WolfeHeart: de Wolfe Pack Generations, page 8
A man who was burning with rage.
Shand kept calm.
“I was going to send you word as soon as your mother decided upon a time and place for burial,” he said evenly. “As you can imagine, the situation has been… chaotic. I am sorry if you think I was withholding information.”
“But you were,” Atlas practically shouted at him. “You were withholding it. Had my mother not sent word to Berwick, I still would not know of Roget’s passing and neither would anyone else. By what right do you withhold information about my rightful inheritance? Who gave you this power, Shand?”’
As Shand struggled for an answer, Patrick watched the situation carefully. It was clear that Shand was cornered. He could see it. The man didn’t have an excuse good enough to give to a rightfully furious Atlas and Patrick was curious to see how things were going to transpire. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Atlas attacked the man in his rage, but if that happened, Patrick would be forced to step in. Nothing would be solved by a physical fight, but most definitely, Shand was in a precarious position.
But there was something more that Atlas had divulged in his rage – he had mentioned who had sent the information regarding Roget’s death, something Patrick had hoped to keep from Shand. But now it was out, which put Lady de Sauque in a potentially precarious position, too. If Shand thought the woman had betrayed him, there could be trouble.
Not that there wasn’t trouble enough already.
“I told you that the situation has been chaotic,” Shand said after a moment, though his poise was slipping. “Your father left Trastamara four days ago, but we only discovered his body two days ago. Your mother should not have sent word of his passing to Berwick, not before we had all of the facts and a time and place for his burial.”
Atlas jabbed a finger in his face. “You do not make the decisions here,” he seethed. “My mother is the Lady of Trastamara. With Roget’s death, you serve her, but I realize the example Roget set for you over the years including shunning my mother and treating her like a ghost. That ends today, Shand. Do you understand me? I am in command now and you are not. If I am not here to give the orders, then my mother shall. Is this in any way unclear?”
Shand was beginning to twitch, his composure chipping off piece by piece. “You have been away a long time, Atlas,” he said through clenched teeth. “You do not know the trouble that goes on here. I have had to do what is necessary to…”
Atlas cut him off. “Save your excuses, for I do not want to hear them,” he said. “All I know is that I should have heard this from you, yet you have deliberately withheld information from me, as your liege. It was not your right.”
Something in Shand’s self-control fractured. “Of course it is my right,” he snapped. “I have served your father faithfully all the time you were away. I know more about Trastamara than you could ever hope to. While you were off serving de Wolfe, I was here with your father. Unlike you, I never left him.”
“That is because you are his knight,” Atlas said, slow and deliberate. “Only his knight. You are a hired hand and nothing more. But I am everything, for this place is my birthright. Do you know what I think? I think you deliberately withheld telling me in the hopes that you could somehow usurp my command here. I think you are trying to steal my birthright.”
He boomed the last few words, echoing off of the stone walls, and Markus suddenly stuck his head into the chamber, his expression both concerned and curious. Atlas noticed Markus and it was enough to break his focus against Shand. He emitted a hiss of frustration and turned away, struggling to compose himself. He’d just accused a man of treacherous behavior, but that man had yet to answer. The entire situation was hanging in the balance between them.
It was dark and ugly.
Meanwhile, Patrick took the opportunity to focus on Markus.
“How is Lady de Sauque?” he asked quietly. “I hope she is finding peace.”
Markus nodded, his gaze moving from his father to Shand. “She is well,” he said. “I intend that she should stay that way. I told her that I would remain her protector for the duration of my stay here. She and her children are not to be alone, for any reason, until this is sorted out.”
Patrick could hear something hazardous in Markus’ tone, leading him to believe that Lady de Sauque must have told him something concerning about Shand. The way he was looking at the man only reinforced that belief.
That brought concern to Patrick.
“Of course she will be guarded every minute,” he said.
Markus nodded, but his gaze was still on Shand as Atlas paced on the other side of the chamber, grumbling and hissing.
“Bexwell,” Markus said as he stepped into the chamber and shut the door. “I am curious about a few things. Please indulge me while I voice my thoughts, but I am curious as to why Lord Roget was alone when he was attacked and murdered. The forests around here are full of reivers, so knowing that, why did he travel alone?”
Shand was feeling attacked and verbally abused. Since Atlas had entered the room, he’d been on the defensive. His gaze was on Atlas but he tore it away long enough to look at Markus.
“Because he preferred to travel alone when he went to Mordrington,” he said. “He often traveled alone on these roads and without fear. It was not unusual.”
Markus cocked his head curiously. “Mordrington? What’s that?”
“It is a manse not far from here,” Shand said. “It is part of the Trastamara properties. Lord Roget always preferred to go alone when he traveled there.”
“Why?”
“Because he keeps his whore there,” Atlas said from his position on the other side of the chamber. He was looking at Shand as he spoke. “Is that where he was going? You did not think I knew about her, did you? I know. My mother told me. I heard about that the last time I visited here. Roget has had that whore for years, who has borne two bastards, and he provided her with a lovely place to live in Mordrington. A beautiful manse that belongs to my mother, in fact. My grandfather specifically left it to her, but Roget took it from her and housed his whore there. Such disgusting irony.”
