WolfeLord by Kathryn Le Veque

CHAPTER THREE

“And how is your father faring, Adie?” Lily asked.

The day was closing in on sunset, the sky streaked with clouds of red and gold. The evening’s feast was a couple of hours away yet and Adria had just returned to Lily after seeing to her father’s comfort. He tried to speak to her again about de Brito, but she’d simply walked away like she had in the hall. Now, she had the blue woolen fabric for the tunic laid out on the floor in front of the hearth so that she could spot any imperfections and avoid them in the construction of the tunic.

She was also trying to forget her conversation with her father.

“He seems tired, my lady,” she said after a moment. “It was a long ride from Coventry.”

“Was the weather good?”

Adria looked back to the fabric. “I did not ask him, but I assume so,” she said. “This has been a mild month as far as weather goes.”

“True,” Lily said, popping a raspberry into her mouth. “I was thinking of sending a missive to my family with your father when he returns home. Do you think he will deliver it?”

Adria shrugged. “He should, my lady,” she said. “I am sure he would like to deliver the message and enjoy a day or two of hospitality at Lioncross Abbey Castle.”

Lily was sitting in her favorite chair, the heavily cushioned one, with her feet on an equally cushioned stool. That seemed to be her standard position these days. Her hand rubbed her belly gently.

“I wish I could go home,” she said wistfully. “I’ve not been in a couple of years, you know. Not since we came to Carlisle. It seems so far away.”

“That is because it is,” Adria said flatly, looking at her with a smile on her lips. “It is quite far away, so you’ll not be doing any traveling until the babe is born. And what do you think it will be? I’ve yet to ask you today.”

Lily grinned. “I know I change my mind daily,” she said. “But, truthfully, I feel like I did when I was pregnant with Atticus, so I think it is a boy. But then I stand up and the babe seems to be lower in my belly than Atticus was. Athena was low.”

“So it is a girl?”

Lily shrugged. “It is either Alec or Amalia,” she said. “I have decided.”

“Have you asked your husband?”

“He will agree with whatever I want.”

That was true, mostly. Will was an aggressive knight, a booming commander and a brilliant tactician, but when it came to his wife, he folded like most men did. Before she could answer, however, the chamber door flew open and Atticus appeared.

“Mam!” he shouted, running to her. “Can I bring my dog?”

Lily reached out to stop him from climbing on her. “Bring your dog where?”

“To Poppy’s feast,” he said. “Can I bring him?”

Lily didn’t relish the thought of riding for four days with a squirrely little boy and his energetic dog. She stroked his red head.

“I will think on it,” she said. “Where is your father?”

“Here.”

Will came in through the open chamber door, looking like a child who was being forced to do something he very much didn’t want to do.

He cocked an eyebrow at the pair.

“Well?” he said, spreading his enormous arms. “Do what you must. But know that I am here under protest. And since you are making me do something I do not wish to do, I will make you do something you do not wish to do.”

Lily eyed him warily. “What is that?”

Will turned to the doorway, crooking his finger at someone out on the landing. Tarraby de Solis, the army’s surgeon, entered the chamber timidly and Lily rolled her eyes.

“God,” she hissed. “Must I?”

Will glared at her. “If I must, you must,” he said. “Tarraby, tell her where you have learned your craft so that she may be put at ease. She believes you are a simply a barber who cuts into men for pleasure.”

Lily was gearing up for a nasty retort, but Tarraby spoke before she could get it out.

“I have attended university in Paris, my lady,” he said. “I have also studied in Toledo before I came to Oxford to learn my trade. While many physics and surgeons simply learn the trade from another tradesman as an apprentice, know that I have specifically trained as a physic at university. It is my education that has seen me practice medicine throughout England.”

Lily looked at him in disbelief. “You have been educated at university, yet you find yourself practicing your craft on the Scots border?” she said. “Why are you not in London with the king?”

Tarraby, a small man with thin, blond hair and a narrow face shrugged his shoulders. “The king has his own physicians,” he said. “They are men of better breeding, finer families, and I have neither. But I served Humphrey de Bohun before I served the Earl of Warenton, and now I serve Warenton’s grandson.”

It was an impressive resume and Lily grunted. “I see,” she said. “Then I am ashamed I never asked before. I thought you were just a soldier who had decided to become a surgeon.”

Tarraby shook his head. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “I would make a terrible soldier.”

“But you are excellent with battle wounds. My husband says so.”

Tarraby smiled weakly. “I go where I am needed, my lady.”

