Chapter Nineteen #2
“The Northerners” were what most in England called the warlords far to the north in Northumberland and even Cumbria.
They weren’t usually involved in the battles in the south, mostly because they, on most occasions, were preoccupied with Scots.
The Northerners held the border between England and Scotland, a difficult task in itself.
“That should be you, Titus,” Patrick said quietly. When Titus looked at him, surprised, Patrick shrugged his shoulders. “Obviously, you have the relationship with de Lohr. You are the one who has the most contact with him, and the one he trusts, so it should be you.”
Patrick didn’t want to elaborate on what most of them didn’t know—that Titus was an Executioner Knight and, as such, was always involved in the politics, especially as they were now.
Of course, the uncles knew—Scott, Troy, Blayth, Edward, and Thomas—as did John Longley and Hector, but the others didn’t.
Not even Magnus or Markus, because Titus was afraid it might cause them to treat him differently because of the Executioner Knights’ cutthroat and dark reputation.
Therefore, Patrick didn’t cross that line.
But it was clear to him that Titus should be the one to go.
Titus, however, wasn’t as convinced as his father was.
“I think I should remain here, Papa,” he said. “I do not wish to leave my wife so soon after marrying her, but more than that, you may need me here. You can send anyone to de Lohr bearing news.”
But Patrick shook his head. “It must be you,” he said. “Things may be happening very quickly, and you can make decisions on our behalf.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that if de Lohr is preparing to go to battle against Lancaster, you can make the decision that the House of de Wolfe will send troops and then send word to us on what needs to be done,” Patrick said in a way that left no room for argument.
“Titus, you are our eyes and ears to England and her politics. This is your duty.”
There wasn’t anything Titus could say after that.
He looked to his uncles, his cousins, realizing they were all expecting it of him.
Patrick had been right about one thing—it was Titus’ duty, because he most certainly was the eyes and ears of the de Wolfe empire as the king went head to head with opposing warlords.
This was what Titus was trained to do. That’s what he was expected to do.
But he was going to have to leave his wife in order to do it.
Damn…
“Very well,” he said, though he was clearly unhappy. “I will leave on the morrow. The sooner I depart, the sooner I return.”
“Excellent,” Patrick said, secretly relieved that Titus didn’t try to publicly fight him on it.
“Meanwhile, to the rest of us, return and fortify your homes. I am not entirely sure how Lancaster will take the fact that we have declared for Edward, but I imagine he will not be happy about it. By siding with the king, we have just tipped the scales heavily in Edward’s favor… and Lancaster will know it.”
“He would not move against us,” Scott said. “He is not that foolish.”
Troy looked over him. “He just executed the king’s favorite without including his so-called allies in the decision,” he said. “I think he is that foolish.”
There was no argument for that, but the situation was clear—it was time for de Wolfe and their allies to take a stand.
And they had.
God help England for what they were about to face.
*
Katiana wasn’t used to lying around.
Living with Aunt Ethyl, she’d taken over the old woman’s duties as chatelaine, which meant she was up and moving when the sun rose.
Ethyl lay in bed and ate sweets while Katiana worked diligently.
However, since her arrival to Berwick, there was nothing for her to do.
Lady Berwick had everything under control, including a daughter who was efficient and knowledgeable, which left Katiana feeling rather useless.
It was a feeling she couldn’t stomach.
Therefore, the morning after the wedding feast, she rose when Titus rose, but he had a conclave to attend and tried to convince her to go back to sleep.
She wouldn’t, of course, and rose from their bed, tidying their room and continuing on a project she’d created for herself since they arrived at Berwick—the inspection of her husband’s well-worn clothing.
Titus knew she was trying to keep busy, and he thought it spoke well of her.
He also thought it was rather sweet that she should take an interest in his wardrobe, until she started finding things wrong with his clothing—holes here, worn spots there—and it seemed that everything he had was worthy of the rubbish pile.
