“Du Rennic happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Stanley hissed, lowering his voice as Milo came near. “De Wolfe had nothing to do with that.”
The conversation died as the army moved forward. The sun continued to set, casting the landscape of Cumbria into a cluster of shadows and torches and a fortress preparing for a siege.
*
“Christ, here he comes. Now what?”
It was an expectant question. Five men stood in the dark tunnel leading from the portcullis to the bailey, a thick-walled corridor carved into the massive walls of Castle Canaan. Smoke was heavy in the air, the result of sooty torches burning in the passage. Soldiers stood about, waiting for orders, as a legion of troops filled the ramparts above. The smell of a battle was in the air as de Wolfe’s army approached from the west.
The knight who asked the question faced the four men surrounding him, all of the men dressed to the hilt in armor and weapons. Their faces were lined with fatigue, their battle-hardened expressions piercing. It was obvious that a decision had to be made, but none seemed willing to make it.
“Well?” the knight demanded again. “What are we going to do? Do we stand against de Wolfe or do we let him in?”
A tall, muscular knight with well-coifed dark hair crossed his thick arms. Sir Kristoph Barclay was older than his comrades, moderately intelligent, and soft spoken. But he was a true follower rather than a leader. He didn’t want the responsibility of making a bad decision.
“It’s your choice, Jeremy,” he said. “As our lady’s brother, I would say it falls upon you and your father to make the decision. And we will abide by any choice you make.”
Sir Jeremy Huntley glanced at the man by his side. Sir Gordon Huntley was an older version of his son, somewhat folded by age but nonetheless possessing the same indomitable strength and will. The two men gazed at each other with the same-colored eyes, a deep blue, and it was not difficult to read their thoughts. Jeremy, a strikingly handsome man with thick dark hair and enormously wide shoulders, cocked an eyebrow at his father.
“Well?” he asked. “What do you say, Da?”
Gordon was a wise man. He could outfight or outfox any man alive, even in his advanced years, and was greatly respected for his abilities. So great were his engineering skills that he had built the catapults and the special, double-strung crossbows used by the army of Castle Canaan and copied by nearly half of the troops in Northern England. Which was why Jeremy, as hot-tempered as he could be, was unwilling to make an arbitrary decision without his father’s approval. The man was supremely intelligent.
Gordon scratched his white beard, then his crotch as he fumbled for a reply. “You are all well aware of my opinion on this,” he mumbled. “I’ve never made any secret of it.”
Jeremy glanced sidelong at the others. “We know, Da. But the time has come for decisions.”
Gordon shook his head. “We made quite a few threats against de Wolfe.”
The knights nodded and grumbled, but there was no clear reply. Gordon continued. “Scott de Wolfe is a great warrior from a fine family. He is the son of William de Wolfe, for Christ’s sake. If Nathaniel knew how we had shown such disrespect to de Wolfe after his death, he would not be at all pleased.”
A young knight with tightly-curled blonde hair tried to present a brave front. “Lord Nathaniel took the arrow meant for de Wolfe,” he very nearly shouted. “Had we…”
“Had we shown ourselves as honorable knights, we would not be in this predicament now,” Gordon shot back, cutting off the young man’s tirade. He gestured with an upraised hand. “Do you realize the embarrassment we have shown ourselves by denouncing de Wolfe and then showing him such inhospitable behavior at his arrival? The man is our liege. More than that, he is part of the House of de Wolfe and a favorite of the king. We cannot fight him. We cannot deny him his right to claim Castle Canaan.”
Jeremy scratched his head, a half-ashamed gesture, and held up his hand to the curly-haired knight so the lad could not argue. “Enough, George. My father is right. We’ve all known this from the beginning.” He grunted and shook his head. “We have all acted stupidly. Even so, our anger is not appeased.”
Sir George de Vahn kicked dejectedly at the ground but said nothing. Beside him, Sir Adam de Ferrar’s brown eyes focused on his mistress’ brother and father.