“And you are needed here,” Will said, pointing to his wife. “Lady de Wolfe took a fall last month and she has been having pains ever since. I want you to examine her and tell me if anything is amiss. This is for my own peace of mind because my wife and the midwife seem to think there is no issue.”

Tarraby nodded, heading into the chamber with an old, worn satchel filled with his medicaments and instruments.

“My lord, you will leave the chamber,” he said, but he looked at Adria, still bent over the fabric. “You will remain and help me, for the lady’s comfort.”

Adria looked at Will, wide-eyed, but he nodded. She returned her focus to the physic, nodding hesitantly. “As you wish.”

Will slipped out, thrilled to have escaped being fitted for his grandfather’s tunic – at least for the moment – as Adria shut the door behind him. Tarraby put his satchel on the nearest table.

“Please bring me a bowl, if you have one,” he told her.

Adria went into a small alcove in the chamber, one that held a wardrobe for clothing and other dressing essentials including a big earthenware bowl. She emerged with it and brought it over to the surgeon, who poured something on his hands from a phial he carried in his satchel. The liquid dripped into the bowl.

Adria watched him curiously.

“What is that?” she asked.

He didn’t dry his hands, but simply shook them out. Whatever liquid he poured on his hands dried quickly.

“It is distilled from grain,” he said. “It cleanses the hands.”

“For what purpose?”

“To keep poison from transferring from me to anyone I touch,” he said. “My teacher in Toledo said that all things must be kept clean if we are to heal properly. I adhere to that rule although I know many do not. You cannot heal a man if you are pushing your own poison into his wounds.”

Adria thought that was a rather interesting view. She shrugged and followed him over to the chair where Lily was sitting. He couldn’t get a good look at her there so he made her get onto the bed with Adria’s help.

When Lily lay back, the examination began.

*

He knew theywere going to find him.

Like a hunter, Will knew that Adria would find him and make him stand still while she measured him for a tunic that he still didn’t think was a good idea, but far be it from him to try and change Lily’s mind.

She was as stubborn as he was.

As he headed out of the keep, he happened to see Atticus and Bradford playing with their wooden swords again. The small inner ward contained a stone great hall, kitchens, and a chapel built into the wall. The hall in the keep was smaller, low-ceilinged and stuffy, and usually used for smaller meals while the great hall itself could hold five hundred men with ease, double that if they were crammed into the rafters.

Atticus and Bradford were over near the kitchens, where the servants were moving about as they prepared for the evening meal. There was an old, round kitchen servant who tended to Atticus these days because Lily couldn’t move around with ease. Will tended his son as much as he could, but he had other pressing duties that required his focus. He could see old Myrtle as she scolded Atticus for skidding around in the mud, the same mud that Lily had slipped in last month. Atticus brushed her off and essentially told her to leave him alone, so she swatted him on the backside and took his sword away. Will grinned as the old woman grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him with her into the kitchen interior.

Poor Atticus was going to have to learn to respect his elders.

Listening to his son howl, his attention turning towards the inner gatehouse, he was thinking on checking the posts before heading to the hall for supper when he caught sight of Adria’s father, St. Ansgar de Geld. Will only knew the man slightly, having met him twice before, but what he heard from Lily about the man wasn’t good. He was a gambler, one who had managed to blow through the family fortunes, so Will had to wonder what the man was doing here. He hoped he wasn’t trying to glean money from his daughter because Will was fairly certain she didn’t have any. Lily paid Adria for the dresses she made, but there was little opportunity to make money.

Something about the money-hungry father made Will feel a little protective over Adria.

He knew Lily would have been, too.

“My lord,” Gar said pleasantly as he approached. “It is agreeable to see you again.”

Will greeted the man who didn’t look anything like his beauteous daughter with his stringy hair and red, bulbous nose. “Alcester,” he greeted politely. “You are a long way from home.”

Gar smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. “I have not seen my daughter in quite some time and thought to pay her a visit,” he said. “I hope it is not inconvenient.”

Will shook his head. “You are always welcome at Carlisle,” he said. “But we are leaving in a couple of days to travel to Castle Questing. My grandfather is having a celebration of his day of birth and at his age, we are very fortunate to have him for one more year.”

“Indeed, you are,” Gar said. “The great Wolfe of the Border. My father used to tell stories about him.”

“Did he know him?”

Gar shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But he admired him greatly.”

“Thank you,” Will said. “As do I. Will you go to the hall? Sup shall be commencing shortly and I was just going to check the posts for the night.”

