But he knew one thing.
He was very much looking forward to this time.
Andreas sat in the water until it cooled and he was forced to get out. His big body was rosy from the hot water and the scrub down, and he dried off with a piece of linen. He ran the damp linen over his hair just to get most of the moisture out before using the comb to run it through his locks. Quite honestly, his hair was so short that he didn’t even know why he bothered, but he hadn’t combed his hair in a very long time. It felt good to rub the tortoise shell teeth along his scalp.
It felt good to get clean, physically and perhaps even mentally.
Now that the bath was over with, he pulled on a pair of linen braies, something he usually traveled with to wear when his usual leather breeches were too heavy or too uncomfortable. Opening the door to the chamber, he called out to the servants to remove the bathtub, and as they came in to heave the cold water away, he had them take away his dirty clothing and boots, too.
Then he sat down at the small table that contained the food and devoured everything that had been brought to him. There was more bread and butter, along with the boiled beef he’d eaten earlier with his cousins and friend. There were stewed apples and little oat cakes with currants in them, and he ate every bit. With the hot bath and warm fire, and now with a full belly, Andreas passed out on his bed like a drunkard and snored the morning away.
When he dreamed, it was of flaxen-haired maidens.
When he finally awoke some time later, it was to a dog barking outside of his window. Startled, he had no idea how long he’d been asleep and sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he ran to door and threw it open. He didn’t see anyone right away, but by the time he took a few steps into the corridor, the sweaty servant was there, a tray of food in his hands.
“What time is it?” Andreas demanded.
The servant blinked, surprised by words that came blasting out at him. “Just past the nooning hour, my lord.”
“How far past?”
The servant shrugged nervously. “An hour, mayhap,” he said. “I don’t know, my lord. I will have to find the…”
Andreas waved him off before he could finish. “Never mind,” he said. “Bring my clothes immediately.”
“I’m not sure they’re dried, my lord.”
Andreas was struggling not to blow up at the man. “Then tell either of the de Wolfe brothers that I require their clothing,” he said. “Get what you can from them and hurry or I’ll find you and skin the hide from you. And shoes! I need shoes!”
The man fled in terror.
Andreas slammed the door. He’d slept so soundly and so deeply that he was groggy and struggling to shake it off. He’d told Lady Gavriella that he’d be waiting for her across the street from The Asher just after the nooning meal and he very much wanted to make that appointment. Quickly, he dug through his saddlebags to locate any spare clothing and he came across an older pair of breeches he always carried with him, made from fine leather but having faded and worn over the years.
It was of little matter because he had nothing else, so he pulled them on. Even though his door was closed, he could hear yelling and doors slamming all throughout the manse, and suddenly, there were footfalls in the corridor.
Someone pounded on his door.
“Dray!”
Andreas knew that voice. He yanked open the door, coming face to face with his Uncle Edward. He was the diplomat of the sons of William de Wolfe, the man who had followed in his famous grandfather’s footsteps by choosing a diplomatic career over a military one. Not to say that Edward de Wolfe wasn’t a warrior; he was, by nature, training, and blood. He was tall and broad-shouldered, regal and masculine and handsome, and from his father’s side carried the darkness of the Saracens. He had the de Wolfe dark hair and golden eyes, eyes that were now looking at Andreas in concern.
“What ails you?” Edward demanded. “You have the servants running mad upstairs, looking for clothing to fit you.”
Andreas sighed heavily. “I am sorry, Eddie,” he said. “I did not mean to throw them into fits, but I am late for an appointment that I must keep.”
“What appointment?”
Andreas cleared his throat softly, averting his gaze. “I am going across the river to see the entertainment over in Lambethmoor,” he said. “I have promised a young lady that I would escort her there.”
Edward went from being mildly perturbed to being most curious at the mention of a woman. “A young lady?” he repeated. “Who is this woman?”
“I met her last night,” Andreas said. “We had a long and eventful evening and I have offered to escort her across the river to see the entertainment there.”
Edward studied him for a moment. The man had a most calculating way of looking at people, something that served him well in the diplomatic corps. He could look at any man and, within a few moments, read him clearly. It was a gift.
He was trying to read Andreas at that moment.
“I see,” he said. “Dray, I must say that I am surprised. You of all people do not spend time with young women in social situations. Where did you meet her?”
Andreas looked at him hesitantly. “I am afraid to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are going to tell my father and he will tell my mother and she will try and box my ears.”
Edward fought off a grin. “I promise I will not tell him,” he said. “Tell me.”
Andreas rolled his eyes, still hesitant, before finally confessing. “It was Theodis’ fault, so do not yell at me,” he said. “Tay took us all there – me and Will and Tor.”
“Took you where?”
“Gomorrah.”
Edward’s eyes widened. “That place?” he hissed. “You went to that place?”
Andreas nodded. “And it was just as awful as you think it is,” he said, putting up his hands. “Believe me, I shall not be returning. In fact, the young lady was coerced into attending by cousins. She was just as miserable and horrified as I was, so I helped her find her way out of that place. That place is like a goddamn maze.”