“We said quite a few things in anger, Jeremy, there’s no doubt,” Adam said. “De Wolfe has not forgotten. Whether we welcome him with open arms or put up a fight, I suspect our fate will be the same.”
“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked.
“I mean that he is angry with us no matter what we do.” Adam was well-spoken for his youthful years; he looked like an impish little boy but spoke like a man. “If we open wide to him, he could very well pour in here with his men and punish us all for our harsh words and insolent behavior. Should we resist, he’ll punish us anyway.”
Gordon shook his head. “Foolish, young Adam. De Wolfe is not unfair. But we must apologize for our conduct. We were angry and we spoke inappropriately.”
“So we simply turn Castle Canaan over to him?”
“We’ve no choice.”
“I wish that arrow had hit him.”
They all heard George’s grumble. Jeremy, unable to disagree, simply looked away. The pain of Nathaniel’s death was still so fresh that he had not the strength to refute or scold the knight. Adam and Kristoph glanced at Gordon, waiting for his reaction.
The old man could feel the attention. He gave himself a moment of pause before replying.
“George de Vahn, I knew Nathaniel better and longer than anyone. The man was my friend. Our alliance was only strengthened when he married my daughter. If anyone should be incensed by all of this, it should be me.” He reached out, half-grabbing, half-slugging the young knight’s shoulder. “But I will tell you now: behave yourself. Keep your opinions to yourself. De Wolfe will crush you like a bug if you show any resistance and well you know it. Instead, display to our liege some of the integrity and graciousness Nathaniel tried to impart into your thick skull. For him, we owe at least that much.”
It was as close to an encouraging speech as Gordon could come. He wasn’t much for pretty words. The others listened carefully, knowing he was correct. They had shown little honor since Nathaniel’s death with their threats and anger. It wasn’t as if de Wolfe had killed Nathaniel himself, but he might as well have.
“So we let him in,” Kristoph said quietly.
“Aye,” Gordon murmured. “Pray the man is in a forgiving mood.”
“What of Avrielle?”
Jeremy’s question was soft but to the point. They all felt a stab of trepidation at the inquiry, gazing warily at Gordon. Every time they saw Lady du Rennic wandering about like a mute, disconsolate waif, their anger mounted tenfold. Perhaps they would have come to terms with their grief by now if she hadn’t been a constant reminder of their dreadful loss. Even more than their anger towards de Wolfe or their grief for Nathaniel was their tremendous concern for their mistress’ mental state.
“We shall take turns with her,” Gordon said, exhaustion in his voice. “’Tis best if she is watched.”
“He’ll think she’s mad,” Jeremy hissed, raking his hands through his thick hair. “He’ll throw her in the vault and lose the key.”
Gordon ignored his son. “She’s not mad,” he said firmly, though unsure if he believed it. “She’s simply dealing with the loss of her husband in her own fashion. She’ll recover, as will we all. Now, take your posts and prepare for de Wolfe’s arrival.”
The knights reluctantly disbursed in anticipation of Baron Bretherdale’s arrival as Gordon continued into the bailey. When he was sure no one was watching, Gordon lifted his eyes beseechingly to the heavens.
“Please, God,” he prayed softly. “Please do not let her show her madness to de Wolfe.”
Behind him, he could hear the portcullis cranking up, the thick, old ropes grating against their
tracks. Someone was shouting and the army crowding the bailey began to form ranks. Gordon should have been there to receive Baron Bretherdale and not leave the duty to a group of disgruntled knights but he found, at the moment, that he had more important things on his mind.
Like finding his daughter and preparing her for the worst.
*
“Where is Lady du Rennic?”
Scott’s question went unanswered for the moment. Frankly, he wasn’t astonished by the hostility he was meeting with. The tension, as he had suspected, was palpable, but the blatant animosity was not only unnecessary but foolhardy.
A line of knights stood between him and the keep of Castle Canaan, men he had fought alongside countless times. Men that Nathaniel du Rennic had been extremely proud of, and for good reason; they were excellent, obedient knights. Now, these same men who he had once trusted his life to stood glaring at him as if he were the Devil incarnate. Scott couldn’t decide whether to become angry or laugh. He thought, considering his normally decisive nature, that he was exhibiting extreme patience by not quashing them on the spot. But there was a very good chance his grace would not last into the next hour at this rate.
