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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  William and the earl stared back at the king, stunned at the announcement. ’Twas the earl who spoke first.

  “Your Most Highness is generous to a fault,” he said. William thought he detected a note of sarcasm in his voice. “I shall do my best to live up to your confidence, my lord, but in faith, William is the tactician. He is certainly most deserving of the title.”

  The king was being most ambitious in protecting his border with Scotland, William thought. Mayhap Laird Scott’s missive prodded the man into thinking that mayhap there would be great trouble along the border soon. With Wales and Scotland nipping at Henry’s heels, the king was taking no chances.

  “Thank you again, sire,” William echoed. “I am thrice honored.”

  Henry nodded at them both. “Now, I am finished with you both,” he waved at them. “Earl, we will be departing early afternoon. I suggest you prepare yourself. My captain of the household troops, Rolf de Moray, expects that you will be in command when we leave the gates.”

  The king had, effectively, placed William in command of every soldier in England. He felt as if he were dreaming the entire thing, for he had never even entertained such a thought. He bowed deeply to his king.

  “My lord places great trust in me,” he said. “I shall not fail you.”

  Henry looked hard at him. “I know you won’t, lad,” he said. “I know you and your reputation. And I only choose the best.”

  He turned away from them and they knew they were dismissed. De Longley waited until they were well down the corridor before letting out a long, heavy sigh.

  “Warden of the North Border.” he scoffed. “Great Gods, that ought to piss the Scots off. If they were merely thinking of merging their forces, then that little title ought to prompt them right into it. Doesn’t he realize they will throw everything they have directly at Northwood simply to destroy her and rid themselves of their cage-keeper?”

  William nodded. “I have always felt wardens are for jails, not a field title.”

  The earl snorted. “Hurry back from Wales, William, and claim your distasteful title from me.”

  William smiled. “I am tempted to announce the title to the border lairds myself just to make them mad enough to riot. Then Henry would have no choice by to send me back to the borders to quell the uprising.”

  The earl smirked at him. “A good thought, lad.”

  They parted company at the stairs. William descended into the foyer and headed out into the early morning sunshine.

  The day was already glorious and warm as he crossed into the outer bailey and headed for the knight’s quarters. Around him the population of the fortress was coming alive, readying for the day ahead. He glanced about, something he didn’t usually do, for this would be the last time he saw Northwood in this state. He was homesick already.

  William entered the antechamber of the knights’ quarters, a room reserved for meetings and private meals, and came face-to-face with all nine of his knights.

  He sighed to himself; he had expected as much. They had heard the announcement last night and had probably been up all night waiting for him to return. They deserved some answers.

  William stood in front of them, bracing his legs apart and crossing his arms expectantly.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  Paris was leaning against the far wall. “They wish to congratulate you, my lord.”

  “They do?” William responded. “Then I accept.”

  Kieran was sitting directly in front of him. He smiled lazily at the new earl. “Baron Kilham, is it? Has a nice sound to it. So does King’s Champion. Quite a privilege, I would say.”

  He gazed down at Kieran. “Stop sounding so jealous. You know I could care less about the titles and land.”

  “Titles?” Kieran repeated suspiciously.

  “Lands?” Michael blurted on his heels.

  William glanced at Paris when he spoke. “It seems the king had more surprises up his sleeves after he left the celebration last night,” he said mildly. “Since you asked, I will tell you. I have received the Kilham barony, Castle Questing, and all of her lands. I have also received another title in addition to baron and King’s Champion. When I return from the campaign in Wales, I will be further known as Warden of the North Border.”

  The knights looked properly awed. William grinned when he saw that they were speechless. Paris moved himself off the wall and walked toward his friend.

  “I do not know whether to bow to you or kiss your feet,” he quipped.

  “Both, if you will,” William returned without missing a beat. “And you, man, are now Captain of Northwood. Congratulations.”

  Paris bowed slightly. “Thank you. But I would prefer to go with you to Wales.”