“May I accompany you, my lord?”

Will really didn’t want him to, but he nodded graciously. “If you wish.”

Gar took up pace beside him as they headed out of the inner ward.

“I was hoping to speak with you, my lord, if it would not be too bold,” he said. “I have some questions I hope you can answer.”

“I will try.”

They were passing through the inner gatehouse and Gar looked out over the big moat to the outer ward beyond, packed with soldiers going about their duties as night began to fall.

“I will try to be brief, my lord,” he said. “Since you spend so much time around my daughter, I am hoping you can help me. You see, she is quite old for a maiden and part of the reason I have come to visit her is to speak to her of marriage, but she is most resistant. Is there someone special to her that you know of?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I was thinking that might be the reason why she is resisting. Mayhap she is waiting for someone that she does not wish to speak of – yet.”

Will was uncomfortable with the question because it felt too much like gossip and, truthfully, he didn’t pay much attention to Adria other than in a polite manner since she was his wife’s lady-in-waiting. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she was beautiful or accomplished, because she was. It was simply that, as a married man, he didn’t look at other women in an appraising manner. Even if he and Lily were more friends than lovers, she was still his wife and he was faithful to those vows.

That meant he didn’t pry into the lives of people like Adria de Geld.

“Have you asked your daughter?” he said.

Gar shrugged. “Not directly, but we spoke of marriage and she is unwilling to marry a man of my choosing,” he said. “I thought that there may be a man at Carlisle to change her mind. Or… or mayhap you know of a wealthy lord who might like a beautiful wife?”

Will would have thought it was just a normal fatherly question until he mentioned the word wealth. That told him that the man’s visit did indeed revolve around something financial.

He wanted his daughter to find someone to feed his gambling habit.

“I do not know of any,” he said, trying not to sound disgusted. “Your daughter is a fine woman who will attract a good husband when the time comes. I would not worry over it.”

“I am not worried, I assure you,” Gar said quickly. “But I will admit that I would like to see her with a home of her own and children at her feet. Every woman wants that, don’t they?”

Will nodded in agreement, glancing up at the walls to note that the guards were changing to the night shift. “They do,” he said. “Did Adria tell you that Lily is expecting a child at the end of summer?”

Gar shook his head. “She did not,” he said. “How many children is this for you?”

“Four.”

“Four children with de Wolfe and de Lohr blood. You are building a great empire, my lord.”

“I hope so.”

“You would not happen to have a brother or cousin looking for a wife?”

Hermes immediately popped to mind, but Will shook his head. “I am sorry, I do not,” he said. “If you will excuse me, I must walk the wall. Please go to the hall and enjoy a warm fire and good meal. I will be there shortly.”

With that, he pulled himself away from Gar before the man could press him further. He didn’t like the feeling he was getting from him, something pushy and greedy.

It was something he couldn’t seem to shake.

The more he thought about it, the sorrier he felt for Adria.

*

“I told youthat I was fine,” Lily said as Tarraby stepped away from the bed. “My husband frets like an old woman.”

Tarraby wasn’t finished with his examination. He went to his medicament bag and collected what looked like a horn. It was fashioned out of wood and he bent over Lily’s belly, putting the wide end of it against her rounded belly.

And he listened.

As Lily and Adria watched curiously, he positioned the odd horn around her belly, listening for… something. They had no idea what, but he was clearly intent as he did it. Then, he put it away and examined her belly as closely as he could with her dress and underthings covering it. He thumped, poked, and prodded. Then, he tried to feel the position of the child.

“My lady, your husband mentioned a fall,” he finally said. “When did you fall?”

Lily lay with a pillow under her head, watching him. “Last month,” she said. “A little more than three weeks ago. Why?”

“When you fell, how did you land?”

“On my backside,” she said. “Right in the mud.”

“And you have been having pains since?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugged. “But I had the same thing with Atticus.”

“And do you bleed on occasion?”

She sighed faintly. “I have,” she said. “But rarely. It is nothing.”

“Is it brightly colored or dark?”

“Bright, I suppose,” she said. “Why are you asking all of these questions? Is something wrong?”

He didn’t say anything. He kept trying to isolate the position of the baby. “Are you having childbirth pains? For example, when the womb tightens as if it is trying to expel the child?”

Lily frowned. “I have had a few of those pains, but I had them with all of my children,” she said. “I am not going to answer any more questions unless you tell me why you are asking them.”

