Chapter Fourteen #2
“He fights like you, Uncle William.” Christian finally looked over at William and his father. “Papa sent me to find out what I could about him. Did he tell you that?”
William looked at Kieran. “You told Christian about my suspicions?” he asked.
Kieran wouldn’t look at him. “If anyone could find out about Herringthorpe, it is Christian,” he said.
“My son has the tongue of a serpent and the mind of a fox. I told you that I would not probe Herringthorpe personally, but I asked Christian to find out what he could. He can do it better than we ever could.”
William wasn’t pleased, but there was a large part of him that was very curious now. He looked at Christian. “Well?” he said. “What did you discover?”
Christian pulled back on the reins of his horse because the animal was starting to speed up. Once the beast was settled, he answered.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he said. “We spoke of many things but, mainly, I asked him if he was related to the Wolverhampton de Wolfes because he has the look of the family in general. I was casual about it, of course, and the question came up naturally in conversation. It was not forced. But he said he did not have any relatives in Wolverhampton.”
William didn’t know why he was disappointed to hear that.
Perhaps he was hoping for a clue of War’s familial relations more than he realized, but just as quickly, he told himself that his disappointment was stupid.
He shouldn’t hope for such things. He had a family he was deeply proud of, including twin sons who were his heirs.
Nothing could ever take that away from them, not even a bastard he’d not known about.
But given War’s reputation and clear talent, he had to admit that it was something he would be proud of, too.
Proud of a lad he never knew he had.
It was a situation that had him torn.
“Although I appreciate you taking the initiative, Christian, please do not ask him anything more,” William said after a moment.
“As I told your father, whatever I think is purely speculation. There is no proof. Even if the clues point to the probability, it is possible that Herringthorpe knows nothing, so please do not bring it up again. And you will take this information to your grave.”
“Aye, Uncle William.”
“Swear it to me. Not a word to anyone.”
“I swear.”
William was satisfied. With that, he reined his horse around, intending to head to the rear to see how Talus was coming along with that leg. Kieran and Christian watched him go, but once he was out of earshot, Christian addressed his father.
“I think Herringthorpe is holding something back,” he said quietly. “Something about him… something wasn’t right, Papa.”
Kieran looked at him with interest. “You think he was lying to you?”
Christian shook his head. “Not exactly,” he said. “But there was something in his face when I brought up Wolverhampton and the de Wolfe family. Something in his eyes that told me he knew something. Or mayhap he had heard something. I cannot explain it more than that.”
Kieran pondered that for a moment. “You have an excellent instinct when it comes to men,” he said. “If you think the man knows something more, I believe you.”
“But what do we do about it?”
“Nothing,” Kieran said. “William asked you not to and you will obey him. Understood?”
“Aye, Papa.”
They let the subject drop but, somehow, Christian knew that wasn’t the end of it.
So did Kieran.
*
With the army away and the castle buttoned up, there wasn’t much more for the inhabitants to do than continue with their regular duties. Soldiers and servants alike went about their usual tasks, focusing on their duties and trying not to think about their army at war.
That included the servants in the keep. Jordan had been with them for the rest of the afternoon, as Penelope and the younger children played in the kitchen yard, watched over by Jemma.
Jordan supervised the usual tasks and also tasks she completed while William and Kieran and the men were out of the keep, like washing linens and clothing.
She never really did that while they were in residence, mostly because William wasn’t fond of the way linen smelled after it had been washed, but there were times it had to be done.
At the moment, those tasks were simply busy work to keep her mind off of her husband in battle.
She simply didn’t want to think about it.
After the sun set and the castle was lit up against the night sky, the smell of the evening meal could be savored upon the air.
Jemma had brought the children in and while they were playing in the upper floors, she went to make sure there was food for the evening.
Jordan was still with the house servants, finishing with the linens on all of the beds, guest beds included.
Everything had been stripped earlier and the servants were in the process of replacing linens with those that had been freshly washed and dried.
When word had been received that the army would soon be returning, Jordan began to move the servants quickly to ensure everything was completed by the time they returned.
In particular, she wanted to make sure that War’s chamber was properly swept and prepared for the man’s return since he’d been doing her husband a favor by lending his sword to a raid on Coldstream.
She’d been in another chamber to make sure a fire in the hearth was lit but hurried down to the unmarried men’s wing to make sure the servants were almost done.
But her appearance startled one of them, a young woman who had recently come to work at Castle Questing from a nearby village, and as soon as Jordan popped into the doorway, the young maid bumped into War’s saddlebags, which had been placed on a wooden bench.
Everything dumped over and scattered.
The girl fell to her knees beside the bags, terrified that Jordan was going to scold her and send her home, but Jordan went to her knees beside her.
“I’ll do this,” she told the girl. “Go back tae yer duties. I’ll put his things back.”
Trembling, the girl went back to what she’d been doing, verging on tears, but Jordan assured her that it was nothing to be upset over.
The truth was that Jordan didn’t want a mere servant touching War’s things so, as the Lady of the Keep, she took great care in righting the bags and carefully placing everything back inside.
It was mostly clothing, soap, combs, and personal items. There were a few random daggers, a sewing kit, which was usual for knights, and a writing kit that was carefully and tightly packaged.
It contained vellum, sand, ink, wax, and quite possibly a stamp with War’s seal on it.
Jordan only opened it long enough to make sure the ink hadn’t spilled, and it hadn’t, as it was in a tightly corked phial.
Carefully, she put it back into the saddlebags on the right.
But a few more things were scattered, not the least of which were letters or documents that had been bound up with leather strips.
They’d come loose and were strewn over the floor.
Jordan collected each one, including one that had gone underneath the bed.
As she picked that one up, the wax seal on it fell off and she lost her grip on it trying to catch the seal.
Putting the other documents she’d collected in a neat stack, she picked up the one that had been dropped twice.
In fact, it was completely open on the floor and although she wasn’t the nosy kind, nor did she care about Herringthorpe’s business, she had to physically look at the document in order to pick it up.
As she looked at it, she caught a name she recognized in the fold.
Willaume de Wolfe.
That gave her pause.
Jordan knew she shouldn’t read it, but her husband’s name, in traditional Norman spelling, was clearly written. What in the world would War Herringthorpe be doing with a letter mentioning William de Wolfe? Curiosity had the better of her.
Nay, not curiosity… concern.
Jordan read the letter.
Mother of God… she wished she hadn’t.