Chapter Thirteen #2
Stephan shook his head. “I do not know when he is due to return,” he said. “Far be it from me to criticize de Wolfe, but he should be more careful when it comes to bedding some lord’s daughters. Linley sees money in all of this because of the wealth and prestige of the de Wolfe family.”
Tobias continued to watch the drunkard below, considering the implications of the situation.
He was very young, only twenty years and two, and somewhat of a prig when it came to women.
He seemed a bit intimidated by them, as the older knights had seen, so this situation was somewhat serious for him.
He leaned against the stone parapet as he watched the action below.
“He did not chase women whilst we were in France,” he said. “I saw him with a few women, but he did not seem to have much time to carouse about.”
Stephan snorted. “You are speaking of Gates de Wolfe,” he said.
“The great and mighty Dark Destroyer. Trust me when I tell you the man had plenty of time to seek out female companionship in France because that is what he does. We should all be so lucky to have the intelligence, the comely looks, and the wealth of Gates. No woman can resist him.”
Tobias smiled faintly. “’Tis odd,” he said.
“I have seen him in battle. There is no one I would trust my life to more. At Poitiers, he was without fear. Men looked to him for courage. But when he is off the battlefield… that part of his life does not impress me so much. It is as if he has no self-control.”
Stephan crossed his big arms, looking at Tobias. “I have known Gates for many years,” he said. “It is not that the man has no self-control, for he has a great deal of it. To me, it has always seemed as if there was desperation to his actions when it comes to life outside of the battlefield.”
Tobias looked at him curiously. “What desperation?”
Stephan shrugged, trying to put his thoughts into words.
“He lives as if every day is his last,” he said.
“I have never seen him idle; if he is not fighting, he is bedding a woman, or laughing with the men, or celebrating in one way or another. Most of us have the ability to stop and rest at times, but I have never seen Gates do that. He lives as if he is going to die tomorrow.”
Tobias considered that seriously. “So he beds women to stave off that fear?” he said. “Surely there are other things he can do in order to feel vital and alive.”
“Like what?” Stephan shrugged. “Roll bones? Play games? Nay, lad, Gates is a de Wolfe, and that is a big name to live up to. He lives like he fights; with all of the passion in the world, which in his case means women. They make him feel alive.”
It was an interesting take on Gates de Wolfe, one of the greatest knights that young Tobias had ever seen.
He liked Gates, too, a great deal. All of the men did.
And if it made Gates feel more alive to chase women, so be it.
Therefore, to see Linley rolling around in the mud below was an unhappy observance because it was a direct insult to Gates.
At least, that’s how Tobias looked at it.
As he pondered the enigma that was Gates de Wolfe, some of the soldiers up in the gatehouse decided to use the murder holes as a latrine again and aimed right for Lord Linley.
The man was the recipient of a shower of urine as he stomped around in the mud below.
The entire gatehouse erupted in laughter as Linley roared with disgust, now covered in piss.
Stephan, shaking his head at the antics of his men, made sure to bellow at them to scold them for what they had done, but he was unfortunately grinning when he did it so his reprimand was not taken too seriously.
After that, no one took Linley seriously, either.
As the soldiers of Hyssington went about their duties, Linley spent the rest of the morning bemoaning his daughter’s situation and demanding to see Gates.
During the spring, summer, and fall months, Hyssington’s gates were open to those wishing to do business within her walls – smithies, hunters who had leather hides to sell, farmers with their produce, and even men who would sell peat for fires and dried grasses for the livestock.
But in the winter, the gates remained closed for safety reasons, mostly because starving Welsh might take advantage of it.
Therefore, Lord Linley was kept outside the gates, left to his drunken temper tantrums, as those inside the walls ignored him.
That included Stephan and Tobias, who went about their duties once they were certain Linley wasn’t going to cause trouble or do anything more foolish than he was already doing, like trying to climb the walls.
They went about securing posts, dealing with problems among the men, repairing weaponry that needed refurbishment, and other duties that had been assigned to them.
Stephan was in the armory, in fact, inspecting some of the weaponry they’d brought back with them from France when he heard a commotion around him.
