DarkWolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  It was an unexpected move, but Rhoswyn was fast and alert. She saw the flash of the blade and stumbled backwards to remove herself from his range, but as he brought his arm down, Troy intercepted him and grabbed him by the wrist.

  Now, the fight was between Troy and Fergus.

  The man had gone after Rhoswyn and Troy wouldn’t stand for any man attacking his wife. Surely, he should have killed him. But in his last flash of sanity before reaching out to snap the man’s neck, he saw the bodies of Fergus’ sons and, in that moment, he realized that one more death would be a waste. Fergus was mad with grief and Troy understood what it was to be mad over the death of a loved one. He understood it all too well. Therefore, in an uncharacteristic display of mercy, he simply disarmed Fergus and shoved him to the ground.

  There had been enough killing already.

  Keith ran to his brother to see to him, putting his hands on Fergus as the man burst into sobs. It was a horrific moment for all concerned and Troy took the dirk in his hand and tossed it, so far that it sailed to the far end of the bailey and even over the wall.

  “Too many have died this morning already,” Troy said. “One more death will not help this situation. I killed in self-defense once, but I will not kill an old man who is out of his head with grief.”

  Keith, on his knees next to his grieving brother, simply nodded his head. “For yer compassion, I thank ye,” he muttered.

  Troy’s gaze lingered on the two brothers a moment. It seemed that they had their own troubles to settle between them. And in seeing Keith and Fergus, somehow Troy was reminded about his own brother, Scott, whom he’d not seen since Athena and Helene’s deaths. Much as he hoped to see his brother again and resolved any issues they may have had between them, he couldn’t deprive Keith and Fergus of the same. It was a bond of brotherhood he understood very well. But even stronger than his understanding of brotherhood was his understanding of the love of a good woman. He’d known that once, too, and it had been the strongest thing in the universe.

  He turned to Rhoswyn.

  She was standing a few feet behind him, her sad gaze moving from her father and her uncle to her husband. The expression on her face was something between hope and sorrow, appreciation and adoration. There were so many things mixed up on her lovely face and Troy pointed a finger at her.

  “I told you that I could not stand to lose another wife,” he said firmly. Then, he lowered his hand and softened his stance. “Nor could I stand to see a brother lose a brother. Rhoswyn, I am coming to think that God has had a hand in bringing you into my life. I had a dream… mayhap someday I will tell you about all of it, but suffice it to say that I was told that I must move on. You were in the dream and you told me that I must come to you. I am here if you want me and for the rest of my life, I shall belong to you and only you. And I will adore you until the day I die.”

  Rhoswyn went to him, standing so close to him that she was brushing against him, her chest to his chest, rain-wet clothing against rain-wet clothing. All of the poets in all the world could not have described the beauty and power of that moment. He was the Sassenach husband she never expected to have, but the man she could not live without. The future was theirs for the taking. Reaching up, she timidly touched his face.

  “And ye have me heart, me faith, and me loyalty until the moment I take me last breath,” she said softly. “I canna promise that I will always be perfect, laddie, but I will always try tae be what ye need me tae be, for now and for always.”

  Troy smiled, pulling her into his arms as the rain stopped falling and the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds. It was the promise of a new day, a new life, and a new love for them both. And somewhere in those bright rays of sunshine, Troy thought he saw a shadow with long blond hair, running amidst the brilliant green hills. He thought he heard laughter, too – Helene’s laughter with the joy that Troy was finally moving on with someone who was most worthy of him.

  It was time.

  Be joyful. And you must move on.

  He had.

  EPILOGUE

  Year of Our Lord 1273

  March

  Castle Questing

  It wasn’t as if she was hiding, because she wasn’t.

  She’d had a specific purpose in mind when she’d left the feast in the great hall of Castle Questing and had gone on a hunt for the chapel.

  It wasn’t as if meeting dozens and dozens of family members had petrified her and chased her right out of the hall, although some might see it that way. She’d met her husband’s brothers, Patrick and James, in a more congenial atmosphere this time, because the first time she’d met them had been in the midst of her unexpected marriage mass. This time around, there was much more friendliness and warmth between all parties. She’d even received a hug from them both, something that had made her feel most wanted and welcome.

