Chapter Sixteen
At dawn, Markus had been on the battlements of Trastamara, watching his brother lead the four-hundred-man army out of the gatehouse and to the road heading north.
He and Kieran had watched the men march out, followed by the wagon, a relatively small army as far as de Wolfe armies went.
Markus had seen thousands of men march out at one time from Berwick or Castle Questing, two of the larger outposts in the de Wolfe empire.
It wasn’t like the army wasn’t going to face a major battle that would determine the course of a family but, in a sense, it was a serious enough battle.
They were going to purge the Scots, and Shand Bexwell, from Mordrington Manse and Damien had specific orders to kill Bexwell on sight.
Atlas didn’t know about that particular order because the young man had enough on his mind.
That order was between Markus, Cassius, and Damien.
It would be carried out, no matter what.
Markus had watched the army move north along the road until they disappeared from view on a surprisingly bright morning after the mist had lifted.
He had followed the wall walk around until he ended up above the kitchen yard.
Even at the early hour, he could see Alfie prowling around below with his wooden sword and Roget’s old helm.
A couple of the horse guard were out with him, drilling, and Markus watched them for a few minutes, smiling at the sight.
There was something settling about watching children play.
It brought back memories of a more peaceful time in his life, a time when he didn’t have a care in the world.
Watching children play without any thought to war or intrigue told Markus that there was indeed peace in the world, still.
Sometimes he wondered. Being a de Wolfe, he’d been raised in a military household and that was all he knew. That was his world.
But there was part of him that longed for the peace that Alfie knew.
He envied the child his sense of tranquility.
Ever since his encounter with Amabella the day before, Markus had his own sense of tranquility he’d never had before.
He couldn’t even begin to describe it – it was like a piece of him he never knew to be missing was suddenly found.
He felt whole, complete, and happy beyond measure.
He’d seen men fall in love before and he had his own parents and grandparents as an example of that, but he never truly believed it would happen to him.
It simply wasn’t something he thought about or longed for.
But now… now, he understood what the fuss was about.
As he watched Alfie play with his friends, he understood the joy in the simple things, in the things that all the money or glory in the world couldn’t bring him.
A new world was presented to him and he wanted every single part of it.
But if he took it, he knew the title of Lord Protector would have to be sacrificed.
He couldn’t spend days and months and years with Edward, as the man’s premier warrior and protector, because that meant he would have to sacrifice his own happiness.
He would have to sacrifice Amabella.
That very thought had been heavy on his mind since yesterday. It wasn’t that he was torn, because he really wasn’t. It was more that he was concerned how his father was going to react.
Patrick had wanted this so very badly for him.
Patrick himself had been offered the position many years ago but had ultimately relinquished it in favor of marrying Markus’ mother. In that respect, Markus was certain his father would understand. He might not be happy about it, but he would understand.
But then came the subject of Amabella herself.
She was older than Markus was. She was a woman who had been married twenty years and had four children of her own.
As Amabella herself pointed out, she didn’t come with any great dowry or titles.
She essentially had nothing of value to offer.
In a world where marriages were based on such things, it made her a dismal prospect, but not to Markus.
He already had a title and wealth, and upon his father’s death, he would become an earl.
Amabella would make a magnificent countess.
He smiled at the thought, of how proud he would be to have such a beautiful, wise wife.
The fact that she was older only made her more beautiful to him and when he touched her…
no maiden could have responded the way she had.
Even the thought of her flesh against his set him on fire.
She was perfect in every way, as he saw it.
But he could only hope his father saw it that way, too. He had to admit that he was concerned.
Leaving Alfie to practice with half his guard during this early hour, he came off the wall and went to check in with Kieran, who was at the gatehouse.
They had about fifty men on the walls and the rest were going about various duties inside the bailey.
With the bulk of the army away, they were on heightened alert.
Posts were set and men were vigilant, enough so that Markus felt comfortable going inside to check on the women. He was certain they were tucked away in Amabella’s solar, which is where they should be, but when he entered the keep and made his way to the solar, he could see that it was empty.