He seemed wounded as he finished speaking, as if his father’s actions had greatly harmed him somehow. But his hurt was clearly for his mother; everyone could see that. Shand sighed faintly.
“You cannot blame me for that,” he said. “Your father did as he pleased.”
That was true and Atlas acknowledged that with a nod of his head. “I know,” he said. “But that is going to stop, too, now that Trastamara belongs to me. I will throw that bitch from Mordrington and into the sewage where she belongs. Her and her two beastly bastards.”
Shand wasn’t sure what to say to that. He eyed Patrick and Markus before lifting his shoulders in a resigned gesture. “I make no moral judgments against Lord Roget,” he said. “He was indeed traveling to see Lady Fenella when he was killed.”
Patrick and Markus exchanged rather disbelieving glances at that distasteful revelation before Markus finally scratched his chin. “Then that is why he risked the dangers of traveling alone,” he muttered. “To see his mistress.”
“Aye. And he did not like anyone to go with him, not even for protection.”
Markus thought on that. Lady de Sauque hadn’t mentioned the part about the mistress and he didn’t blame her. Surely it was a painful and shameful subject. But seeing what he had of Lady de Sauque, Markus couldn’t imagine why Lord Roget even had a mistress. With a woman of Lady de Sauque’s beauty, surely a man couldn’t want for anything more.
It was all quite puzzling. Markus finally gestured to the door.
“You may leave now, Bexwell,” he said. “But Hermes de Norville will go with you. You are no longer permitted in this keep or anywhere near Lady de Sauque. Hermes and a few other de Wolfe knights will be your shadow from now on. My lord, do you wish to add anything?”
He was addressing his father now, as the superior officer in the room, but Patrick simply shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Bexwell, we may have more questions. You are to obey Hermes in all things and do not stray from these walls.”
Caged and bound, Shand could do nothing more than nod. He silently quit the chamber with Hermes right behind him. Once they departed and the door shut, Patrick turned to Markus.
“What did Lady de Sauque say about him?” he asked.
Markus glanced at Atlas, who was very interested in what Markus had to say. “She seems to be a virtual prisoner here, but from what I gather, that is nothing new,” he said. “But it also seems very possible that Shand has designs on Trastamara. Lady de Sauque told me that he proposed marriage to her today so that he could be regent until Atlas comes of age. She believes the man means to marry her, kill her sons, and assume Trastamara himself.”
It was damning and shocking information. Upon hearing of Shand’s purported plans, Atlas’ face turned red.
“Marry my mother?” he hissed. “Not if I have breath left in my body. And he intends to take my birthright, does he? I will kill him first!”
Patrick held up a hand. “Easy, lad,” he said quietly. “Atlas, the first thing you must learn about becoming lord and master is patience. Patience and reason must rule; otherwise, everything turns to chaos. You must be a fair lord above all. Do you understand me?”
Atlas was still red in the face, but he nodded, struggling to contain his volatile, youthful emotions. “Aye, my lord,” he said. “I will be a good lord. Better than Roget ever was. But I will not permit Shand to marry my mother, not ever.”
“And he shall not,” Patrick said evenly. “May I offer you my counsel?”
Atlas looked at him, realizing at that moment that he was no longer a squire. He was the lord of the Trastamara estates and that was an important and vital role. Patrick de Wolfe was his liege and he very much respected the man. He wanted to be respected in return, which was what Patrick was exhibiting. Realizing all of this, he suddenly grinned, embarrassed.
“Aye, my lord,” he said. “I am sorry if I shouted at you. It’s simply… well, my mother. Roget treated her so horribly. I will not let any man treat her that way ever again.”
Patrick smiled, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You did not shout at me,” he said. “And I understand your passion. You are a good son to be so protective of your mother. But you must see the situation for what it is – Shand was with your father for many years, as he said. The army trusts him. The army does not know you yet, but if I could guess, I would say they want to trust you, too, as Roget’s son. That being said, you cannot kill Shand as much as you want to. We have no direct proof that he wants to murder you for your inheritance, although I would believe that simply from his behavior since your father’s death. It has been most suspicious.”
Atlas was looking at him seriously. “Then what do I do?”
“Send him away,” Markus muttered. When they both turned to look at him, he shrugged his big shoulders. “If it were me, I would send him away. Give him money, thank him for his service, and send him on his way. A man with Bexwell’s ambition can always find a position elsewhere. But not here. The army must see that you are a fair lord, but that you will not tolerate interference in your rule, which is what Shand did. He interfered. Send him away and tell the army why you did it, and pledge to them that you will be a good lord but that punishment for an offense will be swift.”
Atlas was listening intently. When Markus finished, he looked at Patrick. “Is that what you would do?”
Patrick nodded. “I would,” he said. “Show your men from the beginning what they can expect from you. Be fair and open with them. Meanwhile, I am going to station a few hundred de Wolfe men here along with one of my knights, at least until everything settles down and your army is comfortable with your command. You must admit that you are a wee bit young to have control of an army, Atlas. It might do well for them to see an older, more seasoned knight as your advisor, at least for now.”
