He had a point but Brighton wasn’t really listening to him. Her mind was muddled with shock and the room began to rock unsteadily. All she could think of was a wild story from a dying woman’s lips. It simply wasn’t true, any of it! There was no way she could be the daughter of a Northman… a king.
She didn’t have a drop of royal blood in her!
“I-I am a bastard,” she said, sounding very much like she was pleading with him. “What you have said… you must have misunderstood. Sister Acha would not have told you such things!”
“That was exactly what she told me.”
“You are lying!”
Patrick thought she looked rather unsteady. He stood up, hoping that he might calm her building hysteria. “I do not lie, lady,” he said, his baritone turning gentle but stern. “I understand that it has been a difficult day for you so I will forgive you your slander. But the information I give is the reason I cannot return you to Coldingham. If what your nurse said was true, then your life is at risk, more than you know.”
Brighton shook her head, turning away from him and putting her dirty hands over her ears. She was stumbling blindly for the door.
“I-I will not hear you,” she gasped, feeling increasingly lightheaded. “I-I must return to Coldingham. I… must…”
She went down, fainting dead away in the doorway. Patrick rushed to her side, turning her over onto her back to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself when she fell to the floor. She was out cold, now with what looked like the beginnings of a bruise on her forehead. Feeling rather guilty that he had somehow contributed to this state, he scooped her into his arms and headed for the stairs that led to the upper floors where Katheryn and Evelyn were lurking. He knew his sisters would take good care of the overwrought woman.
But even as he held her in his arms, he couldn’t get past the fact that she was rather sweet and soft against him. She was average in height for a woman but long-limbed from what he could see, and that face… God’s Bones, that face was fairly close to his as he cradled her against his chest. He found himself looking at her when he should have been looking at the stairs; the shape of her lips had his attention more than anything.
Curvy, perfectly formed, and lush… a woman of this kind of beauty didn’t belong in a convent. In fact, it was a crime as far as he was concerned. Based on her perfection alone, he was willing to believe she was of royal blood because only a royal lineage would create something so flawless.
But as he looked at her, he was also aware of something else… that his desire to protect the woman was building. He’d only promised an old woman he’d do it because he’d had no other choice. And even as he’d ridden to Berwick with the lady behind him, he was regretting that he’d given his vow to protect her. He didn’t need the complication. But now, looking into her pale face, he couldn’t help the sense of protectiveness that swept him. It may have been foolish and misplaced, but he felt it nonetheless.
Perhaps there was a reason he’d ridden out with his patrol this night to stop the reivers. Normally, he didn’t ride with war parties like that. But for some reason, tonight he had. Something had compelled him to go and now he was starting to see why. Perhaps God had wanted him in that place, at that time, because one of His most precious creations needed protecting.
Foolish thoughts, to be certain. But thoughts he couldn’t seem to shake.
‡
“What is so important this night, Atty?” Hector asked as he leaned over to collect a cup of wine. “Our intercept of the raiding party was a success and we managed to recover one of the women. Why are you not happy?”
Patrick eyed the man. “I think we received more than we bargained for this night.”
“What do you mean?”
Back in the small dining hall, Patrick was now surrounded by his men. When he’d taken Lady Brighton up for his sisters to attend to, his men had filtered in, including Hector, recently returned from his trip to St. Cuthbert’s. Now, the small hall was full with de Wolfe, de Norville, Hage, and three more knights that Patrick had left behind when he’d ridden off to intercept the reivers.
Sir Anson du Bonne, son of Baron Lulworth of Chaldon Castle, was a strapping man with reddish-gold hair and an easy demeanor. He was a well-liked man within the ranks and usually in command when Patrick was not at Berwick. The two other knights who were not related to de Wolfe, de Norville, or Hage were Sir Colm de Lara and Sir Damien d’Vant, men from very fine families, powerful and skilled warriors in their own right. Patrick particularly liked Damien, who had a wicked sense of humor and much the same personality that Patrick did. Big, blonde, and easy-going, Patrick considered Damien a friend.