A fire burned in the hearth, making the chamber cozy, and two of the Berwick maids were sweeping and cleaning. They acknowledged Markus with a curtsy.
“Where is Lady de Sauque?” he asked.
One maid, an older woman in charge of the maid brigade, pointed a finger to the floor above.
“She must still be in her chamber, m’lord,” she said. “The nurse took the wee ones to the hall, but I’ve not seen the lady.”
“What about her older daughter?”
“I’ve not seen that one, either, m’lord.”
Markus turned for the stairs, his destination being the floor above.
Normally, a visiting knight wouldn’t think to wander unrestrained around a family’s keep but, in this case, he had no such qualms. He would be respectful of their privacy, but he wanted to make sure both Amabella and Aleanor were well this morning.
He could tell himself all he wanted that this was part of his duty, as the knight in command of Trastamara, but deep down, it was more than that where Amabella was concerned.
He’d spent an entire night away from her and very much wanted to see her lovely face this morning.
He wanted to know how she felt after their encounter yesterday because they hadn’t discussed it. There hadn’t been the opportunity.
Truth be told, he was a wee bit nervous. That big heart he had, a true de Wolfe heart, was a fragile thing when exposed as it was now.
Coming to the top of the stairwell on the top floor of Trastamara, he knew there were two chambers on this level – one was Roget’s cluttered, dusty mess of a chamber, but there was a second one that he assumed was Amabella’s.
He’d never actually been on this floor with the exception of the one time he’d come with Amabella in search of Trastamara’s riches.
Going to the second door, he knocked softly.
“My lady?” he called softly.
The door opened almost instantly. Amabella stood there, a smile on her lips, and Markus knew instantly that she was feeling the same delirium that he was. He could see it in her eyes. The same joy, the same happiness. The same realization that yesterday had not been an impulsive mistake.
It had been real.
There was no doubt in his mind.
“Good morn to you, Markus,” she said. “I saw the army depart this morning. You did not go with them?”
Markus shook his head. “Atlas asked that I remain in command at Trastamara to protect you until the army returns,” he said. “Naturally, I did not argue with him.”
He said it with a twinkle in his eyes and Amabella’s smile broadened. “I am glad you did not,” she said. “He came to see me before he left, you know.”
“He did?”
She nodded. “I did what you said – I did not undermine his confidence,” she said. “I have not said a word to him about not wanting him to ride to battle.”
“Then you did well,” Markus said. “Did you see him ride out?”
She nodded, her smile fading. “He was wearing mail and protection. Where did he get it? I did not know that he had any of his own.”
Markus leaned against the door jamb. “Most of it was his father’s,” he said. “Did you see the tunic he wore?”
She shook her head. “I could not see very well in the darkness before dawn.”
Markus lifted an eyebrow. “He would not wear Roget’s,” he said quietly.
“I was unaware that Roget commissioned new tunics when he became the Lord of Trastamara. We dug around in the old armory until we came across several that had been worn by your father’s soldiers.
They identified the Abril tunics. The old Trastamara soldiers were happy to wear the old red and white tunics again and that was what Atlas wore as well. ”
Amabella sighed and put her hand over her heart.
“How touching,” she said. “My father was so proud of Atlas. He was still a very small child when my father died, but my father never had any sons and he doted on Atlas. I wish… I wish my father had seen him grow up. He would have been so proud of him.”
Markus could see how much Atlas’ gesture meant to her. “Indeed, I’m sure he would have been,” he said. “He’s a good lad, Ama. He will make a fine lord.”
Her smile returned. “I know,” she said, her eyes alight with hope and joy. “As I said yesterday, we owe you and your men much thanks. You have all taken a great deal of care with him. But this battle coming up… I have a question I am afraid to ask.”
“Why?”
“Because it sounds as if I am worrying again.”
He grinned. “You are his mother,” he said. “You are the only one allowed to worry. What is your question?”
She took a deep breath. “The knights… they will watch out for him in battle, won’t they? Knowing he is not a full-fledged knight?”