Chapter Seventeen #3
Hearing the missive read aloud did something to William; the shock he’d experienced after reading it for himself was replaced by a massive measure of apprehension.
There was something about hearing it in Kieran’s calm, deep tone that sent bolts of anxiety through him and he stood up, unable to sit because his body was beginning to twitch.
He began to pace over towards the windows.
“It must be a ghost,” he finally said, “a phantom dredged up by the Welsh to throw the English off-balance. It is no secret that James died in Wales. We were all there, Kieran. I held him and you held him. He was dead.”
Kieran could hear the edginess in William’s voice, the uncertainty as well. “We certainly thought he was,” he said. “Paris said he was.”
William made it to the windows, looking out over his beloved Castle Questing.
“Christ,” he finally hissed. “The guilt I felt at leaving James behind. The anguish I went through, that I still go through, not having brought my son home. You know this to be true, Kieran, and now this? Why would Corbett Payton-Forrester, whose father is a good friend of mine, say such a thing? Has he no idea how this will hurt my family?”
Kieran’s gaze moved back to the yellowed parchment.
“William Payton-Forrester is a man beyond reproach,” he said.
“He has raised his sons in the same way. You know Corbett; he is a good man. He knew all of your sons, including James. I do not think he would make a mistake on a subject as fragile as this one is. If he says that he has seen James, then mayhap you should take him at his word.”
William whirled around to face him. “This is madness. My son is dead.”
Kieran met his gaze. At the same time, he lifted up the parchment. “Is he?”
William stared at him. Then, the tears began to come as his mind allowed the possibility that what Corbett said was true. What if… what if… what if? With a growl, he closed his eye, warding off something that was both impossible and painful.
“Nay,” he hissed. “It cannot be. It is a mistake. James died in Wales five years ago. We all saw it; we saw it when we fled like cowards and the Welsh stripped my son of his de Wolfe tunic, waving it in the air like a victory banner as we left him behind. We saw it. I even went back to look for his body a year after the battle, and there was nothing. You know I went back for him, Kieran. I could not leave my boy there.”
Kieran could see the anguish in William’s expression.
“I know you did,” he said. “You did all you could to recover him, but you were unable to. William, no one wants this to be true more than I do. You know I loved James like he was my very own son. When he married Rosie, I was overjoyed. No one understands your pain more than I do.”
“And now?” William demanded as he moved away from the window, coming towards Kieran.
“Now what? I am so angry that I want to kill but, in the same breath, I feel such… such guilt. Christ, Kieran; what if he wasn’t dead when we left him in Wales?
That very possibility has filled my nightmares and has left me sickened with the thought that I’d left my wounded son in Wales.
I abandoned him. And now? My God… now, is it true? ”
Kieran could only shake his head. “There is but one way to find out,” he said quietly. “Do as Penny asks. Go to Wales and see for yourself.”
William seemed to calm unnaturally fast at the simple, but truthful, words. He stared at Kieran a moment before retracing his steps back to the bed, sitting heavily once again on the stool. He suddenly looked very old and very weary.
“I knew that was to be my destiny the moment I read the missive,” he muttered. “If James is alive, really alive, then I must know. But… God, Kieran, what if he hates me for leaving him there? I do not know if I can survive such hatred from my sweet James.”
Kieran reached out, grasping William’s hand. He squeezed it tightly. “You must remember who you are speaking of,” he said. “We are speaking of a man who loved you more than anything on earth. He would understand why you left him behind.”
“Then why did he not come home?” William asked painfully. “If he did not die, and has survived these years, why did he not come home?”
“I do not know.”
“He had a wife and children here. Surely that would be enough to bring any man home.”
Kieran let go of his hand and sat back in his bed. “And that is another issue,” he said. “Rosie. She has since remarried and is very happy. I do not know how she is going to take this news.”
William shook his head. “Do not tell her, not until we know for certain,” he said. “Until I discover the truth, there is no reason to tell her. Right now, there are far too many questions with no answers. But should any of this be true, my fear of James’ hatred is all too real.”
