The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One)

by R. L. Blackhurst

  ****

  De Floyran’s face twisted into a frown as he saw Raymond Caradas striding towards him from the door of his chamber. He noted the vicious scratch upon his face.

  “What happened?” he demanded angrily.

  “She’s as bad as him!” Caradas snapped, fingering his wound.

  De Floyran sighed and placed his hands on his hips, noting the smarting of his broken finger. “You’d better not have laid a hand to her, or the scratch on your face will feel like a feather’s touch compared to what I’ll do to you.”

  “I haven’t touched her.” Caradas said irritably.

  “She is not like the women we are used to dealing with, she is one of us. I told you to have a care.” He sighed exasperated. “Go see to your wound. I will take care of her from now on seeing as you are so inept.”

  Caradas bowed curtly and strode down the hallway towards the stairs with haste. De Floyran stared after him until he had disappeared and then turned back towards the chamber door. He shook his head and then smiled, eager to see his captive. He walked to the door and opened it cautiously. Catherine whirled round to face him, her expression, one of fury, only pleased him and he tutted at her.

  “You’ve upset Raymond,” he said with false sentiment.

  Catherine’s lip curled in disgust, “you monstrous bastard!” she screamed and then her face softened into beautiful misery as she said, “please, don’t hurt him.”

  De Floyran laughed, “You scratch my man’s face, call me names and then expect me to show mercy to Galeren.” He paused and viewed her through narrowed eyes, “I owe him at least a broken finger.”

  Catherine sank down onto the floor and stared at the fresh rushes that had been scattered across it. She could smell the crushed lavender mixed amongst them but its sweetness did nothing to soothe her, nor did it cleanse the stench of death and suffering that had perforated her soul.

  “Don’t be so despairing,” De Floyran said sounding sympathetic.

  “Isn’t that what you want?” Catherine asked resignedly.

  “Yes.” De Floyran answered honestly, “but now that I have had it, I want something else.” He added contemplatively.

  Catherine looked up at him with hatred in her eyes. He spread his hands apologetically.

  “Hard to believe but true. I am sure we’ll be able to work something out, a compromise.” He gave her a reassuring wink.

  “What do you want?” Catherine asked, a faint sliver of hope was in her voice.

  “We’ll talk about this later.” De Floyran said, pleased with her response. “I’ll have a bath and some food prepared for you. You need to clean up after your night in that putrid pit. It is a shame that your gown was ruined. I suppose I’ll have to find you another. We’ll talk when you are refreshed.” He said cheerfully and turned to leave but noted that her head was hung low.

  “Don’t worry Catherine. Everything will be alright, I promise.” But she refused to look at him and with that he left the room.

  Outside he nearly crashed into De Nogaret who was racing towards the chamber door.

  “Steady!” De Floyran complained, protecting his damaged finger with his other hand, “were you going to knock or barge straight in?”

  “Knock of course!” De Nogaret said defensively, “what is wrong with your hand?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” De Floyran answered irritably, putting his hands behind his back, “what do you want?”

  De Nogaret’s thick eyebrows undulated rapidly with interest. “What about the girl?” he said, his tongue flicking in and out of his mouth like a serpent.

  “She’s fine.” De Floyran said curtly. “Surely you did not rush up here to ask me that. What occurred at the meeting this morning?” he asked, quickly changing the subject.

  “The Pope didn’t say much about his meeting with De Molay, only I know he insisted on seeing him alone with no guards or even his scribe present.”

  De Floyran shrugged, “Anything else?”

  “Well, he requested that the dead Templars be disposed of.”

  “Yes, I saw that.”

  “I suppose it was a request of De Molay’s and he would have to show some compassion fitting of his Holy status. But he is firmly with Philip now on the matter and has said that he will issue a Bull ordering the arrest of the Templars throughout Christendom as soon as he is back at the papal court.”

  “Excellent,” De Floyran said, starting to move away from the chamber door. De Nogaret hesitated for a moment and then followed him.

  “The Pope is preparing to leave for Poitiers as we speak and Philip is keen to get back to his palace at Fontainebleau. He thinks this château is about as welcoming as a graveyard. He wants me to return with him of course.”

