DarkWolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Were ye here yesterday when me pa and I arrived?” she asked.

  Audric nodded. “I was.”

  “Did ye see the challenge?”

  He knew what she meant. “Ye mean when ye kicked de Wolfe in his man parts?” he asked. When she nodded, a rather horrified expression on her face by his blunt description of what she’d done, he continued. “Aye, I saw it.”

  Rhoswyn eyed him, half-embarrassed. “I told him I had tae do it,” she said. “Had I not tried tae disable him at the first, he would have destroyed me.”

  Audric shrugged. “Ye did what ye had tae do, lass.”

  “Do ye think he’ll forgive me for it?”

  “If what I saw today was any indication, I think he already has.”

  Rhoswyn was very interested to hear that. “Do ye believe so?”

  Audric nodded. “I do,” he said. “I had time tae speak with de Wolfe yesterday a little, before ye came. He seems like a reasonable man, for a Sassenach. I think ye could have done much worse for a husband.”

  Rhoswyn was vastly grateful and vastly relieved to hear the priest’s opinion. She looked around the kitchen yard, to the steaming pots, to the pile of boiled eggs, and felt fortified by what she’d been told. If it was true that Troy had forgiven her for their rough introduction, then that was all she could ask for.

  “I suppose time will tell,” she said, a note of hope in her tone. “Let’s show him how the Scots can make a meal, shall we? I’ll finish out here if ye’ll go intae the hall and make sure it’s ready for the food. And make sure there’s a fire in the hearth?”

  Audric nodded. “Are ye sure ye wouldna like to go do that? I can tend the food.”

  Rhoswyn shook her head firmly. “Ye’ve helped so much already and I’m very grateful. But he’s me husband… I’ll bring his food.”

  Audric wasn’t entirely sure he should leave her alone with the final preparations for the meal, but he didn’t dispute her. She wanted to do it herself, so he would do as she asked. Heading out of the kitchen yard and towards the hall, he truly hoped Troy would appreciate all of the trouble his new wife was going through for him. She was trying very hard, and Troy had noticed, but Audric thought he might say a little something more to the knight to let him know just how hard she had worked. For a lass who knew nothing of kitchens or cooking, she’d put in a tremendous effort.

  William de Wolfe had asked Audric to remain and help the newlywed couple, and Audric took that request to heart. Before he headed to the hall, he sought out Troy to tell the man of the great effort his new and inexperienced wife had gone through, just for him. Perhaps it would endear the lass to her new husband, just a little. For certain, for the effort she’d put in, she deserved it.

  Whether or not the food was any good.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It wasn’t.

  Troy sat at one of the three big tables in the hall of Monteviot, looking at the meal that had been placed before him.

  The food wasn’t any good.

  The beef hadn’t been cooked long enough and the carrots were mushy and full of grit. The bread didn’t seem too bad, but that was the only thing edible that was put in front of him. Rhoswyn herself had put the trencher of food in front of him and even now, smiled bashfully as he looked up at her. Troy could see just how hopeful she was that he approved of the meal she prepared. God, he just couldn’t break her heart.

  “You did this all yourself, did you?” he asked.

  Rhoswyn shrugged. “The priest helped me,” she said. “I dunna even remember the man’s name, but he helped me a great deal.”

  Troy looked down at his food again, a steaming mess of inedible slop. “Audric is his name,” he said, scratching his neck as a delaying tactic. He knew he had to eat it but he wasn’t eager to get started. “So… you did the cooking yourself, did you?”

  He couldn’t think of anything else to ask, but Rhoswyn didn’t notice. She thought it was more of his flattery. She had another bowl in her hand, something she’d brought into the hall along with Troy’s trencher, and she set it on the table in front of him.

  “I boiled the eggs meself,” she said. “There are not very many, so I thought ye could have yer fill of them before offerin’ the rest tae the men.”

  Troy grabbed at the eggs immediately; he took at least six. They were still in their shells so he had to peel them, which was no great hardship. Thank God there was something edible at the meal! He cracked one on the table top and began to peel it.