He glanced up at her. “I am trying to get as much information as I can,” he said. “They are all normal questions, I assure you.”

Lily was still frowning, but she didn’t say anything more. She looked at Adria, who simply shrugged. She didn’t know any more than Lily did.

Tarraby finally stopped poking.

“Do you have pain in your back?” he asked.

Lily nodded. “Most pregnant women do,” she said. “It is nothing unusual.”

“Does your back pain you when you feel the pains in your belly?”

“Sometimes.”

“And you feel the child move actively?”

“He is quite active.”

Tarraby fell silent as he went over to his table and rinsed his hands again with the distilled grain liquid.

“Were your other children large when they were born?” he asked.

Lily nodded. “Atticus was positively huge,” she said. “Why? Is this child large?”

Tarraby nodded. “I think so,” he said. “His head is still under your ribs, however. He is not ready to be born yet.”

“That is a relief,” Lily said. “I still have at least two more months to go.”

“I do not think so,” he said. “The child feels large enough that he could be born next month.”

“That is impossible.”

She said it in a clipped manner, as if there was no room for debate. New mothers were often certain in such things, but Tarraby glanced at her as if he wanted to say something but held his tongue. There was something in his expression that was quickly there, quickly gone. He returned his focus to his satchel and packed up his phials and instruments.

“Thank you for tolerating my questions, Lady de Wolfe,” he said. “Your child seems well enough.”

Lily smiled as Adria helped her sit up. “I told you,” she said. “Now you may go tell my husband so he stops worrying.”

Tarraby simply nodded, collected his satchel, and left the chamber.

He had a man to see.

In fact, he was rather singularly focused as he headed down to the entry level and out into the night beyond. The sun was down and cooking smells were filling the air as warmth and light radiated from the great hall across the inner ward. He suspected that he could find de Wolfe there so he headed over to the hall, entering to a heat blast as he came through the doors.

Men were eating a hearty stew with beef, cloves, and onions. He could smell the rich scent. Bread and ale were upon the table and the men were laughing and chatting as the evening deepened. A few called out to him, inviting him to join them, but he waved them off, searching for the garrison commander, whom he saw at the end of one of the long feasting tables.

Moving through the smoke and men, Tarraby found Will sitting with Marcellus, Hermes, and Ronan. They hadn’t started eating yet, but were simply sitting and talking, passing a pitcher of wine around while everyone else drank ale. When Will noticed Tarraby, he turned his full attention to him.

“Ah,” he said. “I see you are finished with Lady de Wolfe.”

Tarraby nodded, trying not to seem as if he had come on an urgent matter. But the truth was that he had and he very much needed to speak with de Wolfe. Now was the delicate task of getting the man alone without causing him panic.

“Aye,” he said. “If you have a moment, I would like to discuss my findings.”

Will nodded, setting his cup down. “Of course,” he said. “Did you discover anything out of the ordinary?”

Tarraby looked to the men sitting around and smiled weakly. “I am not sure that Lady de Wolfe would appreciate your men knowing her most intimate details.”

Will was on his feet. “How stupid of me,” he said. “The truth is that she would murder me in my sleep if she found out. Let us discuss this someplace private.”

Tarraby simply nodded, following Will away from the table and out of the hall through a side entrance usually only used by the servants. It dumped out into a small area between the chapel and the hall. There were people around, but no one in earshot, so Will came to a halt and faced the physic.

“I hope Lady de Wolfe was cooperative,” he said, a smirk on his face. “She can be difficult if the mood strikes her.”

Tarraby shook his head. “She was most cooperative, I assure you,” he said. “My lord, I hope that I may be completely honest with you given the subject matter.”

“I would hope that you are always honest with me regardless of the subject matter.”

Tarraby cleared his throat softly. “That is not exactly what I meant,” he said. “Sometimes the truth is difficult to hear and I am not a man accustomed to carefully wording my opinions. I have many years of education and experience behind them and, as you know, I tend to be frank.”

The smirk began to fade from Will’s face. “I understand that,” he said, his gaze on the man for a moment as if sensing what was about to come. The realization made his blood run cold. “Something is wrong. What is it?”

Tarraby didn’t take any pleasure in telling Will his thoughts, of course. In fact, this was a difficult case. A new mother, a new child… nay, this wasn’t going to be a simple thing at all. He’d been thinking that all the way from Lady de Wolfe’s chamber of how he was going to deliver such news to a man she’d been married to for many years. Her husband, father of her children. He was a de Wolfe and she was a de Lohr, two of the greatest families in England.

