The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was an enormous responsibility and an enormous honor William was asking of Gaetan. It was a task that only a commander of Gaetan’s caliber would be capable of and Gaetan didn’t take the responsibility lightly. He knew this was the kind of directive that would have a man leaving a great mark on his legacy – beyond his Warwolfe persona, beyond his great reputation as a knight, lay a man who hoped to leave a legacy for his children one day that didn’t involve memories or reputations one couldn’t use to buy food or clothe men. His children, when they came, would need something tangible for that.

  This was the opportunity to get it.

  “I am grateful for your trust, my lord,” Gaetan finally said. “When I do this thing, what shall be my reward?”

  William snorted at his ever-shrewd Warwolfe; they thought very much alike, indeed. “As great a reward as I can give you,” he said. “There are great riches to the north, you know. I have studied this country and I know her well. There is an area north towards Chester called the Black Country, as it is rich with coal and other elements that can make a man extremely wealthy. The largest town is called Hamtun where there is a large abbey, I am told. The town deals in coal and sheep. Do what I ask of you and I shall make you the Earl of Hamtun and all of the riches that belong to her. I want my Warwolfe to be happy.”

  Gaetan liked the sound of that. In fact, it was extremely generous. “No man will know it is my town unless we call it Wolfeshamtun,” he said, unable to let go of his pride, not even for a moment. “If I am going to rule, then let all men know who rules.”

  William nodded, seeing the gleam of satisfaction in Gaetan’s eye. “Agreed,” he said. “Call it Wolfeshamtun or Wolverhamtun, or whatever you wish. It shall be your domain, Warwolfe. Go north and conquer.”

  Gaetan was feeling increasingly eager to get on with what needed to be done, now fueled by a substantial reward from the man who would be king. Sensing that their conversation was coming to a close or, at the very least, wanting it to come to a close, he bowed his head respectfully to William before turning for the tent opening.

  “I will need to depart today, as quickly as possible, my lord,” he said. “If you are agreeable, I will have du Reims and de Reyne select men from the army to accompany us. I have been so involved in Kristoph’s disappearance that I am ashamed to say that I do not even know the strength of our remaining army other than my own men.”

  William watched him as he walked away, a very busy man, indeed. “And how many of your men survived?”

  Gaetan paused by the tent opening. “I brought two thousand men with me,” he said. “I have lost nearly two hundred with nearly the same number wounded.”

  William nodded as he absorbed those statistics. “You fared better than some,” he said. “Select no more than one thousand men to fill in your ranks. That will give you a sizable army with which to infiltrate the heart of England.”

  “I am taking archers.”

  “You already have a goodly amount of archers, Gate.”

  “I need more.”

  William sighed at his stubborn commander. “Then, God’s Blood, take them,” he said, annoyed. But the annoyance quickly cleared away. “And this sister of Mercia – where is she?”

  “In my tent, my lord. She is awaiting my return.”

  “As your captive?”

  Gaetan wriggled his dark eyebrows, a somewhat ironic gesture. “As my guide,” he said. “She does not know it yet, but it is she who will take me to Alary. If she thinks to lead me into a trap, then she will be the first one to step into it. Every step we take northward, she will be in the lead.”

  William simply nodded. “Send me a message to keep me abreast of your progress,” he said. “I have a suspicion this will be a long and perilous journey.”

  “So do I,” Gaetan admitted.

  “Gate?”

  “Aye, my lord?”

  “Et pro Gloria dei.”

  The words that the Anges de Guerre used to send each other into battle were now murmured from the duke’s lips. There wasn’t much more to stay at that point because he knew that his Warwolfe would take all precautions necessary to ensure a successful mission which, in William’s estimation, was turning out to be a blessing in disguise. Now, de Wolfe had a reason to head into the heart of England and it had nothing to do with the lands and title he was promised, but everything to do with a missing comrade… and that was most powerful motivator of all.