  “Could you bring me some salt for these eggs?” he asked politely.

  Rhoswyn nodded eagerly and dashed from the hall. But it was a tactic, really, to get her out of there. Troy waited until she had fled the chamber before standing up with his trencher in hand. There were already a few dozen men in the hall, who hadn’t yet been served, and he emitted a piercing whistle between his teeth to get their attention. When they looked at him, expectantly, he held up the trencher.

  “Listen, lads,” he hissed loudly, as loudly as he could without shouting. “You’ll not repeat what I’m about to tell you, do you hear me? You are about to be served inarguably one of the worst meals you will ever know, but if one of you makes a disparaging comment about it, I’ll cut your tongue out and heave you over the walls. Lady de Wolfe has tried very hard to make a good meal, so on her effort alone, we shall not be cruel. Eat what you can and give the rest to the dogs. I’m afraid you’ll go hungry this night.”

  The men looked at him with a combination of confusion and apprehension, mumbling to each other.

  “What’s wrong with it, my lord?” one of the men asked.

  Troy tried not to roll his eyes; there were many answers to that simple question. “You will know when you see it,” he said. “But not a word, do you hear? Be polite.”

  He was about to say something more when he could see movement by the hall entry and Audric entered, carrying two big trenchers of food. Quickly, Troy turned his back to the priest and dumped half of the meat and most of the carrots onto the edge of the fire pit. The dogs were hovering and, smelling the meat, raced to wolf it down. Troy then rushed back to his seat at the table just about the time Rhoswyn came back into the hall, carrying a small bowl of salt. Troy smiled pleasantly at her as she returned to the table, handing him the salt.

  “Thank you, my lady,” he said, resuming cracking and peeling eggs as she hovered over him. “Will you not sit and eat with me?”

  Rhoswyn nodded. “I will once yer men have been served,” she said. “We have no servants, ye see, and someone has tae serve them, and… well, I was hoping that we might have a few servants at some point soon. It would make me work easier. Do ye think ye can send for some?”

  Troy nodded. “Indeed, I will,” he said. “I can send to Kale Water or even Questing and have a half-dozen sent over to help you, including a cook. Would… would you like to have a cook?”

  A cook! The thought of having a real cook was terribly attractive and Rhoswyn tried not to respond too eagerly to the suggestion. She thought Troy might be disappointed in her willingness to work if she did.

  “Aye,” she said. “I believe that would be very helpful. I am not a very good cook and yer men need someone who can make them a good meal. I am afraid I can do very little.”

  Troy muttered a silent prayer – thank God she is willing to accept a cook! At least the woman was willing to admit she needed help. That made his life much, much easier because too many days of not eating what she was trying to feed them would leave him with starving men. The Scots could attack and they’d be too weak with hunger to fight them off. Or perhaps that had been Rhoswyn and Keith’s plan all along… had he been the suspicious type, he could believe that.

  It would have been a brilliant plan.

  Starve them all out with bad cooking!

  “You have done a remarkable job for someone who has never worked in a kitchen before,” he praised her, watching her flush. “Go on, now; finish serving my men so that you may sit and enjoy you
r meal with me.”

  Rhoswyn flashed him a grin and was off, seemingly happier than Troy had ever seen her. It was remarkable, really. He watched her as she quit the hall before turning back to the eggs that would undoubtedly be his only food that night. But in doing so, he happened to look at his men who had been served food.

  Now, they understood what he’d meant.

  The men were looking at their trenchers as if dead puppies were lying all over them, eyebrows lifted and fighting off expressions of disgust. Troy felt guilty that he was the only one with the eggs, but such were the privileges of command. He was going to stuff himself with the eggs and be thankful for them. He had just salted one liberally and shoved it into his mouth as Audric came by his table.

  “M’lord,” he said, eyeing the room. “I dunna know if ye’ve noticed, but sup tonight is… is…”

  “Inedible,” Troy said quietly. “I noticed.”

