Winter of the White Wolf (Noble Heart Book 4)

by Cynthia Griffith

  Noble took him by the arm, not caring that it was the injured arm he grasped and that Foster flinched. He led him to the edge of the crevasse before speaking. “I do not fear for Aber, Foster. The townspeople have been warned. Your men will not find them unprepared this time. Neither I nor the people of Aber will stand alone against your gang, for help is on its way, as well. And as for you, I do not plan to hide you away in the inn. You will be my prisoner, but right here, not in the warmth and comfort of the inn!” With that Noble gave the Wolf a shove into the crevasse.

  Foster cried out in fear and shock as he fell into the deep crack in the earth. He had not thought the young knight had it in him to do such a thing!

  Noble stood at the edge and peered down into the shadows of his makeshift prison. Foster lay at the bottom, angry and sputtering the mouthful of dirt he had eaten in the fall, but unhurt. He glanced at the other two prisoners. A broken leg, two broken arms and one securely bound in a deep pit. They would not be going anywhere.

  Noble turned to go back to the horses. A howl rose from the crevasse. “No-o-o!” Foster screamed. “You cannot leave us here like this! The wolves! They’ll come back and we are helpless against them!”

  Noble went back. “I can and I will leave you here, Foster. You will soon face the judgment of the king, and someday you will face the judgment of One even greater, the Almighty King. If you do not repent of your evil ways and accept the forgiveness and grace of His Son, He will cast you into the bottomless pit. For today, however, I am your judge, and I sentence you to this place where you will be unable to hurt anyone else, unless it is these two who were foolish and wicked enough to follow you in the first place. I do not think you need fear the wolves. They cannot reach you down there, and I do not think they would be as stupid as some, and fall into my trap.”

  He walked away, ignoring the screams of rage from Foster and the pitiful cries for help from Sharkey and Grimes. They would have a long, cold wait, but he would return with help to get them out of the crevasse and back to Caernarfon, and by then perhaps they would be more than ready, even thankful, to go peacefully.

  Darkness was falling in the forest as Noble rode out of the clearing. His thoughts were now for Aber. What was happening back in the village? Master Locke and his friends Willy and Jacob were not young men, but Locke was smart and well-liked. Noble did not doubt that the innkeeper could organize the townspeople into some kind of defense. He was anxious to get back there, though. Until the king’s men arrived they would need every set of hands they could find, especially those that were skilled with the sword.

  The horses were no less eager to return to the inn than their young master. They would be disappointed to find their stable gone, but at least the open air of the village would be preferable to the dangers of the woods at night. They were still skittish after the close encounter with the white wolf, and it did not help that even now as they pressed through shadows under the trees they heard howling off in the distance. Lacey pushed up against Brownie whenever she could, her ears laid back flat against her head and her eyes rolling. Noble murmured soft words of encouragement to them and tried to ignore the little hairs that stood up on the back of his own neck.

  The moon was high in the sky when at last they reached the edge of the forest and came out into the field behind the inn. The snow clouds had cleared away and now the silver disc rode proudly like a ship upon a deep blue ocean, silhouetting the old stone building against the snow and sky. There were no lights to be seen in the inn, or even in the village that lay just beyond it. If it had not been for the full moon a passerby might have missed it altogether, for Aber was dark and silent and still in the black night.

  Noble rode into the courtyard of the inn and dismounted. The stable across the way looked forlorn with its roof caved in and the wooden doors burnt away. Its stone walls were blackened by smoke and soot. Even the snow that had fallen since the fire could not hide the ugliness of the destruction The Wolf had caused. Brownie and Lacey were eyeing the burnt-out stable. Their heads hung dejectedly. Noble gave them a pat. He felt bad for them, but there was nothing he could do for them just yet, so he tied them to the gate and turned back toward the inn.

  “Stop! Who goes there?” a voice suddenly rang out from the doorway.