When he came back from meeting with his father and uncles and allies, he found his wife sitting on the bed with a sewing kit beside her as she worked on a garment in her hands, with other garments strewn about her.
“What’s this?” he said as he stood in the doorway. “Did you open your own seamstress business while I was away?”
Katiana looked up at him, smiling from ear to ear. “You would think so by the look of things,” she said. “But I’m simply trying to salvage some of these tunics you own. Honestly, Titus, it’s a wonder these didn’t fall from your body when you wore them.”
“Why?”
She held up the one she was working on. “Because they’re unraveling at the seams,” she said, displaying several holes in the seam of the tunic. “You look like a beggar.”
He sneered. “How do you think I became so rich?”
“You told me you earned it in tournaments.”
“What if I lied? What if I really am a beggar?”
“Are you?”
He broke down into a fat grin. “Nay,” he said. “Of course I didn’t. Someday I will prove to you what an astonishingly skilled man you married.”
She giggled as he bent over and kissed her, watching her go back to the tunic as he casually went on the hunt for his saddlebags.
He wasn’t ready to tell her yet that he was leaving.
He wanted a few minutes of lovely conversation before he had to see her unhappy face because he knew, for certain, that she wasn’t going to be happy to hear it. He wasn’t happy to tell her.
But he had no choice.
“I saw my mother downstairs when I came into the keep,” he said. “I told her that you were eager do something around here and not lie around like a queen. I am happy to tell you that my mother requests that you take charge of the great hall.”
That brought a reaction from Katiana, who quickly set the sewing aside. “She did?” she said, excited. “How lovely! But what does taking charge of the hall entail?”
He shrugged. “I am not certain,” he said. “You will have to ask her, but I believe it means making sure that the floors are swept and the tables are in good repair. Making sure the hearth is cleaned out and kept fueled. Things of that nature.”
Katiana nodded eagerly as he found his saddlebags under the bed where she had put them. “I can do that,” she said. “I will find your mother right away and ask her what she expects. It will feel wonderful to have a purpose while we are here. By the way… what are you doing?”
Titus had just swung his saddlebags onto the bed. When she asked the question, he stopped and faced her.
“I must pack,” he said. “Sit down, love. I want to talk to you.”
Katiana did. She planted herself on the bed, next to his saddlebags, as he stood over her.
But he was too tall to effectively communicate that way, so he sat down next to her and put his arms around her.
For a moment, he simply held her, inhaling the scent of her hair, experiencing everything about her with all of his senses.
The smell, the touch, the taste… all of them.
He was learning to lose himself in her because it fortified everything about him.
The Titus before Katiana was a boy, in a sense, because he’d never really known the love of a good woman.
The Titus he was now felt more rounded and more satisfied than he ever had in his life.
He was settled.
He was whole.
“Everything between us has happened so quickly that I’m not sure you realized there is something else going on right now in England that is quite serious,” he said. “You are aware that our king has warlords against him, are you not?”
Katiana’s head was against Titus’ chest, hearing his heartbeat strong and steady in her ear. “I have heard things,” she said. “I will admit I do not pay much attention to the politics or the winds of war. Why? Is it important?”
Titus wasn’t sure how to answer that question without scaring her. “You do realize that the House of de Wolfe is a warring house… right?”
“I do.”
“We have one of the largest armies in England.”
“I would expect so.”
“Good,” he said. “That will make this easier, then, because you understand that your husband is a man of war. I’ve fought many battles in my lifetime.”
She pulled away from him, gazing up at him with her big hazel eyes. “Are you going to fight?” she asked. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
He shook his head. “Not at the moment,” he said. “But what I am about to tell you must never leave your lips. Only a few people know it, and if it were to get around, my life would be in danger. Do you understand me so far?”
She nodded, looking both serious and a little fearful. “Of course, Titus,” she said. “I would never repeat anything you tell me in confidence. But what’s it all about?”
“Have you ever heard of a group called the Executioner Knights?”
Her brow furrowed as she thought on that. “I do not think so,” she said. “Why? Should I have?”