The Dark Brotherhood: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  William looked up at his son with pain in his eye. “And I have not given Troy all of my confidence?”

  Patrick shook his head. “Not when it comes to that.”

  He moved away from the table, following Troy’s path from the hall. As William watched his biggest son head out, James, too, stood up and followed Patrick. Both of them heading out to comfort Troy. William turned to look at Paris, across the table from him.

  “Well?” he asked. “Do you think that, too?”

  Paris was William’s oldest and dearest friend. They had seen so much in life together, the bonds of which were stronger than blood. Paris was careful in his reply, knowing that whatever he said, William would take to heart.

  “I think you spend so much time praying for Scott’s return that you neglect the sons that have not left you,” he said quietly. “I have told you this, William. Scott has made his choice; he has chosen to leave and begin his life again elsewhere. Although I do not blame you for hoping he will return someday, you must not let yourself be consumed by it. It is Scott’s ghost that stands between you and Troy and the rest of your sons, and you are very clear about that. It is painful for Troy to accept.”

  William didn’t want to hear the truth but, in hindsight, he knew Paris was correct. He spent a good deal of time anticipating Scott’s return, his prodigal son, and that included having a temporary commander at Wolfe’s Lair. Kieran was his second in command at Castle Questing but ever since Scott’s departure, Kieran had been in command of Wolfe’s Lair. Kieran was there because William couldn’t bear to give the command to another because, in his mind, that would be admitting that Scott was never to return. Therefore, there was truth to what Paris and Patrick and Troy had said – William was holding the Lair for Scott’s return. Perhaps it was time for him to accept that Scott wasn’t coming back.

  But he couldn’t give up on a father’s hope.

  “Let us get past the settlement of Monteviot and then I will reconsider the situation with the Lair,” William said reluctantly. “The truth is that I do want Troy here because he is the best man for the job, especially if Clan Kerr is unhappy with the fact that we are now in possession of this property. Troy has a relationship with the clan in that they know him and he knows them; if anyone can negotiate a truce, it is Troy.”

  Paris lifted his eyebrows at him. “Then mayhap you should tell him that, William. Let the man know you appreciate him.”

  William nodded faintly, feeling very badly that his own turmoil with Scott’s grief was clouding his relationship with Troy. “Of course I appreciate him,” he said quietly. “I draw my strength from him. Had he left as well, I am not sure I could have dealt with the pain.”

  Paris looked to his right, seeing his own sons sitting there. They weren’t paying attention to the conversation with the older knight, or even Troy’s outburst. Hector and Apollo were in conversation with Kevin and Tobias, sitting across the table from them. They were laughing about something, as they often did. Further down the table were Kieran and Michael, old knights and the best of friends, lost to their own conversation while Case and Corbin, Michael’s two younger sons, were arm wrestling at the end of the table while some of the soldiers took bets.

  Paris loved moments like this. He found such satisfaction in seeing his friends with sons of their own, all strong and intelligent young men, the future generation. There was a great deal of pride there. There were other sons, of course – Alec Hage had remained at Berwick with Adonis, Paris’ youngest son, while Patrick and Kevin heeded the call to battle. William had two younger sons, Thomas and Edward, and Kieran had his youngest son, Nathaniel, who was fostering at Northwood and hadn’t come on the battle march. So many young men, all of them ready and willing to continue the fight of their forefathers.

  But there was one missing and it was a hole that all of them felt.

  Paris understood William’s lament over Scott. Paris lamented the man’s loss, too, but he knew as William did that all men grieve in their own way. They could only hope that Scott would come to his senses at some point and return to the fold. Even with all of the young men, arm wrestling or laughing or eating, it was clear that someone was missing.

  And Paris knew that no one felt that loss more than Troy.

  Before he could reply to William, however, there was shouting down at the end of the table. Evidently bored with the arm wrestling, Case and Corbin had confiscated the mandolin from the soldier who had been wandering around, singing songs. Case managed to acquire the instrument but Apollo saw it and made a grab for it, yanking it from Case’s grip. When Case tried to take it back, the older and bigger knight shoved him back by the chest.