  Noble’s hand went to the sword at his side. It was the voice of an old man. Not Locke’s or Willy’s or Jacob’s, though. He did not recognize it. For a moment he stood still. Finally he answered, “Sir Noble Heart. I am looking for Master Locke.” If it were one of Foster’s men they would not have asked questions. They would have let him walk into a trap, or perhaps sent an arrow flying at him first.

  “Sir Noble!” another voice exclaimed—Locke’s. The door opened and the dim glow from a small fire in the fireplace lit the men in the doorway. The innkeeper pushed his way through the two or three men standing with arrows in their bows and drew the young knight into the shelter of the inn.

  The common room was filled with men, boys and two or three women. From upstairs he heard the sound of a baby crying and several small children. A woman’s voice hushed the baby, while another scolded the little ones, telling them to go to sleep. Noble looked at Locke.

  “We decided to bring everyone here,” the innkeeper explained. “The inn is over a hundred years old, but with its thick stone walls it is the strongest, as well as largest building in the village. They would have a hard time setting it on fire from outside. It is also the first place the men coming from Bangor will reach, and they will look here first for Foster. We must stop them here on the outskirts of Aber before they destroy the rest of the village.”

  “That is a good plan, Master Locke,” Noble said. “Do you have enough men? Enough weapons?”

  “Ah, that is where we are weak,” he admitted. “We have men, but most of them are too old or too young. None of them have been trained to fight. We are farmers and merchants, for the most part. Our weapons are bows and arrows, pitchforks and knives. We have no swords.”

  “Well, let us pray it will not come to a fight,” Noble said. “I am hoping the knights of the King’s Guard will get here first. Dawn will tell the story, I think.”

  “And Foster? What of him and his men?”

  “They are out of the way for now. They will not bother us.” Noble went on to tell him briefly of the chase through the woods and the trap he had set. He did not mention the white wolf, though. Time enough for that later. Locke and those standing nearby and listening looked at the young knight with even greater respect than before. Here was a lad who not only wore the armor of a king’s man, but deserved to wear it.

  “Come, Sir Noble. Have a bite to eat, and take a rest by the fire for a while. You will need your strength in the morning,” Master Locke said at last.

  “Thank you, Master,” Noble said gratefully. “Brownie and Lacey are tied to the gate, though. Is there someplace we can put them now that the stable is gone?” The innkeeper called a boy to him and instructed him to take the horses to the blacksmith’s stable and care for them, and then hurry back. Noble quickly went through the plans he had mulled over in his head with Locke and some of the others as he ate.

  It was crowded in the common room, but the people gladly made room near the fire for the young knight and left him alone to sleep. With food in his belly and the warmth of the fire, Noble finally put his burdens aside and got the best sleep he had had in days.

  For a few hours. It was shortly after midnight when a loud pounding began at the door. Noble jumped up, and everywhere around the room men rose quickly and reached for their weapons. Locke hurried to the door with Noble and two or three others just behind him. The rest of the men moved to their positions at the windows.

  The door was securely barred and now the innkeeper called through it, “Who’s there?”

  There was no answer for a moment. Everyone within the inn held their breath. They hoped to hear, the King’s Guard! but instead a rough voice said, “Let us in! We’re looking for Simon Fos
ter!”

  “Foster is not here!” the innkeeper said through the door.

  “Then we will look for him in the village!”

  “Wait!” Locke called.

  Jacob was at one of the windows. “I make out only twelve or thirteen of the scoundrels, Tom,” he said softly.

  The innkeeper glanced at Noble. Noble nodded. “Remember our plan,” he whispered. “I will be right behind you if they threaten you in any way.”

  Locke took a deep breath and slowly removed the bar on the door. Tension was high in the room. These men were simple folk, used to walking behind a plow, milling their grain, selling their wares. They were not fighters.

  Tom Locke, the gentle innkeeper, opened his door to The Wolf’s pack and bravely stuck his head through the narrow opening. “Simon Foster is not here,” he repeated. “Nor is he in the village.”