  “She wouldna let me help with it after a certain point. I couldna do anythin’ for ye.”

  Troy sighed faintly. “Do you know how to cook?”

  “I do. I worked in the kitchens of Jedburgh as a lad.”

  “Thank God. Is there anything else you can cook while I keep her away from the kitchens? My men need to eat something and I do not wish to upset her when she realizes we cannot eat what she’s prepared.”

  Audric nodded. “I saw the cheese in the vault,” he said. “I’ll bring that out and I’ll make more bread. A couple of yer men are bringin’ out a barrel of wine, so the cheese and bread and wine should be enough tae get them through the night.”

  It was better than nothing at all and Troy nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Do what you can. She is trying very hard to help and I do not want her hurt or offended, but we must do something for the sake of my men.”

  “Agreed, m’lord.”

  “See to it.”

  Audric nodded and wandered off as Troy watched some of his men try to eat the gritty carrots, spitting them out back onto the trencher. The dogs were happy as the men fed them the poorly cooked beef but, to the credit of the men, they were doing it under the table so the lady wouldn’t see.

  Troy had to admit that he was rather pleased to see that his men were following his command and unwilling to upset his new wife. Being that they’d been stationed on the borders for many years, at least most of them, many of them had lost friends and family to the Scots over the years. But it was also true that they served the House of de Wolfe and William’s wife, Lady Jordan, was a Scot.

  As Troy had pointed out, there were many Scot wives, now including Rhoswyn, so his men were accustomed to treating the wives of their lords, Scots or not, with respect. Troy was pleased to see that Rhoswyn immediately fell into that category.

  Troy was on his fourth egg when he heard a commotion from outside in the bailey. He could hear men shouting at each other, enough so that it captured his attention and he swallowed the food in his mouth, rising from the table and heading to the door about the time Rhoswyn was coming in with two more trenchers in hand.

  Rhoswyn’s attention was on the bailey but she caught sight of her husband as he came to stand next to her.

  “I think ye have visitors,” she said. “The gates are openin’.”

  Troy nodded. “Hopefully, my people from Kale Water have arrived,” he said. “Remember? I told you I would send for my knight and his wife?”

  Rhoswyn looked at him, full of uncertainty now. “They would come so soon?”

  He shrugged. “It is not far from here, as I said. It will only take a man at a normal pace a couple of hours at most to arrive here, so I am sure these visitors have come from Kale.”

  Rhoswyn’s attention returned to the riders and wagons that were coming in through the gate. It occurred to her that if there were any visitors at Monteviot, then it was her job, as chatelaine, to make them comfortable. That realization brought on a whole new set of worries.

  “Then I… I suppose I must make sure they are welcome,” she said. “Where will they sleep? Never ye mind. I’ll find a place. And sup! Surely they must be hungry!”

  With that, she quickly set the trenchers she was carrying on the nearest table and before Troy could stop her, she was rushing off to bring more bad food for his guests. But she was doing it so eagerly. Slightly mortified at the thought, Troy headed out into the bailey to see who, exactly, had arrived.

  The bailey of Monteviot was lit by a dozens of brightly burning torches, staving off the dark Scottish night, as the party from Kale Water Castle entered. As Troy approached the first wagon, he could see Lady Sable de Shera sitting on the bench next to the driver while her husband, Cassius, was at the head of the column astride his big gray rouncey. Cassius caught sight of him and swung his horse around, calling to Troy and bringing the man to a halt.

  “My lord!” he called, lifting a gloved hand. “C-Congratulations on your great victory over the Scots!”

  Troy wasn’t surprised that it was the first thing out of Cassius’ mouth, because he knew the man would praise the victory over the reivers before even mentioning what else he’d been told, about the surprising marriage to a Kerr lass. Troy stood there, a smile playing on his lips, as Cassius reined his horse close to Troy and dismounted.

  “It was not much of a battle, to be truthful,” he said as Cassius came close. “We managed to breach the walls easily but the tower was something of a challenge. That was what took the most effort.”

