The Wolfe (114 page)

“My lord,” his mouth had gone dry. “My
name is Sir Kieran Hage.”

Matthew gazed back at him as they
started to walk forward again. “My Jemma is safe?”

“Aye,” Kieran nodded. “She is.”

“Ask him if you can call him ‘Da,’”
Deinwald snickered behind him, causing laughter from the other knights.

Matthew scowled, still quite dazed
by everything that had happened. “Da? What in the hell is he talking about?”

Grinning, William led the way back
up the broad stone steps.

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

The battle had fairly well dwindled
by the time William and the others crossed the makeshift ladders. As ordered,
there were no prisoners. William’s men had simply chased them off, back across
the moors from whence they came. Yet the dead littered the ground like a
macabre blanket, a hodge-podge sea of tartans intermingled here and there with
that of English earl.

Paris and Ranulf were there to meet
them as they crossed the moat along with a couple of dozen soldiers. William
was immediately alerted by the look on Paris’ face.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“An army approaches, William,” Paris
said gravely.

William looked puzzled. “What army?”

“I do not know, but they are flying
King Henry’s banner,” Paris replied.

William didn’t lose a moment. He
bound onto his destrier as Roan hastened to stop him.

“Wait, my lord!” he called out. “I
believe I can explain.”

William frowned. “Explain what?”

“The army,” Roan grabbed his destrier
from a nearby soldier. “I sent for them. As reinforcements.”

William didn’t say anything for a
moment. “Define this statement, d’Vant.”

Roan took a breath to steady himself.
“I was concerned when we came to Scotland to rescue your wife that we would be
outnumbered, my lord,” he said evenly. “Being so far from London or any allied
border earl troubled me, due to the fact that the Scots had been so fierce on
their attack of Northwood. As a result of my concern for the success of this
campaign, I wrote to my cousin, Andrew D’Vant. Mayhap you have heard of the Red
Fury?”

William nodded slowly, calmly. “Aye,
I have. The mercenary captain.”

Roan continued. “I asked that he
support our efforts, My lord, should he be so inclined. His army is based north
of Carlisle. I was not sure if he would receive the missive, but it appears
that he has and has chosen to respond.” The man was feeling a good deal more
nervous than he let on. “I realized what an important campaign this was, my
lord. With everything you and your lovely wife have been through, I merely
wanted to assure success. I meant no disrespect, nor was it my intention to
undermine your command.”

William gazed back at him
impassively. Roan was waiting for the sword to come flying out of its scabbard
and straight into his sternum, but it was not forthcoming. William continued to
stare at him for several long, apprehensive moments.

In faith, William wasn’t sure how to
react. His first instinct was one of anger for the interference, but when he
heard Roan’s explanation, he saw the reasons and the logic behind it. The
knight didn’t want to risk them getting caught in a foreign land, locked in
with no hope of returning alive. Yet going outside of the chain of command was
unheard of, especially for The Wolf’s knights.

However, Roan was not one of The
Wolf’s knights; he was one of Henry’s, very trusted, and used to acting on his
own. William took that into consideration.

Roan had damn near saved his life in
Wales and William felt a certain amount of debt to the man. He knew he was not
the ambitious sort and believed him when he said he did not mean to undermine
William’s command. His anger faded.

“Then I appreciate your foresight, Roan,”
he said steadily. “Fortunately, it seems that their assistance is unnecessary.
You will ride with me.”

By the time William and his knights
reached his army, the troops were forming another skirmish line and preparing
to face the approaching army. Adam had the command, setting up perfectly formed
ranks like any experienced general.

“My lord!” William called out to
him. “Another fight may not be necessary. I believe I know who they are.”

Adam nodded, puzzled, but
nonetheless ordered the troops to remain as they were as William, Roan, Paris
and Kieran rode out across the vast moor, pounding toward the distant column of
men.

Two riders broke off from the
approaching army and rode out to meet them. All of the riders came to a halt
several yards apart under the early morning sky, destriers dancing and kicking
up dewed sod.

Roan flipped up his visor. “Andrew,
you bastard.”

One of the men, dressed in flawless
armor, pulled off his helmet and William studied the man with the rich auburn
hair intently.

“Well, cousin, where in the hell is
this fierce battle that threatens to tear Scotland apart?” he demanded.

Roan smiled. “Over with,
fortunately. The Wolf’s troops were victorious and you, little man, were not
needed after all.”

Andrew’s face cracked into a smile. “You
dragged me all the way up here into the God-awful wilderness for nothing?” he
asked incredulously. “I shall have your head for this.”          

“Instead, consider that I have a
great debt to you and will be eager to repay it,” Roan replied. “Truly, cousin,
I appreciate your loyalty more than you can possibly know.”

“As do I,” William said formally. “I
do not believe we have had the pleasure. I am William de Wolfe.”

Andrew looked at William. “The Wolf
of the border? ‘Tis I who have the pleasure, my lord. Your reputation and skills
are legendary. I am glad to see that we are not needed, though I expected as
much with you leading the army. I am Sir Andrew D’Vant, Sir Roan’s cousin.”

William nodded slightly, an arrogant
nod. “I know you are usually paid for your services, my lord, but I must
confess I came…unprepared for restitution.” He glanced sideways at Roan. “Yet
I can offer you and your men food and lodging at Northwood in hopes that you
will consider that payment enough for your efforts.”

Andrew passed a glance at his cousin
as well. “You need not worry about payment, my lord, for that has been taken
care of,” he replied. “However, I will accept your gracious offer just the
same.”

William nodded curtly and reined his
animal around, wondering how the man got a hold of Henry’s banner but
suspecting just the same.

