Chapter Eighteen
“Have you gotten any rest at all?”
The question was from William to Kieran as Kieran entered William’s solar and landed heavily on a cushioned chair. The enormous knight kicked his feet out as he sank against the back of the chair and put his hands over his face.
“A little,” he said. “But there was much to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like assess the knights and the status of the army,” Kieran said, hands still over his face in an exhausted gesture. “Like assess the wounded. Christ, William, do I really need to go on?”
William was seated at the colossal, heavy table he used to conduct business. It had been brought all the way from Rome, carved from solid oak with scenes from ancient battles. William had seen it a woodworker’s shop in York and he’d spent three hours negotiating a price for it. He loved that table.
His wife thought it was hideous.
He was writing something onto a piece of fine vellum, carefully scripting out the letters, but Kieran’s snappish reply had him glancing up.
“You do not,” he said. “I was simply asking a question. Why not let Christian do those things? He is your second, is he not? He’s competent and well-trained.”
Kieran took his hands away from his face and reclined his head on the chair back. “He is,” he said. “But he has had command of the army with Anthony resting from a day and a night of command. And Talus… that is a big loss, William. He was a fine knight.”
William nodded wearily. “I know,” he said hoarsely. “I am writing his father now. I will send the missive on ahead, but you will make arrangements for a contingent of de Wolfe men to take him home to Thunderbey Castle. You must do this right away.”
“I already have,” Kieran said. “They will be ready to depart at dawn.”
“Good.”
“What are we going to do about The Bones?”
William stopped writing and looked at him. There was fire in his hazel eye as he set the quill down.
“Find them and burn them,” he growled. “They have bases around here from where they launch their raids. I want those locations found and I want every man in that bloody band of murderers burned until they are ashes. Then we’ll put the ashes in the garderobe and shit upon them every day for the rest of eternity. ”
A look of approval crossed Kieran’s face. “Excellent,” he said. “Are you telling Talus’ father that?”
William nodded. “I am telling him that and more,” he said.
“There will be one man we will not burn. I want you to identify the leader of The Bones and that man will be sent, in irons, to Thunderbey for Tobin du Reims to do with as he pleases. I will deliver the man responsible for Talus’ death and deliver him with pleasure. ”
Kieran was more than willing to do all of that.
He liked Talus and the young knight’s loss weighed heavily on him.
It could have just as easily been one of his own sons, like Christian since Christian had been in that battle, too.
Honestly, he had no idea how he would go on with life should something happen to Christian.
It was something he tried not to think about.
Kieran had four sons – Alec, Christian, Kevin, and Nathaniel, and he loved his sons as deeply as any man had ever loved his offspring, but there was a pride he took in Christian that was difficult to describe.
Probably because he was so unlike Kieran in many ways.
Alec and Kevin looked like Kieran and acted like him, and Nathaniel was very much Jemma’s son, but Christian was different than all of them.
Maybe that’s why Kieran was grieving Talus’ loss more deeply than he should have; it reminded him that his own sons could have very well have fallen victim, too.
And whoever was responsible was going to pay dearly.
“I will do this and do it gladly,” he said after a moment. “Christian and Talus were friends, you know. My son grieves him.”
“We all do,” William said, returning to his vellum. “This is not a joyful task, composing this letter.”
“I imagine not.”
William picked up his quill and continued writing out the words, pausing when he was searching for the right phrase, as Kieran closed his eyes and immediately drifted off to sleep.
William finished the missive to Kieran’s heavy snoring, but that wasn’t unusual.
He and Kieran had been friends since they’d been young boys and they’d rarely been apart in all that time, so William was well-acquainted with Kieran’s snoring.
Truthfully, he found it comforting because it was one thing that never changed.
Men lived or men died, kings came and went, but Kieran kept right on snoring.
William was nearly finished with the missive when Kieran suddenly snored loudly as if startled and his head popped up.
“He does not trust him,” he muttered.
William signed the missive and reached for the sand. “Who does not trust him?”
“Christian,” Kieran mumbled. “He does not trust him.”