They were building a dynasty together.

It was best not to beat around the bush.

“When I was apprentice to a fine physic in Toledo, a woman came to him with the same pains as Lady de Wolfe has,” he said carefully. “This was a wealthy woman, a contessa in fact. She had her own midwives but about two months before her child was due to arrive, her husband sent her to my master because she had fallen from her horse and was experiencing pains in her belly and back. It was accompanied by tenderness in her belly when pressed and a good deal of blood.”

Will was listening intently. “My wife has not fallen from a horse, but she did slip in the mud,” he said. “I did not see it happen, but I was told she landed heavily. My God… did she actually harm herself?”

Tarraby kept his manner even. It wouldn’t do for panic to set in this early. He had something to tell de Wolfe and he needed the man’s attention until the end.

No matter how painful.

“As the weeks went on with the contessa, she continued to bleed and weaken,” he said. “The child, who had once been active, gradually lessened in activity until we could no longer feel him moving about. We were faced with a choice – either cut the mother open and take the child or to let God’s will be done. Her husband demanded that we take the child by force because he was desperate to have a son, so we cut into the mother to remove the child, but it was too late. Once we opened up her belly, we saw that the sack that provides nourishment to the child had become separated from the womb.”

Will was looking at him in horror. “Because she fell from her horse?”

Tarraby nodded. “The blow was too much,” he said. “There have been known cases where it has happened before. A woman carrying a child must be very careful because a fall can jolt loose things that are not meant to be jolted.”

Will drew in a long, agonizing breath as he realized what Tarraby was driving at. “Like Lady de Wolfe.”

Tarraby could see that the man was already figuring this all out. He tried not to appear too sorrowful as he delivered the final blow.

“When the nourishment sack came away from the womb, it slowly killed the child,” he said. “It could no longer do what it was supposed to do. Unfortunately, it also meant that the woman was slowly bleeding to death internally. Once the sack comes away from the womb, there is nothing to be done. It cannot be healed. It cannot be repaired. There is nothing to be done.”

By this time, the color had drained from Will’s face. “Are you telling me that this is what has happened to Lady de Wolfe?”

Tarraby hesitated a moment before nodding. “I believe so,” he said quietly. “She is showing all of the symptoms, my lord, the same ones I have seen before. I must, therefore, ask you this – do you wish for me to cut into your wife to remove the child and try to save her life? Or do you wish for God’s will to be done?”

It was clear that Will couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stared at Tarraby for several long, painful moments before turning away, trying to come to grips with what he’d been told. Shock didn’t quite cover it. Grief and agony did, but he couldn’t seem to react with either. He was struggling desperately to control himself. It seemed like a small eternity before he returned his focus to Tarraby.

“Are you certain of this?” he asked hoarsely. “Are you absolutely certain?”

Tarraby shrugged. “I have seen the same symptoms before, my lord,” he said. “Can I guarantee this is the issue? I cannot. But I am fairly certain this is the case.”

Although Will had expected that answer, to hear the confirmation was still something of a shock. The fact that Tarraby didn’t seem to have any doubts weakened his grip on his composure. Maybe he’d been hoping for a shadow of uncertainty, something to give him some hope.

But there was nothing.

He exhaled sharply, as if an unseen fist had just hit him in the belly.

“What can we do?” he demanded weakly. “Surely there is something we can do?”

Tarraby could see that the man was beginning that slow ascent into panic. “As I have explained to you, at some point, you must make a decision, my lord,” he said. “I can cut into her and try to save her life, or we can let God’s will be done and let the process come to its natural conclusion.”

Will scowled. “Natural conclusion?” he repeated, aghast. “You mean death?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“But if you try to take the child early, you can save her?”

Tarraby hesitantly shrugged. “We were unable to save the contessa,” he said. “I cannot promise to save her, only to try. But the child… there is nothing we can do. I am sorry, my lord, truly.”

Will stared at him. A dozen scenarios were running through his mind as his eyes flickered with an unsteady light. Pushing aside his grief and shock, he was trying to find some way to save both Lily and the child, but the truth was that he wasn’t a physic. He knew warfare and tactics and politics among his many talents, but healing wasn’t one of them.

However, he knew who was.

His father.

Scott de Wolfe was a healer, a man who had learned from Will’s grandfather, Paris, who was also a skilled healer in his own right. Both men were well known to have the gift of health and healing and the family had often depended upon them for those talents. Perhaps they could help. Will wasn’t going to bring Lily to them and, even now, had made the decision not to go to his grandfather’s celebration of his day of birth, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to send for his father and grandfather to see what their opinion was of Tarraby’s diagnosis.

