WolfeHeart: de Wolfe Pack Generations, page 28
Patrick sighed again, only this time, it was from resignation. He understood completely and there was nothing more he could say.
“Very well,” he said. “I did say that I wanted you married and you are complying. I suppose I should be grateful.”
Markus’ smile was back, and he put his big arm around his father’s shoulders. “Aye, you should be,” he said. “And you should be grateful that it is for love. You have met Lady de Sauque, so you know she is a beautiful woman.”
Patrick grunted. “A beautiful woman that Roget abused,” he said. “Lad, you’re not marrying her because you feel… pity for her, are you?”
Markus shook his head. “I am marrying her because she is the most remarkable woman I have ever met,” he said. “She is kind and sweet and mature… she is a woman, not a girl. And I very much want a woman.”
Patrick looked at him. “And the children? You will be assuming her family.”
Markus laughed softly. “And you will finally have grandchildren,” he said. “That should make Mama happy. And I already love them as if they were my own. They are bright, sweet, and intelligent. I cannot describe it better than that, Papa. This was meant to be.”
Patrick could see the joy on Markus’ face and, in that moment, he was no longer resistant. He could see that Markus meant every word and it did his heart good to see his eldest so happy about such simple pleasures. Markus had never been the simple type, so to see the transformation was quite astonishing. He patted his son on the cheek before turning his attention over to Cassius in conversation with Edward. Cassius was nodding firmly before Edward finally waved him away and the man headed off in search of his horse and possessions.
Patrick shook his head ironically.
“It looks as if at least one of my sons shall assume the Lord Protector position,” he said. “I must go speak to Cass. And then we shall take your lady and her children, and return to Berwick for a marriage. Your mother will want to plan the feast.”
Markus was greatly relieved. He had hoped this moment wouldn’t create problems between him and his father, and he was overjoyed to realize that his father was in agreement. It could have so easily gone badly.
But it didn’t.
Markus stood there, watching his father intercept Cassius and hug the man, so very proud of him and his new appointment. It made Markus smile, knowing that Cassius would make an excellent Lord Protector. But his joy encompassed more than that; it was in knowing that Cassius had a future, that his father was at peace with his eldest son’s decision, and in the knowledge that every day for the rest of his life, he would wake up next to Amabella, knowing the life he chose for himself was the best life possible.
No glory upon the fields of battle, or on the fields of Scotland, could come close.
As he stood there, something caught his attention out of the corners of his eyes and he turned to see Amabella standing on the steps of the keep, with Alfie and Ambra running down to the bailey. Alfie was followed by his eight-man horse guard, who had been bottled up in the keep until this moment, and he watched as Alfie ran all the way across the bailey to Edward, who was wearing expensive regalia as befitting a king.
He saw, clearly, when Alfie pointed out his horse guard to the monarch.
King Alfie.
With a grin, Markus made his way over to Edward and King Alfie before Edward realized there was another usurper in Scotland. Alfie probably had no idea who the well-dressed man was but considering he was infatuated with knights, he had targeted the strange man with the beautiful dress. That was typical Alfie.
And he loved the lad for it.
Markus spent several minutes explaining to Edward that Alfie was not a threat, and Alfie eventually retreated to the safety of the kitchen yard that he had helped protect. Markus would remember this moment years later when Alfie found himself in the personal guard of Edward II, a protector of monarchs and a great knight in his own right, thanks to his father, Markus.
A great destiny, indeed.
It seemed that they were all destined to have one.
EPILOGUE
January, Year of Our Lord 1302
Cheswick Castle
It was very late on an icy January night as the fire snapped softly in the hearth. It had been blazing the entire day in the lord’s solar of Cheswick, so much so that the stones had warmed and, even now, gave off radiant heat into the dark of night.
And it was a crowded room.
Markus was on his feet, unable to sit. Over to his left, his father was sitting on a chair near the hearth with Ambra snoring softly against him. His brothers, Titus and Magnus, were both there along with his Uncle Scott, the Earl of Warenton.
Scott had brought his wife, his two eldest daughters, and all of his younger children and they had come two weeks ago. But it hadn’t been a social call. It had been to bring Lady Jordan to Cheswick because a great-grandchild was due any day and Markus had asked for her help.
The old woman had been more than happy to come.
But there was also another man present, a larger-than-life presence.
Magnus the Law-Mender was sitting next to Patrick on the most comfortable chair in the entire castle. He’d purposely tested them all out before he selected that particular chair. After a long journey across the North Sea, he’d come about a month ago with three longships and about sixty men, all of them now holed up in Cheswick, awaiting the birth of the Law-Mender’s first great-grandchild.
In so many ways, this was a very important birth.
Markus was so worried for his wife that he could hardly stand it. Her pregnancy had been easy enough, but her belly had been absolutely enormous, which frightened him to death. How in the world was she going to birth that giant offspring he’d planted within her? She’d merely laughed at him and assured him that it could be done. That was why he’d sent for both his mother and grandmother. Between them, they’d birthed sixteen children. They knew how these things worked.
He didn’t.
God, please let Ama come through unscathed!
“How much longer?”