Since the armory was in the gatehouse, all he had to do was stick his head out of the door to see what was the fuss was about.
He saw it soon enough. At mid-afternoon during this sunny day amongst melting snow, Gates and Alexander were returning from Shrewsbury with Lady Kathalin and twenty men riding escort. And Lord Linley, who was closer to the incoming party than the sentries were, was running out to greet them.
Ordering the gates opened, Stephan ran after him but he wasn’t fast enough. He could hear Linley swearing at Gates already.
“You… you bedswerver!” Linley was screaming. “You devious bastard! You are the father of Helene’s child! It is you!”
After a very quiet ride from Shrewsbury, Gates hadn’t expected a confrontation at the gates of Hyssington.
He had seen Linley running at him from a distance and, to be truthful, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have suspicions about the man’s intentions.
In fact, he was quite certain what the man’s intentions were but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
Gates would have bet money that Helene had finally confessed to Linley who the father of her son was, perhaps in another attempt to coerce Gates into marriage.
Whatever the case, Gates knew why the man was here, knowing that his indiscretions were about to be shouted for all to hear.
For Kathalin to hear. He had warned her of moments to come like this, and here one was, unexpectedly, right on his doorstep.
He braced himself.
“Greetings, Lord Linley,” he said evenly. “What brings you to Hyssington?”
Linley had come to halt, as had the escort, but Linley had eyes only for Gates. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he demanded. “What do you have to say before I cut your belly open and laugh at your misery?”
Gates just looked at the man. He wasn’t about to admit to anything, or play any manner of game with Linley.
He could be verbally brutal when he wanted to be, as Helene had discovered when she tried to force him into marriage.
Now, Helene’s drunkard father was embarrassing him and that didn’t sit well.
But before he verbally speared the man, he thought to give him the chance to quietly make his point.
As he opened his mouth, Stephan suddenly came shooting through the gates, racing towards him.
“I am sorry, Gates,” Stephan said as he came up to them, putting himself between Gates and Linley. “He has been here all morning. I had hoped he would go away before you returned from Shrewsbury.”
Gates simply nodded. “It is no matter, Bear,” he said steadily, focusing on Linley. “The man obviously has something to say to me. Did you wish to speak with me about something, Lord Linley?”
Linley was trying to move away from Stephan so he could have a clear line of sight to Gates, but Stephan kept moving, kept putting himself in between them. Gates finally called him off and Linley shook a fist at Gates.
“You are the father of Helene’s son,” he said angrily. “She told me so!”
Gates remained quite calm. “My lord, I have no idea what your daughter told you,” he said. “I have been in France for nearly a year and a half, so clearly I have been out of the country for a very long time. That would make it rather impossible to do what your daughter has accused me of doing.”
“It happened before you left!”
Gates merely shrugged. “If that is what you believe, I would be more than happy to escort you into Hyssington where I may hear your grievance in private.”
Linley stomped his boot, which was foot covering in the purely academic sense of the word. It was really the remains of a shoe that had been wrapped, and rewrapped, over his foot. When he stomped it in the mud, half of the shoe started to come apart.
“You will hear them now, de Wolfe,” he said. “Just as everyone else will. They will know what kind of a man you really are!”
So much for remaining cool. “Oh?” he said, preparing his verbal attack.
“And how would you know what kind of man I am? I see that no tankard of cheap ale has escaped you this day. I can smell you from here. Moreover, if you wish to speak on your daughter, then I am sure there are ten or twelve men here who would know more about her than I would. Are you sure this is something you wish to discuss for all to hear?”
The verbal arrows hit their mark and Linley’s anger took a dousing. He appeared astonished that Gates would say such a thing and his mouth, that great gaping thing that smelled of rot and ale, popped open.
“You slander her?” he hissed, incredulous.
Gates turned around, waving Alexander and Kathalin and the escort through.
He even motioned to Stephan to leave them.
Whatever was to be said was between him and Linley, and he was already greatly perturbed that the man was shouting accusations for all to hear.
When Stephan, Alexander, and the soldiers began to move, Gates returned his focus to Linley.