• Helene
• Phoebe
• Hestia
• Asteria
• Leonidas
• Dorian
• Dayne
• Stephan
• Pallas
Herald of the House of de Norville
Qui est excelsissimus famulatus – motto
“The Highest Service”
CHAPTER ONE
1293 A.D.
Castle Questing
It was a warm summer day at the end of August and the land around Castle Questing was green in places, golden in others. The spring and summer had been inordinately dry, which was unusual for these parts, resulting in some of the meadows turning shades of gold. It was particularly beautiful.
On the hill that Castle Questing was perched upon, like the jewel in a crown, the grass had remained shades of green. There was a portion of the hill that was particularly steep and the grandchildren of the Earl of Warenton, William de Wolfe, liked to find the sweet spot on that hill and roll down it like logs. Sometimes that particular portion of the hill was alive with children rolling down it and in the winter, William and his sons would bring out sacks so the children could sit on them while sliding down the snow and into the ditch below.
It was all great fun.
Castle Questing was a place of great memories, but today, it was soon to know a burden.
A carriage was making its way up the road that led to Castle Questing and inside the carriage, children were demanding to be let free so they could roll down that particular hill. But their mother, a beautiful and sensible woman married to one of the de Wolfe sons, would not let them out, at least not yet. Mayhap later, she told them, after her business with their paternal grandfather was concluded.
That brought unhappy pouts.
But the pouts couldn’t be helped. Lady Cassiopeia de Norville de Wolfe had come out of her way to Castle Questing on this day and it wasn’t to let her unruly children roll down hills. She had just come from her father at Northwood Castle, an elderly knight who used to be the captain of the troops, but he’d long passed that title to his eldest son, Hector. Now, Paris de Norville was simply sitting around, waiting to die.
That’s why Cassiopeia had come to Castle Questing.
She needed help.
As soon as her carriage entered the vast bailey of Castle Questing, men were rushing out to greet her. Most were heading for the carriage to stop the horses and help the family disembark, but a couple were actually coming out to greet her.
Her husband, Edward de Wolfe, was the first one she saw, standing just outside of the keep entry. Handsome, suave Edward made her heart flutter now the same as it did years ago when they’d first married.
Edward was a great diplomat in the service of King Edward and he’d come home for a short visit to discuss Edward’s intentions towards Scotland with his father, a legendary knight known as the Wolfe of the Borders. If anyone knew the Scots, it was William, mostly because he’d married one. Half of his sons had married Scots. There was no shortage of Scots knowledge this far north.
But Cassiopeia had accompanied him to Castle Questing for another reason – her family was here, too, and the situation was as bad as her brother’s missive had led her to believe.
The carriage came to a halt and the door popped open. Edward greeted his children happily as they spilled out into his arms – Leonidas, Hestia, and Asteria leapt on their father as he kissed little faces and doled out fatherly hugs. The baby, Dayne, was next, a year and a half old and already running, talking, and outsmarting his older siblings. Dayne was handed over to William’s wife, Lady Jordan, as she came out to help with the brood.
But there were two holdouts inside the carriage – Helene and Phoebe, at thirteen years and eleven years respectively, were far too ladylike and grown up to jump into their father’s arms like the younger ones did. They sat with their mother, both of the girls dark-haired reflections of their father and quite lovely at their young age. Edward, noting his eldest children were still in the cab, passed the younger ones off to his father and stepped up to the door.
“Well, ladies?” he said. “Will I not receive a hug?”
Helene, elegant and well-spoken and very much her father’s daughter, eyed the frolicking group outside.
“A kiss, Papa, but no hug,” she said. “You will mash my dress if you hug me.”
Edward pretended to be apologetic. “I see,” he said. “Forgive me, demoiselle. May I assist you from the carriage?”
Primly, Helene put her hand into her father’s outstretched palm and he politely helped her from the cab. His reward was a kiss on the cheek, but as soon as she turned around, her grandfather was there to hug her tightly. So much for the mashed dress. Edward grinned at his primly proper daughter as he turned to help Phoebe from the cab.
Phoebe wasn’t quite so formal as Helene was, but she copied her older sister in everything. She, too, allowed her father to help her from the cab and she kissed him politely on the cheek before she, too, was caught up in a grandfatherly hug.
Edward started laughing as his older daughters were ambushed by his father. As they squealed and demanded William let them go, which he completely ignored, Edward turned to his wife.
He could tell by the look on her face that something was wrong.
“What is amiss, sweetheart?” he said, brow furrowed.
Cassiopeia wasn’t an alarmist by any means, but she was genuinely concerned with what she had just witnessed at Northwood Castle.
“It is as bad as Hector said it is,” she said quietly, watching William lavish affection on Helene and Phoebe. “I must speak with your father immediately.”
Edward simply nodded and reached out to help her out of the cab, too, but unlike Helene and Phoebe, Cassiopeia gladly hugged her husband, and tightly. He cupped her face, too, kissing her sweetly before taking her by the hand.
“Come along,” he said quietly.
The pair walked through the group of younger children, now gathering around Jordan as she carried Dayne towards the keep. William, with Helene in one hand and Phoebe in the other, moved to follow until Edward spoke softly to his father.