  Nay, William wasn’t genuinely upset about de Wolfe’s intention to head after Alary of Mercia but he wanted the man to be cautious and thoughtful. The last thing he wanted to do was lose one or more of Gaetan’s men but, ultimately, this undertaking would work to everyone’s advantage.

  At least, that was the hope. But God help the lords of Mercia if something happened to Kristoph de Lohr. William knew, as he lived and breathed, that the beast would be unleashed if that happened, and that beast would tear apart Mercia and the Midlands like nothing anyone had ever seen before.

  God help them all.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Unlikely Allies

  Ghislaine was sitting in de Wolfe’s tent because that was where he put her and told her to stay. He needed to speak with the Duke of Normandy, he said, and his other men had disappeared, including the priest. The squires, however, were crouched outside of the tent like watch dogs, cleaning mail and waiting for their master to return.

  Making sure the Saxon woman didn’t escape.

  As if they could stop her but, frankly, Ghislaine was too tired to run at the moment. After she had delivered the news that Alary had left the encampment and taken Kristoph with him, Gaetan had gone to seek permission to pursue Alary northward and Ghislaine was left wondering what de Wolfe intended to do once he received that permission. Would he try to follow with only his few men or would he bring an army with him?

  At this point, Ghislaine wasn’t entirely sure what her role was in all of this. She’d told de Wolfe about his abducted knight. One of his other knights, a Welshman, knew the area and knew where Alary’s lair of Tenebris was, or at least the proximity thereof.

  Now, de Wolfe had a mission to attend to in order to rescue his man but Ghislaine wasn’t part of that mission, or so she thought. There wasn’t any reason for her to go with the Normans as they headed into enemy territory. Perhaps the best thing for her to do would be to catch up with her men and return to Tamworth to tell her brother, Edwin, what had transpired near Hastings. It was time for her to return to her family and pray that de Wolfe and his men killed Alary in their quest to regain their man.

  So she waited, impatiently, for de Wolfe to return. Seated on her bum in the middle of the tent with her legs hugged up to her chest, she lay her cheek on her up-bent knees, hearing the sounds outside of the tent, the unfamiliar conversation of Norman warriors. She was cold, and hungry, and wondering where her next meal would come from. Surely the Normans would not feed her, although she had hoped for something. He stomach was growling painfully.

  More waiting and wondering as the minutes dragged on. At some point, she must have dozed off because when next she opened her eyes, it was because someone was sniffing around her. Or, more accurately, something was sniffing around her. When her sleepy eyes came into focus, it took her a moment to realize she was looking at a very big dog.

  Brown doggy eyes stared aback at her. Startled, Ghislaine refrained from making any sudden movements, afraid the dog might attack her. He was absolutely enormous, with shaggy gray hair and a long snout. And big teeth; definitely big teeth.

  As she stared at him, unmoving, he licked his chops and lay down beside her, all the while looking up at her rather expectantly. But Ghislaine had no idea what to do with the monstrous dog looking at her. Perhaps, it was a death watch and he was waiting for her to die first so he could eat her. What else did Norman dogs eat but prisoners? When her stomach growled, loudly, the dog lifted his head and licked his chops again. Ghislaine resisted the urge to scream for help.

  It se
emed like she spent an eternity watching the dog as it stared at her. It was an odd standoff. Her limbs were becoming cramped from being folded up like they were but she didn’t dare move. Just when she thought she could take no more, she heard the tent flap slap back.

  “Gather my things.” It was de Wolfe, snapping orders to the squires as he entered the tent. “Our army will depart within the hour and I want to be ready. You will also make sure de Lohr’s belongings are packed up but we will leave those with Normandy for safekeeping. Even now, du Reims and de Winter are mustering the quartermasters so make sure my trunks are loaded onto the wagons.”

  The boys were scrambling; Ghislaine could hear them. The dog, lying next to her, suddenly popped up and moved away, rushing to his master when he heard his voice. Ghislaine, too, lifted her head about the time de Wolfe came into view. He glanced at her as he began pulling off gloves.

