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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was a very old woman with no teeth and a nearly bald head that she kept covered with an old kerchief. When she saw the lord and his wife, she curtsied unsteadily and bustled from the room. Bhrodi and Penelope could see Tacey over near the hearth, seated in a cushioned chair with a table of food spread out before her. When Tacey caught sight of her brother and Penelope, she struggled to her feet.

  “Did they leave yet?” she asked.

  Bhrodi entered the room, followed by Penelope. “They did indeed,” he said. “Lady Jordan bid you farewell last night, didn’t she?”

  Tacey nodded, her attention drawn to Penelope. Over the past few days, the very timid and frightened young woman had come out of her shell somewhat. Now, she wasn’t nearly as nervous in the presence of others. She smiled hesitantly at Penelope, daughter of the woman who had been more of a mother to her in the few short days that she had known her than her own had been in her entire life.

  “Your mother gave me a muff made from fox fur,” she said, pointing to the muff as it lay by the pillow on her bed. “I slept with it last night.”

  Penelope couldn’t help but smile. “I am glad you like it so much,” she said. “My mother is fond of you.

  “And I am fond of her,” she said quickly, looking to her brother. “When do you think they will come back to visit? Or can we go and visit them? I have never been to England.”

  Bhrodi patted her shoulder. “We cannot go anywhere until your son is born,” he said, watching her face fall. “But perhaps we can go later in the year when the child is older. I am sure my wife would like to see her family soon.”

  Penelope thought on her family, so recently departed, and tried not to become weepy again so she simply nodded her head. Bhrodi, sensing her sadness, wasn’t particular adept at handling female emotion. He sought to change the subject, turning to his sister.

  “It looks as if you have already eaten your morning meal,” he said. “Penelope and I were going to eat in hall downstairs. Do you wish to come with us?”

  Tacey nodded eagerly, thrilled to be included. She rushed at Penelope and latched onto her hand.

  “Have you ever been to Scotland?” she asked Penelope as they walked from the chamber. “Your mother told me that the hills are covered with purple flowers. Have you ever seen such a thing?”

  Penelope smiled weakly at the young woman, forcing herself from her sorrowful thoughts. “I have,” she said. They began to take the stairs down to the lower level. “My grandfather lived in Scotland and we went often to visit him. My mother still has kin there; her father was chief of the Clan Scott.”

  Tacey was duly impressed. “A chief?” she repeated, awed. “Is that like a king?”

  Penelope carefully helped Tacey down the last of the steps because the girl wasn’t paying much attention to where she was going; she was more interested in talking.

  “It is, in a way,” Penelope said as they reached the second floor entry. The feasting hall was off to the left. “A chief is head of a family and often it is hundreds of people.”

  Bhrodi was listening to the conversation as he followed them. “But if you are Scots, then your king is Alexander from the House of Dunkeld, except that Edward wishes to be king over Scotland, too,” he said, winking at Tacey as she turned to look at him. “A country can only have one king.”

  “But our ancestors were kings,” Tacey insisted as they moved into the feasting hall with its malfunctioning hearth spitting ribbons of smoke into the air. “They were the kings of Anglesey.”

  Bhrodi nodded. “That is true.”

  “Why were they not king of all of Wales?”

  They had reached the feasting table where Ianto, Ivor, Yestin, and Gwyllim were seated, eating their morning meal. The men looked up as Bhrodi and the women approached, moving down the table so that Bhrodi and the ladies could be seated. The serving women hired by Jordan began moving in, setting down cups and pitchers of warmed wine and great loaves of bread.

  In fact, it was a bit of a feast and Bhrodi eyed the women strangely simply because he wasn’t used to having them around. Mornings meals before their arrival usually consisted of whatever was left on the table from the night before. He felt rather odd, watching as one of the women patted Tacey on the shoulder and told her she would bring her some warmed milk. Seeing his sister’s face light up when the woman was kind to her somehow took away the oddness he was feeling. Instead, it was replaced by guilt. Had he really been mistreating her all of these months under the guise of protection? He was pondering that very question when Tacey spoke.

