Epilogue
The Month of December
Castle Questing
“And that’s what Morgen says,” Titus said.
“Pembroke has made the offer of peace between Lancaster, Warwick, and those siding with Edward. They’ve already tentatively agreed because they know they cannot fight against Edward any longer with de Lohr and de Wolfe backing him.
Pembroke will have them sign the treaty soon, but meanwhile, it seems that we may know some peace. At least for now.”
He was giving the report to his uncles and father in the solar of Castle Questing, the seat of the de Wolfe empire.
This had been William de Wolfe’s solar for fifty years, and it still reeked of the man in every corner, every table, and every chair.
It was where the sons of William de Wolfe felt him the most. Every shelf had something to remember him by, and the big chair behind the table still had the shape of his body imprinted on the leather cushions.
No one would sit in that chair, in fact.
The day his father died, Scott had pushed it back against the wall and used another chair for himself.
William’s spirit was still in that chair, still watching over the room.
“Praise the saints,” Scott said, running a hand through his graying blond hair. “When we sent you off those months ago, we did not imagine this would be the result. Pembroke is a forgiving man.”
Titus nodded, but it was clear that he was distracted now that his report had been given.
He kept looking toward the lancet windows that overlooked the bailey, and they knew it was because he was expecting his wife to appear.
Not that anyone blamed him, because he’d been gone for months, but he was most anxious to see her.
Still, there was business at hand.
“He is forgiving and wise,” Titus said. “He is the one who has largely orchestrated this peace treaty between both sides. He and de Lohr have put a lot of effort into it.”
“Then let’s hope that Lancaster and Warwick agree to it and sign it,” Troy said as he stood up, heading for the table near the wall that held the pewter pitcher of wine.
Paris de Norville had thrown it years ago, and it had a big dent as a result.
“But given how Lancaster has behaved over the past few years, I’m not holding out hope that the peace will be lasting. ”
“At least they didn’t go after de Lohr,” Patrick pointed out. “Both Lancaster and Warwick have left him alone, and that is good news.”
“It’s because they are afraid we’ll bring our army to defend him,” Blayth said, looking around at his brothers. “You know I am correct. The last thing they want is having the de Wolfe army all along the Welsh marches. God forbid we bring de Velt with us. That would put the fear of God into them.”
There were a few grins around the chamber at that remark.
The House of de Velt had a longstanding tradition of being the most terrifying army in England, through deeds as well as sheer determination.
But it seemed that big armies were to have a measure of peace, which was something of a foreign concept these days.
It would take time to get used to it.
“Now what?” Thomas wanted to know. “Do we simply go on with life as usual?”
“I would say so,” the sixth de Wolfe brother, Edward, chimed in.
He had been in London until recently, but news of Gaveston’s execution had him coming north to confer with his brothers.
The diplomat of the family, he looked at the men around him.
“Edward, of course, is devastated at the loss of Gaveston, as we knew he would be, but he is focused on France now. I am going with him to Paris in a few months to help negotiate with the French king for lands that were part of Edward’s dowry when he married Isabella.
It promises to be a grand spectacle through the streets of Paris, with two kings and God knows how many knights and nobles.
But getting Edward out of the country right now is the best thing for us.
The situation can settle down and Lancaster can understand his place.
He has more warlords than he can count willing to deal him a punishment should he misbehave. ”
That seemed to settle it. For the moment, England, and the de Wolfe empire, was at peace, largely in part due to men like Edward and Titus, who were always at the heart of things, making sure the country was safe and secure for their families and future generations.
As Troy poured a couple of cups of wine, handing one to Edward, Titus suddenly let out a cry.
“She’s here,” he said from his position by the lancet windows. “My God, I haven’t seen my wife in five months. Five damn months. Thank you, Papa, for bringing her to Questing so I wouldn’t have to wait to see her.”
“If I didn’t bring her here, you would go mad,” Patrick said, watching his son practically run to the solar door. “You would be on your horse at this very moment now, riding all night to get to her. It seemed the kindest thing to do, bringing her to you.”
