The Lion of the North (28 page)

“Will you at least make sure du Reims is tended?” he asked.

Kenton, who was closer to him, grunted. “We are not animals,” he grumbled. “The knight will be well tended.”

Summerlin glanced at his dead soldiers, bleeding out over the frozen earth. “Will you also bury my dead?”

Kenton cocked a dark eyebrow. “I told you that we are not animals,” he said, his voice hard and gritty like shards of steel. “Go back to your men now and return to Norfolk. Tell him that Wolfe’s Lair is still held for Henry and that will not change.”

Weary, and in pain, Summerlin rolled to his feet and stood for a few moments, unsteadily. His head was still swimming from Atticus’ blow. Glancing up to the wall, he caught sight of Warenne near the gatehouse, as he had seen the man when he had first arrived, but he made no move to acknowledge the man. He knew, without a doubt, that they were at odds, and this entire meeting on the frozen moors outside of Wolfe’s Lair had gone very badly for all of them. With no mount and four dead men-at-arms around him, Summerlin began the long trek back to his encampment.

Kenton and Atticus watched the man go. In short order, Kenton ordered several men to collect du Reims and take the man into the fortress, which they did. Solomon followed. Meanwhile, Atticus was still standing with Kenton near the half-open gates, watching Summerlin stagger off into the distance.

“Now what?” Kenton asked Atticus. “Do we ride for Wellesbourne?”

Atticus nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “We will leave today. Make sure the horses are prepared and that we have adequate supplies. It will take us two or three weeks at best, depending on the weather and how fast we can move, so I intend to start right away.”

Kenton didn’t say what he was thinking;
they have probably already moved on.
Nay, he didn’t say that at all. He knew that would not be well-met by Atticus so he simply nodded and went about his business. Already, Kenton felt as if the situation were out of their control, especially with Norfolk’s ulterior motive now revealed. Did the man truly want Atticus in his fold or did he simply want him dead? They would have to be on their guard constantly.

A bad situation was only going to grow worse.

I
sobeau had never
seen anything like it in her life.

After hearing the servants fearfully whispering about an envoy from Norfolk at the gates of Wolfe’s Lair, she had wrapped herself up in a heavy, woolen cloak and followed the trail of whispers, nervous servants, and uneasy soldiers to the wall walk of the fortress. She had seen the crowd of men gathered up near the gatehouse and she had seen Atticus and Kenton as they left the compound and went outside the great gates.

It seemed odd, everyone watching what was going on outside of the walls by the gatehouse. Inherently curious, Isobeau mounted the stairs to the wall and had moved among the soldiers for a view of what was happening. Strangely enough, no one questioned her or tried to stop her; they simply moved aside when she came near. That aversion afforded her a very clear view of Atticus’ battle with the enemy knights.

At first, she had been terrified but the more she watched, the more fascinated she became. It had truly been a sight to behold. At first, Atticus seemed to only be speaking with the six men who had ridden to the gates of Wolfe’s Lair but that all changed in a fraction of a second. Where there had once been six men, a hail of arrows left only two, and Atticus has completed a skilled and cunning move to disable one of the remaining knights so that there was only a single healthy man to face him. But that man, too, quickly succumbed to The Lion’s talent as a knight. As Isobeau had watched with shock and awe, Atticus had effectively subdued the second knight so that the man was at his feet, begging for mercy. At least, that was what it looked like.

Isobeau had never seen anything like it.

It had been a terrible and tense situation but in the end, the remaining knight had been sent away while his companion, injured, had been carried into Wolfe’s Lair. After that, the show was over and the men on the wall seemed to disburse as Isobeau made her way down the slippery stone steps to the inner ward of the fortress. De Wolfe soldiers were carrying the injured knight into the great hall whilst Atticus, now with Solomon clinging to him, entered the enclosure. The great gates closed, creaking and groaning, behind them.