Those three, along with the de Norville brothers, Hector and Apollo, and the Hage brothers, Alec and Kevin, rounded out the men in the room. The servants had brought forth more wine and cakes of oats and honey, something to feed big appetites, but Patrick wasn’t eating. He was into his fourth cup of wine, feeling his head swim a bit, hoping it would ease these odd and unfamiliar thoughts he’d been entertaining.
A dead nun, a terrible secret, and Patrick was increasingly troubled by it all. So he stood by the hearth, trying to avoid the smoke that was spitting out into the low-ceilinged room as he gathered his turbulent thoughts.
What to tell the men….
“What I mean is that the raiders we subdued were not random outlaws looking for a convenient target,” he answered Hector’s question belatedly. “I mean that I was told they were looking for a specific victim. We interrupted their plans.”
Hector frowned as he stood back from the table, nearer to the hearth because his bones were cold. “Be plain, man.”
Patrick sighed heavily. “That woman I brought back to Berwick,” he said. “Did any of you get a look at her?”
Hector and Alec looked at each other before shaking their heads. “I did not,” Hector replied, looking to his brother, Apollo. “You were guarding her. Did you get a good look at her?”
Apollo, one of the youngest knights in Patrick’s corps, nodded hesitantly. “Somewhat,” he said, looking at Kevin, who was even younger than he was. “Did you?”
Kevin lifted his big shoulders. “A little,” he said, looking back at Patrick. “I did not notice anything out of the ordinary with her. Why do you ask?”
It was a loaded question. “Before she died, the nun you took over to St. Cuthbert told me something about her,” Patrick said, his gaze moving between Kevin, Apollo, Hector, and Alec. “I will tell you exactly what she told me – that the young woman we rescued this night, a woman who goes by the name of Brighton de Favereux, is really a bastard daughter of Magnus, King of the Northmen. Her mother is from Clan Haye who had been delivered to the Northmen many years ago as a hostage to ensure an alliance, only she became pregnant by Magnus when he was still a prince. The woman was sent home in shame and the child, when she was born, was taken to Coldingham Priory under an assumed identity. Apparently, no one but the old nun knew who the young woman really is and, as she lay dying, she asked me to promise to protect her. I did because I felt I had no choice, but now that I have had time to think on it, I fear I have assumed a massive burden for the House of de Wolfe. The reivers we intercepted, men from Clan Swinton, had gone to Coldingham with a purpose – to abduct this woman and we have taken their prize.”
It was quite an unexpected tale and, by the time he was finished, all of the men in the room were looking at him with various degrees of disbelief. No one said anything right away, instead, glancing at each other as if trying to determine just how mad Patrick had evidently become. Alec finally spoke.
“She’s a… a princess?” he asked for clarification. “Magnus… isn’t he the Dane king they call the Law-Mender?”
“Aye.”
“He is a fearsome warrior, Atty.”
Patrick nodded. “So I have heard,” he said, seeing the astonishment on their faces. “Be that as it may, that is what I was told about the girl.”
Alec frowned. “Are
you sure you did not misunderstand?” he asked. “Is it possible the old woman had lost her mind in her final moments?”
Patrick shook his head. “I did not misunderstand and it did not seem to me as if she had lost her mind,” he said. “She seemed quite serious, in fact. I do not think a woman of the cloth, especially in her dying hour, would lie to me.”
That made sense to the men in the chamber, lending credit to the tale. A nun most certainly wouldn’t lie about something so terribly serious. Now, it was even more shocking if the news was actually true. Given the evidence presented, it seemed to be. Alec scratched his head, baffled, unsure what more to say.
“But how did Clan Swinton know of this?” he asked. “How could they possibly know?”
Patrick shrugged. “The old woman did not say,” he said. “But it is clear that someone, somewhere, knew of her identity other than the old nun and the mother of the child. And that information has made its way to Clan Swinton.”
