WolfeSword: de Wolfe Pack Generations

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Darian smiled weakly and quit the solar to go about his business, leaving the duke sitting at his table, wondering if this entire situation was salvageable.

  They were going to find out.

  An apology.

  Dacia still couldn’t believe that Amata had come to deliver an apology. Instead of being pleased by it, or happy with it, it just seemed to make things worse.

  Her anger had returned.

  Perhaps it would have been best had Amata simply faded away, forgotten by a world she tried so hard to control. It seemed to Dacia that her father had involved himself too late in this situation – where had he been during the most formative years when Amata should have been taught right from wrong, love from hate, and how not to build a life on lies? Perhaps she should not have blamed Hugh, but it seemed to her that the man did a terrible job of raising his daughter.

  Cousin or no cousin, she had no use for him.

  And she did not accept Amata’s apology.

  The past two weeks had passed in a fog. Every day was the same and every night was endless. Dacia had slept, of course, but fitfully and only periodically, waking into a darkened room with Cassius on her mind. She wondered where he was, and what he was doing, and if he hated her overly for what she had done.

  Although Dacia had convinced herself that sending him away had indeed been the best thing for them both, there was also a part of her that wondered even if she had allowed him to remain, if the pressure of being married to a hated woman would have taken its toll on him. If he would have risen every morning and wondered why he had stayed. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself had she seen resentment in his eyes when he looked at her.

  It was thoughts like those that convinced her that she had done the best thing for them both.

  But, oh, how glorious it had been to have known such love and happiness and acceptance for just a few days. Those few days with Cassius had been the best days of her life and something she would always remember. Perhaps the old saying was right – perhaps it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, and she was grateful that for a brief and shining moment in time, she had loved and had been loved.

  She would have to cling to that memory in the dark years to come.

  But the situation had markedly changed. With Amata’s confession, she knew that she could send for Cassius and tell him that everything was all right. She could hope for his return. But given the circumstances of their separation, she wasn’t entirely sure that he would want to return to her. She had shut herself away and refused to speak with him, and he had spent two solid days outside of her door, begging her to open it.

  It had been the most painful time of her life.

  There had been moments when Cassius simply talked about anything he could think of, having a one-sided conversation as if there were two people involved. She would hear him speak of his grandparents, his father’s parents that he loved so dearly, and he spoke on how they met and married under somewhat clandestine circumstances. He would tell her that most of the men in his family had not had easy paths to marriage. He would tell her that everything would be all right if she would only open the door.

  But she had refused.

  On the morning of the third day, Cassius had finally given up. Dacia had awoken to silence. She was so used to waking up to the sound of his voice, that the silence had been deafening as well as heartbreaking because she knew he had given up the fight. So much of her wanted to open that door and run after him, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bring Cassius into the hell that was swirling around her.

  He needed a wife who wasn’t being accused of unspeakable things.

  After that, the depression set in. Hardly eating and hardly sleeping had taken its toll. Dacia’s clothing was beginning to hang on her and Edie had been trying to take in some of the things that were obviously bagging. The beautiful yellow fabric that she had dyed for Amata’s birthday was being turned into a new surcoat for Dacia. Edie had been a great comfort to her, the only comfort she would allow near her.

  Dacia simply couldn’t handle anyone else.

  Now, with Amata’s apology, her emotions were fresh and brittle once again. She had run all the way from her grandfather’s solar and now stood in the middle of her larger chamber, reliving the apology over and over again. She was reliving beating up on Amata, thinking that she should have been satisfied from physically expressing her rage but realizing there was no satisfaction at all.

  The damage to her life was irreparable.

  It was over before it even began.

  “My lady?” Edie was standing in the doorway of the smaller chamber. “Are… are you well?”

  Dacia looked over at the woman who tried so hard to take good care of her. “I am.”

  “Did you see Amata?”

  “I did.”

  “And she apologized?”

  Dacia nodded. “For everything, she did.”

  She didn’t elaborate and Edie didn’t push. She was intuitive that way. She knew that if Dacia wanted her to know something, she would tell her. For now, however, Edie was just glad Amata had made amends, but Dacia didn’t seem too relieved or overjoyed.

  She simply seemed weary.

  “Come and lay down, lamb,” she said gently. “I’ll mix you a sleeping position and rub your forehead. Would you like that?”

  Dacia smiled weakly. “Dear Edie,” she said. “You are always trying to tend to me, just like a child.”

  Edie went over to the big bed and pulled back the coverlet. “That is because sometimes we all need careful tending,” she said. “This is your time. Come and lay down, lamb. Let me take care of you.”

  Dacia didn’t fight her on it. She was weary and, truth be told, feeling weak. The day had been too much for her. She needed to rest and organize her thoughts, which were centering more and more on Cassius. Perhaps if she apologized to him, he might forgive her for being cruel and come back to her. If he truly loved her as he said he did, perhaps he’d be willing.

  She needed to sleep on it.

  “There is some wine over there,” she told Edie. “There is a phial in my medicament bag, in the back row, four from the left, that are the sleeping powders that Emmeric gave Grandfather last year. They worked for him. I may as well try them.”