  “We will be leaving as soon as my men can be mustered and the army organized,” he addressed her. “We will be heading north within the hour.”

  Ghislaine struggled not to yawn. “The duke has given you his permission to go after your knight?”

  “He has,” he said, throwing the gloves into a large chest. He went to work on removing his tunic. “How much do you know of this country, Lady Ghislaine? What I mean to ask is how well you know the path to this Tenebris that you have mentioned as Alary’s stronghold.”

  Ghislaine, fuzzy-minded from hunger and the lack of sleep, had to ponder his question for a moment before answering. “I know it well,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “You must travel north from here and then veer northwest when you come to London. There is a main road, a Roman road, that will take you north all the way to Chester, but you must go west when you come to Kidderminster. That will take you to the Far Forest where Alary’s stronghold is.”

  One of de Wolfe’s squires suddenly rushed into the tent, racing to help his master. The dog, who had been hovering by de Wolfe in the hopes of being petted, finally received a pat and, satisfied, moved away. Unfortunately for Ghislaine, he was coming in her direction again and she leaned away from the animal as it came near. She eyed the beast as it sat right down next to her as if they were the greatest companions in the world.

  “Then what would you estimate as the time it would take for an army to travel to the Far Forest?” de Wolfe asked, oblivious to Ghislaine and her fear of the dog that had cozied up to her. “My concern is that we reach the Alary’s lair before winter sets in completely. Weather will hamper a mission such as this one.”

  Ghislaine alternated between eyeballing the dog and de Wolfe. “It will be cold through Christmastide but winter usually does not set in until after the new year.” She inched away from the dog, who lifted his head to see why she had moved. “May I leave now? There is nothing more I can do for you. You know where Alary is taking your knight. I have told you all that I can.”

  De Wolfe turned to her, his gaze appraising her, as if he knew something she didn’t. In fact, that wasn’t far from the truth. It was obvious by his expression that he was about to say something he was quite sure Ghislaine wouldn’t like.

  “You are not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “You will be accompanying me and my men north as we follow your brother. You will be our guide.”

  Ghislaine’s hunger and exhaustion were forgotten. She staggered to her feet as the dog next to her did the same, standing up because she was. But Ghislaine wasn’t looking at the dog; her gaze on de Wolfe was wide with shock.

  “I cannot be your guide!” she said. “I must return to Tamworth Castle, to Edwin, and tell him what has happened. I am no longer of any use to you – I have done what I set out to do. I told you of your knight’s abduction and I told you where to find him. You must do the rest yourself!”

  De Wolfe went back to unlacing his tunic, ignoring Ghislaine’s distress. “You are of great use to me,” he said, “and you shall not return home until I am finished with you.”

  Ghislaine had no idea how to respond. Leading the Normans to the Anglo-Saxon encampment to find their knight and leading them on a perilous journey northward to follow her brother were two different things. The longer she gazed at de Wolfe, the more panic she began to feel. She couldn’t go northward; she had to go home. She wanted to go home. With that thought, she made a break for the door.

  Gaetan was on her in a minute. He could see the bewilderment, the terror, in her eyes and he suspected she might try to run. It was just a feeling he had. When she suddenly darted for the tent entry, he was ready for her. He was bigger, stronger, and faster than she was and he grabbed her around the torso before she could get to the opening.

  When she turned into a wildcat, Gaetan was not surprised; he simply held tight and tried not to get kicked in tender places. He turned away from the entry with her in his arms as his terrified squire bolted from the tent. The lad didn’t want to be caught up in any fight, which was wise of him. Even the dog scampered away, hovering nervously at the edges of the tent.

  “Stop fighting,” Gaetan said quietly and somewhat calmly into her ear. “Cease your struggles, little mouse. It will not change the way of things.”