Edward nodded. “I know,” he said, his eyes alight that his noble, straitlaced nephew should go to such a lascivious establishment. He started to chuckle but put a hand over his mouth to stop himself. “God’s Bones, Dray. I’m proud of you for going to such a place. Mayhap there is hope for you yet.”
Andreas frowned. “Leave me alone,” he muttered. “I need my clothes or I’ll never make my appointment. Aunt Cassie isn’t angry at me for upsetting her home, is she?”
Edward shook his head. “She is not,” he said. “I stopped the servants from making too much of a fuss before she caught sight of what was going on, so do not fret.”
Andreas scratched his head. “Do not tell her that I went to Gomorrah.”
“I will not, I swear it. That might lead to a confession that I have been there, too, and I have no desire to be angrily chased around by my wife today.”
There wasn’t much of an age gap between Andreas and Edward because Andreas was the eldest son of Edward’s much older brother, so even growing up, the two of them had been good friends, something that still carried over to this day. That was why Andreas didn’t even address the man as “Uncle”. There was a scant three years between them.
“You have been there, you naughty lad?” he said, grinning suggestively. “I’m shocked.”
Edward held up a hand. “Only in the line of duty, I assure you,” he said with disgust. “We had a particular Bohemian warlord, very wealthy, who had been told of it by his interpreter and he wanted very badly to attend, so the king asked me to go with him to ensure he did not run into any trouble.”
“Did he?”
Edward cocked a dark eyebrow. “Did you see that woman shooting grapes out of her privates?”
Andreas couldn’t help it; he started laughing. “I did,” he said. “Appalling and hilarious at the same time.”
Edward clapped a hand to
his forehead. “Our Bohemian warlord spent an hour in that chamber, catching grapes in his mouth. I have never seen anything so ghastly in my entire life. And then I had to explain it to the king. Edward laughed until he choked. I think he went to see for himself.”
Andreas was still chuckling as servants suddenly appeared, running in his direction bearing clothing and boots, all belonging to Edward. Andreas was bigger and heavier than Edward, so the tunic was a little snug and the boots a little tight, but they would do. They were clean and well-maintained. Over it, he pulled on a stylish leather robe, lined with fur around the cuffs, something that looked quite elegant and manly on him. It draped all the way to the ground.
Because of his position, everything Edward owned was of fine quality, so the clothing was much better than anything Andreas owned. Washed, combed, and shaved, he appeared quite presentable. Edward even loaned him a belt with brass links that draped over the black leather broadsword sheath that Andreas had strapped to his waist. As he secured the sheath to his left thigh, as he was left-handed and fought left-handed, Edward brushed off the shoulders of the fine robe that was so soft and light that it had a velvety feel to it. The entire back panel was made from the finest silk damask, gold and red in color. He stood back, running a practiced eye over Andreas.
“Excellent,” he said. “You look quite presentable, Dray. All the women should be going mad for you dressed like that. I usually see you only in mail and armor, so this is a definite change.”
As a seasoned knight, it was unheard of to go out in public without protection, and Andreas was already feeling strange about it. “I feel naked.”
“You look very handsome,” Edward said, enjoying his discomfort. “Now, do you have enough money to tend to the lady’s every whim?”
Andreas grinned. “Yes, Papa, I have enough money,” he said sarcastically, teasing Edward, who laughed softly. “In all seriousness, I do appreciate it. And I had better go or she will think I have forgotten her.”
He headed out with Edward following him. “Be careful over in Southwark,” he said. “There are thieves and pickpockets over there, so watch yourself.”
Andreas moved through the narrow corridor and out into the reception hall. “I will,” he said steadily. “You needn’t worry about me. Your focus should be on Tay. He may try to return to Gomorrah and you must not let him. I wish to return him home in one piece.”
They were at the entry door that led out into the yard. As Andreas opened the panel, Edward came to a halt. “I shall tell Cassie where Theodis wishes to go,” he called after Andreas. “She’ll make sure he does not go there, I promise you.”
Andreas lifted a hand, waving it at him with a grin. Like all de Wolfe wives, Cassiopeia de Wolfe was strong beyond measure. She wasn’t beyond tying Theodis to a chair if she didn’t want him to leave.
But he didn’t want to think about Theodis anymore.
He wanted to think on the golden-haired angel in his future.
Since The Asher wasn’t very far from Lothbury, Andreas decided not to take his horse. The animal was big and snappish at times, and he didn’t want to have to worry about it as they traveled over the bridge spanning the River Thames and in the close quarters of Southwark. He only wanted to worry about his companionship, so he departed Lothbury through the fortified gatehouse and spilled out into the London street beyond. The Asher was about a half-mile east of him, so he headed off in that direction, anticipating the day more than he had anticipated anything in a very long time.
Gavriella.
The smile on his face seemed to be permanent.
CHAPTER NINE
Falstone Castle
“I understand that you are asking about my daughter, Harman. What do you want with her?”