  Edie looked at the two bags, side by side. “I put the things from his bag into yours,” she said, worried. “I thought you wanted his medicines in your bag.”

  Dacia sat on the bed to remove her slippers. “I did,” she said. “Look for the word somnum scratched into the glass. That is the sleeping powders.”

  Edie knew the letters of the alphabet, but she couldn’t read very well. Dacia was aware of that and she had tried to educated Edie further, but Edie had been embarrassed about it and she had told Dacia she understood far more than she actually did.

  Therefore, reading the etchings on the glass phials was nerve wracking for her because she wanted to find the right powders. She didn’t want to admit to Dacia that she couldn’t read them properly. The young woman had enough to worry about without an incompetent servant. She came to a phial with “um” at the end of the word and held it up into the light.

  “Somnum?” she said.

  Dacia was already laying down. “Is that what is says?”

  “I think so, my lady. I see um at the end of it.”

  “Is it a white powder?”

  Edie held it up for her to see, but she was several feet away. “It is, my lady.”

  Dacia only glanced at it from afar. “Good,” she said. “Use one of those little spoons to put a goodly amount in a cup of wine and bring it to me.”

  “Are you certain?” Edie said reluctantly. “I put Emmeric’s potions and powders in here, and some of them were poisons.”

  But Dacia didn’t seem concerned. “If the phial says somnum, then it is a sleeping powder,” she said. “Put it in the wine, Edie.”

  Edie did as she was told. She put a heap
ing spoonful into a cup of wine and stirred it around, dissolving it. Bringing it over to Dacia, she helped the woman sit up so she could drain the entire cup. Edie took the cup away as Dacia lay back down, rolling onto her side.

  “Edie,” she said. “Will you do something for me?”

  “Of course, lamb,” she said. “What is your wish?”

  Dacia yawned, her eyes already becoming droopy because she was so exhausted. “Would you speak with those you know in Doncaster and see if Amata’s apology has had any affect?” she said. “I know you know some of the villagers. Mayhap they can tell you if the situation is truly forgiven.”

  Edie looked at her sympathetically. “It means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?”

  Dacia paused before answering. “I told Cassius that I am Doncaster,” she said quietly. “When Grandfather is gone, I will be all that is left. I love these lands and the people. I want to take care of them and protect them. They must not think ill of me because of Amata’s viciousness.”

  “If they do, then they’re fools.”

  “But will you ask around to make sure Amata’s apology was accepted?”

  “And if it is?”

  Dacia sighed faintly. “If it is…” she began, then stopped herself. But the pause was only momentary. “If it is, then I will send word to Cassius. He said that he was going to Castle Questing in Northumberland, so he must have arrived by now. I will send him a missive and tell him what has happened. At least he will know.”

  Edie smiled at her. “Will you ask him to return?”

  Dacia closed her eyes. “I treated him so terribly,” she said. “Mayhap he does not want to return.”

  “But you can ask him, lamb. Ask him and let him make his choice.”

  “But what if he refuses?”

  “Then at least you will know.”

  It was a sobering but true statement. “You are correct,” she said sadly. “If he does not return, I will have my answer. But if I do not say anything at all, I will never know.”

  Edie was close enough that she put her hand on Dacia’s head. “Sleep, now,” she said softly. “Stop worrying about such things for the moment. Make your decision after you’ve had some rest.”

  Dacia simply closed her eyes again, drifting off to sleep.

  It wasn’t until a few hours later when Edie tried to wake her than she realized something was wrong. Dacia wouldn’t awaken and her breathing was slow and labored. In a panic, Edie snatched the phial of sleeping powder and rushed to Darian, who was in the middle of writing out the missive to Cassius and couldn’t be bothered until Edie mentioned that the phial had to do with Dacia. She needed to know the full name on the glass. Darian held the bottle to the light and read out the name…

  Nenum.

  Venom.

  Edie had accidentally given her lady one of Emmeric’s poisons.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Pontefract

  The Blood and Barrel Inn

  The man went sailing through the open tavern window.

  In fact, there were several men sailing around the tavern, through doors, out of windows, or ending up in a heap in the corner. A tempest named Cassius was in full-swing and the fists were flying faster than lightning.

  “And that is for your foolish and ineffective lord, who refuses to agree with the king!” he bellowed at the man he’d just thrown out of the window. “Tell him that Cassius de Wolfe has said he is a coward!”

  The entire tavern was in disarray and had been for more than a week, ever since Cassius, Rhori, and Bose had shown up and virtually took over the establishment. They had arrived after a few slow and aimless days wandering northward from Doncaster, but once they reached Pontefract, Cassius refused to go any further. He was as far away from Dacia as he wanted to be, so like a tick on a dog, he dug in. Rhori and Bose dug in alongside him. Cassius became drunk the day of their arrival and had not been sober since.

  Neither had Bose. An emotional man, he had great sympathy for Cassius. If Cassius drank, he drank. If Cassius fought, he fought. With a man of Cassius’ considerable size, those fights could be quick and violent. Cassius had broken nearly every table in the tavern by either throwing men on them or breaking them with his bare hands, using the legs for clubs. Sometimes he used two legs, one in each hand, and Bose went right along with him.

