WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Little did she know what, however, she would soon be facing.

  Her stars were about to change.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Look to the east,” Gareth said. “A storm is coming in. See it?”

  Andreas was astride his muscular war horse, the one that had replaced the horse he’d had for eighteen years who had fallen in battle three months ago. The horse’s name had been Otho, a gray beast missing one eye, but he’d been hell in a fight. Oddly enough, it hadn’t been a weapon that killed him – he’d simply seized up in the middle of a fight and dropped dead, leaving Andreas pinned beneath him. It had taken his father, his brother, and several men to lift the horse enough so he could be pulled out from underneath.

  Andreas missed that horse.

  He was still getting used to the Belgian charger he now rode, the one as dark as a moonless night. The horse was gorgeous, young, and powerful, but Andreas felt like all he did was wrestle the beast to keep him controlled. The horse seemed to have the same disposition in battle or out of it – vicious and edgy. He swung that big head around and knocked men down with ease, a particularly valuable trait in a fight, but not so much when they were simply riding along and not trying to kill anyone.

  It was Cassius who had named the horse The Hammer, but it was Andreas who felt like he was the one being hammered every time he rode the damned thing.

  “I see it,” he said after a moment, cuffing The Hammer on the side of the neck when the horse threw his head once again and bashed into Gareth’s horse. “That means snow. We must get to Falstone before the weather lets loose. I do not want to be caught on the open road with a snowfall.”

  Gareth agreed with him. “Should I send a man ahead to tell them of our imminent arrival?”

  Andreas was looking ahead at Falstone in the distance. “I want you to look at the location of the castle,” he said. “Is it fair to say that from their position, they would be able to see our approach?”

  Gareth was young and eager, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what his brother was getting at. “Aye,” he said sheepishly. “So they already know we’re coming.”

  Andreas fought off a grin. “They do,” he said. “But that does not mean you cannot send someone ahead to give them exact numbers so they know where to position everyone. From the looks of it, the castle isn’t terrible sizable. There might be some logistical issues.”

  Gareth nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “May I ride ahead?”

  “You may.”

  Flashing a smile that looked very much like their father, Gareth spurred his horse onward, thundering down the road that was a mixture of mud and ice. As he charged off, another knight rode up to take his place.

  Andreas glanced over at Brodie.

  “He reminds me of you at that age, Dray,” Brodie said, grinning. “So eager. So ridiculous.”

  Andreas had known Brodie most of his life. The man was about eight or nine years older than Andreas was, so they’d done much growing up together, as Brodie had served Troy since he had been newly knighted. If Andreas had ever had an older brother, Brodie would be it.

  “Ridiculous or not, I’m still better looking than you are,” he said. “I still cannot believe my cousin married you. I thought we’d warned Uncle Scott sufficiently about you.”

  Brodie laughed, low in his throat. “Your poison did not take root, thank God,” he said. “Sophia and I are quite happy. I should be an inspiration to you, in fact.”

  Andreas looked at him as if he’d said something utterly ridiculous. “Inspiration?” he repeated. “For what?”

  “Because I married late in life and I married for love,” he said. “You can, too.”

  That stripped Andreas of any hint of humor he might have had. He shut his mouth, facing forward as they drew closer to Falstone. Brodie may have been sociable and outgoing, but he wasn’t insensitive. Like everyone else in the de Wolfe ranks, he knew what had happened to Andreas in London those months back.

  He hadn’t meant to hurt the man.

  “Dray,” he said softly. “You know I love you. I did not mean that as a flippant comment.”

  Andreas nodded. “I know.”

  “I meant it as encouragement.”

  “That is not necessary,” he said. “Send word back along the lines. I want the wagons moved forward. I want to get those into Falstone’s bailey sooner rather than later. If they’re last in the line, then we may not be able to fit them in at all.”

  He was changing the subject and Brodie went along with it, though he felt badly about it. He whirled his horse around and headed back along the column towards the six provisions wagons they’d brought with them. That left Andreas riding point with Will mid-pack and Corey and Reed covering the rear. They weren’t full-fledged knights, but they were properly armed and quite skilled even at their young age. They were so damned excited to be riding with the army that they had obeyed every order Andreas had issued down to the last letter.

  They didn’t want to chance being sent home.

  Riding alone, Andreas tried not to let Brodie’s comment bother him. He knew the man had meant well. Therefore, he shook it off, as it was becoming easier to shake off those things these days. Thoughts of that woman from London leaving him sitting alone at The Fox and The Wolf were easier to push aside.

  He just tried not to think of her at all.

  He couldn’t even bring himself to remember her name.

  It was better that way.

  The storm from the east was moving fast and Andreas had the army pick up the pace as Falstone drew closer. With darkness on the approach, he could see that the gatehouse was open wide because there was a good deal of light from within. The entire fortress glowed against the night sky, the silhouettes of soldiers standing at the gates.

  Andreas pushed his men until they were essentially running and they began pouring in through the gatehouse. The wagons, with the horses running, charged up through the column and into the open bailey, with Corey and Reed on their excitable horses escorting the charge.