To see if there was some hope.

He simply couldn’t believe this was the end.

“I thank you for your skill and your honesty, Tarraby,” he said, somewhat dazed. “Did… did you tell Lady de Wolfe any of this?”

Tarraby shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he said. “I assumed you would want to do it.”

“To tell my wife that she is dying.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Those words hit him like a hammer. They were so… cold. Will knew Tarraby wasn’t trying to be cold, but it all came out the same. Honesty was coldness right now and Will was trying to be calm and levelheaded about the situation. With God as his witness, he was trying hard. But so much was rolling through his mind that it was difficult to remain on an even keel.

“Thank you,” he finally said, refusing to look at Tarraby. “You may go about your business, but do not speak of this to anyone. I must have your word.”

Tarraby nodded. “You have it, my lord,” he said. “I would never speak of your lady wife to anyone.”

“Will you look in on her tomorrow? To see if there is any change?”

He was grasping at straws, as if a day might bring that hope he was trying so badly to find. Maybe Tarraby had been wrong. Maybe there was another diagnosis he simply hadn’t realized yet. Maybe by tomorrow, this will have all been simply a nightmare.

Tarraby knew that. He could hear it in his tone. All he could do was play along, at least for now, until Will came to terms with the situation.

“If you wish it, I will,” he said.

Will simply nodded, unable to articulate anything more, as Tarraby turned and headed back into the hall.

But Will didn’t.

He didn’t want to be around anyone at the moment.

Dazed, he headed back into Carlisle’s keep. There was a small chamber off the hall that had formerly been used as a guard room but when he took possession of the castle, it became his private solar. It was a cramped chamber with an enormous hearth, but it was his and it was quiet.

At the moment, he desperately needed quiet.

There were only servants moving about the keep when he entered, sweeping the small feasting hall and making preparations for the night. Will walked right past them and into his small room, shutting the door. For a moment, he simply stood there, hearing Tarraby’s words ringing in his head.

There is nothing to be done.

Lily was going to die.

Things like this happened to other people. Not to him. He’d already lost the most important woman in his life when he was younger, when his mother and his younger two siblings drowned in a terrible accident. It was true that he’d been a youth at the time, fostering at Lioncross Abbey Castle, but that didn’t make the impact of his mother’s death any less painful.

Unfortunately, he’d not been able to show it.

Will’s brother, named Thomas but known as Tor, was three years younger and they’d fostered together. They had been, and continued to be, quite close. When news of their mother’s passing had come, Tor had taken it hard and it had been up to Will to show strength in the situation. He didn’t have the luxury of exhibiting his pain because Tor had been such a mess about it. Will had been forced to mourn his mother privately, using his strength to comfort his brother. But inside, he had been crumbling just like his brother did.

That outward composure had come at a cost.

After that, Will became very good at bottling himself up and letting things fester. Outwardly, he was in control. Always in control. But inwardly, his guts ached and his heart burned, keeping his rather fragile emotions contained. He didn’t speak much of his feelings and he rarely showed them.

Not even to Lily.

God, what a mess this was.

Now, he had a wife in trouble. Not merely in trouble, but facing a shockingly mortal situation. Never in a million years had Will imagined he’d be facing something like this again in his lifetime, but if what Tarraby said was correct, he was facing losing yet another important woman in his life. Even if their marriage had become something that simply existed for existence’s sake and the fire of passion had burned out years ago, that didn’t mean he didn’t care for Lily. She was the mother of his children and he would always care for her. He would always be concerned for her. Truth be told, as he thought on the situation, he realized that he was much more concerned with his children’s reaction to their mother’s diagnosis than he was with his own feelings about it.

And that brought about waves of guilt.

Maybe more guilt than he could handle.

The small chamber contained a table with a half-filled pitcher of old wine and a couple of wooden cups that he and Marcellus had used for the wine two days ago. The servants simply never removed it because he didn’t like them in this room. Picking up the pitcher, he drank straight from the neck. Stale wine still got him just as drunk, but it didn’t take away the anguish.

It only made it worse.

Buckling under the weight of his life collapsing before his very eyes, Will remained in the chamber all night and when morning came, a missive went out to Rule Water Castle, seat of Scott de Wolfe, and to Lioncross Abbey Castle, seat of Chris de Lohr.

He needed help.