  It had made for a ferocious and difficult week.

  And then, there was Rhori.

  The calmer, less-impulsive knight was drunk for the first two days, too, but being a little more sensible and able to control himself better than Bose, he sobered up quickly. He had been sober ever since and every time Cassius broke a table or a door, Rhori slipped the tavernkeeper a few coins to pay for it.

  In fact, it had been Rhori who had kept the tavernkeeper from running to the Pontefract garrison for help by explaining that Cassius had just lost his wife. He didn’t elaborate, but he led the man to believe that Cassius was grieving a death. Being sympathetic, and a little frightened, the tavernkeeper simply kept himself and his servants out of Cassius’ way. They had tried to go about their business as usual, trying to work around a man who was tearing up their world because his had evidently been destroyed.

  And that’s where they found themselves today.

  Another fight.

  Unfortunately, men wearing the black and white standard of William de Ros of Helmsley Castle decided to visit the tavern on that day. De Ros was a crown supporter, but a finicky one. Cassius took exception to the men as soon as they entered and in little time, a room-clearing brawl had started. Even Rhori had to get involved because there were seven de Ros men and only Cassius and Bose. Not that they couldn’t take care of seven men on their own, but one of them jumped on Bose’s back and tried to strangle him, so Rhori crowned the man with a chair.

  The remaining de Ros men tucked their heads down and fled.

  “Another victory for the House of de Wolfe!” Cassius crowed, drinking deeply of the cheap ale that had kept him inebriated for days. “I shall best every man in England at this rate and then they shall have to bring in some Scots for me to pummel. It has been a long time since I pummeled a Scot just for the pleasure it brings me.”

  Rhori pulled him down into a chair. “All hail your mighty fists, Cass,” he said, stroking the man’s ego. “You are a magnificent beast.”

  Cassius threw his arm around Rhori’s neck and pulled him close, kissing his dark head loudly. “I love you,” he said. “You are my brother and I love you. I have real brothers and I love them madly, but you are my friend and my brother. I love you, du Bois. I truly do.”

  When Cassius wasn’t tossing men around, he was being silly and sappy. Rhori was forced to push him away or risk being suffocated by all that love.

  “Aye, Cass, we love you, too,” he said, motioning to the tavernkeeper for some food. “Come, now. Let us eat something and discuss your future plans. We’ve been here a week, but your grandmother is waiting. We must go to Castle Questing soon.”

  Cassius looked at him, the pale eyes flickering with unchecked emotion. “My grandmother,” he muttered. “Jordan Mary Joseph Scott de Wolfe. She was named for the River Jordan, you know. A stronger woman you will never find. I love her dearly.”

  “I am sure she loves you, too.”

  “And my father and mother. I love them more than anything.”

  “Aye, Cass, I know. And they love you.”

  “But I love my grandmother so very much and I must see her soon. I must.”

  The tavernkeeper arrived. Bread and meat were being set upon the table in copious amounts as Cassius declared his love for everyone in Northern England.

  “Then let us go to her,” Rhori said, pulling the wine away from Cassius and hoping he didn’t notice. “Let us leave this place and not look back. Look at all of this glorious food! Eat and tell us of Berwick Castle, where you were born. I’ve never been there.”

  He was trying to distract Cassius and get some food in him, hopefully to help ease his dru
nken state somewhat and bring him back to his senses. Thankfully, Cassius complied and shoved meat in his mouth, sloppily.

  “It is by the sea,” he said, chewing. “A massive place by the sea. When my brothers and I were young, we used to run like wild colts on the sand. My father would take us there when we became too much for my mother to handle and he would make us run from him. Whoever got caught was thrown into the icy waves. I was never caught and neither was my oldest brother, Markus, but my two younger brothers, Magnus and Titus, were caught often. My father would throw them in the waves and they would run home to my mother, weeping and shivering. She would yell at my father for it and he would blame it on Markus and me.”

  He laughed at the memory of his beloved father casting blame for his actions. The tavernkeeper brought around boiled cider, putting it in front of Cassius instead of the ale he’d been drinking. Rhori and the tavernkeeper had been trying to replace the ale for three days, but Cassius always caught on and always went to find his own drink. But again, they would try.

  Rhori tried to distract him, keeping up a running stream of conversation. “Your father had many brothers,” he said. “He learned to deflect the blame.”

  Cassius snorted, drinking the cider and realizing it wasn’t his ale. He hurled the cup across the room and yelled for his favored drink. “Ale!” he bellowed. “Who keeps putting that putrid juice in front of me? I will kill the next man who forces me to drink that stuff.”

  Rhori couldn’t even look at Bose because he, too, was sotted with drink. In fact, Bose agreed with Cassius, giving the man his cup, and Rhori grunted in exasperation.

  “Cass,” he said, trying to sound casual. “How do you expect to ride the rest of the way to Castle Questing if you are drunk? It will not work well in your favor.”

  Cassius was still chewing on his meat. “I will make it,” he said. “When I decide we should leave.”

  “Edward is going to expect you back in London next month. We cannot remain here forever.”