Patrick looked at his father, seeing some evidence of believability in Colm’s statement. “So he finds you here,” Patrick said, “meaning you are away from Castle Questing.”
William lifted his eyebrows. “That simply means that I am here and nothing more,” he said, not wanting the men to start worrying when there was no reason to. “It is not as if Castle Questing is hugely vulnerable without me. Her army is still the largest one on the border.”
Patrick shook his head. “Nay, that is not what I meant. I meant they were looking for you. At some point, you will have to travel back to Castle Questing. It would be a fine prize for the Gordon to be lying in wait as you traveled home.”
It was an ominous thought. Now, no one was really certain about Tommy Orry’s appearance or why he had really come. Being that they had to deal with life and death situations on a daily basis, no one was taking anything for granted. Patrick turned to Colm.
“Have some men follow Tommy’s tracks to see if our suspicions hold any weight,” he commanded quietly. “Send your best men to track him. Surely, he will return home. But I want to know if his presence here was for another reason than what he told us. Mayhap, the man will return to build an army against my father, or worse.”
Colm nodded, rising from his seat and heading out of the guard room. While Patrick was nervous for his father’s safety now, William wasn’t concerned in the least.
“I do not think there is a horde of Scots waiting to ambush me as I return home,” he insisted quietly. “In fact, I was thinking on leaving today since we are not traveling to Coldingham.”
Patrick wasn’t keen on that idea. “Can you at least wait until Colm’s men return from following him? It would make me feel much better.”
“I do not believe it is necessary.”
“Please?”
William sighed sharply. “I think you are overreacting, Patrick. While I appreciate your caution, I do not believe there is any threat to me beyond the usual. Send me back to Questing with a few men-at-arms if it pleases you. But I would like to return today.”
Patrick knew how to play the stubborn game with his father. He was ready and willing to counter the man. “If you insist on leaving, I will tell Katheryn and Evie what we suspect with Tommy Orry. They will not let you go. I will pull forth the women into this if I must, Da. You will not be able to leave.”
William’s eye narrowed. “You would not dare do that.”
“Try me.”
The game was up and Patrick had won. Frustrated, William took the pitcher on the table and poured himself more wine. “Then have it your way,” he said. “It will give me more time to play with my grandchildren, I suppose. But Colm’s spies had better return within a few days or I will simply leave and not tell anyone.”
Patrick knew that wouldn’t happen with his knights on the prowl, knowing and seeing everything that went on at Berwick, but he didn’t comment. He simply nodded his head.
“Just a few days,” he said. “Besides… I plan to leave tomorrow for London and I would like for you to remain with Bridey for a little while. I would feel better if you did.”
Now, he was playing on his father’s sympathies for Brighton and William knew it. He also knew he was sunk because he understood the situation with Patrick leaving his wife behind. It was a painful thing for them both. Resigned to the fact that he would stay at Berwick for a few days, he downed half of his cup.
“As you wish,” he said. “How is she doing, by the way? Is she calmer now?”
Patrick nodded. “She is. But I can see the fear in her eyes and that disturbs me terribly. It makes me feel guilty, as if I am helpless to protect her.”
Damien, seated at Patrick’s right hand, spoke softly. “You are not helpless,” he said. “Even though you go to London, you have all of us to protect your wife. I’ve not had much time to speak to the woman but I look forward to coming to know her. Any woman who could capture your heart is one worth knowing.”
He was grinning, which caused Patrick to grin. He slapped an affectionate hand against the man’s shoulder. “She is sweet and gentle, but there is strength in her,” he said. “She is now in charge of the keep and you will obey her orders as if they are my own. Make sure the men understand that.”
“I will. But I do not want you to worry while you are in London. We shall protect her with our lives.”
Patrick sobered. “I know you will,” he said. He looked between Anson and Damien, two men he trusted implicitly. “I will confess that I am not eager to leave but it is necessary. I told you earlier today in the great hall when we were discussing Richard Gordon and the threats against my wife that I will not be accepting Henry’s royal appointment, so I must face the king when I explain my reasons. Although my body may be in London, my mind and spirit will be here, at Berwick. It gives me considerable peace knowing Bridey has you men to protect her. It means everything to me.”
It was a surprisingly emotional statement from their usually emotionless commander. Damien lifted his cup to him in salute.
“We will take good care of her while you are away,” he said. “And if I have not yet congratulated you on your sudden and surprising marriage, then allow me to do so. I wish you and your wife the best, Patrick, I truly do. You are most deserving of happiness.”
Patrick smiled modestly, tapping his cup against Damien’s and then Anson’s when the man held his cup aloft as well. “Thank you, my friends,” he said. “And I am truly happy, mayhap for the first time in my life. Your congratulations and support mean a great deal.”
“You will always have it, Atty,” Damien said quietly.
Patrick knew that. As the day progressed towards evening, Patrick sat with his men in the guard’s room, drinking and reliving old memories and glories. It was a wonderful day, in truth, and something he very much needed, bonding with his men on a deeper and more meaningful level. Men that would be there for Brighton when he could not be.
