Chapter One #4
“Then understand this has nothing to do with Norfolk seeking to turn Northumberland knights into traitors and everything to do with justice for my brother.”
“Killing them will not bring Titus back.”
“Mayhap not. But they will be punished for what they did. I cannot let their deed go unanswered.”
Warenne was coming to think that he’d already lost Atticus; the man was singularly focused on revenge.
Not that he blamed him. There were shadows of revenge in his heart, too, cast there by a day of defeat and sorrow.
He’d seen his mighty army humbled, his men killed, friends killed, and his cause badly damaged.
The battle at Towton had been a disaster all the way around. He cleared his throat softly.
“When you do kill them,” he whispered, “twist the sword just a bit more for my sake, so that I may fulfill my sense of vengeance as well. Titus did not deserve what they did to him.”
For the first time, Atticus could see that Warenne, too, held the same sense of punishment that he did.
It was as close to revenge as the even-tempered earl could come and Atticus finally felt as if the man understood somewhat.
That moment of clarity helped Atticus a great deal.
It made him much more willing to obey Warenne’s immediate commands.
“Nay, he did not,” Atticus finally said, hanging his head because he could no longer look the man in the eye.
His sense of grief was now threatening to overwhelm his sense of rage.
Stay strong! God help him, he was trying.
“That being said, I will pull the men together. I will ride to Alnwick with the army. I will return Titus home. But after that, I go on the hunt for de Troiu and de la Londe.”
“I know.”
Atticus drew in a long, deep breath, struggling to focus on the tasks that lay ahead.
He struggled to push aside his grief for the moment, clearing his mind.
“You say that you have seen le Bec, Wellesbourne, and both de Russe knights,” he said.
“I must go in search of Tertius. Let us pray that Lady de Wolfe has not lost her brother in addition to her husband this day.”
Vastly relieved that Atticus seemed to be calming, Warenne nodded his head. “Find de Shera,” he said. “As I said, I have not seen him in hours. The last I saw of the man, he was to the north near Cock Burn. You may want to start there.”
Atticus nodded, thinking of Tertius de Shera, a knight who was also his friend.
In fact, he was close with all of Northumberland’s knights.
Three of them were cousins, all grandsons of the great Richmond le Bec – Sir Kenton le Bec was the son of Richmond’s eldest son, while Sir Adam Wellesbourne had married Kenton’s cousin, Audrey, the daughter of Richmond’s youngest daughter and the mighty Bastian de Russe.
Lastly, Sir Alec le Bec was the son of Richmond’s second son, Gannon.
All three of these knights were related, as were the de Wolfe brothers and Tertius de Shera because Titus had married Tertius’ sister.
Warenne had a close-knit stable of knights because of these family ties and he liked it that way.
Men who were linked by blood were sometimes more loyal and bonded than others.
But it was a bond that had been shattered this day between Atticus and Titus.
Already, Atticus felt lost and alone because he’d never been without his brother.
Finally acknowledging Warenne’s command, he couldn’t help but glance at his brother as he prepared to quit the tent.
He shouldn’t have done it because one glance at Titus’ ashen face fractured the weak composure.
He broke away from Warenne and returned to his brother’s corpse, dropping to his knees beside the man and pulling him into his arms.
No one had expected that sudden move; one moment, Atticus was speaking with Warenne and the next, he was on his knees, clutching Titus against him.
The surgeon, who had been cleaning the man up, was very nearly pushed out of the way as Atticus held his brother for the very last time.
It was a deeply poignant and sorrowful moment, one of finality.
Atticus couldn’t leave without bidding his farewell to Titus in his own way.
He loved his brother deeply and holding the man’s cooling body against him somehow made everything more real; life and death and the sense of vengeance that was starting to eat away at Atticus’ soul.
Already, it was like a cancer, threatening to consume him.
Hugging Titus against him, he whispered in the man’s ear.
“I swear that you shall be avenged,” he pledged. “As I live and breathe, I shall punish those who have done this to you. It will be my all for living, the force that drives me. I swear your death shall not be in vain. You will be well remembered, Titus. But those who did this to you will pay.”
With a final kiss to Titus’ cooling cheek, he lay his brother back down and very nearly ran from the tent. Only outside, in the freezing weather and the blanket of white across the ground, did he let the tears fall unashamedly.
For Titus, he finally wept.