  Nay, it wasn’t as if that gang of Sassenach family members had chased her away because she found them all rather pleasant. Troy’s sisters, Evelyn and Kathryn, had been extremely welcoming, as had Brighton, Patrick’s wife, who was also Scots. She’d met the wives and husbands and children, everyone related to Troy and who were now related to her, and she’d honestly never seen such a big family in her entire life. Coming from a relatively small clan, to suddenly acquire such a big family was quite overwhelming.

  But the one person that had been missing from the feast had been Troy’s twin brother, Scott. Troy had told her what had happened to him – how he’d fled after the death of his wife and refused to have anything to do with the family – and it was something that Troy had been deeply hurt by. They were all deeply hurt by it, so when the de Wolfe family spoke of Scott, it was in whispers of sympathy and hope. They were such a tightly-knit family and it was obvious that even missing one of their own was deeply troubling.

  Even so, it was clear there was one person who held the family together, like the stitches on a giant quilt of many patches. Lady Jordan de Wolfe, Troy’s mother, was a Scotswoman to the bone and when she was first introduced to Rhoswyn, she spoke to her in Gaelic for a solid hour before switching to a language everyone could all fully understand. An ageless beauty, Jordan was the heart and soul of the entire family. Rhoswyn could see that immediately, and she felt comforted and welcome by Jordan from the start. Having missed her mother these many years, Rhoswyn was deeply pleased that Troy’s mother was so kind and gracious. She liked her immediately.

  In fact, Jordan sat with her during the entire feast, explaining family relations to her – for example, who Kieran and Jemma Hage were – as well as giving her a taste of her own background and how she and William had met. It was a fascinating story, in truth. As for the extended familial relations, Rhoswyn was told that Kieran was called “uncle” by Troy, but he really wasn’t. He was a cousin, to be exact, because he’d married Jordan’s cousin, Jemma, a fiery Scotswoman who even had Rhoswyn a bit intimidated.

  Jemma was sweet and humorous, but she ruled with an iron fist and was a no-nonsense kind of woman that had Rhoswyn’s stamp of approval. She thought she might even like Jemma more than Jordan, because Jemma was much more like Rhoswyn’s personality. She understood her. And as the evening progressed, she felt more and more at home with Troy’s vast family, a true blending of English and Scots.

  They really weren’t so bad.

  But there was something Rhoswyn had been meaning to do before she and Troy had even arrived at Castle Questing for the great feast, something she’d wanted to do for quite some time. This was the first time since their marriage that they had visited Castle Questing, and as the evening deepened and Troy stood with his brothers, laughing and drinking, Rhoswyn put her plan into action. It started with asking Jordan for directions to the privy.

  Under the guise of going to relieve herself, Rhoswyn slipped from the hall and went on the hunt for Questing’s chapel. But it wasn’t a simple task, by any means. Audric, who was still with them at Monteviot after all these months, and who literally traveled with th
em everywhere, tried to follow her from the hall because he’d become as protective over her as her husband was, something that drove Rhoswyn into angry fits. For a woman who was quite capable of protecting herself, to have men want to protect her was insulting at the very least.

  As if she needed them!

  But it wasn’t only Audric who clung to her like a shadow. Cassius and Sable had come to Castle Questing as well, having become regular visitors to Monteviot. Since Cassius and Sable had no family this far north, Troy was always happy to bring them home to Questing, where Cassius enjoyed his time with the de Wolfe brothers and Sable found great companionship with the woman.

  And this time was no different; while Cassius had spent his time with Troy and the other de Wolfe brothers, Sable had remained steadfast at Rhoswyn’s side. They were best friends now, so they were together quite regularly. But when Rhoswyn left the hall to attend the privy, it was not only Audric that she had to evade, but sweet Sable as well. Both were well-meaning, but Rhoswyn wanted to be alone for what she had in mind.