Markus heard the words, looking down to see Alfie standing next to him. He forced a smile at the child. “Not much longer, I would hope,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be asleep like your sister?”
Alfie looked over at Ambra, sleeping with her mouth open and drooling on Patrick’s chest. “Nay,” he said. “I want to wait with you.”
“Very well,” Markus said. “We shall wait together.”
He faced the window overlooking the sea, watching the waves down below. It was a clear night, with a full moon in the sky, making it absolutely beautiful. It gave him some peace. But Alfie couldn’t see the ocean, or the sky, and he grew bored quickly and wandered over to Magnus, who smiled at his adopted grandson.
Magnus, who had a rather fearsome look about him with his long, graying hair and weathered face, genuinely liked Alfie. In fact, he was enamored with a lad who had his own horse guard, even at Cheswick, and demanded weapons. He wanted to take the boy back with him to his homeland, but both Patrick and Markus had discouraged him. The lad needed an English education, they had said, not one from the Northmen who hated the English.
Magnus was still trying to figure out how to smuggle the boy onto the longship when he left.
Markus could hear Alfie trying to negotiate with Magnus, striking up a conversation that had to do with the fact that Alfie needed more than seven horse guards, which was all he could scare up at Cheswick. His original horse guard remained back at Trastamara. Alfie was trying to recruit Magnus, which Markus thought was humorous. He listened to the boy bargain, and Magnus’ polite denials, but he wouldn’t give up.
Fidgety, Markus came by the window and went to sit next to his uncle.
Scott de Wolfe, Earl of Warenton, was a powerful man in command of a massive empire. He also had ten children, so he understood Markus’ nervousness well. As Markus sat down beside him, Scott put a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder.
“I know from experience how unsettling this is,” he said. “But your wife has the best of care. Sometimes babies just take a while to come. My youngest took almost two days. That was two days of no sleep for me, so I understand your worry completely.”
Markus looked at his uncle. “Ama’s pains started last night,” he said. “It has almost been a full day and a full night.”
“As I said, sometimes these things just take time.”
Markus nodded. Then, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands. “She told me that she thought she was past childbearing years,” he muttered wearily. “I wouldn’t believe her. When she became with child, we were both so thrilled, but now… mayhap I should have listened to her.”
Scott gave him an ironic smile. “There is nothing to worry over,” he assured him. “My wife has had six children. Women are much smarter and stronger than we are, even when they’re small. If my daughters were men, they would make magnificent knights.”
Markus took his hand away from his face and looked at him. “That reminds me,” he said. “I must speak to you about Caria.”
“What about her?”
“Has she expressed any interest in being married? To anyone?”
Scott frowned at the change in subject. “Nay,” he said. “Why would you ask that? She cannot marry just anyone. You know that.”
Markus nodded. “I do,” he said. “But I am asking for a reason.”
“What reason?”
Markus sat up and leaned closer to the man, lowering his voice. “On behalf of my son, Atlas, I would like to discuss a marriage between him and Caria,” he said. “Uncle Scott, I know Caria isn’t meant for just anyone, but Atlas isn’t just anyone. He is of Abril stock, from the royal house of Aragon, and he loves Caria. He would make her a fine husband and she would remain close to Questing. Moreover, a marriage between Trastamara and de Wolfe would forever link the houses. It is the perfect solution, really.”
Scott looked at him as if he’d suddenly developed a searing madness. “Are you serious?”
Markus nodded, holding up a hand for the man to keep his voice down. “Atlas told me about his love for her right after Roget died,” he said. “He knew he was too young to marry, but he came of age last year. He has been asking me ever since to speak with you and I haven’t done it. You know that he and Caria meet secretly, don’t you?”
Scott’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “What are you talking about?”
“When she makes her weekly visits to Coldstream with Matha? Atlas is always there waiting for her.”
Scott was genuinely astonished. “My mother knows about this?”
“Knows about it and encourages it,” Markus said. “She is Caria’s rightful guardian, you know. She approves. But she hasn’t brought it up to you because that is my duty. I just haven’t found the time or the courage, to be truthful. But right now… we are waiting for a new de Wolfe to enter the world. It seems like the right time to speak of a new life for two people we love.”
When he put it that way, Scott couldn’t get too angry. He shook his head with exasperation.
“So this… this love affair has been going on behind my back?” he asked.
Markus shrugged. “Matha knew,” he said. “Aunt Avrielle probably knew, too. Women know these things. As you said, they are stronger and smarter than we are.”
Scott looked at him, trying to appear stern, but he ended up breaking down in a grin. “I have just been made a fool of by my own words,” he said. “Well played, Markus.”
Markus smiled in return, hoping that this would be the breakthrough that Atlas had been hoping for with Caria. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time but, somehow, it had felt right in the moment. He’d explained it well enough.
Reaching out, he squeezed his uncle’s hand.
“You know I adore you,” he said. “So does Atlas. He has always had the greatest respect for you and you know what a fine man he is.”
Scott nodded. “He is very fine,” he said. “There is no question about it. How is he faring, by the way? I’ve not seen him in several months, but Trastamara seems to be peaceful. I’ve not heard anything to the contrary.”