Kieran sighed heavily. “You will not know anything until you go and discover the truth for yourself,” he said.
“But whatever happens, William, know that you did all you could in Wales. Had there been another way not to leave James behind, we would have taken it. You cannot shoulder any guilt for that.”
William lifted his eyebrows, a gesture of resignation. “And yet, I do,” he mumbled. “I always will. But you are correct; I will not know the truth of Corbett’s report until I go to Lioncross and speak to him. Then I shall go to Wales and see for myself.”
Kieran squeezed his hand again. “And I wish I could go with you, with all my heart,” he said. “But alas, I am afraid I cannot make the journey. It is difficult for me to admit that, but it is the truth.”
Now they were on the subject of Kieran’s failing health and William exhaled sharply; he didn’t want to hear the defeatist tone in Kieran’s voice. “Mayhap you cannot make the journey, but you will be here when I return,” he said. “And if James is alive, I will not return without him.”
“When will you leave?”
“Immediately. As soon as I tell Jordan. I fear that my wife must be told of this.”
“Who will you take with you?”
William thought on his sons, men who were finer and stronger knights than he could ever hope to be. Each one, great in his own right.
“Scott is south, at his holding of Castle Canaan,” he said. “Troy is in Scotland, but he is not too far away should I need him. Patrick is at his garrison of Berwick Castle and Thomas is at his garrison of Wark Castle.”
“Thomas has not been there very long. How is he faring?”
William shrugged. “Well, from what Troy and Paris have told me,” he said. “I do not want to check on him for fear he will think that I do not trust him, so Troy and Paris have looked in on him. They say he is doing quite well, surprising from my youngest and sometimes grossly irresponsible son.”
Kieran smiled faintly; Thomas de Wolfe was the youngest son in a great family of knights and he had, indeed, been grossly irresponsible for much of his young life.
But that had changed a few months ago when William finally gave him a command.
For Thomas, it had been his moment to grow up, so the news was hopeful that he finally had.
With the de Wolfe name, there was little choice.
“He’s had much to live up to, William,” Kieran said. “He just needed his moment to shine.”
“He will, I am sure.”
Kieran fell silent for a moment as he further pondered William’s coming journey.
“When you go to Wales, take Scott with you,” he said.
“Troy and Patrick have their hands full with Scots raids at the moment and should not leave their garrisons. Scott is the only one who could possibly spare the time, and you should not go alone to face this. Take Nathaniel, too. My youngest son knew James well, and I am sure that he would like to accompany you. Will you take him?”
William nodded faintly. “Nat is an excellent knight, like his father,” he said, “but I cannot take him with me. I will send him to Scotland to take over Troy’s garrison while Troy comes with me. Troy would never forgive me if I did not bring him with me.”
Kieran understood. The de Wolfe brothers were very close-knit. “And Patrick? If you take Troy, then you must take Patrick. He would be hurt if you did not.”
William knew that. “Alec is at Berwick,” he said, referring to Kieran’s eldest son. “He is perfectly capable of handling any situation while Patrick is gone.”
The situation was settled. “Very well,” he said. “Send Nat to Scotland and leave Alec at Berwick. But take a contingent of men with you when you go south. Eight hundred, I should think. You are heading into Wales, after all, and you do not want to go undermanned.”
William knew that. “I will,” he said. “Anything else, General?”
There was a twinkle in his eye when he said it. Kieran had been his second in command for a very long time, and he was the great organizer in such matters. William never had to worry with Kieran in charge of mustering the army.
But there was something more to that question, at least in Kieran’s view.
He’d been watching his dear friend deny his health issues for several years, but never more strongly than he had as of late.
Kieran was growing worse, but William refused to admit it.
Now, with a months-long trip impending, they were reaching a crucial point in their relationship and, fearing that he might not be around when William returned, Kieran knew he had to speak what was on his mind and in his heart.
The time had finally come.
“Aye, there is,” he said. “I want you to listen to me without arguing. Will you at least do that?”
“I never argue with you.”
“You are doing it now.”
William chuckled. “Very well,” he said. “I will not speak another word. What else will you say?”