“Lady du Rennic is heavy with child, my lord,” Gordon finally replied. He had appointed himself the spokesman of the group; he wouldn’t allow any of the others to speak. “She begs forgiveness for not greeting her liege personally.”
Scott’s intense eyes focused on the old man. His gaze could be so piercing at times it seemed like he was looking straight through a man’s soul. Gordon felt the harshness of the stare, as if shards of glass were pricking into his brain.
“You did not answer my question,” Scott rumbled. “Where is she?”
“Inside the keep, my lord,” Gordon said steadily.
“I would speak to her.”
He would swear until the day he died that the knights of Castle Canaan puffed up at that very moment as if preparing to defend their mistress against something of unspeakable horror. Gordon struggled not to appear nervous or defensive himself. Lady du Rennic, after all, was his daughter and it was his duty, more than any of the others, to protect her. He remained restrained and calm.
“If I may, my lord, suggest that now would not be a good time,” the old man said. He didn’t like this whole damned situation, torn between hostilities and emotions he would rather have done without. “She is not feeling well and I fear your presence might affect her physical and mental state.”
Scott didn’t like to be refused. He stared at the old man as he debated whether or not to enforce his demand. He didn’t want to use force, but most certainly he would if he had to, and he would only reason so far. After that, he would let his sword do the talking.
“I am her liege,” he said simply. “I would speak with the wife of Nathaniel, a noble and loyal servant.”
Gordon nodded patiently, putting a hand on his son’s arm as the man huffed and trembled with the rage in his heart. “I understand your position, my lord,” he said patiently. “But you must understand that Lady du Rennic has been through quite a bit over the past few months. She grieves terribly for her husband. Her mental state is weak at the moment and I fear that your presence will only remind her of her loss. It was for you, after all, that Nathaniel sacrificed himself. I would suggest it would be better to wait to speak with her. You may, indeed, carry on business with me and my son in her stead.”
For the first time, Scott looked at Jeremy and was met with an outrageously challenging glare. The man was an extremely powerful knight who had fought well for Scott in the past. He was cunning and skilled, and passionate about his loyalties. But at this moment, Jeremy’s bright blue eyes blazed with bitterness. Scott realized, as he continued to gaze at the man, that he would have to gain control of Jeremy in order to control the troops of Castle Canaan. Even more than the old man, if Jeremy Huntley decided to fight, the army would willingly follow. He was the kindling to a fire that threatened to explode at any moment.
“Huntley,” he rumbled after a moment. “You are a wise, intelligent man.”
Jeremy was cold. “As you have always known me to be, my lord.”
Scott crossed his arms, limbs the size of tree branches. “Then tell me what you think of me.”
It was a wide open, leading question. While the knights of Castle Canaan seemed to falter, unsure of the answer they expected, Jeremy remained steely. Gordon prayed that his son would reply with respect, but perhaps not total honesty. A little white lie at this moment could preserve their lives; an offering of truth could destroy them. He hoped Jeremy could differentiate between the two.
“You are my liege and Baron Bretherdale,” Jeremy finally said. Gordon thought he spoke through clenched teeth. “King Henry gifted you with lands in east Cumbria and Castle Canaan is your subject. What more should I think of you?”
It was a careful answer and Scott appreciated the delicate balance it evoked. Huntley was certainly walking a fine line and they were all aware of the fact. But Scott intended to push him off that line one way or another. “Do you respect me?”
“Aye, my lord.”
“Do you believe me to be powerful, just and fair?”
Jeremy hesitated slightly. “Aye, my lord.”
“Then why do you rebel against me?”