“Cassie must speak with you,” he said. “Leave the girls with Mother.”
William had been smiling at his granddaughters, but the smile faded from his face at his son’s words. Obediently leaving his wife to herd the grandchildren into the keep, he followed his son and the man’s wife into the keep, specifically, into the solar that was off the entry.
Cassiopeia entered the chamber, pulling off her traveling gloves as she listened to her children enter the keep. Dayne, the baby, was starting to cry because he was hungry and tired, and she could hear Jordan’s soft voice soothing the child. Behind Cassiopeia, Edward and William entered, with William closing the door softly behind him.
William was moving slower these days. A very large man who, in his prime, had been the greatest knight in the north of England, but time and age were taking their toll as he was moving just a bit slower, just a bit more laboriously. Otherwise, his health was good. He simply wasn’t as spry as he used to be.
Neither were the knights he used to serve with – Paris de Norville, Cassiopeia’s father, was William’s best friend in the world. Deinwald Ellsrod, another knight from William’s past, served with Paris but he, too, had given up active duty a long time ago. Kieran Hage, who was William’s other best friend in the world, had passed away a few years earlier and Michael de Bocage, another knight William and the rest of them had served with, had died in his sleep the previous winter. These old knights were getting older and time was slipping away for them, one at a time.
It wasn’t something that any of their children and grandchildren liked to see. To them, those men would ever be immortal.
It was difficult to think otherwise.
Unfortunately, it was a fact of life and William knew it better than any of them. He cleared his throat softly as he sat in a cushioned chair n
ear the hearth, resting his old bones.
“What’s the matter with your father, Cassie?” he asked quietly.
Cassiopeia set her gloves down on the tabletop as she considered her answer. “When was the last time you saw him, Uncle William?”
Even though William was her father-in-law, he had been Uncle William since birth and that was what she still called him.
“Three weeks ago,” he said. “I went to Northwood because de Longley had called a conference due to Edward’s increasing hostility towards Scotland. I spent the night and came home the next day. Paris and I talked a good deal. Why do you ask?”
Cassiopeia sighed faintly. “Because he’s slowly dying,” she said frankly, looking at William with fear in her eyes. “Ever since my mother died, it’s as if something died in him, too. That spark that made him my father, the one who was arrogant and snappish at times, with humor that could be so irreverent, seems to be gone. Don’t you see it?”
William nodded. “I do,” he said. “Though sometimes, the old Paris is there. For example, when Hermes and Atreus come around. Hector’s older sons are Paris personified in his youth. They are just as arrogant and annoying as he ever was.”
William meant it affectionately considering they were his grandsons, also. It brought a smile to Cassiopeia’s lips.
“My father says the same thing about you,” she said, grinning when William shook his head in disagreement. “Atreus and Hermes, and the rest of the grandchildren, are about the only thing that brings him joy any longer. Uncle William, he is wasting away. I am worried about him.”
Edward stepped forward, putting his arm around his wife’s waist. “Why not bring him back to London with us?” he asked. “He may enjoy the change of scenery. It may do him good.”
William waved him off. “Are you mad?” he said. “He would follow you around and end up in audience with Edward, telling the man everything he is doing wrong when it comes to Scotland. Unless you want the king to declare war on us all, I suggest you put that idea aside unless you are certain you can control his movements. Paris is not at all pleased with what Edward is doing in Scotland.”
Cassiopeia looked at her husband, who cocked a dark eyebrow. “He may behave himself, Papa,” Edward said. “You cannot be certain he will not.”
William looked at him. “We are talking about Paris de Norville. Since when has that man ever behaved himself?”
Edward scratched his ear, casting Cassiopeia a long look before turning away. Cassiopeia put a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly. “It was a good suggestion,” she said to both her husband and father-in-law. “But I fear Uncle William is right; his behavior seems to be… unpredictable at best.”
“It is because he’s lonely.”
The voice came from the door and they turned to see Jordan entering. When she saw Cassiopeia’s concerned expression, she waved her off. “The baby is being fed as we speak,” she said. “Penny’s old nurse still lives here, ye know. She’s raised half our brood, so she is with the children now. I thought ye might be speaking on Paris so I wanted tae join the conversation. I have something tae say on it, too.”
Cassiopeia went to the woman. “You’ve seen how he is,” she said. “He just… sits. Of course, when I was there with the children, he pretended to be happy and he played with them, but something has gone out of his eyes, Aunt Jordan. I fear greatly for him.”
Jordan shut the door softly behind her. Sighing faintly, she came over to where her husband was standing, seemingly pensive. William reached out and took her hand, kissing it, as she stood there.
“I’ve known Paris most of my life,” Jordan said. “I had seen eighteen summers the first time I met him, so very long ago. I remember this tall, broad, blond knight with the arrogance of Adonis. Ironic he should name one of his son’s Adonis, for that was Paris – a prideful man and he had every reason tae be. But I also remember a man who was vital, focused on his path as a knight, and he had no time for women. He made that clear, many a time.”
“Until my mother,” Cassiopeia said with a smile.