  Here it comes, William thought. “I am sorry, my friend, but you cannot,” he said as he put his hand on Paris’ shoulder. “As much as it pains me, you must remain behind at Northwood. De Longley needs you with the Scots on the march.”

  “What do you mean, William?” Deinwald asked, puzzled.

  William proceeded to explain the missive. When he was finished, his knights looked grim.

  “So that was what that was all about,” Kieran’s jaw flexed. “I knew you would tell us in time, but I had no idea that was the message. And we are supporting Langton?”

  “Aye,” William replied. “Which is why de Longley is reluctant to let any of you go with me. He absolutely refused to let Paris go.”

  The men were silent a moment. “Which of us will you be taking, my lord?” said Adam.

  William glanced at de Longley’s fair son. “I was only allowed a choice of two,” he said.

  Angry voices raised to protest that decision and William lifted his hands to quiet them.

  “Two only,” he insisted loudly. “De Longley needs the majority of you here at Northwood. Believe me, it was not an easy decision, for the two of you who accompany me will remain with me when I take over Questing. There will be no returning to Northwood.”

  They knew that, but they didn’t care. They simply wanted to serve William. He glanced at the faces of his loyal vassals and was greatly saddened that he could not take all of them. They had been through so much together and he knew he would not feel complete without them.

  “Who is g-going with you?” Michael asked the fateful question.

  William detected a note of hopefulness in the man’s voice. “Believe me when I tell you it was the most difficult choice I have ever had to make. But I believe I made the best choice I could. I need knights with certain qualities with me, as does Paris. I could not take someone that I knew he desperately needed.” He wanted to explain his decision so that they would understand. “Ranulf must be here to control the men-at-arms and train the youngers. There is no one better suited in that capacity, although I will miss him sorely. Corin, you and Adam and Lewis still need valuable experience, experience that remaining here will teach you. I believe it is in your best interest to stay. Jason, you and Marc will be very important to Paris with your strength and experience with the scots. Michael, you will remain behind because Paris will need a second-in-command. You are more than capable. That leaves Kieran and Deinwald to accompany me to London. Kieran as my new second, and Deinwald as my left hand and liaison to the troops. If I cannot take Ranulf, then I want Deinwald, for he is just as cantankerous,” he smiled faintly, glancing at the faces he knew so well. “And that, gentle knights, is my decision.”

  Because he had explained it so well, there were no hurt feelings. Everyone began talking at once, congratulating each other, speaking of the future and teasing William good-naturedly about the wife he was leaving behind. They could only imagine the pain he must be feeling, and each man who would be remaining felt it his personal mission to protect her. Especially Paris.

  After the knights had retired to rest and prepare for the departure, Paris and William remained in the room. Paris eyed William as the man sat wearily in a chair and poured himself a cup of wine.

  “Do not l
ook at me like that,” William told him irritably.

  “Like what?” Paris asked innocently, sitting opposite his friend.

  William shot him an impatient look. “Like you are about ready to burst out in tears. Honest to God, Paris, I cannot take any more emotional confrontations today. I am spent.”

  “You shall get no such confrontations from me,” Paris assured him, although he didn’t mean it. He had so many things he wanted to tell his former captain but he was unused to expressing himself. “Simply allow me to say one thing; that I will guard your wife with my life until such time as you return.”

  William looked at him. “I know you will.” When the moment turned too sentimental, he stiffened a little. “And I give you permission to discipline her if needed. And I am sure it will be needed.”

  Paris snorted. “You never disciplined her. What makes you think I will be any different?”

  William gave him a wry smile, focusing his attention on his cup, watching the wine swirl. Paris gazed at him.

  “This will be a whole new world for you,” he commented.

  “Aye,” William replied. “I was quite content with my world here. Paris, should you require me for any reason, do not hesitate to send a missive. I will be at your call.”

  “So noted,” Paris said. “Let us hope the Scots back down from their plans so that I will not be needing reinforcements from the crown.”