As the sun began to wane, he left the guard’s room and headed back to the keep where he had to hunt his wife down, eventually finding her in the kitchen with Evelyn. The kitchen of Berwick was part of the building complex, built in stone and sunk into the earth like a sublevel.
Patrick found his wife in the hot kitchen helping the cook sprinkle herbs on bread that was meant for the oven. He would never forget the look of joy on her face. Her red, hot little face was so very happy to be useful and to have found her place in the world, as the wife of a great knight. Patrick couldn’t ever remember seeing the woman quite so thrilled and it did his heart tremendous good to see it. Like him, she was both content and delighted with what life had brought her.
But he didn’t want to share her with the kitchen tonight. Patrick eventually convinced her to leave the cook to her tasks, alone, and they retreated to their chamber, at first to wash and change for the coming meal. But soon enough, it was simply to spend their last night together without having to share one another with anyone. Patrick made love to his wife slowly, gently, tasting her flesh, memorizing the curves of her body, so he could remember those things on the nights to come that would be particularly lonely.
On the nights when his longing for her was tearing him apart.
On into the darkness their lovemaking went until Brighton fell into an exhausted sleep a few hours before morning. Patrick lay there with her in his arms, watching her sleep, not wanting to relinquish one moment of it but he, too, eventually fell asleep, woken only when the guards changing shifts on the wall before dawn captured his attention. He arose then and dressed in silence as his wife slept peacefully a few feet away.
He didn’t have the heart to wake her. He loved seeing her slumbering so sweetly and their farewells had already been said during the night, with every kiss and every touch. He gently kissed her cheek and slipped from the room, departing the gates of Berwick as the sun finally peeked over the eastern horizon.
His memories of Brighton were tucked deep into his heart and her lock of hair was
tucked deep into his tunic, in a pocket right over the left side of his breast.
Close to his beating heart.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Conclusion of the Tale
Westminster Palace, London
Thirteen days later
“And that is my story, my lord,” Patrick said to the king. “I realize it all sounds quite spectacular, unbelievable even, but I assure you it is the truth. It is why I cannot accept your appointment as Lord Protector. I must return to my wife and now you know my reasons.”
Henry was looking at Patrick with a mixture of concern and surprise. So were de Lohr and the other advisors standing around the king. In fact, they all looked rather astonished by the wild tale coming forth from the de Wolfe son on his rescue of a woman that, as it turned out, was much more than met the eye.
An astonishing tale, indeed.
“So the mother prioress had planned from the start to turn Brighton over to her brother to crucify?” Henry asked with astonishment. He turned to the men around him, all trusted servants. “Has anyone ever heard of something like that? I find it incredibly appalling that he intended do to that to the lady. Barbaric. Only the Scots would do something so horrific.”
Patrick nodded, feeling a huge amount of relief now that his story was told and the king understood about Brighton. To be truthful, he’d had his doubts.
“Indeed, my lord,” he agreed. “Barbaric to say the least.”
“And this Scotsman? Tommy Orry?” Henry asked. “Did your men follow him and determine if his visit to Berwick had been a ruse of some kind?”
Patrick shrugged. “I left before the men returned, but I am sure if it was some kind of ruse, my father has acted accordingly,” he said. “You can understand that I am eager to return and find out for myself.”
Henry did, in fact, understand. He understood everything Patrick had told him. Whether or not he was happy with it was another matter altogether. “So you want to go home,” he said quietly, scratching his cheek in a thoughtful gesture. “I suppose I see your point. But you will not reconsider? If your wife truly is in danger from Clan Gordon, then bring her to London where she will be safe.”
Patrick shook his head faintly. “As grateful as I am for your faith in me, I feel there are a variety of reason why that would not be suitable,” he said. Then, he hesitated a moment before continuing. “My purpose in telling you this story was to not only explain why I must decline your generous appointment, but to also tell you that by marrying Bridey without permission, I may be in trouble with the church. I do not want to be a target for their anger but you can see why I had to marry Bridey and why I could not return her to Coldingham.”
Henry didn’t seem to think that was an issue. “The church is the least of your worries,” he said. “I will have Boniface of Savoy, the Archbishop of Canterbury, give you written permission on the marriage. Given the circumstances, I am sure the man will agree, although he rarely agrees with anything I do these days. Better still, I will send you with a document demanding the arrest of the mother prioress who has sinned against God and Mankind with her collusion. Such a woman is the antithesis of a good and pious woman, and I am sure the archbishop will agree. When you return home, go into Coldingham and arrest her, Patrick. Take her to York. I will send word to the Archbishop of York to try the woman for her crimes. Her actions cannot go unpunished.”
Patrick was deeply pleased to hear the declaration. Finally, some justice would be served and it was better than he could have hoped for. Already, the court scribes were writing furiously on their vellums at the edge of the room, preparing missives and documents at the king’s command. He could see the men over near the western wall of the hall, monks from Westminster Abbey, scratching away with their swan quills.
“As you wish, my lord,” Patrick said. “And… thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for punishing the mother prioress. But…”
He hesitated and Henry lifted his eyebrows. “But what?” he asked knowingly. “But what about Richard Gordon? I have not overlooked that detail but I rather thought you would like to take care of the man yourself. It is your wife’s life he has threatened, after all. I would assume you want to punish the man personally.”