  “Well?” she said, tearing into a warm loaf of bread. “Why can’t there be one king of all of Wales?”

  Bhrodi poured himself some warmed, watered-down wine. He sniffed it; it smelled of spice. “Because,” he said, sipping his wine, “Wales has had many separate kingdoms. There was never one man to bring them all together like there was in England or Scotland.”

  Tacey chewed thoughtfully. “Why aren’t you king of Anglesey now? Everyone says it is your hereditary title but I do not understand why. Why aren’t you king?”

  Bhrodi pulled another loaf of hard-crusted bread apart and handed half to Penelope as she sat silently next to him. “Because our grandfather’s grandfather gave up that right to the Kings of Gwynedd,” he said. “He was defeated by Owain Gwynedd in battle and was forced to swear fealty to him. We have been loyal to the House of ap Gruffydd ever since.”

  “But I married into that house.”

  “I know you did, which is why your son is so important to us.”

  Tacey chewed on her bread, looking between Penelope and Bhrodi. “What about your children?” she asked. “Will they be very important, too?”

  Bhrodi nodded as a serving woman put a big trencher of eggs mixed with cheese in front of him. “They will be the most important of all because they will be my sons,” he said, casting Penelope a side-long glance. “All twelve of them.”

  Penelope, who had so far sat silent and brooding during the conversation, thinking of her departed family, suddenly lifted her head and looked at him. He smiled quite boldly at her, full of mischief, and she couldn’t help but grin. She shook her head reproachfully.

  “I told you no boys,” she said. “Only girls.”

  Bhrodi made a face at her and Tacey giggled. But Penelope’s mood seemed to have lightened a bit and Bhrodi spooned some eggs onto her trencher. Tacey picked up her spoon and dug into the pile of eggs, eating straight off the platter. She was ravenous and Bhrodi watched her shovel eggs into her mouth, thinking it rather amusing. He didn’t have the heart to call her off. Next to him, Penelope was forcing food into her mouth although she didn’t feel much like eating. Her gaze lingered on the men towards the end of the table.

  “These men are always with you,” she murmured to Bhrodi. “I have seen them since the day I arrived and they assisted us last night in fighting off the ambush, but you have never introduced me to them. Who are they?”

  Bhrodi looked at the group at the end of the table. “Are you for certain you have not met them? I was sure you had.”

  Penelope shook her head. “With everything that has gone on since my arrival, there has not been the opportunity.”

  Bhrodi wriggled his eyebrows at his oversight. “Then you will forgive me,” he said, reaching out to thump Ianto on the arm. “Ianto, my wife tells me you have not formally met her.”

  Ianto shook his head, his gaze lingering on Penelope. “Not formally, no, but I certainly know who she is.”

  Bhrodi frowned. “Then I am a poor husband indeed to allow my wife to mingle with people she has never been introduced to,” he said as he began pointing from right to left. “Lady de Shera, this is Ianto ap Huw. He is my older cousin and a wiser man you will never meet. Next to him is Ivor ap Bando, who has been my friend for many years. That boney man with the dark hair is Yestin ap Bran and last but not least is Gwyllim ap Evan. He is my voice of reason in all things. These men are my teulu, the commanders of my person
al guard, and they will serve you as well. They are here for your protection.”

  Penelope nodded her head politely at each man in succession but she didn’t have much to say to them. She was still lingering in depression over her family’s departure so she turned back to her food and pretended to eat it. She was really just playing with it. Bhrodi watched her from the corner of his eye, trying not to stare because he didn’t want to offend her. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what more to do in order to cheer her up but he was determined to try. He’d never been in a position like this before, wanting very much to make someone other than himself happy. It was a foreign concept.