  “Agreed,” William said fervently, then sat back in his chair and put his booted feet up on the table. “Wales. What a Godforsaken country. I do not relish spending a winter campaign there.”

  Paris shrugged. “Just do what Henry wants done and get it over with.”

  William contemplated his boots. “What if Henry wants me with him in London for a long time to come? I will not leave Jordan any longer than I have to.”

  “Henry is fickle in his old age,” Paris commented. “Mayhap you will fall out of favor quickly if the campaigns are not successful.”

  “I will not deliberately lose a battle,” William told him. “I do not even think I would know how to. Besides, if I did he might take away my lands and titles. Jordan deserves to be chatelaine over her own household. And our children deserve a keep to inherit.”

  The men sat in silence for a long time. It was a comfortable silence; the last of many. Finally, William rose stiffly.

  “I am going to take a bath,” he announced wearily. “Find Luke for me, if you would, and have him pack my things.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Paris answered as if he were still William’s second.

  With a sigh, William headed for his chamber, bellowing for hot water as he went.

  *

  The king, his entourage, and three hundred soldiers waited in the outer bailey of Northwood. The entire castle population had gathered to see William off; the haunting chant of ‘Wolfe’ filling the air as it had for the past half-hour. Women and children were crying, and men looked sad to know that their beloved Wolf was leaving them.

  William was in Jordan’s apartments. He stood by the window, gazing out into the bailey, hearing his name being called. He was bathed, shaved and combed, and dressed in his battle armor. Jordan was in the other room; he could hear her banging around.

  “What are you doing, love?” he called out to her. “I have to leave.”

  She bustled back into the room, carrying something in her hand. She smiled up at him as he turned to her.

  “I was getting something for ye,” she said. “Something to remind ye of me while yer in London.”

  His brow furrowed. “What is it?”

  She extended her hand and he saw immediately that it was a lock of her hair tied with a strand of pale green silk from his favorite dress. His heart softened as he took it from her, lifting it to his nose and inhaling her Lavender scent. The smell brought tears to his eyes but he chased them away sternly.

  “ ’Tis wonderful, my lady,” he said softly, lifting up her hair to see that she had taken the bunch from the very nape of her neck. There was a large section gouged out unevenly.

  “No one will see it,” she knew what he was thinking. “Besides, my hair grows quickly. If I cannot go with ye, then this is a part of me that ye can take.”

  He kissed her softly, lingeringly, before tucking the strands into his glove. “I shall place it in my vest and always wear it next to my heart. Thank you.”

  There was a knock at the door and William answered it. Kieran stood in the hall, his face somewhat drawn and Jordan knew he had just come from Jemma.

  “The king awaits, William,” he said.

  “I am coming,” he told him.

  He turned to Jordan, standing alone and still in the center of the room. They had already said everything that needed saying and done everything that needed doing. To say anything at all would be rehashing a fine goodbye. If he took her in his arms one more time he was afraid he would never let her go.

  Jordan saw the indecision and grief in his eyes and took charge. She marched over to him and kissed him on the lips firmly.

  “Be off with ye,” she said briskly. “Send me word when ye reach London. And ye, Sir Kieran,” she reached up and pecked him on the cheek, “I shall watch out for Jemma until ye return. Dunna worry about her.”

  They looked at her and each other. Jordan gave William a little shove. “Well, get going. Ye shouldna keep the king waiting.”

  Without a word, William left with Kieran and the door closed softly behind them.

  Jordan stood there, staring at the closed door, feeling all of the grief and loneliness she had suppressed welling dangerously within her. She fought off the emotions, knowing that if she gave in she would be destroyed.

  She was already dying inside but did not want to admit it. Her pain was manifesting itself into an aching in her heart that was tearing her apart. She clutched at her chest as if to grab the pain and rip it from her.

  The door suddenly opened again. She startled and stepped back, only to see William standing before her once again.