Jeremy blinked slowly, pondering. He was not intimidated by de Wolfe, for they had known each other for many years because they had both served the king in several operations for the crown. The fact that Scott was twice his strength didn’t matter in the least, nor did the fact that Scott had a frightening reputation for pulling enemies apart with his bare hands. There was no one in the entire world who could best Scott de Wolfe in hand-to-hand combat, of which Jeremy had no intention of entering into. He’d seen de Wolfe in battle too many times to entertain any thoughts of engaging him and coming out in one piece. It was only purely out of respect for de Wolfe’s higher rank that he carefully sought his answer, and not the fact that Scott could smash him like an ant if provoked.
“Do you wish me to be frank, my lord?”
“Please.”
If he wanted it, then Jeremy would give him what he asked for. Nodding his head, he broke from his harsh, crossed-arm stance and rubbed at his stubbled chin. “Very well,” he said. “Then I shall expect frankness from you as well and shall begin with this question; why have you come here?”
Scott cocked a well-arched brow. “I am clearly not here to answer your petulant questions.”
“Indeed not, my lord, but certain things must be established. I must ask again; why have you come to Castle Canaan?”
On Scott’s left, Stanley Moncrief growled low in his throat. “Insolent bastard,” he said. “You’ve no right to question your liege, Huntley. Answer the damned question!”
Castle Canaan’s knights surged forward. George and Adam flared, half-encouraged by Kristoph who himself was too wise to enter into a melee. Were there to be fighting, he would let the younger men take the first blows, leaving the easier ones for himself.
Gordon, however, threw out an arm to stop his knights from their aggression while also keeping an eye on Jeremy. His son had a temper that could explode with as little as a misdirected expression. His unpredictability was legendary. When Jeremy had been a young squire fostering at Okehampton Castle, his peers and masters alike had referred to him as Sparky, the lad who ignited into a full-blown rage with the slightest spark. And with his size and strength, an uncontrollable temper was not such a good thing.
To make the situation more volatile, de Wolfe’s junior knights flared, huffing and grunting and throwing insults. Moncrief lashed out a bear-sized hand and smacked George on the helm. Jean-Pierre pulled the burly knight back and into the arms of Raymond Montgomery who, unfortunately, had a temper of his own thanks to his Scottish heritage. He and Moncrief told Adam and George in no small detail what they would do to them should a sword fight ensue.
Scott would not bother himself with men who could not control
their emotions. Knights were cursing and growling, surging like the tides, but he would allow Longbow and Auclair to deal with the unruly bunch. In the midst of it all, he continued to gaze at Jeremy, remaining focused on the original question.
“I’ve come to protect my lands,” he replied evenly. “Why would you oppose me?”
Because Scott was calm, Jeremy found it very easy to maintain his own control even though the knights were verging on a tantrum. “I do not oppose your need to protect your holdings,” he said. “I oppose your need to take possession of Castle Canaan.”
Scott cocked an eyebrow. “Who said I was here to take possession? I am here because Castle Canaan is strategic.” His emotionless façade flickered and his eyes narrowed curiously. “Did you truly think I was here to take Castle Canaan away from you?”
Jeremy nodded slowly. “She is a fine fortress, my lord. Her liege is deceased. What am I to think when you bring an army and demand entrance? Of course you should want to take her.”
Scott could see where this was leading, realizing that the grief of du Rennic’s passing wasn’t the only thing occupying their minds. They obviously feared for their autonomy in light of an absent liege and he was prudent with his answer.
“You are to think that Castle Canaan is mayhap the most valuable property in all of Cumbria,” he said. “These lands you sit upon are particularly vulnerable as well as valuable; and they are my lands. I occupy Castle Canaan to protect the road between Carlisle and points north to Kendal and, subsequently, the heart of Cumbria. Moreover, you have neighbors who have been thirsting for this property, to secure it for those who oppose the king, and if I am here with my army, they will not dare move against it. I do not do this to confiscate du Rennic’s property or threaten your independence, but to secure stability. Don’t you know me better than that, Huntley?”
It was apparent he did not. Or perhaps he did. In any case, Jeremy’s arrogance seemed to deflate. After a moment, he sighed heavily and scratched his head. “We thought you had come…”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 175