  It occurred to him as he watched his wife pick through her food that this was the first time he had truly been alone with her. Before, there had always been her family, always someone to intervene, or to interfere. He’d spent time with her, that was true, but her family had always been lingering about. Now, it was just the two of them facing this new life together. He had to take charge of the relationship if there was ever going to be any hope of building a good one. He thought they had a decent foundation but he wanted it to be better. He’d had a good marriage with Sian and had missed it terribly, but Penelope was completely different. He very desperately wanted things to be good between them. He was more than willing to try. He was about to suggest a trip into the village of Pendraeth to visit the merchants there when they all heard a cracking sound in the southeast corner of the hall.

  It was darkened in the recesses of the D-shaped room but as Bhrodi turned to see what the commotion was about, he could see his uncle’s wardrobe lingering in the shadows. The furniture had been in the great hall but when the hall burned, the teulu had dragged it out so it would not burn and kill the little man within it.

  Bhrodi had realized his uncle had been pulled to safety early that morning, as the de Wolfe party was assembling, when he had gone over to the hall to survey the damage and had noticed the wardrobe lingering out in the bailey. He’d had his men bring it into the keep. Now, the tiny man inside was beginning to stir.

  Penelope, of course, had never seen the uncle nor did she have any knowledge of him. They’d never crossed paths. The moment the wardrobe began to rock and crack, she would have bolted from her seat had Bhrodi not reached out to grab her. He held her fast as the little man burst forth from his wardrobe and began his mad dance in the darkened corners of the hall.

  “Not to fear,” Bhrodi said quietly as they both watched the figure in the shadows. “That is my uncle. He lives in the wardrobe and emerges now and again to fight an unseen enemy. Can you see him in the darkness with his imaginary sword? He had been doing that for at least thirty years, as long as I can recall. He is quite mad but he will not harm you so long as you do not interfere or try to stop him. He lives in his world and we live in ours, and they do not cross.”

  Penelope watched, wide-eyed, as the man, no larger than Tacey, leapt and grunted in his battle against his invisible foe.

  “Your uncle?” she repeated, glancing at him although her focus was still on the dancing figure.

  He nodded. “My grandfather’s brother,” he said. “He is extremely old but, as you can see, still quite spry.”

  As they watched, the old man suddenly fell to the ground as if he had been gored. He rolled around as if in great pain, hand over his shoulder, until eventually dragging himself up from the ground and, as if he were harboring a terrible wound, he stumbled across the floor until he reached his wardrobe. Pulling himself inside, he shut the door softly. Astonished, Penelope turned her full attention to Bhrodi.

  “He does this every night?” she asked.

  He nodded, resigned. “Every night,” he confirmed. “Do you recall when we were leaving the great hall last night? His wardrobe doors were chained and you asked me why.”

  Penelope remembered clearly. “Because you keep him locked in there?”

  He shrugged. “He lives in there and one of my men had the presence of mind to lock the doors so he would not interrupt our wedding feast,” he winked at her. “Nothing like a mad uncle to liven up any occasion.”

  Penelope thought on that a moment. “He lives in there?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Mayhap he would have stopped those men from attacking my family had his doors been unlocked.”

  “Or he would have helped them. With old Evan, there is no knowing what he will do.”

  Penelope thought the same thing her father had at that moment; an interesting family, she reflected. A very interesting place she now found herself mistress over. It would take some getting used to.

  Tacey, who was still shoving eggs into her mouth, hadn’t paid much attention to the old uncle because she’d seen him before, many times. However, she had been listening to her brother’s explanation of the man.

  “Have you ever tried to speak to him, Bhrodi?” she asked, mouth full.

  He looked at his little sister with egg on her lips. “Nay,” he said. “He has been insane since I was a young boy. Mother told me to stay out of his way and I always have.”

  An oddity, indeed. As Tacey shrugged and went back to her eggs, Penelope’s thoughts lingered on the insane uncle and she resumed trying to eat something of her meal but was fairly unsuccessful. She didn’t feel like eating at all. She felt like going upstairs and sitting with her brother and Kevin. Disoriented and sad, she felt like going where she knew there were familiar people.

  “With your permission, my lord, I should like to go and sit with my brother for a while,” she said.