  “Easy, lad,” Apollo said. He was very much like his father, suave and rather full of himself. With his bright red hair and stunning blue eyes, he was quite handsome. He was also an excellent performer. He began to strum the mandolin for all to hear. “Let me give the men some decent entertainment, de Bocage.”

  Case was outraged. “I can entertain better than you!”

  Apollo grinned slyly. “You cannot carry a tune,” he said. “Let me show you how it is done.”

  As Case scowled, grossly offended, Apollo played a few chords and began to sing.

  There once was a lady fair;

  With silver bells in her hair.

  I knew her to have,

  A luscious kiss… it drove me mad!

  But she denied me… and I was so terribly sad.

  He was singing quite dramatically and, at this point, the soldiers around them were listening and cheering him on. They all knew the song and when the chorus came around, they all began to sing at the top of their lungs.

  Lily, my girl,

  Your flower, I will unfurl

  With my cock and a bit of good luck!

  Your kiss divine;

  I’ll make you mine,

  And keep you a-bed for a fuck!

  It was a bawdy song, one that had the half-drunk men laughing and cheering. When Apollo started the second verse, which was as lewd as the first, half the room was singing along with him. Paris grinned at his son, who reminded him so much of himself. Apollo was never shy about anything and the men loved him for it.

  As Paris turned around to collect his cup, he caught William’s expression. The man was staring into the dregs of his cup as if his mind were a thousand miles away and Paris’ good mood faded. It was hard to show joy when William was so worried about Scott and Troy. It was a terrible burden for a father. It was true that Paris had lost two daughters when Scott and Troy lost their wives, but somehow with their deaths, he was able to reconcile them. They were with God and they were at peace. But with William… one son was lost and the other in turmoil.

  There was no peace for his sons.

  “Go talk to him, William,” Paris said softly. “Atty and James can only comfort him so far. He needs to hear from you.”

  William glanced up at him. “And tell him what?”

  “Tell him that once things are settled here, you will be giving him command of the Lair. It is time.”

  William gazed at Paris for a moment before simply nodding his head. But there was huge and heavy sorrow in that gesture, something that stabbed at Paris’ heart. There was such finality to it. Without another word, William set his cup aside and stood up, leaving the table and heading from the hall to find his sons. Paris watched him go, his gaze inevitably falling on Audric, who was still sitting at the end of the table, shoving food into his mouth.

  But as Paris looked at the priest, his eyes narrowed. It occurred to him that the priest had heard everything that was said, including the discord between William and his sons. When Audric happened to look up from his food and make eye contact with Paris, the older knight took on a menacing expression.

  “You heard none of that conversation,” he hissed. “Do you understand me?”

  Audric quickly took on a look of both surprise and fear. “Hear what, m’lord?” he asked. “I heard nothin’.”
<
br />   Paris scooted down the bench, grabbing the priest by the shoulder. It was a biting grip. “And that is the story you will adhere to,” he rumbled. “If I hear that you have been spreading rumors about unrest in the House of de Wolfe, I will cut out your tongue.”

  Audric was trying not to cower. “I told ye, I dinna hear anythin’.”

  Paris’ eyes narrowed dramatically. “Swear it?”

  “I do.”

  Paris released the man but he didn’t take his eyes off him. Audric spent the rest of the evening being glared at in a fashion that made him want to run from the hall screaming. It was only pure hunger that made him remain and finish his meal but, after that, he was fairly certain he would brave the dark night simply to make it home to avoid the big knight’s poison stare.

  Truth be told, he’d lied. He had, indeed, heard the entire conversation and that told him a great deal about what was happening in the House of de Wolfe, the exact information he’d been hoping to glean. It may be risking his life to repeat it, but his superiors would hear about it.

  A weakened House of de Wolfe might very well mean strength for the clan who wanted their property back.

  *

  Out in the darkened baily of Monteviot, William could see his sons lingering near the main gate.

