Chapter Ten
Trastamara Castle
“Part of being lord of the castle is understanding the various ways a castle can make money for you,” Markus said.
“I know you have been taught this, Atlas, and it is especially important. Look at Berwick; we have massive herds of sheep that we sell for both meat and wool, and we also have a small fishing fleet to sell fish to the fishmongers in town. From what I can see from the records your father kept, he hasn’t done much other than sheep to create a source of money for the castle.
Increasing your money-making potential is something you should look in to.
It is important to increase your wealth. ”
They were in Roget’s former solar on the sunset of a cool and calm day, a solar that now belonged to Atlas.
In the week since his arrival at Trastamara, Atlas had been forced to grow up very quickly.
Not only had he buried his father, but now he was under the tutelage of Markus and Cassius and Damien, who were trying their best to drive their lessons home.
The young man had learned a great deal during his years at Castle Questing, but he hadn’t learned everything he needed to know about managing a castle.
Now, the lessons were coming fast and furious.
Atlas had no problem grasping the military aspects of Trastamara.
He’d been an excellent student when it came to military training.
However, he’d never been a very good student with his sums or writing, but he had a sharp mind.
He could speak three languages and he was a surprisingly excellent musician with a lute.
Therefore, he could be taught, and that’s what Markus had been trying hard to do today.
The young man had to grow up quickly.
Atlas sighed heavily. “But why?” he asked. “We have two big sheep herds and my father seemed to make a good deal of money from the sale of the sheep and lambs. I don’t understand why I have to make all of the money in the world now.”
Markus could see that he was becoming frustrated with his lessons and Markus glanced over at Cassius, who was sitting at the big, cluttered table.
They had been working in tandem today, beating the lessons into Atlas’ skull.
But Cassius, too, could sense the irritation and he shook his head in resignation.
Dealing with the new young lord hadn’t been an easy time of it.
“You do not have to make all of the money in the world,” Markus said after a moment.
“But you must ensure that Trastamara has enough wealth to sustain her for generations to come. That is what your grandfather did and why you have so much coinage at your disposal. But if you do not add to that, you are going to run through it at some point. Then what will your children have?”
Atlas’ eyes widened. “I am having children already?”
Markus cocked an eyebrow. “If you want heirs, you must. Not tomorrow, but someday.”
Atlas sighed with relief. “I thought you were trying to marry me off already.”
“Not yet.”
“That is good. But just so you know, I will choose my own bride.”
“Anyone in particular?”
“That is for me to know.”
Markus fought off a grin as Cassius tossed a stale crust of bread across the table, hitting Atlas in the shoulder. It was a playful gesture, one meant to ease the tension.
“Do you have one in mind already?” Cassius demanded. “Tell us now.”
Atlas brushed the crumbs off his shoulder and looked away. “If I do, that is my affair,” he said. “But we were not speaking of brides. We were speaking of sheep. And money.”
Cassius and Markus exchanged amused glances, unable to let his comment slide so easily.
They’d both come to like Atlas a great deal, a young man who truly wanted to be a good liege now that he’d inherited an empire.
His heart was in the right place. Being that Markus and Cassius had younger brothers, they were well equipped to deal with him.
“We are not ready to speak of sheep and money yet,” Markus said. “Personally, I want to explore this future Lady de Sauque. Who is this young lady you have your eyes on?”
Atlas shook his head. “I will not tell you.”
“So there is one.”
“Possibly.”
“Then tell me about her.”
“I will not.”
“Why? Is it a terrible secret?”
Atlas shrugged. “It is not terrible. I simply do not want to discuss it.”
Markus headed over to the hearth, with the low flame snapping softly, and sat on a big chair that was cushioned with leather pillows. As he sat back, he stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“I know for a fact that you have been at Castle Questing for the past six years,” he said. “I do not believe you have traveled any further than Kelso, or mayhap even to Carlisle if Tobias had a mind to. You also spent time at Roxburgh Castle with him.”
Atlas looked at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Markus looked at Cassius. “How many young ladies do we know at de Wolfe properties?”
Cassius scratched his head. “We have many girl cousins who would be eligible,” he said. “There is Uncle Scott’s daughter, Sorcha. She’s very pretty.”
Markus nodded his head. “True. And Uncle Troy’s daughter, Elspeth.”
“She’s a beauty.”
