WolfeLord by Kathryn Le Veque

CHAPTER SIX

Castle Questing

“Ihave a message from Will, Papa. We must speak.”

The statement came from a big knight, blond and handsome, aged in his fifth decade. He stood in the solar of Castle Questing, an enormous chamber that reflected the wealth and status of the de Wolfe family. It belonged to his father, the Earl of Warenton and Will’s namesake, William de Wolfe, who was now looking up from the pile of vellum on the table in front of him.

William was the patriarch of a massive empire he had built himself, from the ground up, with eight children, dozens of grandchildren, and a tight network of close friends and allies. His properties, either owned or managed on behalf of the king, covered two-thirds of the Scottish border. There was no one more powerful, skilled, fair, just, or respected than William de Wolfe.

The Wolfe of the Border was legend.

“What is it?” William asked, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his forehead wearily. “He’s coming to the celebration, isn’t he?”

Scott closed the solar door. “Nay,” he said quietly as he made his way over to his father. “It seems that there is a… problem.”

William stopped rubbing and looked at him seriously. “Problem?” he repeated. “With Will?”

Scott sighed heavily as he pulled up a chair opposite his father. He had the missive in his hand and he simply held it over the table, extending it to his father, who took it curiously. Unfolding the vellum, he proceeded to read the missive. He read it twice. When he was finished the second time, he lifted his eye to Scott over the tabletop.

“Oh, God,” he muttered. “This cannot be right. It cannot possibly be right.”

Scott could feel his father’s horror. In truth, he had quite enough of his own and was struggling to remain on an even keel.

“I do not know,” he said. “He is asking me to go to Carlisle and see to Lily personally. Papa, I’m a soldier’s healer. I’m excellent with wounds or sickness, but a pregnant woman is not within my scope of expertise.”

William sat back in his chair, heavily. “Sweet Christ,” he mumbled. “Lily is dying? Her condition is fatal?”

“I do not know.”

“Then you had better find someone who does,” William snapped softly. “What in the hell is happening over in Carlisle?”

Scott could only shake his head. “I do not know, but I intend to find out,” he said. “Needless to say, neither Will nor I will be at the celebration of your birth.”

William was nodding before the words were even out of his mouth. “Completely understandable,” he said. “I will miss you both, but I understand. I am sure your mother will, too. Will you take Avrielle with you?”

He was referring to Scott’s wife, a woman who was not Will’s mother but with whom Will had always shared a good relationship.

But Scott shook his head.

“Nay,” he said. “She cannot do anything to help the situation. In fact, I do not even know if I am going to tell her the contents of the missive. She will worry too much and I do not want to worry her until I know more.”

“She will want to know why you have gone to Carlisle in the midst of a celebration.”

Scott sighed faintly. “She will,” he said. “Papa… I’m wondering if I should take Mama with me. She’s given birth to eight children herself. She understands the mysterious process of childbirth and, if for no other reason, she might be a strong and comforting presence.”

“And you think she would be more help than Avrielle, who has also given birth to several children?”

Scott shrugged. “With Will’s own mother gone, and her mother gone, Mama is the closest thing he has to a blood female relative,” he said. “It might give him reassurance to have her there.”

William’s gaze lingered on the man in the candlelight, seeing the lines of stress across his forehead. With the initial shock of the missive fading, his concern turned towards his son’s wellbeing.

A man who had also lost a wife, long ago.

“It might give you comfort, too,” he said quietly. “I am sure she will not mind going, but you must tell her the truth. Your mother would not like to be kept oblivious to what is happening.”

Scott nodded. “I will tell her,” he said. Then, he sighed heavily. “Poor Will. First his mother, now his wife.”

“You know what it is like to lose a wife.”

Scott could only shake his head in sorrow. “Unfortunately, I do,” he said. “I suppose I am the best person to comfort him at this time, but I must tell you that seeing his missive… it brought back memories, things I’d forgotten.”

William suspected as much. Scott had lost Will’s mother many years ago in a freak accident. Athena had been traveling in a carriage along with her younger sister, Helene, and four small children. Two belonged to Helene, who was married to Scott’s twin, Troy, and two belonged to Athena. They were Scott’s youngest children, Andrew and Beatrice. The carriage had gone over a bridge spanning a rain-swollen creek and the pylons had failed, dumping the carriage into the water.

No one had survived.

It had taken Scott years to come to terms with his grief. He’d alienated his family for the first few years after Athena’s death, struggling with his guilt and anguish, before finally accepting what had happened. When William had first read Will’s missive, he had to admit that his initial thoughts had been of Scott and how he’d reacted to his first wife’s death.