Isobeau watched the very big, very silent knight, Kenton, move off towards the stables whilst Atticus and Solomon seemed involved in deep and quiet conversation. Solomon kept shaking his head, putting his hands on Atticus’ face, seemingly very distressed over what had occurred.

In silence, Isobeau watched the two men, feeling like an outsider and wondering what had happened. Thinking perhaps that she should return to her chamber, as she was feeling quite cold and still somewhat weak from the events of the previous day, she turned back for the stairs that led to her chamber when she heard Atticus’ voice call to her.

“My lady?” he said. “Isobeau?”

Isobeau came to an abrupt stop, whirling around to see Atticus heading towards her. His expression was warm in spite of his nose being red, pinched by the cold, and he reached out to gently take her elbow as he came up on her.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “The last I saw, you were warm and cozy in your chamber.”

She gazed up into his handsome face, thinking it rather surprising that a man she had seen easily disable two heavily armed knights not moments before was now here by her side, appearing completely unflustered and calm. As if he hadn’t been in a fight for his life mere minutes before. Cool, collected… it was a testament to The Lion’s faith in his talents. Above all else, he would survive no matter what.

“You left so abruptly I thought that something might be amiss,” she said after a moment. “When I heard the servants whispering about a Norfolk escort, I had to come and see what was happening.”

His warm expression faded somewhat. “What did you see?”

She shrugged. “Enough, I suppose,” she said. “I saw you fight those two knights. Why did you do that? Were they truly from Norfolk?”

He sobered, glancing over his shoulder at his father, who was being escorted into the great hall by a few servants who had learned to take care of the man. Solomon was fortunate in that he had a small army of servants who would tend his every need and that was why neither Atticus nor Titus every truly worried about the man. His servants of the body were very loyal. With his father taken care of, Atticus was able to focus on Isobeau and he grasped her elbow, leading her back in the direction of her chamber.

“Come along,” he said quietly. “Let us break our fast and I will tell you all.”

Isobeau gathered her skirt so it wouldn’t drag over the muddy, frozen ground as she permitted Atticus to escort her. “Should I not have come?” she asked him, sensing his morose mood. “I did not mean to do anything wrong if you did not want me to leave my chamber.”

He shook his head, carefully leading her up the old, stone stairs. “You did not do anything wrong,” he said. “And those men were, indeed, from de Mowbray. It would seem that the man is attempting yet again to gain the loyalty of the House of de Wolfe, at the very least. At the very most, he wants all of Northumberland’s knights.”

Isobeau was listening with interest. “Why would you say that?”

They reached the second level and began taking the steps to the third. “Because I have learned that the men who betrayed and murdered my brother have gone to Wellesbourne Castle in an attempt to coerce Adam Wellesbourne’s father into swearing fealty to Edward,” he said. “These are very complex times, my lady, made worse by Norfolk’s subversion. He does not seem to be willing to take a straight denial in exchange for the question of loyalty to Edward. Now, he is going to work on the families of the knights in order to elicit an oath for Edward.”

Complexity was an understatement; even Isobeau sensed that. There was far more to Norfolk’s dealings than met the eye but she understood clearly from Atticus’ statement that de la Londe and de Troiu were now said to be at Wellesbourne Castle. The men who had killed and betrayed Titus had evidently been sighted or tracked. At least now they had a location or some clue as to their whereabouts. She felt some excitement and relief at that.

“Then we are going to Wellesbourne Castle to confront those who betrayed Titus?” she asked.

Atticus nodded as they reached the top of the steps and headed into the corridor that led to the sleeping chambers. “We are, indeed,” he said. “I have Kenton pulling together our supplies and mounts. We will leave as soon as you are ready.”

Isobeau thought quickly on packing what she needed, struggling to ignore the massive chill throughout her body. She just couldn’t seem to get warm this morning and the thought of riding out into the icy weather was not particularly appealing to her, but she would not beg off. She was determined to see her task through of seeing the men who killed Titus punished, just as Atticus was.

“I can be ready very soon,” she assured him. “I will pack a small satchel. Will that be too much to take?”