  Bhrodi didn’t want her to leave. He could feel her slipping away from him and he didn’t want her out of his sight. If he had to overwhelm her with his presence in order to warm her to him again, then he would. He knew of no other way. As she moved to stand, he put his hand on her arm.

  “Wait,” he said. “The surgeon is seeing to your wounded friends and they are well tended. I would like to take you into the village of Pendraeth this morning. It is the biggest village in my realm and I would like for the vassals to see my new wife.”

  “I would like to go, too!” Tacey exclaimed. “You told me once that there is a vendor there who sells sweets! I would like some!”

  Penelope looked between Bhrodi and Tacey, seeing their eager faces and realizing she couldn’t refuse. She was a part of their world now and needed to participate. Resigned, she nodded her head.

  “Very well,” she said. “If that is your wish.”

  “It is,” Bhrodi said, relieved she hadn’t refused him. “Will you change into appropriate clothing? I should like my vassals to see you well dressed.”

  Penelope looked down at what she was wearing; having been up all night with her family, she was still in the leather breeches, the undershirt, and the tunic she had thrown on. The one difference was that she had her boots on. She was comfortable in her usual attire but she knew that Bhrodi wanted her in regal women’s clothing. Inwardly, she sighed; she had never been any good at dressing in women’s clothing. She had no idea what to wear with what, or what colors matched, or any of the things she should have known. But she knew she had to learn. It was one more thing to make her day unhappy.

  “I will go now,” she said, standing up. “I… I shall return shortly.”

  “I will go with you,” Tacey announced, standing up as well. “I would like to help you.”

  Penelope smiled weakly at the girl, knowing she was about to make a fool out of herself in front of her with her ignorant dressing habits. “My thanks,” she said, although she didn’t mean it. “I would be… honored.”

  Tacey smiled brightly and grasped her hand, pulling her from the hall. As they went, Tacey called out to the first serving woman she came across, one who was bringing more drink into the hall.

  “We are going to dress,” she announced to the woman. “Send someone up with warmed water.”

  The serving wench nodded and went about her business as Tacey practically dragged Penelope up the stairs. The young girl was eager to be of
use and Penelope wished she could jump out of the window.

  Now she was the wife of a warlord and the time was finally upon her to dress the part. God, she was dreading it. All of it. She missed her family and was unhappy to be in this strange and new world. She had told her father that she had not been opposed to this marriage and she hadn’t been in theory, but the reality was something new entirely. Terrible creatures, rebelling chieftains, an insane uncle, and her new role in life were all contributing to great regrets. She didn’t belong here. She wanted to go home.

  Sneaking away from Rhydilian and running to catch up with her father’s party was looking better by the second.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Pendraeth Village

  There are Welsh everywhere.

  That’s what Penelope thought as she rode into the village of Pendraeth in the company of her husband, her sister-in-law, and her husband’s teulu. Since most of them had ridden out with her father’s party, only about forty were available to escort them into town. It was like being in the belly of the enemy, but in this case, they were not the enemy at all. They were her vassals. Bhrodi’s teulu were dressed in their traditional garments, tunics of red that were plain, no crests as the English wore, and they carried nothing but spears and crossbows with them. It was all quite strange considering when Penelope had ever traveled with her father, they wore mail, plate armor, helmets, shields, and were generally armed to the teeth. The Welsh didn’t do that and it was all quite puzzling to her.

  Even more puzzling was the fact that she was not dressed in her usual traveling attire; with Tacey’s help, she had donned some of the clothing in her trousseau that her mother and aunts had made for her; she had on a fine, soft shift and over that she wore a gown of lavender wool, snug in the bodice and sleeves, with a full skirt that she had already tripped on twice. Over the lavender gown she wore a coat of pale ivory that was tight at the waist but ended just below her hips. It was lined with white rabbit fur, very elegant and warm. Instead of her usual boots, she wore fine doeskin slippers. For as lovely as she looked, she was absolutely miserable.