A twinkle came to Patrick’s eye. “It would not anger you if I did, my lord?”
Henry shook his head. “You have my blessing,” he said. “And I will even provide you with men to assist. De Lohr, how many men can you provide your old friend and ally, de Wolfe?”
Daniel, who had been listening to Patrick’s story with amazement and outrage, grinned. “I can have five hundred men here from Canterbury by early tomorrow morning,” he said, his gaze lingering on Patrick. “Can you wait that long, Atty? Methinks you want to return home to your wife at this very moment.”
Patrick smiled weakly. “I can wait until tomorrow morning,” he said, “and I am very grateful, my lord. My father will be most grateful, too.”
Henry sat back in his chair, waving a hand at Patrick. “For what your father has done for me all of these years, it is the very least I can do,” he said. “I will match de Lohr’s donation of five hundred men and send you back to Berwick with one thousand. That should be enough to march into Gordon lands and punish Richard Gordon however you see fit.”
Patrick was extremely thankful. “It will be more than enough, my lord,” he said. “Thank you again for your generosity and understanding in the matter.”
Henry’s gaze lingered on Patrick for a moment. “You know, a lesser man would have simply sent me a missive about the situation,” he said. “You showed great honor by coming to London when I know you did not want to leave your wife. That also shows courage. Are you sure you will not reconsider my appointment?”
Patrick gave him a half-grin. “As honored as I am by it, I must again decline for now. But who is to say what the future will hold? Mayhap Bridey would like living in London.”
Henry lifted his hands. “Why shouldn’t she?” he said. “Fine shops, fine homes, the Street of the Jewelers… any woman would love to live here.”
“Then give me a year or two and if you still wish to appoint me to your service, I would be willing to listen.”
Henry seemed satisfied with that arrangement. He must have been in a generous mood because he was not demanding that Patrick reconsider his stance. In truth, he understood what it was like to love a woman, so he had empathy for Patrick’s plight even if he was losing an excellent knight. Losing another de Wolfe, he thought with irony. When de Wolfe men fell for women, they fell hard. There was no turning back for any of them.
But Henry understood.
Rising from his heavily-cushioned chair, Henry made his way down the dais to Patrick as the man stood at the bottom of the steps. A tiny man when compared to Patrick’s bulk, he put his hand on the Patrick’s arm and began to walk.
“I want to know what this woman looks like who has taken you from me,” Henry said. “And we must discuss her father as well. Does Magnus know of his daughter?”
Patrick walked beside the king at a leisurely pace. “I do not know, my lord,” he said honestly. “The only person who would know that, I would assume, is the mother, Lady Juliana de la Haye.”
Henry pondered that as they headed for the large, heavy doors of the audience hall. “Is the mother still alive?”
“I would not know, my lord. The old nun, when she confessed Bridey’s true heritage, did not mention it.”
Henry was thoughtful. “Surely you realize that by marrying Magnus’ daughter, you have created an alliance with the Northmen. It might do well to inform Magnus that he has a bastard daughter married to an English knight. It might even bring about the grounds for a treaty with the Norse.”
Patrick could see that Henry was looking at the political side of things, as he very well should. It was his business to see potential alliances. But Patrick, truthfully, wasn’t so keen on it.
“He could also show up at Berwick and demand the return of h
is daughter, my lord,” Patrick pointed out as they passed through the doors, heading into the corridor outside. “If I would not return her to the church, I surely would not return her to a Northman.”
Henry rubbed his chin. “That could be quite a battle.”
“One I would wish to avoid, my lord.”
Henry pondered the idea a moment longer before lifting his shoulders. “It was a thought,” he said. “But you are correct – telling Magnus he has a daughter married to an Englishman could do more harm than good. And I do not believe you need any more trouble than you already have so far north in the wilds. The Scots are trouble enough.”
Patrick nodded fervently. “Indeed they are, my lord.”
They came to another corridor at that point and Henry came to a stop, as did the dozen advisors who had been following him and Patrick from the audience hall. Henry happened to glance at the nearest window to see the angle of the sun to guess the time of day.
“I will return to my chamber now and rest,” he said. “You will do the same and I will see you tonight at sup. I will have the missives from Canterbury at that time regarding your marriage.”
Patrick bowed his head in gratitude. “To thank you does not seem quite enough, my lord,” he said. “Thank you for your understanding and your mercy. I am ever your loyal servant.”
Henry began to walk away from him, his advisors closing in around him. “Remember that when I honor you with another royal appointment.”
“I will, my lord.”
“If you turn that one down, there may not be another.”
“I understand, my lord.”
“Do you still want to keep the lands and titles? I will give them to you as an incentive.”
Patrick grinned. “And if I keep them and still decline the appointment, my lord?”
Henry’s old eyes were shrewd. “Hopefully, you will not.”
With that, Henry continued down the corridor surrounded by his advisors, following the man like loyal dogs. It took Patrick a moment to realize de Lohr was not among them; he was standing next to Patrick, watching the monarch walk away.
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 162