  Cassius listened with envy; he’d very much wanted to go on the battle march to Monteviot but Troy had forced him to remain behind with Brodie in case there was trouble at Kale or the Lair as a result of the action down at Monteviot.

  “What happened?” Cassius asked with great interest. “D-Did the reivers refuse to surrender it?”

  Troy nodded. Then, he sniffed the air. “Smell it?”

  Cassius sniffed, too. He could smell a hint of smoke. “I think so,” he said. “D-Did you burn it out?”

  Troy glanced up at the big, block-shaped tower. “We burned the roof, which collapsed, but the interior is mostly made of stone, so smoke did most of the damage. However, we did have some burned bodies. It was not a pretty sight.”

  Cassius looked up at the tower because Troy was. “I w-wish I had been here to see it,” he said. “It must have been a glorious sight.”

  Cassius was young and still looked to battle as glorious and thrilling, something that the older knights had since gotten over. Troy lifted his eyebrows. “It was especially glorious when the Scots poured buckets of piss on Corbin, Case, and Kevin from the top of the tower because those three were verbally harassing them, shouting ridiculous demands. That was the best part of the entire battle.”

  Cassius’ eyes widened. “Say it is not so!”

  Troy started to grin at the mere memory of the enraged young English knights, covered in piss. “Believe me, Cass. The three of them deserved it.”

  He chuckled as Cassius thought on the thoroughly un-glorious mental image. “K-Knowing them as I have come to, I must say that I do not doubt your word, but it must have been quite humiliating for them,” he said. Then, he eyed Troy. “Speaking of humiliation – the challenge Red Keith Kerr put upon you…”

  Troy knew that subject would come as the focus of the conversation shifted. “It was interesting, to say the least,” he said, casual in his reply as if it were nothing to get worked up over. “He proposed a man-on-man battle, the winner of which would relay the terms for Monteviot. Assuming that Keith would ask for his fortress returned, my father pitted me against a warrior of Keith’s choice, who happened to be the man’s daughter. She was smart about it; she knew she could not best me in a fight, so she used the element of surprise. Damned if she didn’t catch me off-guard and, in that brief moment, she won the challenge. It was Keith who dictated that a warrior of my father’s choosing should marry his daughter.”

  Cassius was looking at him with a good deal of chagrin. “Then you did marry the lass who bested you?”
>
  “I did.”

  Cassius shook his head, unsure what more to say. He didn’t want to make Troy feel badly about what had happened, but the truth was that Troy wasn’t behaving as if he felt badly at all. In fact, he didn’t seem upset in the least. That left Cassius somewhat confused.

  “I brought Sable because you said your new wife required help,” he said. “Troy, your new wife isn’t… belligerent, is she? I do not want Sable exposed to a woman who wants to tear her hair out simply because she is English.”

  Troy understood the man’s fear. “She is not belligerent, but she’s not a meek and submissive woman, either,” he said. “She is trying very hard to adapt to this marriage, as am I, but the truth is that Red Keith Kerr raised his only child as a warrior. Rhoswyn is a fighter, Cass. She has no idea how to do anything a woman should know how to do, and Sable is the best woman to teach her. Your wife is kind and patient, and I believe Rhoswyn will respond to that.”

  Cassius was still dubious. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sable being lifted out of the wagon by one of the soldiers, so he went over to collect her. Troy followed, and soon it was the three of them standing next to the wagon as Sable smiled at her husband’s liege.

  “My lord,” she said, bobbing a curtsy because it was protocol even though Troy was a dear friend to both her and Cassius. “Congratulations on your mighty victory.”

  Troy dipped his head at the woman; he genuinely liked Sable, a very lovely and kind woman. “Thank you, Lady de Shera.”

  “And your wife? Should I offer congratulations on that, as well?”

  Troy broke into a wry smile at the very honest question. “I am not sure if congratulations are in order, but you can wish us well as we both embark on a marriage that was unplanned to say the least,” he said. “As I was telling your husband, my wife seems to be trying her best to become accustomed to what has occurred, but she desperately needs your help.”