They reached her chamber door and Atticus opened it. “If it can fit on your saddle, it is not too much,” he told her. “We will travel swiftly and lightly, so keep that in mind when packing.”

She unfastened the heavy, woolen cloak, laying it upon the table. “Will I be able to ride my mare or would you prefer for me to ride something more hearty?”

Atticus shrugged. “The mare seems strong enough.”

“She is, but I have never taken her on a long journey. I do not know how she will react.”

Atticus’ gaze lingered on her a moment. “I am more concerned with how you will react,” he said quietly. “Are you sure you feel up to this?”

Truth be told, Isobeau wasn’t. She was very cold and feeling oddly weak. She knew it was because of what happened yesterday and she also knew that she more than likely should not be up and moving around. She should be in bed because her body needed rest. But she didn’t want Atticus to go without her and she didn’t want to delay him if she couldn’t travel, so she did what she had to do. She lied.

“I feel well enough,” she told him. “I will pack right away and we can leave.”

Atticus didn’t question her even though she seemed somewhat pale to him. She simply didn’t look well. But he didn’t argue with her. Instead, he went to the table where her cloak lay, to the food that the servants had brought. He sat heavily and began pulling at a warm loaf of crusty bread, cooling quickly in the chill temperatures.

“Did you eat anything?” he asked.

Isobeau already had a satchel out and was selecting things to pack. She looked at him as he stuffed bread into his mouth.

“Not yet,” she said. “I will after I have packed for our journey.”

“I will make sure that you do.”

She turned back to her packing. “How far is it to Wellesbourne Castle?”

Mouth full, Atticus poured himself some watered wine. “It will take us a couple of weeks at the very least to reach it,” he told her. “It is much further south.”

“Near Coventry?”

He nodded. “It is very near Coventry.”

Isobeau paused, hope on her face. “Do you think it would be too much to stop at Isenhall Castle and visit my father?”

Atticus shrugged. “That can more than likely be arranged if you wish it,” he said. “But my business at Wellesbourne will come first.”

“I understand.”

They fell into silence after that, although it was not uncomfortable. Isobeau was packing and Atticus was eating. But eventually Isobeau’s movements slowed as she thought of the men she had seen Atticus battle so effortlessly. She couldn’t seem to push the event out of her mind. It had been both a horrifying and thrilling spectacle, something she had never before witnessed.

“Those men you fought,” she said, grasping for words and wondering if she should say anything at all. “You did not have any armor on. Were you not concerned that they might injure you?”

He looked up from his bread and cheese. “Were you?”

She shrugged because she truly didn’t know what to say to that. “I do not know,” she said honestly. “I suppose that I was frightened at first. I realize we have been married less than a day but I do not believe I am strong enough to bury another husband at the moment.”

Atticus swallowed the bite in his mouth, wondering if he was reading too much into her words. Did she say such a thing because she knew she could care for him? Or perhaps she already did? He was absolutely terrified to say anything emotional to her, fearful that she would reject any sentiment. Their marriage was a business arrangement, after all. He was certain she saw it as nothing more than a duty.

“You will not have to,” he said, taking a sip of his wine because he wanted to say much more than that. Putting something in his mouth was a way of preventing anything embarrassing from coming out. “In the cold, and in armor, they were not as agile as I was. I knew I could best them both but I had to move first and move quickly. There was really nothing more to it than that.”

Isobeau turned to look at him;
really
look at him. Seated at the table in his woolen tunic, with the weak sunlight coming in through the window behind him, he had a rather ethereal look. Her heart began to beat faster as her gaze lingered on him, the odd weakness plaguing her body growing worse and better at the same time. There was a certain giddiness to it, something that seemed to be caused by Atticus. He was an exquisitely handsome man. She wondered if she would ever be able to tell him so.

“It was very brave,” she finally said, taking her eyes off him because she had to. Her heart was beating so strongly against her ribs that she could hardly catch her breath. “But you sent one of them away while the other you brought inside. Why did you do that?”