Atlas didn’t really have to think on that because it was wise advice. Truth be told, he would feel better having an experienced man at his side.
“I am happy to accept, my lord,” he said. “I am not too proud to admit that I may need help and guidance. At least, for a little while.”
Patrick patted his shoulder and dropped his hand. “Good,” he said. “Now that it is settled, I would suggest you go to your mother. She is on the floor above us and I am sure she is most anxious to see you. Meanwhile, I will make arrangements to leave a knight here and after you speak with your mother, you must send Shand on his way. There is no sense in delaying that because he is already threatened by you. You do not want him turning the army against you, or worse.”
Atlas nodded firmly. “Aye, my lord,” he said. “Let me greet my mother and then I shall see to Shand. Will… will you stand with me when I do?”
“You know I will.”
Atlas sighed with relief, a timid smile on his lips. “Thank you,” he said. Looking to Markus, he nodded. “And you, too. Thank you for your assistance and for whatever you have done for my mother. It means a great deal.”
With that, he left the chamber, heading up the stairs to see his mother. Markus and Patrick stood there for a moment, looking at each other, before Patrick finally shook his head.
“I suspect we may have averted a disaster here,” he said quietly. “Did Lady de Sauque tell you anything else that you did not want to repeat in front of her son?”
Markus shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “But it is obvious that she is terrified of Bexwell.”
Patrick grunted. “Not after today,” he said. “We will send the man on his way and let that be the end of it.”
“It may not be that easy, Papa.”
“I know. But hopefully Bexwell will go quietly. If he does not…”
“If he does not, we have five hundred soldiers that would be happy to muzzle him.” Markus paused. “We were speaking earlier about Atlas being man enough to hold Trastamara. What do you think of him now?”
Patrick lifted his eyebrows thoughtfully as he headed towards the door. “I think Atlas de Sauque will be an excellent lord someday,” he said. “Mayhap someday soon. Already, I feel better knowing he will be in command.”
Markus turned to follow his father out of the chamber. “Who do you intend to leave here with him?”
“Probably Anson,” he said. “He is old and wise. He’ll help Atlas along where it matters.”
Markus simply nodded, following his father as they headed out of the keep. All the while, however, thoughts of Lady de Sauque kept poking at him, not enough to cause him to really think hard on her, but enough to be annoying. That red-haired beauty with the lush body had truly been something to behold.
He almost found himself wishing he would be the knight to remain behind.
Almost.
CHAPTER SIX
Ambra was awake.
Eggggggggggs!
Having seen five years in the spring, Ambra Cayatana de Sauque was vocal, demanding, and adorable, much like brother, Alfie. The two of them were two years apart in age, but together, they were quite a handful. A delightful handful, but a handful nonetheless.
Ama, I want yellow eggs!
Those were the first words Amabella heard when she opened the door to her red-haired, green-eyed daughter. Her nurse, Savia, was a round Scottish woman with freckled skin and hair the color of dried grass. The old woman came running up behind Ambra, huffing and puffing because the little one had gotten away from her.
Amabella bent over and scooped her daughter up, kissing her soft cheek.
“Yellow eggs, is it?” she said. “I will have to see if the cook still has some.”
That wasn’t good enough for Ambra. She put her little hands on her mother’s face, forcing the woman to look at her.
“She has them,” she said seriously. “I know she has them. She makes them just for me. The yellow eggs with the raisins in the middle.”
Amabella smiled at her daughter who was not only a glutton, but a gourmet glutton. Unlike her older sister, who preferred simple and sweet things like honey puffs, Ambra loved finer foods that most children wouldn’t touch, hence her request for yellow eggs. They were saffron-dyed, hard boiled eggs with a stuffing of yolk, raisins, cheese, and mint. The flavors were strong, but Ambra loved them.
Amabella could see that she was destined to head to the kitchen for said eggs.
“Very well,” she said, kissing the girl one last time and setting her to her feet. “I will go get you the yellow eggs with the yellow things in the middle.”
“M’lady?” the old nurse was still standing by the door, glancing towards the staircase that led below. “Who is down in the lord’s solar? It sounds like men.”
Amabella’s smile faded. “It is,” she said. “Come in and close the door, Savia. While you were sleeping, the Earl of Berwick arrived. They are taking charge of Trastamara until Atlas can arrive.”
The old woman’s eyes widened. “And Shand?”
“I have been told he will no longer be a concern to us,” Amabella said softly, seeing the look of shock on Savia’s face. “I do not know if they are sending him away or what they are doing, but he will no longer be an issue. Oh, Savia… I can hardly believe it. First, Roget and now Shand. Is it possible this hell we live in is finally over?”
The old nurse’s face turned red and her eyes watered. She stepped inside the room, wiping at her eyes as she closed the door softly.
“Is it truly possibly, m’lady?” she whispered. “Tae finally know peace. Tae finally know… I pray ’tis true.”
Amabella nodded, overcome with the very idea of it just as Savia was. They’d lived so long in a cage, in a world where they didn’t matter, that to think that oppression was finally lifted was almost more than either of them could bear. For Amabella, it had been considerably worse, but Savia had suffered on the fringes just the same.