  He drew her against him, kissing her ferociously. All of her resolve broke then and she began to cry, returning his kisses and tasting him one last time.

  “I love you with all of my heart,” he said between kisses.

  “I love ye, English,” she whispered in return. “Return to me safe, I beg ye.”

  He pulled away from her and was gone again, this time for good. Jordan’s sobs overtook her and she let them. She had given up the fight. She crumpled to the floor, letting the cold stone wash with her tears of pain as she prayed to God to protect her husband.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Dunbar McKenna received a missive from Langton shortly before dawn. Awakened, he kicked the serving girl out of his bed and yanked the vellum from his son’s hand. Somewhere behind Abner hovered Malcolm, and Dunbar silently waved the lads in as he broke the seal and read the message. It was no time at all before he exploded in a fit of anger.

  Abner and Malcolm pressed themselves against the wall, hoping for invisibility as Dunbar kicked over a table and smashed a chair into a wall.

  “Damn them!” he raged. “Damn Thomas and his bastard brothers!” He whirled to the young men. “Do ye know what they have gone and done? Do ye?”

  Abner shook his head as his father came over and slugged him in the face with a beefy fist, turning rapidly to Malcolm and driving his knuckles into the lad’s stomach. Gasping and aching, the young men tried to regain their feet.

  “They have gone and defied the clans,” Dunbar ranted. “Northwood and her allies have pledged to support Langton agin us. Can ye believe it? The Goddamn Sassenachs are supporting Langton.”

  He broke a few more things but didn’t punch them anymore. They regained their senses and watched him as he calmed moment by moment, pacing and cursing until he finally came to rest on his bed. The twisted, torn message was still clutched in one hand, but he was shaking and white with fury.

  Abner and Malcolm watched him warily, wishing they could run fr
om the room but not daring to move.

  “Send missives, lad,” Dunbar said hoarsely. “Send them to all of the clan chiefs and tell them to ride for McKenna Keep as soon as they can. We must respond to the traitors that are among us.”

  Abner nodded and, gratefully, left the room. Malcolm was terrified when Dunbar looked up at him, knowing that it was his kin who were the traitors.

  “The Scotts will be destroyed,” Dunbar promised confidently. “We will descend on them like a plague of locust and wipe out every one of them. We will stand for no traitors on the border, lad. When they are gone, we will move to mighty Northwood and raze her as well. Then the Sassenachs will see that our clans are not to be trifled with, and the border will be ours.”

  Malcolm watched the big, smelly man in his rage. Uncle Thomas was not a man to be bullied, but bully they did until they virtually gave him no choice. Even Malcolm knew Thomas was a man of principles. The attempted attack had failed, Jordan’s murder had failed, and now Dunbar had the excuse he needed to completely wipe out the Scotts and their alliance with the English. The refusal of Thomas to break the English alliance was certainly not an event to be taken lightly, but by refusing the clans, he had played right into Dunbar’s hand.

  It was odd, Malcolm thought as he watched the heavy man, that Dunbar seemed so intent on destroying Uncle Thomas. And it seemed that there was no particular reason for it; he was looking for any excuse to desolate the man, and when one failed he simply invented another. There was so much hatred in Dunbar for Thomas Scott; Malcolm wondered why.

  This wasn’t just about the English alliance, he was sure of that. And the plan about controlling the border was just a convenient excuse to back Thomas into a corner so that he would have to come out fighting. True, Dunbar liked the growing power he governed, now that the clans were listening to him and not to Thomas, but there was more to it than that. The bottom line seemed to be that he wanted Thomas and Langton destroyed at any cost, for any reason.

  None of that much mattered to Malcolm. He had virtually no use for his kin anyway and was pleased to be able to assist Dunbar. The man may have cursed at him and hit him, but he still paid Malcolm more attention than his own father. And acceptance and attention was the very thing Malcolm lacked within his own family, although his conscience, deep down, was reluctant to help Dunbar wipe out his kin.