  They weren’t hard to miss; three of the biggest men in the whole of England, and probably Scotland, too. Troy with his impossibly broad shoulders, Patrick with his sheer height and breadth, and James for his soaring height as well. It wasn’t as if William was a short man; he was a few inches over six feet, but his sons had either met that height or, in the cases of Patrick and James, had exceeded it. His boys had never been difficult to pick out in a crowd.

  His sons. Men he loved deeply, each for their own special gifts. William felt so guilty that he’d let his longing for Scott overshadow his relationship with them, mostly Troy. Paris had been right; they’d all been right. William knew that but he didn’t know how to overcome it. For the sake of his relationship with his remaining sons, however, he knew that he had to.

  As William approached the group, James caught sight of him. Tall, blond, gentle James. Held up a hand to his father in greeting but in the same movement, told his brothers that their father was on the approach because they all turned to look at him. William smiled weakly as he came into the group.

  “I came to tell you that Adonis has the men worked up into a frenzy with his songs,” he said to break the ice. “James, he will need you. No one can sing like you can.”

  James grinned at his father. “It does not work well when I sing with Apollo,” he said. “He tries to shout over me and eventually we come to blows.”

  William began to laugh. “Not always,” he said. “I have heard the two of you do excellent duets.”

  James swished a hand at him, a dismissive gesture. “Only when he feels like sharing the attention,” he said. “More often than not, Apollo wants to have all of the attention. I will not fight him for it.”

  It was very true. William had to concede the point. “He is too much like his father,” he said. “You know how your Uncle Paris can be. If all eyes are not upon him, then he is not happy.”

  “Then it must have made for an interesting experience working side by side with him since you were both young,” Patrick said. “It is a wonder you did not beat him to a bloody pulp at times.”

  William lifted his eyebrows. “Who is to say that I did not?” he said. Then, he shrugged his big shoulders. “But beneath all of that pomp and bluster, Paris is the best man I know. He would do anything for those he loves and he is wise beyond measure. Do not tell him I said that.”

  The men shook their head. “Never,” Patrick said. Then, he sobered, glancing at his brothers as he spoke. “Talk of Uncle Paris aside, Papa, we were just discussing our departure from Monteviot. I will be returning to Berwick on the morrow and James must return to Wark. Have you decided what you are going to do about the staffing at Monteviot?”

  William nodded, looking straight at Troy. “There is no one I would trust more than Troy to man the tower at the moment,” he said. “Troy, the reason I asked you to remain here for a time is not to punish you, lad. It is because I do not believe there is anyone more capable. You know this area and you know the Kerr. If anyone can keep peace here, it is you.”

  Troy was looking at his father with a rather guarded gaze. He sighed heavily. “If that is your wish, I will remain. But what about Kale?”

  William cocked his head thoughtfully. “Your knights are in charge of Kale at the moment,” he said. “Brodie de Reyne and Cassius de Shera have the command and I am sure they are doing an excellent job. They will be able to manage things until you return.”

  Troy had calmed after his outburst in the hall, feeling guilty that he’d yelled at his father but still feeling snubbed in the face of his brother’s absence. Still, he knew his father was only doing as he felt best. Troy knew his father didn’t think him incapable of commanding the Lair; it was simply that he held out hope Scott would return. Aye, Troy understood that even though it didn’t make the situation any more bearable. He still felt overlooked and underappreciated.

  “If we are to have trouble with the Kerr at Monteviot, then I want Brodie and Cassius here with me,” he said. “Send Apollo or Tobias to command Kale until we are sure the Kerr will not try to dig us out.”

  William nodded, thinking on the shifting of knights to keep his holdings protected. “If that is your wish, then send for them,” he said. “I will go speak with Tobias right now. I am not sure Patrick wants to part with Apollo.”

  Patrick, brought into the conversation, lifted his big shoulders. “I would prefer not to because we must remember that if the Kerr are unsettled, it may spread on the border. We may all end up defending our posts against angry clans.”