  “Of course,” De Floyran said, only half interested. He turned to the councillor at the top of the stairs and said “And what about my spoils? Will I forever be chasing the King for them?”

  “No,” De Nogaret said, “he has selected several estates for you to choose from. They are all considerably wealthy. There will be men at your disposal and of course your coffers will be filled. You’ll want for nothing.” De Nogaret scratched his chin and then added as an afterthought.

  “He asks that you be at his disposal if ever he should have a need to call upon you. There will of course be extra payment for any services rendered.”

  “The King’s mutt,” De Floyran said thoughtfully, “mmm, I half expected it. I suppose I can live with that. Now, all I need is a wife with whom I can produce my heirs.” He chuckled and raised his eyebrows suggestively at De Nogaret. De Nogaret’s face dropped a little and he looked back at the chamber door at the end of the corridor. De Floyran began to make his way down the steps.

  “You don’t mean her?” he said astounded, remaining at the top of the stairs.

  “Why not?” De Floyran questioned.

  “I thought you meant to amuse yourself with her, not marry her! Besides, she is your enemy’s woman.”

  “No!” De Floyran said, turning on De Nogaret with eyes of dangerous frustration, “she is mine by mark.”

  “But she despises you! She will never agree to such, marrying the man who slaughtered her lover and betrayed his kind.” He said incredulously.

  “Perhaps, but I will persuade her to think otherwise. I made her. There is a bond between us. A blood bond, and in time she will acquiesce to that bond, it is nature and cannot be undone. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “I wish to understand it.” De Nogaret paused, “I thought you were going to help me to.” He added disgruntled.

  De Floyran quickly took back the few steps he’d taken and gripped De Nogaret’s arm viciously with his good hand. He pulled him close to him.

  “I told you to wait!” he said through gritted teeth. “There will be a time for it, but that time is not now. You have much work to do for your King, it must wait until the matter of the Templars is dead and buried. Have I not kept all my promises?”

  “Yes,” De Nogaret said wincing.

  “Then why do you doubt me on this?” De Floyran spat and pushed him away.

  “I am merely impatient. I remember our night in Paris and long for such again.”

  De Floyran looked at De Nogaret and smiled briefly but although he kept the expression in his eyes neutral he looked upon the councillor with derision.

  “Sometimes you have to do these things alone, but do not worry we will hunt together again. As I said there is a time and that is not now.”

  De Nogaret nodded, “I understand. I could serve you well.” He said in almost a whisper.

  “You do already.” De Floyran said, bored with the turn of conversation. He was keen to be away from the devious imp and on to more pressing matters like seeing to his broken finger. “And will in the future. Don’t worry, you are in the new circle.” He smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

  “Now, I must see to something.” He said. “I’ll see you later for supper and a few flagons
. Be sure to bring that list of estates for me.” He called back, as he disappeared rapidly down the stairs leaving De Nogaret once again unfulfilled. De Nogaret turned and looked back at the chamber door, his lip curling in resentment.

  Robard Beaumanoir averted his eyes when he saw De Floyran striding towards him. Even so, he felt the knight’s scathing glance upon him as he past. He saw De Nogaret loitering by the stairs near the main hall shortly afterward and ducked into a doorway to avoid being seen by him. He waited, and eventually De Nogaret scurried past him in the wake of De Floyran. He looked at the flight of stairs and wondered if he dare be so bold.

  He waited for a few moments longer and then stepped out of the doorway and hurried up the flight of stairs. At the top, he paused and listened for a few moments for voices or footsteps. Satisfied that all was clear he hastened to the door of the chamber that Catherine was in. He smiled as he saw that the key had been left in it and looking round once more, he slowly unlocked the door and swiftly stepped inside.

  “What are you doing here?” Catherine asked, with both surprise and disgust in her voice when she saw who the intruder was.

  She had not given much thought to her former lover since she had seen him in the guard room the previous night and why should she? He was a treacherous cad, just like the company he was keeping these days. He was in her past, though she could not regret it. In truth, he’d done her a favour. If she had married him, his good looks would have soon paled against the prevalence of his weak personality and her passion would have been wasted.

  “Shhhhhhh,” he said, putting his finger to his lips, “no one knows I am here.”

  “Why are you here?” she asked again scornfully.

