“Paris!” he snapped again, slapping at his face. “Awaken and look at me!”
Paris didn’t respond. He remained unconscious. William was looking at the man with such rage and horror that had he not been surrounded by several witnesses, he would have beaten the man silly.
As it was, he could only thank God he had arrived when he did.
The escort from Castle Questing had entered the bailey of Northwood Castle just as Paris’ grandchildren were coming in through the barbican gate that led out to the river. It was Wesleigh de Norville who had pointed out Paris’ last location to William, who promptly headed through the barbican gate with Jordan and Cassiopeia. Once they were through, Hector de Norville, Paris’ oldest son, joined them, and the four of them had come down to the riverbank in time to see Paris walking towards the water.
No one thought anything of it at the time. They thought that perhaps he was going to look at something on the bank or in the water. There was no sense of curiosity or even concern until Paris walked right into the water and got caught up in the current.
That had brought Hector and William running.
Now, here they were, with Paris laid out on his belly as his son tried to push water out of his lungs. William realized that he was close to tears as he slapped Paris one more time before the man suddenly started coughing, spilling out water and vomiting bile onto the damp riverbank. That first ragged breath he took was like music to William’s ears.
“Papa?” Hector knelt down on Paris’ other side. “Papa, can you hear me?”
Paris coughed and sputtered, finally lifting his head slightly and opening his eyes to see William peering down at him. Groaning, he let his head fall back to the earth.
“Go away,” he muttered. “Go away and leave me alone.”
William felt sick. He looked to Hector and nodded his head. “He simply needs to rest,” he said. “He will be all right.”
But Hector was confused. He heard his father’s words and, in reviewing the last few minutes, came to realize that perhaps his father’s walk into the water hadn’t been some kind of bizarre accident. The expression on William’s face only confirmed it.
He turned to the men standing around.
“Return to your posts,” he said in a calm and controlled voice. “Thank you for your assistance. We will bring him back when he is strong enough.”
The knights started heading back, shaking off the water from their breeches and shoes. But one man remained; Deinwald Ellsrod had served with Paris as long as William had. Grouchy, gruff Deinwald had been one of the best knights the north had ever seen. He was close to Paris and William and Kieran, but not as close as they had been to each other. Deinwald simply didn’t let people get that close to him, so he had been something of an outsider.
But he’d known Paris long enough, and well enough, to know this fall into the river probably wasn’t an accident and he thought that the man’s children shouldn’t see him in his most vulnerable state.
“Hector,” he said quietly. “Go back with your men. I will help William bring your father back to the keep.”
Hector looked at the man he’d known his entire life. Even though he was technically Deinwald’s superior, Deinwald gave orders and men, even Hector, obeyed.
But not this time.
“I will stay,” he insisted quietly. “I want to make sure he is all right.”
Deinwald stepped forward and pulled Hector to his feet. “Go,” he said softly. “He is fine. I will help William tend him. And take your sister away, too. She does not need to see this.”
He nodded his head in Cassiopeia’s direction. She was still standing there with Jordan, weeping softly. Hector, seeing that his sister needed his help, begrudgingly obliged. He went to Cassiopeia and took her by the arm, escorting her back towards the keep.
That left Jordan, Deinwald, and William. They had all known Paris for well over fifty years and they all knew, without even speaking to each other about it, how depressed Paris had been since Caladora’s death. They could only imagine that the walk into the river had been the culmination of it.
The depression had turned deadly.
“Hector is gone, Paris,” William said, still feeling a huge amount of anger and horror. “He is gone but he saw you walk into that river. We all did. What in the hell were you doing?”
Paris turned his head away from his best friend. “I told you to go away,” he muttered. “Go away and let me die.”
“I will not,” William snapped. “Would you leave me to die?”
“If you wished it.”
“You would not and you know it. You would do exactly what I am doing right now. You would want to know why and then you would try to fix it.”
Paris didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, he coughed heavily and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Rocking back onto his buttocks, he looked at William.
“You only saved me because you are selfish,” he said, his usually strong and confident voice weak with emotion. “You did what you wanted to do. What about what I want?”
William was trying to be understanding; he truly was. But Paris was only succeeding in enraging him.
“I’m selfish?” he repeated, incredulous. “You have twenty grandchildren and four children who just lost their mother and grandmother two years ago. You are all they have left and you would take that away from them? What do you think your loss will do to them, Paris? They would never be the same. They love you too much and I thought you loved them as well.”
“Of course I do.”
“Not if you are trying to kill yourself!”
Paris just looked at him. He didn’t care that Deinwald and Jordan were hearing everything; his secret was out, anyway. He was bared to the bone. It would do no good to deny it.
“You know nothing,” he said, choking up. “I know you mean well, William, and I love you for it. You are my dearest and oldest friend, closer than a brother, but even so, you have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Don’t I?”
“Nay!”
“What don’t I know, Paris?”
Paris’ jaw ticked. “I am alone.”
“What do you mean you are alone? You are not alone.”