  William mulled over that thought. “It is a distinct possibility. Therefore, pulling Tobias from Northwood may be a smarter move. Uncle Paris has many knights who serve him there, so pulling one knight out of the group will not diminish his strength.”

  “Agreed,” said Patrick.

  William looked to James at that point. “And you?” he asked. “If the clans go to war along the border because of this, you are prepared to defend your post, are you not?”

  James nodded. “I mostly deal with the Gordon and I have an excellent relationship with them,” he said. “I do not expect any trouble, not even if the Kerr go to war.”

  Troy shook his head. “You are so amiable, no one would go to battle against you,” he said. “You’ve charmed the Gordon to the point that they look at you as a brother. In fact, if the Kerr went to war against de Wolfe, I am certain the Gordon would protect you. We should all learn a lesson in diplomacy from you, James.”

  James smiled at his brother, reaching out to grasp the man affectionately on the shoulder. “That is because a man can gain his wants better with honey than with a blade,” he said. “I am not fond of confrontation, as you well know. Sometimes you must give a little in order to receive, and as the new commander of Monteviot, you would do well to remember that.”

  Troy frowned. “There is nothing I can give other than my sword to a Scot’s belly,” he said. “But something just occurred to me.”

  “What?” James asked.”

  Troy looked around the bailey, torn up by the battle. “Rule Water Castle is called Wolfe’s Lair, Kale Water Castle is called Wolfe’s Den, Wark Castle is called Wolfe’s Eye, and Atty’s castle at Berwick is called Wolfe’s Teeth. I wonder what name the Scots will give to Monteviot now that it belongs to the House of de Wolfe?”

  William simply shook his head, a smile playing on his lips, as James answered. “Remember when our brother, Thomas, spoke of naming his future command the Wolfe’s Arse?” he asked. “Mayhap this is the one. It is in the arse-end of Scotland, after all. Mayhap it is Monteviot who will shite upon the enemy as the Wolfe’s Arse.”

  The four of them chuckled, but it was William who spoke. “N
ay,” he said. “This place is not the hindquarters of a beast. In fact, it will cement us deep into this border land, creating a trio of castles that will ward off any Scots’ incursion. If it must be known as something, I’d prefer to call it the Wolfe’s Shield. The last line of defense between England and the Scots.”

  It was appropriate. Monteviot Tower became Wolfe’s Shield and as Troy looked around, he wasn’t so opposed to remaining. It would be a volatile place until things settled down, and he was a knight. He needed to be where the action was. More and more, he was becoming resigned to his father stationing him there. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

  “The Shield it is,” he said quietly. “Papa, if you wish to discuss the organization of the outpost, then I am ready. I am assuming most everyone will be leaving, along with Atty, on the morrow?”

  William nodded. “There is no longer any reason for the armies to remain and they are anxious to return, I am sure,” he said. “However, you mentioned leaving two hundred men from Kale here and asked me to leave one hundred from Questing. I will be happy to do that. And you will call forth de Reyne and de Shera from Kale to come to Monteviot?”

  “I shall.”

  “Then we can do no more. It will be crowded here, however. Do you have enough supplies?”

  Troy shrugged. “I can take all you can send me. I shall have Brodie and Cassius bring provisions with them, but anything you can send me from Questing would be a blessing. You can also send me those men you promised to repair the tower. I would like to repair it as soon as possible.”

  It seemed there wasn’t much more to say about the fortification of Monteviot, so James and Patrick excused themselves, returning to the hall so that William and Troy could iron out the smaller details. It was also a chance for them to mend any hurt feelings from their earlier tussle. Once James and Patrick were out of earshot, William spoke to Troy.

  “When Monteviot is settled, I will send Edward here,” he said, speaking of his twenty-two-year-old son, his third youngest child in fact, who served at Wolfe’s Lair along with Kieran. When Kieran brought the army to Monteviot, he’d left Edward in command of the mighty Lair. “Edward has learned a great deal serving with Kieran and I believe he will be ready for command.”