  But Ghislaine was too overcome to respond. She did, however, feel his mouth by her right ear and she slammed her head in that direction, head-butting his jaw in what was a fairly hard blow. When he tried to move his head away from her, she stiffened up, threw her head back again, and caught him in the chin. The ensuing strike caused him to bite his tongue and he could already taste the blood.

  “Release me!” she howled. “You have no right to hold me! Let me go!”

  Gaetan had to admit that she put up a hell of a good fight. His little mouse may have been rather small and slender, but she was very strong for a woman. He was impressed. Moreover, she had a warrior’s instinct and she knew just how to hit him to break his hold on her, but he was more experienced than she was. He shifted his grip on her so she could no longer head-butt him, but he hadn’t taken into consideration her powerful, slender legs. She managed to wind her legs all around his somehow and, before he could catch himself, he ended up tripping and falling forward.

  Ghislaine’s momentary victory in tripping up her captor ended in pain as she hit the ground and he fell atop her. He was a big man, his weight more than double hers, so when he fell on her, it knocked the wind from her. Her struggles slowed dramatically as stars danced before her eyes.

  But for Gaetan, it was infuriating. He didn’t care if he fell on top of her or not. Once he was down, he rocked back on his knees and grabbed her by the arm and flipped her over onto her back.

  “Foolish wench,” he growled. “What made you think you could win that fight? And what made you think that the moment you came into my encampment that I would not do with you as I pleased? Are you truly so naive?”

  Ghislaine lay there, halfway on her back, as Gaetan knelt over her. She was panting heavily, having had the wind knocked out of her. But unfortunately for Gaetan, the wheels of her mind were still spinning. This fight wasn’t over by a long shot. Realizing that Gaetan was straddling her, she brought up a knee and managed to catch him in the groin.

  It wasn’t a hard blow but it was enough to cause him some pain. She’d put a boney knee right into his manhood and he grunted in both surprise and pain, furiously grabbing her as she tried to use his momentary shock to crawl away. He had a leg, yanking her back to him even as she tried to claw her way from beneath him. But pulling her along the ground had lifted her tunic, exposing her legs and buttocks that were encased in the leather breeches. Her buttocks drew his attention; bringing down a trencher-sized hand, he spanked her hard.

  Ghislaine howled in pain as he spanked her at least three times, harder than she’d ever been spanked in her life, but his swat had the desired effect – she stopped trying to escape him. She lay there and kicked her legs angrily, effectively trapped beneath him.

  “You deserve all that and more,” Gaetan hissed, his groin still throbbing from her knee. He
spanked her again, a sharp slap echoing off the walls of the tent. “And that is for trying to damage my legacy.”

  Ghislaine had stopped trying to escape him because she knew she couldn’t win; he had her tightly, now with her buttocks exposed to his big hand. “You beast,” she breathed. “You Norman barbarian! I am not surprised you take pleasure in hitting a woman!”

  Gaetan had a temper; his men knew it and soldiers who had served with him knew it. He was quick to temper when seriously displeased and, in this instance, he was more than seriously displeased. The little Saxon wench had tried to injure him and she was going to pay the price.

  “We Norman barbarians only strike animals, of which you are most definitely one,” he said, his grip tightening on her when she twisted angrily. One hand had her pinned while the other reached down to yank on her breeches, pulling so hard that the ties either broke or pulled loose, sliding them down to expose her naked arse. “And disobedient little mice must be punished.”

  With that, he slapped her nude flesh with his palm again, leaving a perfect hand print across both already-reddened buttocks. Ghislaine screamed as if he were killing her.

  “You are… evil!” she cried. “How do you dare do such a thing? Let me go!”

  Gaetan wasn’t about to let her go. She had a few more spankings coming as far as he was concerned. Any woman who would try to shove her knee into his manhood would get nothing less. But when he lifted his hand to slap her buttocks again, a strange thing happened; he hasn’t really looked at her arse before but now that he got a good look at it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to slap it again.