The subject changed again, slightly, now veering back onto Atlas and the status of his Trastamara lordship.
“He is doing quite well,” Markus said. “After that nasty business with Bexwell and Mordrington, Papa left Damien at Trastamara to help Atlas and it has worked out splendidly. The big orchard by The Orchard crossing is operating again and Mordrington Manse, the property that was part of the issues back then, is peaceful once more. Atlas wants to give it to Caria as a wedding present.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Are we back on that again?”
“I thought you should know.”
Scott snorted. “So now, I know,” he said. “But the place is much coveted by the reivers. Are you sure they will not come back for it at some point?”
Markus shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Fenella and her bastards returned home, to Clan Hume, and her outlaw brother was killed at the siege of Trastamara. Papa has his own men staffing the place, so the Scots haven’t tried to reclaim it. They won’t, or they risk Berwick’s wrath. It would make a lovely honeymoon cottage.”
Scott hissed in exasperation. “Oh, do shut up about that.”
Markus laughed softly. “Very well,” he said. “No more talk about it. I promise I will…”
He was abruptly cut off when Aleanor suddenly burst into the solar. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed, and when her gaze fell on Patrick, she bolted for him.
“Ama had two!” she blurted. “Two babies!”
“What?” Markus bolted to his feet, suddenly feeling lightheaded. “Two of them?”
Scott was up beside him, holding on to the man so he wouldn’t topple. The entire room began to laugh.
“Two children,” Scott said. “Congratulations, Markus!”
Patrick, with Ambra sleeping on his big shoulder, made his way over to Markus and hugged the man, but Markus was still focused on Aleanor.
“Is your mother well?” he demanded. “Are the children well? What are they?”
“Male.”
They all looked over to the doorway to see Jordan de Wolfe standing there. The woman looked weary, but her cheeks were rosy with joy. Even at her advanced age, she looked positively ageless, even more so now that she’d helped deliver her great-grandchildren. It was the circle of life that just kept going. When she saw Markus, she stepped into the chamber.
“Two boys, Markus,” she said in her soft Scottish accent. “Yer wife had a time trying tae bring them into this world, but they are here and they are healthy. Ye have two beautiful sons.”
Markus stared at her a moment before collapsing back onto his chair. As Patrick and Scott kissed their mother, and Scott congratulated Patrick on becoming a grandfather, Jordan went to her overwhelmed grandson.
“Ama is doing very well,” she assured him softly. “She is weary, but that is understandable. Come and see her. She has asked for ye.”
Markus looked up at his grandmother. The rock of the entire de Wolfe pack, a woman whose love and advice he valued more than any other with the exception of his own wife. She meant so much to so many people. Reaching out, he took her two small, warm hands in his. He was fighting off tears.
“Two sons,” he whispered. “I… I can hardly believe it. And they are well?”
“Screaming like banshees.”
“And Ama is well?”
Jordan kissed him on the forehead. “She’s fine, lad,” she said. “Please believe me.”
Markus nodded, blinking back the tears. “I do, I swear,” he said. “I just… this is such a big moment. I find myself wishing Poppy was here to share it with us.”
Jordan smiled. “He is,” she said. “Can ye not feel him all around ye? He’s here, Markus. Have no doubt of that. Now, come along. Come see the newest members of yer family.”
Markus nodded, taking a deep breath before standing up again. He didn’t want to chance toppling over because he was still feeling a bit woozy. He hadn’t taken two steps when Magnus, holding on to Alfie’s hand, spoke up.
“’Tis a good thing you had two,” he said sternly. “I reserve the right to name one of your sons, as I named you.”
They all looked over at the big Northman. “I knew that was why you came,” Markus said, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Of course, it was to see your daughter and your grandchildren, but your first great-grandchild is something to be proud of. I suspected you would demand to name it if it was male.”
Magnus made his way over to his grandson, looking up at him because he was so tall. There was adoration and amusement in his expression.
“I named you after the greatest warrior I ever knew,” he said. “His name was Markus Haakonsson and there was no man finer or braver in all the land. But for your firstborn son, I have chosen the name Magnar. That was the name of my mother’s father and I loved him dearly. He was wise beyond measure, generous to a fault, and one of the fiercest men I have ever known. It is a great honor for your first born to carry the name of Magnar.”
Markus grinned at him. Truly, he knew the man would demand naming rights, so he had forewarned Amabella. That meant they were both prepared for this moment.
No one wanted to disappoint a Norse king.
“Aye, it is,” he agreed. “Let me go see to my sons now. I shall whisper their names in their ear and Magnar will know that his great-grandfather has named him. But his middle name shall be Patrick, after the greatest man I know. I must honor my father, too. Magnar Patrick de Wolfe.”
They all turned to look at Patrick, who was overwhelmed with gratitude by the naming. He thought for certain that his wife’s father would have taken over that particular aspect of their lives like he had with their other children. But Magnus didn’t have complete control; Markus still managed to honor his father. Patrick and Markus shared a special moment, just between father and son, before Markus quit the chamber and headed to the keep to see his wife and new children.
He could still hardly believe it.