  Very quickly, the bailey of Falstone began to fill up, but the Falstone men were ready. They had the wagons continue to the stables while the men were organized into groups, each group with several Falstone soldiers to assist them. By the time Andreas came to the gatehouse, the last of his army was pouring in, with Will yelling encouraging insults to keep them moving. The man had quite a talent for bellowing insults, getting the men moving but in a way that was both threatening and encouraging. That was his gift. When the last man entered the bailey, Andreas and Will followed.

  The massive gates shut behind them.

  Andreas was met by Gareth and another knight he didn’t recognize.

  “Dray,” Gareth said. “This is Sir Lukas de Dere, commander of Falstone. De Dere, this is my half-brother, Andreas de Wolfe. Our father is Troy de Wolfe, Lord Braemoor.”

  Andreas dismounted his steed, greeting the blue-eyed, handsome young knight. “My lord,” he said. “You received my missive?”

  Lukas nodded. “We did, earlier today,” he said. “We are grateful for your presence, of course, but will you provide me with the details of what is occurring that we should need such reinforcements? We’ve seen nothing at all in our lands that could be interpreted as threatening.”

  Andreas handed the reins of his horse over to Gareth. “I would be happy to tell you everything,” he said. “May I make sure my men are well-tended first? It looks as if a storm is approaching from the east.”

  Gareth answered, “We have the men pitching tents already, Dray,” he said. “De Dere showed us where we could set up our encampments.”

  “We are going to be crowded, but manageable,” Lukas said. “Food is being prepared for your men and they will have a hot meal within the hour. We’re moving the horses and wagons into the stable yard as we speak.”

  It sounded like everything was being taken care of and Andreas nodded. “You have my thanks,” he said, returning his focus to Gareth. “I will go with Si
r Lukas. Tell Brodie I want him to oversee the settling of the men and send him and Will to me when they are finished.”

  Gareth nodded. “Where will you be?”

  Andreas looked at Lukas for that answer. “In the great hall,” he said. “It is on the other side of the keep. Some of your men may sleep there if they wish. It will probably be warmer than the tents.”

  Andreas nodded. “That is appreciated,” he said, glancing at Gareth. “Go about your business. I will see you later.”

  With that, he followed Lukas towards the great hall as the wind began to pick up. Already, little white flakes of snow were blowing around, indicative of the incoming storm.

  “This weather has not stopped the Scots?” Lukas asked.

  Andreas pulled off his helm before they reached the enormous doors to the hall, running a gloved hand through his damp hair.

  “Nothing stops them,” he said ironically. He took a second look at Lukas. “I do not believe you and I have met before.”

  Lukas nodded. “I do not believe so, either, though we may have attended a few battles together,” he said. “Falstone never seems to be involved in much. We’re not as large as the de Wolfe properties and the Scots do not seem to be much interested in us.”

  They entered the hall at that point, met by the warm, stale air from two large hearths blasting out flames and sparks. When they reached a table next to one of the hearths, Andreas set his helm on the tabletop and began to remove his cloak.

  “That is a fair assessment,” he said. “I’ve never heard of much action at Falstone. You’re in your own little valley here, which is a good thing unless the Scots decide to use it in their trek south.”

  “And that is what you are afraid of?”

  Andreas hung his cloak on a peg next to the hearth. “Possibly,” he said. “You asked for the details of what has happened and I can tell you this – we have a clan war on our hands with Clan Maxwell against Clan Elliot and Clan Johnstone, and anyone else they feel who has wronged them. It’s a situation that seems to be growing until no one will remember how it even started. Eight days ago, they burst over the border and we spent almost a week chasing them back over. My grandfather has twenty-five thousand men in and around Castle Questing, enough to send a serious message to the Scots. We will not tolerate their foolery. I am here in case they decide to head into England via this route. We do not want Falstone to fall victim to their rampage.”

  Lukas digested the situation. “Nor do I,” he said. “I have informed Lord de Leia of your missive. He shall be here shortly to speak with you as well.”

  Andreas stood there, warming his hands by the fire, as he looked over his shoulder at Lukas.

  “We were told there was an… issue with Lord de Leia,” he said. “Do you care to elaborate?”

  Lukas cocked his head. “What issue?”

  “Madness.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Andreas looked back to the fire. “It is a simple question, de Dere,” he said. “We are here to help. We are not here to pass judgment on your lord. But I must know what we are facing. Either your lord is showing signs of madness or he is not. I need to know.”

  Lukas was silent for a moment. Andreas could see him moving around the table from the corners of his eyes until he came to stand next to him.

  “I do not know who told you this and I suppose it does not matter,” he said, lowering his voice. “Lord de Leia has never been a particularly strong and active lord when it comes to his army, but he was always accommodating to his allies. I am sure you know this.”

  “I do. My father considers him a valuable ally or I would not be here.”

  Lukas was looking at him closely, perhaps for any sign of a man who might go back on his word and refuse to help if he knew the truth. But Lukas had to assume that Andreas, being a de Wolfe, was a man of honor. Not that he had much choice at the moment.

  He took a deep breath.

