Chapter Four #2
“But they’re animals that deserve to be treated accordingly,” Ansel cut into the conversation, unwilling to be left out of the decision making. “You cannot show Scots any mercy at all. They’ll think you weak.”
Patrick turned to the man. “How long have you served on the border?”
“Six years, my lord.”
“And how many Scots raids have you been involved in?”
“Four, my lord.”
“I’ve been here my entire life and have been involved in dozens of raids and innumerable battles,” Patrick said. “I think my experience in such matters is worth more than yours.”
Ansel stiffened, insulted, but before he could reply, Edmund stepped in. “Young Ansel is an excellent knight,” he said quickly. “His father and I are friends. That is how he came to serve me. He has been instrumental in helping me manage Thornton Tower. We are grateful for his service.”
Patrick was weary and snappish, an unusual state for him. “That may be, but when it comes to the Scots, you’d better take your advice from someone who knows them,” he said. “Pile their corpses in the field to the north and let the Scots claim them.”
The Earl of Berwick had spoken. Feeling humiliated, Ansel simply got up and left the table, leaving de Allery embarrassed.
The truth was that Ansel was used to running Thornton Tower because Edmund was usually too timid to stand up to him.
Ansel had come from a father who didn’t want him around, foisting his son onto an old friend who found himself stuck with a knight who gave commands and ran circles around de Allery.
It was a nightmare situation, to be honest.
He knew he’d get an earful from Ansel once Berwick had departed.
As Edmund tried to think of an apology for Ansel’s behavior that didn’t sound too much as if he was making excuses, Zora returned with more servants and more food.
“I’ve had the cook prepare dishes with fish, Lord Berwick,” she said to Patrick as several steaming piles of food were set upon the table. “There are eels with onions and raisins, fish pie with ginger, and fish balls that are fried in fat. I am sure they will be to your liking.”
Patrick eyed the dishes on the table. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he hated fish.
Berwick was on the coast, with a large fishing population, but he couldn’t stand anything that came out of that briny, smelly water.
As Zora took a seat across from him, where Ansel had been seated, he smiled weakly.
“You have gone to great lengths to show good hospitality, my lady,” he said. “Thank you for your efforts.”
Zora smiled, pleased with herself. “May I fill your trencher, my lord?”
He let her. Although his memories of her were not particularly good ones, she had gone out of her way to present him with good food. She was trying to be a good hostess.
But he really hated fish.
The trencher before him was full of many different things.
He could see the fish balls, the eels, the fish pie, but it was surrounded by other things he did like to eat.
Directly across the table from him, Rian and Krister and Espen were already well into their food, knowing how Patrick felt about fish and trying not to laugh.
He thought Rian might have been grinning as he shoved food into his mouth, but he couldn’t be sure.
Picking up the large knife on the table, Patrick stabbed a piece of sauced mutton and took a bite.
It was old.
Very old.
Slowly, and with great reluctance, he chewed.
“It has been a long time since we have seen a de Wolfe at Thornton Tower, my lord,” Zora said, watching him eat with eagerness in her expression. “In fact, it has been a long time since I have seen anyone from Berwick. I trust Lady Berwick is well?”
Patrick suspected she really didn’t care about the woman who had sent her away, but she was asking to be polite.
Or start a fight.
“She is,” he said, chewing. “My wife is quite well.”
“And your sons?” Zora asked. “I did not know Markus and Cassius well, but I was well acquainted with Magnus and Titus. I hope they are well, also?”
Patrick choked down the mutton and looked for something else on the trencher to eat that wasn’t so old and overly sauced. “Magnus married two years ago,” he said. “He lives at my outpost at Raechester Castle with his wife and baby son.”
Zora seemed to force a smile at the idea of Magnus, once a man she greatly desired, married. “Congratulations to Magnus,” she said. “How wonderful. Please give him my best wishes for a long and healthy life.”
“I will,” Patrick said, daring to put his knife into something that looked as if it had bones, but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Titus is well, also. He splits his time between Berwick and Pembroke.”
“Pembroke?” de Allery repeated. “He serves Aymer de Valence?”
Patrick shrugged. “In part,” he said. “Titus is an excellent liaison between de Wolfe and our allies. He is politically astute, that one. If there is intrigue and mystery and the threat of warfare, Titus is usually involved in it. He seems to have a bit of a diplomat in him, like my grandfather. Everyone loves and respects Titus.”