He wondered if Will would do the same.

In any case, he knew it was important for Scott to go to his son at this terrible time. It was certainly more important than any birthday celebration.

“It was a long time ago,” William finally said. “Athena would have been very pleased with how you continued to live your life. I’m convinced that she would have loved Avrielle. I’ve always thought that, wherever she is, she might have had a hand in bringing the two of you together. She would have wanted you to be happy, you know. She would have moved heaven and earth to ensure such a thing”

Scott nodded. “I know,” he said. “Those feelings of grief were so strong for so many years but, nowadays, it is simply a gentle sorrow. She was such a strong woman, Papa. So very strong. Do you remember when she challenged Uncle Paris when I first asked for her hand?”

William’s lips twitched with a smile. “Very well,” he said. “I was there, if you recall.”

Scott could hear the mirth in his father’s voice. “It was a sight to see,” he said. “She was prepared to fight for the man she loved – literally.”

Humor was introduced into what could have been a sorrowful conversation. “She was fearless as she went after her father, who was a man of considerable skill and power,” he said. “Paris would have never raised a hand against her, of course, but it was interesting to watch.”

“True enough,” Scott said. “If she went after her father like that, I often wondered if, as the years went on, we might have come to blows at some point.”

William chuckled. “That is a very real possibility,” he said. “Will and Tor do not have that bold, aggressive streak in them, but I remember that little Beatrice was very much her mother’s daughter. You may have very well come to blows with her, too.”

Scott grinned at the memory of his bold, sassy, but sweet daughter, his only daughter at that time. “That is more than likely,” he said. “Between Bea and her mother, I would have lived in fear of my life on a daily basis.”

They shared a laugh, fond memories and thoughts that created a warm sense of longing, of joy. In past years, that would have been difficult, but time and healing had a way of making painful memories a treasured and peaceful thing.

“I would not have been surprised,” William said, glad they were speaking on the touchy subject without any angst. “For women with de Norville blood, they were quite strong. Not like their foolish father.”

That had Scott chuckling for an entirely new reason. Paris de Norville, Athena’s father, was William’s best friend in the world. He had been for decades. William would kill anyone who openly insulted Paris, but that same rule did not apply to him. He insulted him happily and frequently, but then again, Paris did the same thing to William, so it was even dealings on both sides.

Old men who loved each other and took sport in harassing one another.

“The strongest,” Scott said. “Helene didn’t quite fit that, however. She was too much like Aunt Caladora.”

William nodded. “She was, indeed,” he said. “She was quite gentle.”

“I miss them. All of them.”

“We all do.”

Scott sat there a moment longer, thinking of his long-dead wife and daughter, before drawing in a deep breath and shifting back to the subject at hand.

“I will leave on the morrow,” he said. “Others will have to organize the celebration if I’m taking Mama with me and I’m sure people will wonder where she is. What will you tell them?”

“The truth,” William said. “That Lily is pregnant and Jordan’s presence has been requested.”

Scott eyed him. “And if Uncle Paris asks? You know he will. And Will is his grandson, too.”

“I know that. Let me handle Paris. I’ve been doing it for over forty years.”

“No strong-arming the man.”

“You’ll not tell me how to deal with him.”

“No fighting, either.”

William rolled his eye. He only had one, as his left eye had been lost in battle many years before. “No promises,” he said. “Now, find your mother and tell her the situation. Once she finds out, you’ll be lucky if she waits to leave tomorrow, so you’d better be prepared to keep her at bay until you are ready to depart.”

Scott stood up, folding the missive back up. The smile faded from his lips as he worked over the vellum, folding and refolding. William noticed.

“What is wrong?” he asked softly.

Scott paused in his folding. “I was thinking,” he said. “I hope it is not our lot in life that the heirs to the House of de Wolfe should lose their first wives. First me, now Will. What of Andrew? He is Will’s heir, named for his dead uncle. Truth be told, he’s not had a great start in life with a dead grandmother and uncle, and now a dying mother. I worry for him.”

William shook his head. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “Andy is a strong lad, in his mind and in his heart. He’ll do well in life. You must have faith.”

Scott wasn’t sure if he did, but he nodded anyway. William was philosophical in his old age so he essentially humored him. It would do no good to argue. Not that he wanted to, but he was hoping this wasn’t the beginning of some de Wolfe curse. First Athena, now Lily…

And the nightmare that he had to go through all over again with Will.

He hoped, this time, that he was strong enough to bear it.