  She didn’t need an escort.

  Therefore, she felt rather cruel to have ditched her friends in her quest for the chapel, which wasn’t hard to find. It was a long, slender structure built at the far end of the castle complex and the three long, slender lancet windows inlaid with precious colored glass with scenes from the crucifixion told Rhoswyn that it was, indeed, the chapel.

  Beneath the bright sliver moon, she quickly made her way to the building.

  Once inside, it was cold and dark but for several prayer candles burning up at the altar. It gave the chapel a rather eerie glow, with phantom shadows dancing on the wall. Other than the colored glass in the windows, the interior was rather plain with a dirt floor and carved wooden altar. Timidly, Rhoswyn made her way into the chapel because she was specifically looking for something.

  Or someone.

  Her heart was pounding with anticipation, and perhaps a little fear, as she moved. Behind the altar was the burial vault for the de Wolfes as well as for the family that had built Castle Questing, the House of Dudforth. In fact, nearly half of that long, slender chapel was dedicated to the burial vault. Picking up one of the prayer candles from the altar for a little light, Rhoswyn could see that there were several tombs and monuments as she entered the dark, spooky area.

  But she was looking for one in particular.

  Some of the graves were sunk into the ground, with stones announcing who lay beneath, but there were at least six above-ground vaults, three without any effigies, which was usual in these cases, but the other three above-ground vaults did, indeed, have effigies on them. On the right side of the chamber towards the rear, she could see an above-ground vault made from stone that had what looked like a newer effigy on it of a woman.

  When she stood alongside the vault and lifted the candle for a better look, she could see that it was the effigy of a woman holding two young children at her side. At the woman’s feet was a wolf, and on the wolf were inscribed words. Rhoswyn held the candle down low so she could make them out.

  Lady Helene, beloved wife of Troy

  Arista – Acacia

  They are simply sleeping

  This was who she’d been looking for.

  She’d come to pay Lady Helene a visit.

  But it was an emotional moment. Tears came to Rhoswyn’s eyes as she held the candle high again to look at the stone effigies, which hadn’t been painted yet. It was customary to paint the stone or wood effigies to look more lifelike, but these effigies remained unpainted. They were gray and somber looking. Moving to the head of the vault, Rhoswyn found herself looking down at the face of a woman, fine in beauty, who, indeed, appeared as if she were only sleeping with her two young daughters beside her. Rhoswyn sniffled, wiping away the tears that had formed.

  “I… I dunna have much time, but I… I wanted tae speak tae ye,” she whispered. “Ye dunna know me, but me name is Rhoswyn. I married Troy. M’lady… I dunna even know where tae start, but I think ye helped yer husband a while back. He told me ye appeared tae him in a dream and told him that he needed tae move forward. M’lady, if ye did that, then ye have me thanks. He needed tae hear it from ye. I dunna know if he could have done so without it.”

  The only response was the whistle of the night wind outside, singing softly as it blew along the big stone walls. Rhoswyn stood there for a few moments, gazing at the face of the woman Troy had loved before. Instead of jealousy or any sense of competition, all she felt was warmth. Gratitude and warmth. Timidly, she reached out, touching the woman’s cheek.

  “I know he loved ye deeply,” she whispered. “I believe that, deep down, he still does. But he loves me now, too, and I love him. I love him so very much. If… if ye were worried about that, then I can assure ye that he is most loved. I will do me best tae take as good a care of him as ye did when ye were alive. I thought ye should know.”

  More sounds of the wind, blowing gently against the building. Rhoswyn’s hand moved from the effigy’s face down to the left hand, which was placed over the figure’s belly. The right arm held the two girls. Rhoswyn put her fingers over the stone hand for a moment, warm flesh against the cold rock.

  “I… I may come back tae speak tae ye from time tae time,” she said. “Wherever ye are, I know ye still love Troy and I will want ye tae know how he is. I want ye tae be at peace knowin’ he’s well cared for.” She removed her hand from the effigy and stood back, putting that same hand on her gently swollen midsection. “We are expectin’ our first child this summer, in fact. Troy told me that when ye were expectin’, ye spent yer time being sick. I’ve not been sick, thankfully, but I eat everythin’ I can get me hands on. Troy tells me that it means our child will be the greatest son England has ever seen because he’ll be a strong lad.”