De Allery seemed both curious and concerned. “Whom does de Wolfe side with?” he asked. “It would seem that if Titus serves at Pembroke, he is part of the rebellion.”
Patrick wasn’t sure which way de Allery leaned when it came to the king and the warlords banded against him, so he didn’t want to get into any heavy political discussion.
In fact, between Zora’s time at Berwick, Titus and Magnus, and the burning of the Scots, the entire conversation was turning out to be a balancing act.
Any one of those subjects had the potential to be incendiary.
“Nay, he is not part of any rebellion,” he said. “Titus is simply the eyes and ears of the de Wolfe empire. We have thus far remained neutral, but it is prudent to stay abreast of what is happening with Pembroke and his allies, don’t you think?”
De Allery pondered that. “I do,” he said. “He is your youngest son, is he not?”
Patrick nodded. “Aye.”
“He must not be married if he spends so much time between Pembroke and Berwick,” de Allery said. “No wife would tolerate that.”
Patrick smiled weakly. “I am sure a wife would not,” he said. “Nay, Titus is not married, much to the chagrin of my wife.”
De Allery nodded confidently. “And she should be concerned,” he said. “What your son needs is a wife to settle him. Keep him close to Berwick and his family. Mayhap there is a maiden in the north who can settle him down and give him great contentment and satisfaction.”
Patrick had a piece of unknown meat on his knife, putting it in his mouth but still having no idea what it was. “Mayhap someday,” he said, chewing the tough meat. “He does not seem interested in marriage, so I’ve not hunted for a bride for him yet.”
“You do not need to hunt,” de Allery said. “There is one sitting right in front of you. I shall give her to you, happily.”
He meant Zora. Patrick stopped chewing, finding himself looking straight into Zora’s hopeful face. It took him a moment to realize he’d been set up. Like a fool, he’d walked right into that trap, not realizing de Allery was deftly steering him in that direction. Unaware, he had followed.
God, did he feel stupid.
Now, it was starting to make some sense.
The lavish meal after the fight, Zora acting the perfect chatelaine, keeping the conversation pleasant, and expensive wine that flowed freely.
When she told Patrick that her father had sent word that Berwick was part of the skirmish against the reivers, that should have been his first clue.
A message had been sent and, clearly, a plan had been laid.
And Patrick had walked right into it.
“And I am certain your daughter would make a pleasing bride,” he said after a moment, struggling to swallow what was in his mouth. “But, as I said, Titus is not ready for marriage. He is far too busy.”
De Allery poured him more wine, personally.
“But he will be ready someday,” he said.
“Think of it, my lord—Zora is my only child. If Titus marries her, he inherits Thornton Tower. That would keep him close to Berwick, and you would have yet another jewel in the de Wolfe crown. Thornton is a rich property, which is why the Scots wanted it, I am sure. Truly, it is a perfect solution.”
Patrick had to take a drink of wine, washing down the meat that he very nearly choked on.
“That is tempting,” he said, struggling not to cough.
“But I cannot speak on anything so serious at this time. I would need to speak with Titus before I could conduct any business on his behalf, and this is not the time nor the place. I am sure you understand.”
De Allery was like a dog with a bone. He wasn’t about to let the subject go. “But you will speak with him?”
Patrick didn’t want to agree. He wanted off the subject. But he also didn’t want to insult a man he was trying to court as a more congenial ally.
Damn, if de Allery hadn’t played him well.
“Mayhap,” he said. “But I cannot say when or where or how, so we must leave it at that. I make no promises of anything other than I will bring the subject up if the time and situation seems right.”
“That is all I ask, my lord.”
Patrick was fairly certain that wasn’t all he would ask.
He’d already asked a great deal. Patrick had to wonder if this was a trap they set for any father of an unmarried son or if it was simply formulated for him.
In any case, he simply nodded his head and downed the rest of his wine.
After that, he wasn’t feeling particularly social, and across the table, his knights knew it.
Rian, Espen, and Krister were watching him carefully.
They, too, had seen how de Allery had deftly manipulated Berwick, and how Zora had seemed quite eager for the conversation to go in that direction.
But Patrick had been caught off guard and was trying not to commit himself to anything. He needed help.