is staying in his usual quarters?”

  “Near the solar.”

  “Send them there. We have a problem.”

  As Deinwald sent men running for Paris and Teviot, he and Hayes followed Edward, with Thaddeus bringing up the rear, up towards the keep. By the time they hit the inner gatehouse, they
all heard a terrified scream coming from the keep. It was faint and muffled, but unmistakable.

  They began to run.

  Cassiopeia had written what was quite possibly the most beautiful and convincing missive anyone had ever had the talent to compose. Anyone – Jesus, the saints, priests – anyone. The words had flowed as though a divine hand was guiding hers and by the time she had finished it, she was convinced that Edward would fly back to her and beg her to marry him.

  Perhaps a bit optimistic, but she firmly believed that no sane man would refuse her sweet and lovely invitation.

  She’d folded the parchment very carefully and sealed it with red wax with the seal her father had given her, the one she’d used when sending missives to the family from London for all those years. Her seal had a simple “C” on it, for Cassiopeia, and she sealed it happily, kissing it for good measure.

  She was certain it would do the trick.

  Cassiopeia headed out of her bower, her destination being William’s chambers down on the ground level near Teviot’s solar. Just as she had come out of her chamber, she ran into her father, who was just coming out of his. He smiled when he saw her, putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

  “You have risen early,” he said. “Why are we so industrious today?”

  She smiled up at her father as they both headed for the great mural stairs that led down to the foyer. “Because I spoke with Uncle William this morning,” she said. “He came to tell me of Edward after he left us. It seems that Edward was greatly humiliated by what had happened and he thought I was ashamed of him.”

  Paris knew that, considering he’d heard William speak of it yesterday when speaking to Daniel. But he didn’t let on that he knew, mostly because he didn’t want to dampen Cassiopeia’s joy. He had a feeling she might not be so happy knowing that he knew well before she did. Not when all of this meant so much to her.

  “I see,” he said. “And what is that in your hand?”

  Cassiopeia held up the parchment. “A missive for Edward, telling him that I was not ashamed of him,” she said. “I am asking him to return to Northwood. Papa, you are demanding that Daniel leave today, aren’t you?”