  “The burdens of Falstone are not burdens to be assumed by anyone else, my lord,” he said quietly. “We are capable of handling our own issues. But we also value the House of de Wolfe, as our great ally, so because of that admiration, I will explain the situation as best I can. Let me say from the outset that it is not dangerous. At least, not yet. But it is… puzzling.”

  Andreas was looking at him again. “How so?”

  Lukas folded his big arms across his chest, thoughtfully. “Because I am not entirely sure how it happened,” he said. “As I said, Lord de Leia is not a man who was ever actively involved in leading his men. He is not a warrior, although he went through the usual training as a lad. He simply prefers to give orders and let others carry them out.”

  “Like you.”

  “Like me,” Luka confirmed. “I am his only knight and have been for more than ten years. I have always had a free hand to make important decisions regarding the army and Falstone in general because Lord de Leia trusts me. But several months ago, a woman appeared. She said that she was a gift from an ally for Lord de Leia, a servant to tend to his every need. I would have sent her away except Lord de Leia happened to be present when she arrived and what he heard intrigued him. He allowed her to remain and she will not leave his side. That is when the trouble started.”

  Andreas was listening intently. “Why?” he asked. “What does she do?”

  Lukas smiled without humor. “Everything you think a woman would do to a man,” he said grimly. “I caught them in a compromising situation, once, and that tells me the woman makes herself useful to Lord de Leia by using her body any way she can. But it is more than that – she keeps him supplied with drink. A great deal of drink. She keeps him sequestered, from me and from his daughter, and she is rude and demanding. As for the madness, I believe that is related to the drink, but there is more to it somehow. It seems to me that Lord de Leia is sane some moments, insane in others, and all I can tell you is that it started when that whore arrived. I apologize for my language, but that is exactly what she is. And Lord de Leia will not send her away.”

  It seemed like a strange situation, indeed, and Andreas considered it.

  “It is possible she was sent by an enemy and not an ally,” he said. “Is she English?”

  “Aye.”

  “Who is Lord de Leia at odds with?”

  Lukas stared at him for a moment before averting his gaze. He seemed quite hesitant, whereas only moments earlier, he had had been forthcoming to Andreas’ questions. Sensing this, Andreas peered at the man.

  “He does have enemies, then?” he asked. “Is it possible this woman was sent by them?”

  Lukas wouldn’t look at him. “I have considered that,” he muttered. “But it makes no sense why they would send this woman to Lord de Leia.”

  “Who are his enemies?”

  Lukas turned his head in Andreas’ direction, but he still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “De Soulis.”

  Andreas rolled his eyes. “That bunch, is it?” he said. “I am not surprised. But you are not going to like what my father has dictated.”

  That forced Lukas to look him in the eyes. “What?”

  Andreas grunted unhappily. “Even though my father would much rather see the House of de Soulis purged from Hell’s Guardhouse, he doesn’t want the Scots holding that massive place, so if they are attacked, my orders are to defend them.”

  Something in Lukas’ expression changed, then. It was as if a curtain were drawn over his features, because his face turned dark. Everything about him turned dark. Andreas saw the transformation right before his very eyes. A calm, congenial knight turned to stone.

  “Let them die,” he growled. “Let the Scots overrun them and cut their bodies into a thousand pieces and feed them to the dogs. I would rather see Hell’s Guardhouse filled with a thousand Scots than see de Soulis within those walls. They deserve to die in the most hideous way possible.”

  It occurred to Andreas that there was some very bad blood between Falstone and Hell’s Guardhouse that his father either hadn�
�t known about or simply failed to tell him. Andreas refused to believe it was the latter, so he would go on the assumption that Troy hadn’t known anything.

  That meant the de Wolfe army was now pulled into something they knew nothing about, Scots be damned.

  He fixed on Lukas.

  “You are going to explain that comment,” he said, though not unkindly. “I brought a thousand men here, including my own blood, to defend Falstone from a Scots incursion, and now I am told there is bad blood between Falstone and Hell’s Guardhouse? I do not have orders that cover any confrontation between you and de Soulis, so you will be very clear as to what is going on here so I can make the best decision I can for my men and for the House of de Wolfe. Have you been battling de Soulis and we were unaware?”

  Lukas stared at him a moment before turning away and returning to the table, where he sat heavily.

  Andreas followed.

  “Answer me, de Dere,” he said, sitting next to him. “Are my men in jeopardy now?”

  Lukas shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “De Soulis has not brought their army against us.”

  “Then what in the hell is going on?” Andreas demanded, displeased with Lukas’ evasive answers. “Tell me immediately or I shall take my men, return to my father, and tell him of the situation here. Then you can explain it to Troy de Wolfe when he comes down around your ears for withholding information that may have jeopardized his men.”

  It was a threat and Lukas knew it. He scratched his head in a nervous gesture.

  “Every fortress has its little secrets, its personal hell,” he said quietly. “We have ours, as well. Nay, your men are not in jeopardy from de Soulis, but what they have done to us is beyond reprehensible. Do I think that whore has been sent by them to further weaken the House of de Leia? Possibly. Anything is possible. My lord, I will explain everything to you, but you must swear to me that you will only tell your father and no one else. If this information got out… it would shame Lord de Leia and his daughter greatly. That personal hell I speak of.”