“There is also our younger sister, Kristiana.”
They both suddenly looked at Atlas, glaring at the mere thought that his secret love might be their baby sister. Atlas’ eyes widened as he found himself being stared down by two very big, very protective older brothers. He put up his hands.
“I’ve no inclination towards Lady Kristiana, I swear it,” he said. “It is not her!”
Markus and Cassius were pleased to hear the panic in his voice. It was immensely satisfying.
“Well and good that it is not,” Markus said, backing down. “When Thora married, we put her husband through hell. The poor man. I’m surprised Callum ever spoke to us again after what we did to him.”
Cassius nodded in agreement. “He’s a strong man,” he said. “He’s a de Reyne, and they are mighty.”
“He fought back a little.”
“He did.”
They snickered like naughty boys, leaving Atlas to look at the pair impatiently. “We were speaking of sheep and money,” he stressed again. “I don’t want to speak of women!”
Markus held up a hand to him in a silencing gesture. “We are not finished yet,” he said. “We will run through all of the eligible young women we know until you tell us. Now, who else is there? Uncle Blayth’s daughter, Isabella.”
Cassius nodded firmly. “A beautiful lass,” he said. “Aunt Evelyn’s daughters Adele and Aline.”
Markus frowned. “Pretty, but they have the de Norville look. And attitude. Atlas, you do not want to get mixed up with the de Norvilles. They are mad.”
He was jesting and Cassius snorted wickedly. Finally, Atlas rolled his eyes. “Enough,” he said. “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”
Markus and Cassius nodded. “Of course,” Markus said. “Who is the young lady who has caught your eye?”
Atlas looked at him reluctantly. “You must promise you will not say anything to your Uncle Scott,” he said. “I do not want Warenton to know. Promise me or I will not say another word.”
Intrigued, Markus nodded. “You have my vow.”
“And mine,” Cassius said. “Is it Sorcha, then?”
Atlas shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “When I get older, I hope to ask for Lady Caria’s hand.”
Markus’ good humor vanished. So did Cassius’. They looked at each other, shocked by what they were hearing but, in the same breath, perhaps it wasn’t that shocking, after all.
Caria de Wolfe.
They had completely neglected to mention the adopted daughter of William and Jordan, having come to them as a newborn.
William and Jordan’s children were all grown and married at the time little Caria came into their lives, and they’d both doted on her as if she were their very own flesh and blood.
Caria had grown up protected, coddled, and loved.
But she wasn’t who she seemed.
Very few people in the family knew of Caria’s origins, but Markus and Cassius did because their father had told them in the strictest confidence. All of the children of William and Jordan knew, and a few de Norville and Hage senior family members, but it was a closely guarded family secret.
Caria was actually a full-blooded Welsh princess.
Born Tacey de Shera ferch Dafydd, one of the very last of her kind, she had come to William and Jordan through Penelope de Wolfe de Shera, their youngest daughter, who had married a hereditary Welsh king, Bhrodi de Shera.
Caria was Bhrodi’s niece and had come to William and Jordan for protection against the English crown, who would have liked nothing better than to have her as a hostage, or worse.
Caria did not know her origins and the de Wolfe family intended to keep it that way.
She was a precious commodity to be protected.
And that meant she was out of Atlas’ reach.
“You have excellent taste,” Markus said after a moment.
“But I do not think Uncle Scott will permit Caria to be married any time soon. I also think he has hopes for a prestigious marriage for her. No offense, Atlas, but I believe my uncle wants an earl or a duke for Caria. I’m afraid she may be out of your reach. ”
Atlas’ jaw ticked stubbornly. “Then he is in for a disappointment,” he said. “She loves me.”
Markus’ eyebrows flew up. “She what?”
Atlas was defiant. “She loves me and I love her, and we want to marry someday,” he said.
“She has seen eighteen years, I have seen seventeen years, so we know that we must wait, but we will marry. Mayhap in five years or so. I can provide well for her, Markus, I swear it. You are teaching me right now to provide well for her and I promise I will learn.”
Markus stared at him with his mouth hanging open before looking to Cassius, who was equally shocked. The brothers gazed at one another, the reality of the situation with Caria passing in silent words between them. They both knew what Atlas didn’t.
Markus finally closed his mouth.
“I take it that my uncle does not suspect your feelings for Caria,” he said.