Jordan looked at her. “Aye,” she said slowly. “She was the one who finally tamed him. But even before that…”
“Even before that… what?”
Jordan hesitated a moment before speaking. “Before that, I think there was another.”
Cassiopeia looked at her curiously. “Who?”
Jordan glanced at William, who simply shook his head. “With Paris?” he asked. “There was no one else, at least no one serious.”
Jordan lifted an eyebrow. “Do ye forget?” she asked quietly. “When ye came tae collect me from my home. From Lothian. Do ye not remember?”
William was genuinely at a loss. “Remember what, love?”
“There was a time with my cousin. Not Caladora, either.”
William began to catch on. “That was a long time ago, Jordan,” he said softly. “And I think you’re imagining things.”
Jordan held her ground. “I dunna think so,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about this as of late because it makes perfect sense, English. She’s lonely and he’s lonely. Why not a match?”
William shook his head as if she’d just said something utterly ridiculous. “We’re not talking about children to be betrothed,” he said. “These are two adults. If there is to be anything like you suggest, it must be their choice.”
“Who are you talking about?” Cassiopeia interrupted.
Jordan didn’t say anything. She simply walked over to a thin lancet window that overlooked the garden of Castle Questing. It was a garden that had flowers and vines, but there was also a walled section where vegetables for the family table were tended. She was looking for something specific, or more correctly, someone specific. She was usually in the garden this time of day, sitting in the sun as she sewed or worked on a piece of needlepoint. It was her usual routine, and today, she didn’t disappoint.
Jordan motioned Cassiopeia over to the window.
Edward followed her. Together, the two of them came over to the window and Jordan pointed out into the garden.
“Out there,” she said.
Cassiopeia and Edward were straining to catch a glimpse. “I only see Aunt Jemma,” Cassiopeia said.
It hit Edward before it hit Cassiopeia. “Aunt Jemma?” he said, incredulous. “Is that who you mean?”
Jordan nodded confidently. “When yer Aunt Jemma and I first came tae Northwood, Paris was put in charge of Jemma and William was put in charge of me,” she said. “Now, with Paris’ arrogance and Jemma’s fire, ye can imagine how well it went between the two of them.”
Over near the hearth, William snorted. “God, they nearly killed each other.”
“Shush, English,” Jordan scolded before returning her attention to Cassiopeia. “But in spite of that, I believe Paris was very much attracted tae Jemma before Kieran came along,” she said. “Who could resist sweet, gentle Kieran? But Paris… he was very handsome, but a difficult man. I believe he was attracted tae Jemma from the first but when Kieran took her away, it made him all the more resistant tae women until he met yer mother. Then… then, he knew better than tae let a good woman get away.”
Cassiopeia’s eyes were wide with astonishment. She’d never heard that part of the story, the story the entire family knew when William first met Jordan and how the Scotts and de Wolfe, Hage, and de Norville first came together. Long ago, Jordan had been pledged to the Earl of Teviot, the liege of William, Paris, and Kieran, but in escorting Jordan to her new husband, William had fallen in love with her and Kieran had fallen in love with Jemma. That was established family history.
But, evidently, there was more to it.
It was more than surprising.
Cassiopeia stared at Jordan before her gaze moved to Jemma, sitting in the sun in the garden. As Edward rolled his eyes and shook his head, she was a bit calmer. More contemplative. Considering this was her father they were speaking of, she was much more emotionally invested. She leaned against
the windowsill, watching Jemma in the distance.
“Are you saying there was something between Aunt Jemma and my father?” she asked.
Jordan shrugged. “I believe he had a fondness for her,” she said. “But yer da wasna ready tae be saddled by any woman, so he lost her tae Kieran. At least, that’s what I believe. I think, long ago, he had a fondness for her but wouldna admit it.”
As William snorted at the very idea, Cassiopeia was intrigued. “Aunt Jemma has been very lonely without Uncle Kieran,” she said thoughtfully. “I remember my father saying that something had gone out of her when he died. I do not know why I never considered her for my father.”
“Because she will kill him,” William said flatly. He could no longer remain silent. “Those two are like oil and water. They do not mix.”
“Things have changed, English,” Jordan said. “They’ve both matured. They’ve both lived good lives, so why not live their twilight years together?”
William threw up his hands in exasperation. “It’s madness,” he said. “They are still the same people. He insults her and she threatens him. He calls her Banshee, for Christ’s sake. That should tell you what he really thinks of her.”
“Pah. ’Tis his term of endearment, ’tis all.”
“Oh, God,” William groaned at his wife’s inability to see the truth of the matter. “The antagonistic behavior between them has been like this for over five decades, Jordan. You cannot possibly be serious about this.”
As Jordan shrugged, Cassiopeia fixed on William. “Uncle William, my father is slowly dying,” she said, beginning to tear up. “If there is a chance that he can find happiness and companionship in his old age, something to keep the spark of living alive, then why not take it? Would you rather see him waste away?”
William wasn’t trying to be harsh, but he truly thought the entire idea was ludicrous. “Of course not,” he said. “You know I do not want to see that. But… Jemma?”
“Why not Aunt Jemma?”
“I told you why.”
The Best Is Yet To Be Page 2