Titus paused at the door, grinning brightly. “And I love you for it.”
“Wait, Titus,” Scott said, coming from around his table. “There’s something more I want to talk to you about before you greet Katia.”
Titus was practically twitching with excitement, but also reluctance. He didn’t want to stay and listen to his uncle. He wanted to run out to the bailey where his wife’s carriage was just pulling in.
“Now?” he said, sounding as if he was whining. “Can it wait?”
Scott shrugged. “It can, I suppose,” he said. “You can find out later that I want you to take command of Jedburgh Castle. It’s not as if it is important or anything.”
Titus was nearly through the door, but his uncle’s words had him skidding to a halt. Wide-eyed, he looked at Scott.
“Jedburgh?” he repeated in shock. “You want me to have it?”
Scott fought off a grin, glancing at Patrick, who was smirking.
“I think you have earned it,” he said. “You know that we just regained it from the Scots not long ago. It needs an experienced, firm commander, and I think that is you. It’s an enormous bastion, Titus.
Very important and strategic. Do you think you can handle it? ”
Titus burst into an enormous smile, rushing to his uncle and grabbing the man’s face, kissing his cheek.
Then he ran to his father, who was seated, and grabbed the man around the neck as he kissed his head.
He tried to run at Troy, who pushed him away by the face, and as the room broke into laughter, Titus shook his fists in victory and raced from the room to meet his wife.
But as soon as he left, Patrick bolted up from his chair and beckoned to the group.
“Come along,” he said quickly. “You will not want to miss this.”
Together, the six of them followed Titus out into the enormous bailey of Castle Questing, hanging back by the entry door as Titus rushed toward the fortified carriage bearing the colors of Berwick.
The conveyance had come to a halt by that point, away from the mud puddles that peppered the bailey after the heavy rains the night before, and Titus rushed forward to the open window where his wife was sitting.
She squealed at the sight of him, and he ran at her, reaching through the window to cup her face and kiss her deeply.
They hugged one another through the window as Brighton opened the cab door.
Grinning, she started to climb out, until Titus realized his mother needed some assistance. He helped his mother from the cab, followed by Kristiana, who punched him when he tried to help her. He kissed her anyway before reaching in to pull his wife out.
But Titus was in for a surprise.
He had Katiana around the waist as he pulled her out and set her down, but something felt different about her.
He saw what it was once she was on her feet—she was wearing layers of winter clothing against the cool temperatures, but she tossed the cloak back, revealing a blossoming belly straining against the red woolen dress that she wore.
A baby.
Titus’ jaw dropped.
“My sweet God,” he breathed as he realized what he was seeing. He pointed. “You… you’re pregnant!”
Katiana laughed at his shock. “Your son is growing bigger and stronger by the day,” she said. “Are you happy, my love?”
Titus was so astonished that he couldn’t answer. He actually felt a little woozy, listing to one side and catching himself as he heard the laughter coming from behind him. He turned to see his father and uncles chuckling at his reaction.
“You knew!” he said to them all, still pointing to his wife’s belly. “You knew all along!”
Patrick had Brighton by the hand. “We did,” he said. “But Katia wanted to surprise you. We were sworn to secrecy.”
Titus looked back at his wife, his jaw hanging slack. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said. “In all of the missives we exchanged, you never said a word about it. Why not?”
She was still grinning. “Because you were off doing something very important,” she said. “I knew that if I told you, you would be thinking of coming home and nothing else. You needed your focus, so I did not tell you. Your son will be born in the spring. But you haven’t answered me.”
“Answered what?”
“Are you happy?”
Titus just looked at her. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her.
Then his eyes grew moist and he reached out, putting his hands on her swollen belly for the very first time.
Closing his eyes, tears popped out on his cheeks, and Katiana reached up with both hands, wiping them away as he became accustomed to their very joyous and overwhelming news.