“How old is the young woman?”
“Nineteen years, she tells me.”
“And Clan Swinton is only seeking to claim her now? If all of this is true, how long have they been sitting on such information? And why make a move for her now?”
Patrick was just as puzzled as the rest of them. “I cannot answer that,” he said. “What I do know, however, is that they will soon know that we have her. I would be willing to assume they will not be happy about it. They will want her back.”
That was more than likely an understatement. Now, a simple encounter with reivers was taking a puzzling and serious turn. Hector actually shook his head as if trying to shake some sense into it. It was all quite overwhelming.
“You are telling us that the woman we rescued tonight is a Dane princess?” he asked. “And no one knew about her until now?”
Patrick cocked a dark eyebrow. “It seems that way,” he said. “But the old nun said something rather ominous – that if the Northmen knew of her existence, they would come for her. She said that if word of her true identity got out, it would bring war and strife. It seems that something like that has already started, at least with Clan Swinton. Already, the struggle for her has begun.”
Hector puffed his cheeks out, a gesture that suggested that statement was quite true. “She is Dane and Scots,” he said. “That makes her quite rare. What a peace offering she could be with the clans to the north who fight the Danes on a continual basis.”
Patrick lifted a finger. “Think about it,” he said, as if something suddenly occurred to him. “Clan Swinton could ransom her to her father or sell her to the highest bidder in the highlands for the same purpose. Either way, they become wealthy. That could have been their purpose for abducting her.”
“You are not going to want to hear what I have to say, Atty,” Anson du Bonne spoke. Calm and reasonable, he made even the worst news sound as if they could not all live through it. “I have not seen this woman and I was not part of the skirmish earlier this evening, but in listening to you speak… holding this woman, and if she is who you say she is, could bring not only the Scots down upon us, but the Northmen as well. What if… what if Clan Swinton, outraged that they have lost their hostage, sends word to Magnus and tells the man that his bastard daughter is now being held by the English? The king will bring his longships onto the shores of Northumberland and we will have a nasty feud on our hands. With that in mind, remember that this woman is nothing to you. She is nothing to any of us. If you want my advice, I say give her back over to Clan Swinton and wash your hands of the entire thing. It is either that or you draw your family into a war that will tear the north apart.”
Ominous words from the level-headed young knight, but it was advice that Patrick badly needed. He’d been thinking the very same thing, in fact, but had been reluctant to admit it. With another heavy sigh, he planted himself at the table, his features pensive as he mulled over the situation. Wearily, he rubbed at his chin.
“I cannot,” he finally said. “I gave my word that I would protect her.”
“Is your word worth more than the lives that will be lost if you keep her here at Berwick?”
Patrick’s gaze flicked up to Anson. “My word is my bond,” he said. “So is yours. Could you so easily cast off a vow, Anson? I think not.”
“So your honor is more important than a coming war?”
Patrick was increasingly torn, knowing that Anson was simply trying to help him think clearly. But all he was doing was making him feel foolish and confused.
“I do not know,” he muttered. “Mayhap, it would be best if I took the girl to Castle Questing and had my father decide what is to be done. I gave my word to protect the girl and I will not go back on it. But my father may have other ideas on what is to be done. I find that I cannot think clearly about it tonight.”
Hector put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “I think that is a fine choice,” he said. “Take her to your father and let him decide. This should not be your decision, anyway. This is too big for one man to make.”
There was truth to that. Patrick simply nodded. “Then I will leave for Castle Questing tomorrow and take the woman with me,” he said. “Meanwhile, we should be vigilant for any armies moving in from the north, coming to reclaim their hostage. Patrols should be vigilant, as well. I do not want any of our men falling into the hands of Clan Swinton to be used as a hostage against the return of the girl.”