  She was grinning as she spoke. But the smile soon faded as she gazed at the effigy’s face one last time. She’d said what she’d wanted to say and time was growing short; she knew that Troy, who kept a close eye on her, would come looking for her if she didn’t return soon and she didn’t want him to find her here. This was a moment between her and Helene, and no one else.

  She wanted to make it count.

  “Sleep well, lassie,” she said softly. “With yer bairns, sleep well. I… I just wanted tae meet ye and tell ye… thank ye. If not for ye, I wouldna know such happiness. I owe ye everythin’. And I will do ye proud.”

  The tears were back and she struggled against them, wiping at them. She kissed her fingers and placed those fingers on Helene’s stone cheek before turning away, feeling as if she’d just accomplished something that was needed for the sake of her soul. She’d been wanting to speak with Helene since her marriage to Troy and now she’d finally had the opportunity.

  So much had happened in the past six months of marriage, so much joy and discovery, and she knew show owed it all to Helene in a sense. Whether or not she’d really appeared to Troy in a dream, or whether or not it was Troy’s overactive imagination, could be debated. But with a little faith, Rhoswyn was willing to believe that Helene had made her presence known.

  And Rhoswyn had been determined to thank her.

  Turning away from the tomb, she had her head down as she headed out of the burial vault. Just as she neared the altar, she heard a noise and she looked up, seeing Troy and his mother standing there. Lady Jordan was weeping softly and even Troy had tears in his eyes. By the looks on their faces, Rhoswyn knew they had heard most, if not all, of what she’d said and she felt rather apprehensive about it.

  She’d been found.

  “I dinna know ye were here,” she said to them. “Why did ye not say somethin’?”

  Troy sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “Because that would have been interrupting something unerringly beautiful,” he said, leaving his mother to go to her. “We were just coming out of the hall to look for you when we saw you come into the chapel. Please do not think we were eavesdropping; we simply did not want to interrupt you.”

&nbs
p; Rhoswyn shook her head. “I dinna think ye were eavesdroppin’,” she said. “Are ye angry?”

  He shook his head, putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing her forehead. “Never,” he murmured. “The depth of your compassion and honor continues to amaze me, Lady de Wolfe. For what you said to Helene… you have my undying gratitude. I know it would have made Helene very happy.”

  Rhoswyn was relieved that he wasn’t angry with her for slipping away from the feast or, worse, invading Helene’s sanctuary. But she still wanted to explain herself.

  “I felt as if I needed tae show me respect tae her,” she said. “In a sense, I’m followin’ in her footsteps. I know she meant a lot tae this family, so I felt it was right tae honor her.”

  “I’d expect nothin’ less from ye, lass,” Jordan said, reaching out and taking hold of Rhoswyn’s hand. “And ye mean a lot tae this family, too. I know Helene is proud of ye. Now, come with me. ’Tis cold in here and we must take good care of ye and the babe.”

  Rhoswyn allowed herself to be dragged along by Jordan, who was being very motherly and sweet with her. She cast a look at Troy as she walked away, suggesting that she was quite happy with Jordan’s attentions. It had been a long time since she’d known the warmth of a mother.

  Troy moved to follow the pair but something held him back. He found himself turning towards the tomb of his first wife and two youngest daughters, going to stand next to the stone vault and gazing down upon the trio. Normally, moments like this would have been deeply painful for him. But since his marriage to Rhoswyn, since he’d been able to do so much healing, now all he felt was bittersweet memories of what had been. But he did bend over to kiss Helene’s effigy on the cheek, softly.

  “You would like her,” he whispered. “She is honest and loving, much as you were, but unlike you, there are times when she scares the hell out of me. Give that woman a sword and she can do some damage. Remind me to tell you more the next time I see you.”