Chapter Seven
It was his angel of mercy.
At least, he’d called her that once. She’d helped him after the battle at Etal when he hadn’t wanted her help and was utterly ungracious, but she’d ignored him and she’d saved his life. That’s what the surgeon said after he’d been found three days later.
Who stitched you up, War?
All he’d been able to say was that it had been an angel of mercy.
And it had.
War was preoccupied as he and his men entered William’s lavish solar, the one with hide rugs and a hearth that could fit six men in it comfortably.
He pretended to be interested in what de Wolfe said, but the truth was that he was reeling with surprise to have seen his angel of mercy in the bailey of Castle Questing when he was positive he’d never see her again.
She was Scots, after all. She should be back in Scotland with her kin, the same kin who had attacked Etal.
But she wasn’t.
She was here.
And, oh so beautiful.
The lass had hair that glimmered like the metal forged by the blacksmiths – red and gold, shimmering with liquid light.
She had skin like cream and big, wide eyes.
A fine beauty if ever there was one, even more beautiful in the sunlight.
Standing there in a fine but simple yellow garment, she’d been positively radiant.
He wanted to know why she was here.
Who was Annaleigh?
But in the same breath, he was struck by the fact that he was in the same room with the man who impregnated his mother, the man who made his birth possible.
He was technically his father by blood and his fascination with William de Wolfe was stronger, at the moment, than his fascination with Annaleigh.
He had a powerful need to know the man his mother had been so in love with.
The man whose blood flowed through his veins.
“You offered to introduce me to the warlords in this area and I am greatly appreciative, but I’m curious,” he said to William.
“You’ve kept peace along the border for many years, so surely you have some Scottish allies in all of this.
I heard that was the reason you abstained from the battle between Etal Castle and Clan Scott those months ago. ”
William nodded, bringing him a cup of wine. “My wife is a Scott,” he said. “Kieran’s wife is also a Scott. My ties to Clan Scott go back to the day I married my wife, so when they had trouble with Etal, I had no choice but to abstain. I was sorry to hear you were injured in the battle.”
War sipped at his wine. “It was my own fault,” he said. “I’d been at Bamburgh barely a month when we went to Etal and I suppose I was trying to establish my dominance.”
“What happened?”
War rolled his eyes. “Something very stupid,” he said. “I followed a group of Scots I felt were commanding the Scottish troops into a glen by the river’s edge. I was caught off guard by a pike.”
William grunted. “The Scots do not fight like the English do,” he said.
“That is the first thing you must learn about them. I realize you are Blackchurch trained, but Blackchurch doesn’t teach you how the Scots think.
They’ll do anything they can to win a battle, including trickery and underhanded tactics.
We’ve all learned that one way or the other. ”
War took another sip of wine. “Blackchurch does indeed teach about underhanded tactics,” he said. “However, this was simply my own arrogance.”
“You got in your own way, did you?”
War laughed softly. “I did,” he said. “We’ve all done it.”
“We surely have.”
War looked at William. “I’m curious – if you are so strongly allied with Clan Scott, how do you pick and choose your battles here on the borders?”
William shrugged. “Anything that involves Clan Scott against other Scots usually involves me,” he said. “Anything that involves them against other English does not involve me.”
“Including Etal.”
“Including them.”
“They were not happy that you did not side with them.”
“I know. And I do not care. They need me far more than I need them.”
War grinned. “I hope to have that same attitude myself when it comes to Bamburgh,” he said. “Everyone needs me far more than I need them.”
“Everyone is watching Bamburgh now that they know War Herringthorpe is in command,” Kieran spoke up, watching War’s smile grow. “Where are you from, Herringthorpe?”
War faced the enormous, dark-eyed knight. “Suffolk,” he said. “I was born there.”
“And your family?”
“My parents are gone,” he said. “I have two younger brothers who serve Henry.”
“Did your father serve Henry?” Kieran asked. “I do not seem to remember a knight named Herringthorpe.”
War shook his head. “My father was never at court,” he said. “He preferred the quiet life of the countryside, though he had endless ambition for his sons. That is how I ended up at Blackchurch.”
“Did your brothers?”
“One did, one did not.”
Kieran nodded in understanding. “And your mother?” he said. “Was she born in Suffolk, too?”