Hector slapped him affectionately on the shoulder before moving to pour himself more wine. “Agreed,” he said. “I will ride to Castle Questing with you, in fact. I will bring my wife, as she has not seen her mother in a month. She will want to go.”
Patrick started to shake his head as Alec spoke. “If you take Evie, then Kate will want to come,” he said. “You cannot take Evie to see her mother and not bring her sister. Furthermore, they will both want to bring the children. You know that.”
Patrick held up a hand, annoyed that his simple trip to Castle Questing was now turning into a family event. “Fine,” he snapped, “but make sure the women and children are ready by dawn. I will want to leave early if we are to make it to Castle Questing while it is still light. And set up a contingent of at least one hundred men as an escort. If we have women with us, I want them well-protected.”
Hector nodded, settling himself at the table by Alec as they turned the subject to other things and began to drink heavily. Across the table, Anson and Colm and Damien were still looking at Patrick, still lingering on the subject of the Dane princess. It was a serious dilemma they found themselves in and no one felt that more keenly than Patrick. It was tearing him in all directions.
“Shall I ride with you to Questing, Patrick?” Damien asked. “Alec will be riding escort for his wife, and Hector for his, but you may need help with the lady.”
Patrick shook his head wearily. “Nay,” he said. “I will leave you in charge with Anson and Colm. Seal up this place and be vigilant until I return.”
Anson nodded. “The Swinton Clan cannot muster great numbers to move against us, at least not by tomorrow or even next week,” he said. “But they are allied with Dunbar and Black Douglas. I would be concerned that they would draw on that alliance if they tried to summon numbers against us.”
Patrick knew that. He gazed into his empty wine cup, studying the dregs at the bottom as if to divine his future. “The truth is that they do not know we have the girl,” he said. “We left no man alive from the raiding party and we brought those left with us back to Berwick. It will, therefore, take some time for the Swinton Clan to realize we were the force that met their raiding party and, in truth, they can only assume we took their prize. They will not know that for certain. That is what I need to speak with my father about. And, God’s Bones, I do not need this complication right now, not when I am due to leave for my new assignment in London soon. This is not something I had anticipated nor do I want, but it seems that I am involved just the same.”
Anson’s gaze was steady from across the table. “
I was wondering how long it would be before you brought that up,” he said. “You do not want anything interfering with your new post with Henry.”
“Nay, I do not. Especially not something like this.”
The subject died down after that, mostly because no one knew what more they could say about it. There was much unknown revolving around the woman and the situation in general. There wasn’t one man at the table that wasn’t secretly glad that Patrick was taking the girl to his father at the mighty bastion of Castle Questing to, perhaps, make her William de Wolfe’s problem. Not that Patrick was a coward by any means, because he wasn’t, but the situation that had fallen into his lap was too big for one man to handle.
Even a lap as capable as Patrick’s.
Unbeknownst to his men, Patrick’s thoughts were revolving around the lady as well, but in a different fashion. After his fifth cup of wine, he finally left the small hall, heading to the staircase that led to the upper floors. He was fairly tipsy at that point but something was urging him to see to Lady Brighton’s health after her fainting spell. He was quite certain she was fine, with his sisters to tend her, but there was something pulling at him that demanded he see for himself. He would never admit that to his men, of course, especially after the conversation they’d just had about the woman. So he felt a bit deceptive and sneaky as he lied about seeking his bed but, instead, headed to see to the lady.
A Norse princess. Clan war. Northman war.
All of those things were spinning around in his head, made worse by the drink, but above it all, he could only think of the fact that the lady intrigued him so. It was purely her beauty and he knew that. He was hoping it was something that would pass, but he couldn’t shake the sense of attraction. He was coming to realize that he didn’t want to.
As torn as he was at the moment, he did know one thing – as much as he professed not to let anything interfere with his new post with Henry, something told him that breaking his vow to the old nun would be more difficult than he imagined. And not all of it had to do with his honor.
Nighthawk: Sons of de Wolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 7) Page 5