  Beaumanoir looked at his former paramour and felt more than a twinge of regret. She had matured since he had last seen her and despite her predicament, she appeared to be a stronger woman and her beauty seemed enhanced by her strength.

  “I had to see you, Catherine. What is going on?”

  “I rather thought you would be able to tell me.” She answered sardonically.

  “Christ, I know nothing. I have only been at court a few months. Last night was…” he broke off, lost for words. Catherine raised her eyebrows at him, prompting him to finish.

  “That thing in the pit. I can hardly believe it, though I saw it with my own two eyes!”

  “Thing?” Catherine said with loathing. “He is my mate, my heart, everything that you are not and could never have been.”

  Her words stung him but he said, “I meant no offence. It is much to take in.”

  She shrugged indifferently.

  “And you’re really one of these creatures too?” Robard asked.

  “Werewolves,” Catherine corrected, “and yes I am one.”

  “De Floyran said that it was he that made you one of these . . . werewolves.”

  “Yes,” she said remorsefully, “I don’t regret what I am, only how it came to be. He attacked me while I was at the convent you allowed me to be taken to. He tried to rape me and then bit me as I made my escape.”

  “I’m sorry,” Beaumanoir said, “but De Floyran is no friend of mine. He threatened to skin me alive if I came near you. I am risking much to be here.”

  “How brave of you, but save your skin. You are not wanted here.”

  “I know how you must hate me,” Beaumanoir begun.

  “I don’t hate you Robard, you did me a favour. How is Margaret?” she asked after her sister.

  “She is fine. We have a son, Peter.” Beaumanoir answered, swallowing hard.

  “Good,” Catherine answered, “and my father?” she asked more painfully.

  “He is well, I suppose.”

  Catherine raised her eyebrows at him.

  “I think he has missed you.” He said.

  “Yes, he has shown that by ignoring me and leaving me to rot in that place.”

  “He would never admit it. I think you remind him too much of your mother. Your father’s pride rules over any sentiment he has.”

  Catherine shrugged. “It matters not now.”

  “Should I tell him of this?” Robard asked hesitantly.

  “No!” Catherine said vehemently, “he must never know any of this! I am sure the King wants this kept within boundaries that he has set, and involving my father could put you all in danger. Besides, do you think he would race to save his werewolf daughter, when giving my heart to you was enough to have him abandon me?”

  Beaumanoir shook his head slowly and then lowered his eyes to hide his shame.

  Catherine sighed. “Well,” she said, clasping her hands together, “we have exchanged news and if there is nothing else I would get your hide quickly out of here before De Floyran tans it for you.”

  “For what it’s worth, I want to help. Let me do something.”

  “Free us all?” Catherine said thinly.

  “You know I cannot.”

  Catherine bit down on her lip in thought and then suddenly her eyes lit up and she said, “There is something you can do.”

  “Name it.” Beaumanoir said.

  “The Pope is going to issue a Bull, ordering the arrest of all the Templars in every Christian realm.”

  Beaumanoir frowned.

  “I heard De Floyran and one of the King’s councillors talking about it outside the chamber door.” Catherine explained.

  “So?”

  “Well, it will take time for him to do. I need you to warn the others. You must get a message to the Templars in England. Tell them what has happened here, that the Pope knows and that he supports the King.”

  Beaumanoir considered her request but only for a few moments, he nodded and said purposefully, “I will. Where and to whom do I send this message?”

  “Temple Bruer in Lincolnshire. Address it to Parsifal Bondeville, he is Galeren’s sergeant.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Thank you Robard,” Catherine said gently and with genuine gratitude.

  “It is the least I can do. I am sorry I hurt you, it is not without regret. I carry my own demons.” He said sadly.

  “Think on it no more. This deed builds the bridge between us. There is peace.”

  “Peace,” he said and stepped forward to embrace her. She let him and it felt like the embrace of an old friend, not lover.

  “I wish I could do more,” he said.

  “Our fates are not linked and here we must part, do this one thing for me and live your life. Just have a care.”

  He nodded and turned to hide the tears beginning to well up in his eyes.

  “Farewell,” he said but did not look back. He listened for a moment by the door and when he was happy that it was safe, he opened it and disappeared once again from her life.