War shook his head. “Northumberland,” he said. “She was part of the de Percy family.”
William spoke up. “You mentioned she was from Northumberland but I did not have the chance to ask you her family name,” he said. “De Percy, is it? I know the family well. Mayhap I knew her.”
You knew her intimately well, War thought.
He also realized that if he gave William his mother’s name, William might begin to suspect that War wasn’t simply a new ally.
He might suspect that he was much more than that.
That information could do one of two things – it could either put William on his guard, given the fact that War undeniably looked like him, or it might make him immensely curious to discover the truth.
Perhaps War didn’t need to tell William anything at all.
Perhaps the man would figure it out for himself.
It was a chance, he found, that he had to take.
There was some part of him that wanted to be acknowledged.
“Her name was Jane,” he said, looking William in the eye. “Jane de Percy.”
William didn’t react but Kieran did. “I knew Jane,” he said, surprise in his voice. “We all knew Jane. A lovely woman. I’m very sorry to hear that she has passed on.”
War nodded, tearing his eyes away from William to look at Kieran. “Thank you,” he said. “It has only been a few years. I do miss her, though I fear she might be angry that I buried my father at Bamburgh and not in Suffolk with her.”
“Then you must bring her north,” William said. “She was from Northumberland, after all. She deserves to be buried where she was born.”
“True,” War said. “You… you knew her, also?”
It was a leading question, but William didn’t hesitate. “I did,” he said. “When I first came to Northumberland, I met her at a feast. She was the youngest of three sisters and, as I recall, the loveliest. And her sisters were very protective over her.”
War smiled faintly. “I would believe that of Aunt Emelie and Aunt Bridget.”
“They were quite adept at chasing away young knights.”
War chuckled, as did Kieran and those within ear shot, but there was nothing on William’s face that suggested he’d just had a massive revelation that War might be something more to him. In fact, War was studying the man’s expression quite intently when Clement suddenly spoke up.
“My lord,” he said, addressing William. When everyone looked at him, his focus turned to War.
“Since we are speaking of parentage, it should be noted that Sir Warwick is in mourning. His father passed away at Bamburgh just a few days ago and though he more than likely will not tell you, I will. Sir Edmund was a great man and deserves to be remembered well.”
All eyes turned to War with some shock. “Forgive me, War,” William said sincerely. “I did not know. You did not have to come to Castle Questing so soon. I would have understood.”
War wasn’t thrilled that Clement had spoken up and, given the man’s envy for Bamburgh’s command, he wasn’t certain that it wasn’t some ploy to make War look weak and emotional in front of these titans of the north.
But more than that, War was perturbed that Clement had taken the attention off of Jane de Percy and William’s potential memories.
He smiled weakly.
“It is the way of life, my lord,” War said. “My father had been ill for some time, so it was not unexpected. But… I will miss him.”
William smiled faintly. “Of course you will,” he said. “Are you sure you would not rather return to Bamburgh and then come back when the time is better?”
“I am here now, my lord. My father would have wanted this.”
“Then a toast to your father and the fine son he raised. Godspeed to him.”
Everyone lifted their cup, drinking to Edmund’s memory, which made War feel a little better. He drew strange comfort from it. But he was still grossly unhappy with Clement, who didn’t flinch or react when War shot him a long look. Next to Clement, Monty looked as if he wanted to throttle the man.
There was tension there.
“My lord,” Alexei spoke up, trying to distract their new allies from whatever was happening between Clement and War. “I am interested to know how far your lands are from one end to the other. I am told you have a large portion of this corner of Northumberland.”
William wasn’t oblivious to whatever tension was happening between War and his knights, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
He knew Kieran would, however. The man was a master at reading men and that was often how they went into a conference.
William would speak while Kieran would observe and then they would discuss it afterwards.
They’d been able to assess, and sometimes avert, many serious situations that way.
He wondered if this would be one of them.
“You are the knight from Vilnius?” he said.
Alexei nodded. “Aye, my lord,” he said. “I am Alexei.”
“I have only met a few men from that far to the east,” William said. “I find it fascinating that men should be so well-traveled, having come all the way to England.”
Alexei smiled. “A man has but one life, my lord,” he said. “I have lived many lifetimes within mine.”