“Roan?” Andrew yelled at his cousin
as he put his helmet on once again. “And just how in the hell do you expect to
repay this favor? I have taken all of your money, and you have no men to speak
of. Well?”

“I will repay Roan’s debt to you, my
lord, when and where needed,” William answered for the knight, drawing surprise
from all of them. He looked at Roan. “Your cousin has been a loyal and thoughtful
vassal, and served me flawlessly in Wales. In fact, I practically own the man
my life and intend to demand our Henry that Roan serve me permanently. Any debt
he has to you becomes mine.”

Roan was stunned. “My lord?” he
stammered. My God, he did not want this man to feel obligated to him in the
least. He had simply meant to…

William waved him off. “Back to
Northwood.” he bellowed.

***

Jordan rode with her husband back to
Northwood. With over two thousand men in the caravan, it looked as if the
entire fighting population of England was mobilizing. She was sure they made a
strange and awesome sight.

She was happy. Truly happy. For
everything that she had done, the end result was a pleasant one and she relaxed
against her husband. She had her family, and although they had initially
protested at returning to England with her, she had convinced them ‘twas only
for a short while to regain their strength before returning to rebuild Langton.
And they would rebuild, with William’s help. He had pledged money, men and
materials.

Dunbar was dead. So was Malcolm. She
didn’t know what had become of Abner but suspected he, too, lay dead on the
moor. The clan chiefs, licking their wounds, had disbanded and returned to
their various keeps according to William’s spies. With Dunbar dead there was no
reason to stay together.

Jordan still had a difficult time
believing the stupidity of her countrymen sometimes. How could they have
believed in victory when they knew they would be fighting The Wolf? ‘Twas not
only blind faith in her husband’s abilities, but she had somehow hoped her
fellow Scots would be tired of war and death as she was. But, she knew, as long
as there was Scotland and England, there would be wars.

The day had grown remarkably warm
but she was blissfully comfortable in her flowing white surcoat, draped like an
angel atop William’s horse. Jemma, feeling much better after her ride from hell
yesterday, rode with Kieran. Caladora rode back in the wagon with her other
kin.

Her heart was so light it was a
feather. Her concerns, her worries, were gone except for one. William would be
returning to London now to resume his station as king’s champion and the
thought depressed her. She would go with him to London, of course, even though
she loathed the place, but she would not be separated from him. Never again.

“Damnation, ‘tis hot,” Deinwald
sputtered behind them.

“Get used to it,” Jemma remarked, “for
ye’ll be spending eternity in flames.”

Jordan grinned as Deinwald turned to
Jemma, gearing up for another volley of insults. Lord knows, he had missed the
abuse dreadfully when he had been in London. He always felt better when there
was someone to fight with.

“Is that so?” he fired back. “In
that case, I shall save you a spot right next to me, for I will not be alone.”

Jemma straightened in mock outrage. “How
dare ye insinuate that I am damned to hell!” she snapped. “I am a mother,
Deinwald Ellsrod, and incapable of evil.”

“I did not insinuate anything,”
Deinwald insisted, waiting until she backed down before hissing: “Banshee.”

“Dunna call me that!” she shot back,
turning to her husband. She pointed at Deinwald imperiously. “Kieran, hurt him.”

Kieran laughed behind his lowered
faceplate. “And deprive you of the joy of doing it yourself? Never.”

Jordan giggled and she felt
William’s arm tighten around her. Sighing with content, she noticed Paris
silently riding to their right. Usually, he jumped in if there were any insults
to be dealt to Jemma, but he was unusually quiet. She twisted around to face
William and lifted up his visor.

“What is wrong with Paris?” she
whispered.

He raised his brows. “I do not know.
Why?”

She didn’t reply, instead, passing
another glance at Paris thoughtfully. Then, her face took on a sly expression.

“My goodness, Caladora has never
been this far south,” she said loudly. “I wonder if she is enjoying her trip in
the back of a wagon. Lord knows, I find things much more interesting from the
back of a horse with someone to answer my questions.”

William looked at her as if she were
mad and she shot him expressions demanding he go along with her. But he didn’t
have the slighted idea what she meant. Exasperated, she turned to Paris.

“Paris, would ye mind too terribly
if Callie rode with ye?” she asked sweetly. “I am sure she is terribly lonely
with Jemma and I riding so far from her, and it would be wonderful if she could
ride with us.”

Paris turned his helmeted head
toward her but she could not see his face. She wondered for a split second if
he was going to deny her.

“‘Twould be my pleasure, my lady,” he
said after a moment. When he was gone, returning to the wagons, Jordan smiled triumphantly
at William.

“What was that all about?” he
demanded softly.

“He likes her,” she said confidently.

William cocked a brow. “Paris likes
anything in a skirt.”

“I didna mean it that way,” she
scowled at him. “Dinna ye see the way he looked at her when he first saw her?
Mark my words, English, He will marry her.”

“What?” he half-yelled in outrage
and she shushed him harshly. “Jordan, your pregnancy is affecting your brain.
Paris marry? Never!” he chuckled. Then he chuckled again. Then, he burst out
laughing and she angrily turned around in the saddle, crossing her arms stiffly
across her chest.

“Just ye wait, William de Wolfe,”
she sniffed. “I am never wrong.”

He continued to snort and chortle. “I
am sorry, love, I really am. But in this case you are wrong, mark my words.
Paris will never marry, even though your cousin is very lovely.”

Jordan cocked her eyebrow at him,
still peeved at his snorting. “He will, too, and it will be Callie. So ye think
her lovely, do ye?”

“Aye, verily,” William agreed. “She
is a beauty.”