Harman the Wise stood in the bailey of Falstone Castle, a compact but heavily fortified castle with an enormous yew tree growing up in the center of the bailey. Everything about Falstone was circular – the wall, the keep – with the outbuildings nestled inside. Situated just over the Scotland side of the border with England, it gave the impression of a place hunkered down on itself, expecting trouble at any moment.
As the wind kicked up the dust of the bailey around him, Harman was at the base of the stairs that led up into the keep, with Merek standing at the top. Harman had arrived at Falstone several minutes earlier, asking to see the Lord of Falstone and sending a servant for the man with one simple phrase – I am inquiring on the health of the lord’s daughter.
Now, he had his attention.
Merek de Leia was a big man with big blue eyes and as bald as a newborn babe. He wasn’t very sociable, or even very likable, but he was a fair man in all things and he had a well-trained and well-supplied army, which was essential this close to the Scots border. He was known to be a good but cautious battle commander.
But Harman hadn’t come about armies or Scots.
He had come to speak with Merek about his daughter.
“My lord,” he said, mounting the steps. “I have come on a most urgent matter. I must speak with you.”
Merek eyed him. “About what? My daughter? You have already seen her, Harman. She does not require any more of your attention. She is… well.”
“I did not come to inquire about her health.”
“Then why were you asking for her?”
“What I have to say about her could be a matter of life and death. Will you speak with me now?”
Merek was reluctant. That was clear. “What could you possibly know about life or death for my daughter?”
“If you will speak with me, then you will know.”
Merek’s gaze drifted over him for a moment before finally grunting, which Harman took to be an affirmative, and headed inside.
Harman followed.
The interior of the rounded keep was dark and dusty, smelling like dogs. In fact, there were dogs everywhere, wandering in and out of doorways as Harman followed Merek into a chamber directly off the entry.
There were dogs in there, too.
It was Merek’s large and cluttered solar. Merek had to push some of the bigger dogs out of the way, who milled around him, looking for scraps, before wandering over to Harman in search of handouts. Harman ignored the dogs, even when they jumped up on him. He simply pushed them down.
“Now,” Merek said as he sat heavily in a chair next to a big cluttered table. “What’s this about my daughter? And know that I am only speaking to you because of my respect for you as a physic and the fact that you have tended to my men on occasion. Were you anyone else, I would have thrown you from the walls myself.”
Harman wasn’t intimidated. If the de Soulis bastards couldn’t frighten him, Merek de Leia certainly couldn’t.
“My lord, I will come to the point,” he said. “I had a disturbing visit recently by John and Nicholas de Soulis. They were asking me if I had delivered a child this past spring at Falstone Castle, specifically, from your daughter. I told them that I had not. Now, let me state that I pass no judgment upon your daughter or upon your family. It is none of my affair. But Nicholas and John want that infant. And they want your daughter, too. Is she here?”
Merek stared at him a moment before his features contorted with confusion. “Want them?” he repeated. “Want them for what?”
Harman could see that Merek wasn’t taking the situation seriously. Whether it was confusion or lack of caring, he couldn’t be sure. “My lord, I must impress upon you the seriousness of what I am about to tell you. I overheard them speaking of getting their hands on the infant your daughter delivered to fulfill some sort of prophesy. I do not know what it is, but they want the child and they want your daughter. If it is de Soulis, you know it can only be for unspeakable things. You must protect your daughter and the babe from them. They plan to have me smuggle the child out of Falstone and give it over to them, but I will not do it. That means I need your protection. My wife and I must come to Falstone. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
Merek blinked s
lowly, clearly in disbelief. “My God,” he finally muttered. “It really was them.”
Harman was watching the man closely. “What do you mean?”
Merek glanced at him with some suspicion, but that stance quickly faded. He stood up, running his hand over his bald head, his features twisting with disbelief.
“They told her not to speak of the incident, but she did,” he mumbled. “She did not listen. She even drew the brand she’d seen on one of the horses. I knew it was them all along.”
Harman was becoming puzzled. “Are you speaking of the men who abducted your daughter from Deadwater?”
Pain rippled across Merek’s face. “Aye.”
Harman knew that, too. The entire village knew it after the brand Lady Gavriella had drawn had been circulated, mostly to warn the villagers that the House of de Soulis was on the prowl again. In years past, they’d been known to burn, loot, pillage, and rape, but those incidents had died down for a while.
It was a genuine fear that they might be resuming their harassment.
Harman prayed not.
“My lord, when it happened, why did you not summon the Constable of the North?” he asked. “Why not punish de Soulis for what they did?”
Merek looked at him in anger. Then defeat. That defeat moved on to confusion. “You would not understand.”
“I understand that your daughter was attacked,” he said quietly. “But I also understand that you did nothing about it. Why?”
Merek suddenly slammed a fist against the table, rattling everything upon it. “You will not judge me,” he boomed. “My daughter bears the shame of that attack, not de Soulis. It is my daughter who shamed the House of de Leia and summoning the constable to punish de Soulis? It would be useless. The House of de Wolfe is caught up in the troubles on the borders right now and this would be considered a personal matter, so I would plead my case, which everyone would hear, only to be denied.”
WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations Page 14