  “Where is he then?” a hard voice asked. Noble peered over Locke’s shoulder from the shadows of the inn and recognized the one Foster had called Jones. He had been sent to bring the others to Aber. “And how is it that you are free, innkeeper?” Jones went on to ask. “The last I knew, you were tied up in the cellar!”

  Locke ignored the question and said instead, “Foster and the others went into the forest after the knight. They have not returned yet.”

  “Then let us in! We will wait for them here, and since you are free, you will bring us food and drink! We are cold and hungry, for it was a long walk from Bangor.”

  “You may not come in! I’ll not have the likes of you in my inn again!” Master Locke said grimly.

  “Oh-ho! You think not, old man? Well, I have several trusty men with me who say otherwise! Now open the door, before we make you very, very sorry! And when we are done with you, and have burnt your inn to the ground to match your stable, we will have our way in the village, as well!” Jones drew his sword and took a step toward the innkeeper. The men behind him laughed roughly and pressed in behind him, eager to do their evil work against the lone unarmed man who stood before them.

  The door suddenly opened wide and Noble stepped out in front of Locke, his own sword in his hand. The village men who stood with him, ready to defend the innkeeper, surrounded the old man now, their bows taut with arrows pointed at the wolf pack. The windows, both upstairs and down, flew open, filled with many more arrows trained upon the men in the courtyard. A shout rose from the ruins of the stable as a group of teenagers who had braved the cold for many hours lying in wait now stood, eager to send a shower of arrows into the gang.

  Several of the villains reached for their own weapons, but Noble’s voice rang out, “Stop! Throw down your weapons! You are surrounded and cannot hope to survive if you resist!”

  The members of the wolf pack looked around them uncertainly. Everywhere they looked arrows were aimed at them. The men holding the bows were old and young, fat and thin, strong and weak, but there was no doubt—they were ready to defend their town.

  Several of the gang edged toward the gate, ready to make a run for it. One by one, the others dropped their weapons. All except for Jones, that is. He took another step toward Noble and raised his sword. An arrow flew through the air and pierced the arm that held the sword. With a cry he dropped his blade at last and clutched his injured arm. Old Jacob gave a shout of victory and waved his bow in the air. His aim was steady, even after all these years!

  That was all it took. The fight was gone from the wolf pack, for without Foster, or even Jones to lead them they were nothing but a group of bullies eager to pick on the old and weak and defenseless, but afraid of anyone who stood up to them.

  The townspeople needed no more orders from the young knight who had devised the plan to save their village. They rushed from the inn now and gathered the weapons that had been thrown on the ground. They easily stopped those near the gate from leaving and began to tie up their prisoners. “I know just where to put them until the King’s Guard arrives,” Tom Locke said with a great deal of satisfaction. “Follow me.”

  Noble smiled. The battle for Aber was over before it had even begun.

  _____________

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  _____________

  Three Wolves

  The knights, led by Sir Robert and Thomas the innkeeper’s son, rode into the village at dawn. Noble had sent a couple boys down the road to watch for them and let them know that the way was clear for them to ride boldly into town. Most of the Guard waited outside the gate of the inn, but Thomas and Sir Robert, along with two or three others rode into the courtyard. Thomas slid down from Valiant’s back and looked in dismay at the burnt out ruins of the stable. He rushed to the door of the inn. “Father! Father!” he cried.

  Tom Locke met his son at the door and pulled him into his arms. “My son!” he said gruffly. He hugged him tightly and then stood back. “You are well?” he asked.

  “Yes, Father. But what about you? Did those men hurt you?”

  “No, no, I am fine.”

  “Father, this is Sir Robert. He is one of the captains of the King’s Guard.”

  Sir Robert held out his hand and said, “You have a fine son, Master Locke. Thomas wasted no time in coming for help, despite going through the blizzard.”

  “It was Valiant, Father. He made the way through. He knew the way to go when I didn’t.” Thomas reached up and stroked Valiant’s neck affectionately. “Where is Sir Noble, Father?”