Paris grew frustrated. “The only woman who will ever tolerate me is gone and the loneliness is more than I can bear,” he exploded. “Do you not understand, William? I wake up every morning to a day that looks like any other. There is no hope, no joy. I wake up every day praying this will be the last day I ever awaken, but so far, my prayers have not been answered. I wallow in loneliness that would crush the heartiest soul. It is bone-smashing, eviscerating loneliness that leaves me hollow. Therefore, it is better that I go to Callie and Athena and Helene now. They have no man with them and they need me. Do you know my daughters have been dead for twenty-three years?”
William’s jaw ticked. “I am aware. They were my daughters, too.”
“Your sons were only married to them. But they were of my blood. I’ve not seen my girls in twenty-three long years. Please, William… let me go to them.”
It was a passionate plea, one spoken from the heart, and it hurt William to hear it. It evaporated his anger and brought him to tears. “Paris,” he whispered. “You still have many of your children and grandchildren right here. They need you. And I need you. I will always need you.”
“You live over ten miles away from me, with your own family,” Paris snapped softly. “As much as you tell me that you need me, the truth is that you do not. I am alone. My past is finished and there is no future. I am useless; I do not fight any longer. Hector commands the troops. My children all have families of their own. Do you know I was thinking that I have never even had my own home or my own title? It is true. I have always been the servant of someone else. Even to you. No one needs me any longer.”
It killed William to hear Paris speak like that. The man was perpetually confident, irreverent and, at times, arrogant and brilliant. But this man before h
im didn’t sound like the man he knew.
He sounded weak and lost.
William blinked away the tears. “I would be lost without you,” he murmured. “Don’t you know that? Don’t you know that if you left me, I would not know what to do? You are part of me, Paris.”
Seeing the tears on William’s face prompted Paris. He’d been trying so hard to focus on his indignation that William prevented him from killing himself that the wave of emotion he was feeling was too much to bear. His eyes filled with an ocean of tears, spilling over before he could stop them.
“Do you love me, William?” he asked.
William nodded, his lower lip trembling. “As deeply as a friend, a brother, has ever loved another.”
Paris swallowed hard. “Then if you love me, let me go.”
William put a hand over his mouth, lowering his head to prevent the sobs. He simply couldn’t hold back any longer. Paris, seeing this, began to weep as well. On his knees, he went to William, putting his arms around him to comfort him when it very well should have been the other way around.
“I want to go,” Paris whispered into William’s gray hair. “It is all right, my friend, truly. I have lived a full life. I have no regrets. I want to go to my girls, to my wife, and to the grandchildren I lost.”
William could barely speak. “Please don’t leave me,” he begged. “I lost Kieran. He wanted so badly to stay, but he could not. His body would not let him. But you… you have your health, yet you are choosing to end your life. How is that fair, Paris? To men like Kieran who wanted to live, how is that fair?”
Paris didn’t have a ready answer for him. “It is not,” he said after a moment. “But it is what I wish.”
William just held him, unable and unwilling to let him go. Standing a few feet away, Deinwald had tears streaming down his face. From the usually gruff knight, that was quite an event, but be understood the desolation of an old knight, the feeling of uselessness. The difference with Deinwald was that he had a strong wife to keep him going. She was his world.
But Paris’ world was gone.
Unable to contain himself and in an uncharacteristic show of emotion, Deinwald went to William and Paris and knelt down, putting his arms around them both. For men that had suffered through decades of battles together, of life and death together, it was a moment of unity and sympathy, of understanding and empathy. Many years of fighting together had given them a bond stronger than anything that existed.
Anything except the love of a husband and wife.
Watching the terrible yet touching scene, Jordan wept for the sorrow of it. She wept because she knew how broken Caladora would have been to see it. But Caladora was a practical woman and she would have come up with a solution because that was her nature. She would have been sympathetic to a point and then she would have given her husband something to make him feel useful. With Caladora, actions spoke louder than words. She had been a woman of purpose.
Jordan felt, at that moment, that she needed to step in and give Paris purpose.
For Caladora’s sake.
She’d come for a reason, after all, and that was to give Paris some hope in life. She’d really only meant to give him something to look forward to, but the devastation she was facing was far more than she had imagined. Though Jemma hadn’t suffered through the devastation that Paris was, that was only because she wasn’t a man whose pride and reason for existing had been taken away from him. Jemma had her children and grandchildren, and she still served a function at Castle Questing.
But Paris didn’t.
She was stronger than Paris could ever be… and it was strength he needed.
Swallowing her tears, Jordan wiped her face and took a few steps towards the men.
“Paris,” she said quietly. “I canna pretend tae understand how ye feel, but I was wondering… I was hoping… we came because we need yer help. It is a lot tae ask of ye, but I’m hoping ye can put aside yer pain because I believe ye’re the only one who can help.”
Three heads came up, looking at her. The men were no longer weeping, but their faces were still wet. They were still coming to grips with Paris’ turmoil and wish for death. William’s brow furrowed at his wife and she saw him faintly shake his head, as if to warn her off, but she didn’t acknowledge him.