William sanded the missive and blew off the excess. “Go back to sleep,” he said. “You are dreaming.”
But Kieran didn’t do as he was told. He rubbed his eyes, becoming more oriented.
“I was dreaming of Christian,” he said, sounding sleepy and weary.
“He spoke with Herringthorpe and he thinks the man is hiding something. He doesn’t trust him.
I forgot to tell you that with everything that has gone on since yesterday. ”
William looked at him for a long moment.
It was clear that something was going on in his mind.
Slowly, he put the missive to East Anglia aside, stood up, and walked around the table.
He picked up a small missive right on the edge of the tabletop.
It was folded up but he unfolded it and went to Kieran, extending it to the man.
“And with everything that has gone on since yesterday, I forgot to tell you this,” he said quietly. “Read it.”
Kieran took it from him, looking at it curiously. “What is it?”
“Read it.”
Kieran did. William wandered back to his table, pausing only once to see if Kieran had changed expression, but the man’s features remained like stone.
Until he read it a second time.
Kieran’s brow furrowed as he read it through again, as if his initial shock were over and now he was starting to show some emotion.
By this time, William had reclaimed his seat and was carefully rolling the missive to East Anglia.
As he heated the wax to create the big de Wolfe seal, Kieran lowered the missive in his hands and rose stiffly from the chair.
“Then we were correct all along,” he said quietly. “War really is your son.”
William nodded. “He is.”
“And he gave you this missive?”
“Nay,” William shook his head. “Jordan did. She read it before I did. She was cleaning the man’s chamber and it fell from his saddlebags. The letter was open, the seal broken, and she saw my name. Naturally, she read it, as it pertained to her husband.”
“How did she take the news?”
William was looking at the tabletop, thinking on how to answer. “It did not please her,” he finally said. “It was not an ideal way to discover that your husband, whom you thought was perfect, had fathered a bastard. I do believe she was a little jealous, even after all of these years.”
Kieran wriggled his eyebrows. “I can well imagine that,” he said. “I am certain Jemma would not have taken such news half as well as Jordan did. I’d be missing a certain part of my body right now.”
William cracked a smile. “How unfortunate for you,” he said. But he quickly sobered. “The point is that Herringthorpe doesn’t know I have it. He does not know that I know. Clearly, he knows that I am his father, but I have many questions about this.”
“What do you mean?”
William lifted a dark eyebrow. “Why is he carrying that missive around?” he said. “Jane wanted him to give it to me. Why hasn’t he?”
Kieran shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “But the more I think on it, the more I do not like it. There’s nothing like a man with a vendetta carrying around something to remind him of that vendetta.”
William looked at him curiously. “You think he means to harm me somehow?”
Kieran shrugged. “I do not know,” he said. “But the man just lost the only father he’d ever known, and now you find him carrying around a missive from his mother, to you, explaining that you are War’s true father. He must be grieved and angry and confused. Wouldn’t you be?”
William couldn’t disagree. “Jordan has advised me to ask him why he has the letter and why he has not given it to me,” he said. “What is your suggestion?”
Kieran opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock on the solar door. Both Kieran and William turned to see War standing in the doorway.
For a moment, they were both caught off guard. Had he heard their conversation? That was on their minds but until War indicated that he’d heard, neither one of them was going to react in any way. They were seasoned knights who had long learned not to give away what they were thinking.
But the mood, at least for them, was full of uncertainty.
“I am sorry to interrupt,” War said, looking between the two. “I was hoping I might have a moment of your time, Lord Kilham. If this is not a good time, then I shall come back at your convenience.”
William passed a glance at Kieran before replying. “Now is a perfect time,” he said. “Come in, please. We have been discussing du Reims’ death, among other things. I have just finished writing a message to the man’s father, which has been one of my unhappier duties.”
War stepped into the chamber. “Although I did not know du Reims, I know who his father is,” he said. “Tobin du Reims has spent much time in London, as a guest of the king on occasion.”
“Have you ever been to Thunderbey Castle?”
War shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But I have heard that it is quite impressive.”