  “I am right here, Thomas,” Noble said as he stepped through the door. “Sir Robert, thank you for coming.”

  “Where are these criminals, Sir Noble? We came thinking to rescue Aber from their clutches and find you all safely at peace!”

  Noble laughed. “It was not so a few hours ago, Sir Robert. We have The Wolf in a trap and his men locked away where they can do no harm. I can use your help now, though, to take them all to Caernarfon. Come. I will take you to most of Foster’s gang right now.”

  Sir Robert and the other knights followed Noble and Locke into the inn. Most of the townspeople had returned to their own homes now, but a few men lingered to talk over the exciting events of the night before and to be there to help if needed. They looked up now as the knights entered and cheered the king’s men.

  Noble held up his hands and said, “Let me tell you, Sir Robert, what these men, and the other men of Aber did here today.” He went on to tell the tale of the bravery of the townspeople, and how they had stood up to The Wolf’s pack. The knights of the Guard looked with respect on these simple men and cheered for them.

  Noble led the way then through the kitchen and back to the little room where Thomas slept. He helped Locke push a heavy chest off the trap door in the floor. The innkeeper shone a torch down into the cellar and laughed as he said, “There, Sir, are a dozen wolves in the den below! A fitting place for them, I believe!” The knights looked into the hole at the upturned faces of the men crammed into the tiny space.

  “Which one of them is Foster?” Sir Robert asked.

  “Foster is not here,” Noble said. “I have The Wolf and two others in a trap all their own.” Noble told his captain of the race through the forest and the trap he had set for his pursuers. He mentioned the swordfight with Foster and how he had left all three men down in the crevasse, helpless to get out on their own. “It must have been a long, cold, hungry night for them, as well as painful, and perhaps frightening,” he said finally. “They will be quite happy to see us, I am sure!”

  “Then let us go fetch them, Sir Noble. The king is most eager to meet with Simon Foster and his men,” Sir Robert said.

  They went back out to the courtyard. Sir Robert directed some of the knights waiting outside the gate to go in and get warmed up and have something to eat. Others were ordered to come with them into the forest. “We will head back to Caernarfon with the prisoners when I return,” he said.

  Noble turned to Thomas. “Stay here with your father now, Thomas. Thank you, though, for what you have done. I am grateful for your help. You did a fine job in all that
I asked of you. Valiant looks well. I see you took good care of him.”

  “It was my pleasure, Sir Noble. He is a magnificent animal and I am thankful to have had the opportunity to ride him like that. I could only dream of having such a horse as he someday!” Thomas’s eyes shone as he remembered the wild ride to Caernarfon and back on the fiery black steed. Valiant tossed his head proudly. He knew they were talking about him.

  Noble saw that Sir Robert and the other knights were waiting so he quickly mounted. With a brief wave he led them across the field and toward the forest.

  The way directly to the place where he had left Foster and his men was much shorter this time than it had been when Noble had led his pursuers on a merry chase through the woods. It was not long until they were approaching the crevasse in the clearing. What they saw there caused the men to stop and stare in amazement.

  Three gray wolves were crouched at the edge of the deep crack, whining and staring down into its depths, their jaws dripping saliva into the pit as they pawed at the prey that was just out of their reach. Standing over them was the white wolf. He was silent and still, almost as though he were carved of white stone, unconcerned at the approaching horsemen.

  Hoarse cries of fear and shouts for help rose from the hole. The other wolves, intent upon the men in the crevasse, had not heard the sound of the horses’ hooves, but now they looked up and leapt to their feet at the sight of the knights.

  Several of the men reached for their bows. “No!” Noble said loudly. The gray wolves sprang for the trees and within a second or two had melted into the shadows of the forest.

  The white wolf did not move. His green eyes glittered as he stared into Noble’s eyes. Slowly, silently the man next to Noble raised his bow, an arrow fitted into its bowstring, the bow drawn taut. Noble suddenly realized what he was doing. With a cry, he lunged for the knight’s arm just as he released the arrow.