For Paris, for Jemma, she had to press forward.
“Please, Paris,” she said. “I wouldna ask ye if it wasna important, but we have a problem and we need yer help.”
Deinwald stood up, moving away from William and Paris, who were both looking at Jordan with a mixture of doubt and curiosity.
“What can I possibly do?” Paris said. “You can clearly see that I have nothing to offer. I have my own issues, Jordan.”
Jordan wasn’t going to let it go. Perhaps it was the wrong time to broach the subject, but she didn’t think so. She thought it might be the perfect time. Taking a few steps to Paris and William, she bent over and wiped the tears from Paris’ tired face.
“Would ye be willing tae put them aside for Jemma?” she asked softly.
As she’d hoped, that changed something in his expression. She had his interest, at least. “Jemma?” he said in a tone that sounded much more like the man she knew. “What is wrong with her?”
Jordan reached out and took his arm off of William’s shoulder, encouraging him to rise. “Let us go back tae the keep,” she said. When he balked, she grew stern. “Ye know William willna let anything happen tae ye tonight, so ye may as well come back tae the keep unless ye want yer grandchildren tae know their Bonny tried tae harm himself. Is that what ye want them tae know? If they know ye’ve tried, they might try it themselves someday. Is that what ye want? Then get up and come back with me. I must speak tae ye about Jemma and we’ll forget about this little incident. It’s over with; ’tis time we move past it.”
“But…”
“Ye’re a better man than this, Paris de Norville. Dunna make me ashamed of ye.”
She was using the tone she used with her children or grandchildren when she was scolding them just enough to force them into doing what she wanted. It was a motherly tone she’d mastered well and it also happened to be a tone she’d heard Caladora use.
It worked; Paris sighed heavily, looked at William and then struggled to his feet as William stood up and helped him.
“Jordan, I appreciate that you’ve come to me for help, but I cannot help anyone.”
“Help me or I’ll tell yer children and grandchildren everything and ye can explain yer weakness tae them.”
It was an ultimatum and they all knew it. Paris looked at William, who gazed back at him emotionlessly. William would give him no help in the matter.
Paris didn’t want to have to explain himself to his family. That was the reason he’d done what he did – walking into the water to make it look like an accident. But now, Jordan knew his secret and he believed her when she said she’d tell his family.
She’d tell them everything.
He tried not to resent her for it.
Without another word, Paris headed back towards the walls of Northwood, leaving William and Jordan to follow. William moved up behind him, unable to look at his wife because he didn’t like what she’d done. Threatening to shame the man was no way to treat Paris. But on the other hand, it had the desired effect – Paris was retreating to the castle.
At least he would live another night.
Jordan, knowing that William and Paris were unhappy with her, waited a nominal amount of time before following them. She didn’t care if they were angry or not; in her opinion, they were acting like weaklings. At least, Paris was. It was true that she didn’t understand the psyche of a knight who had lost his sense of usefulness, but she knew Paris was stronger than that. He was simply giving in to despair.
She intended to fix that.
CHAPTER FOUR
He was sitting alone in his chamber and that was where he wanted to be.
He didn’t want the company of his family this
night.
He didn’t even want the company of William and Jordan, but they were here nonetheless, down in the great hall of Northwood and probably telling Hector and Adonis, two out of his three sons, what had really happened when he’d walked into the river. Of course, William would tell them so they would be on the watch if their father tried something stupid again. Perhaps he would, perhaps he wouldn’t. It was possible what he did had scared him enough not to try it again.
But if he did try it again, he would be more subtle about it.
In fact, Paris was surprised they even left him alone after today. He was in the chamber on the fourth floor of Northwood’s vast keep, an entire floor that belonged to him and his family. Northwood’s keep had four tall floors and two wings, an east wing and a west wing, which was unusual for castles, but those wings had been built on long ago by an Earl of Teviot who had fourteen children and a wife with two dozen retainers. He had to do it or wind up sleeping with people all over him.
Therefore, Northwood’s keep was quite vast and had an inordinate number of chambers, and Paris and his family had the run of the top floor. Four nice rooms – one for Paris and his wife, one for his sons, one for his daughters, and then one that served as both a storage chamber and a chamber where they bathed. That had worked out well until the children all grew up. Now, the chambers sat hollow, distant reminders of the glorious chaos that had been when his children were small and his wife was alive. Those had been the best days of his life.
Days now gone.
So, Paris sat in the chamber he used to share with his wife, sitting in front of a hearth that was barely smoking. There was no warmth to the room, but he didn’t even care. He hadn’t gotten out of his wet clothing. He was still sitting in it, praying he’d catch his death of cold. This was the chamber his wife had died in. He was torn between never wanting to enter it and never wanting to leave it because the memories were both comforting and revolting. He wasn’t even sure what he felt here any longer.
Empty.
As he sat there and pondered his life, his everything, there was a soft knock on the door.
The Best Is Yet To Be Page 4