Chapter Four #2
“We do,” Tristan said. “The Earl of Teviot knighted you four years before you should have been knighted because he saw greatness in you. He also thought that by giving you such responsibility, it would settle you down. But he was wrong. Even your father had enough of you. The Marshal gave you to me because I was the last hope you had for a respectable position. No one else wanted you, de Wolfe, but here you are.”
William’s jaw pulsed as he looked away. “Aye, here I am.”
“One of the best knights I have ever seen.”
The corner of William’s mouth twitched with a smile. “Of course I am.”
“But I’m better.”
William looked at him, outraged. “You were not better than I am at my age,” he said. “No man has ever existed who was better than me at my age.”
Tristan was trying hard not to grin at the young knight who had every reason to be arrogant, but he couldn’t miss the chance to knock him down.
Only humility would help William mature just a little.
Not that he wasn’t responsible and flawless in his decision making as a knight, but there was still work to do with him.
Every man needed a dose of humility to keep him grateful and grounded.
That was something de Wolfe lacked at his age.
“Let me tell you something, William,” Tristan said, thumping on the table to make a point.
“There will always be someone better than you. There will always be someone with a better sword, or better equipment, or a better horse, or even better breeding. You are an earl’s son, and on your mother’s side, you descend from Saracen warriors, and that is excellent breeding, indeed. ”
William nodded in agreement. “Of course it is,” he said. “My bloodlines are impeccable.”
Tristan lifted an eyebrow. “But mine are better,” he said.
“I have the blood of kings in me. My father was a king, my mother was a princess, and my uncle is the King of France. If the situation had been different, it would be me ruling England, not my nephew. So keep that in mind the next time you think you’re so great.
You have the privilege of serving someone who is truly greater than yourself, and that is a difficult thing to come by in your case. ”
William cast a long glance at him, shaking his head as if thinking the entire conversation was ridiculous, before breaking into a grin.
“If you were king, would you have me serve you?” he asked.
It was a cheeky question, and Tristan frowned. “God, no,” he said. “I’d have you shoveling shite from the royal stables.”
Addax burst into soft laughter. “Knowing de Wolfe, he would find a way to light it on fire and burn down your castle,” he said. “Or he’d use the pitchfork to incite a riot.”
Tristan chuckled as William drained his cup and moved to pour himself more.
“Do not make me out to be so rebellious,” he said, on the defense. “I would make an excellent royal champion.”
“You would,” Tristan agreed. He regarded William for a moment, knowing he’d teased the man enough.
“To be truthful, I will take this opportunity to tell you that I’m proud of your growth over the past year.
When the Marshal left you with me last year, I truly wasn’t certain how the situation would go.
I’m happy to say that you have done well, William. ”
William took a big swallow from his cup.
“I had little choice,” he said. “You told me on the very night that Pembroke gave you command of Wrexham that if I did not give up gambling with the soldiers and behave myself, you would throw me in the vault and tell everyone I ran away with a caravan destined for the Levant.”
“And you believed me.”
“Clearly, I did.”
“Did you really?”
William’s lips were twitching with a smile as he settled back in his chair, toying with his cup. “Probably not,” he said. “But it was something you said to me on that night, something that stayed with me.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Tristan said. “What is it?”
William thought back to that dark night in a great hall with only half a roof, crowded with victorious English. “You told me that you needed the best of me, something we’d not yet seen,” he said. “I think you were right.”
“And that made you settle down and stop gambling?”
“Nay, the threat of locking me in the vault did, but the thought of greatness not yet achieved was intriguing,” he said, his hazel eyes glimmering. “I thought I should at least give that a try first before we started wrestling for the vault key.”
Addax started laughing again. “Cheeky bastard,” he said. “You’re so full of yourself sometimes that I’d like to poke a hole in you and watch all of that swollen cheese you have for brains spill right out of you.”
William snorted in spite of himself, taking another drink of ale just another wench brought a heavy tray laden with food.
In fact, William found himself helping the girl set it on the table because she was in danger of dropping it.
She thanked him quietly, in an accent that wasn’t English and wasn’t Welsh, and he glanced at her as she turned away and scurried back toward the kitchens.
She was petite, wearing clothing that didn’t fit her correctly, and he caught a glimpse of a pleasing profile and long, nearly white hair that was tightly braided.
He might have even been interested in her if she wasn’t so dirty.
The lass had dirt all over her.
But he didn’t give her a second thought as he began to inspect the tray of food she’d brought.
Tristan and Addax were inspecting it, too, all of them grabbing for the contents as they began to eat.
William had just put a huge piece of buttered bread in his mouth when something hit him from behind.
Liquid began dripping down his arms and over one shoulder.
Chewing, and quite displeased, he looked over his shoulder to see a man wrestling with the dirty serving wench.
He had evidently grabbed her by the wrist when she’d been carrying a pitcher of warmed wine, causing the wine to fly through the air and hit de Wolfe between the shoulder blades.
The man was quite insistent with the wench, demanding she sit on his lap.
The girl, clearly upset, was begging him to let her go.
The man ignored her, kissing her hand, trying to reach out to fondle her, and she yelped, slapping his hand away.
When the man yanked on her, pulling her against him, she threw a fist into his face.
After that, the fight was on.
“William,” Tristan muttered. When de Wolfe looked up from his food, Tristan tipped his head in the direction of the assault. “Go.”
William took the hint. As knights, they simply couldn’t sit around while a woman was threatened, and since William was the junior knight amongst them, he would be sent on the duty.
With a sigh, William stood up and, still chewing, went over to the tussling couple and grabbed the woman, pulling her away from the man who was pawing at her.
When the man took offense at that, William shoved him back by the chest, sending him crashing onto the floor.
Utterly insulted, the man unsheathed a long dagger that had been at his waistband.
William shook his head as if the gesture was completely ridiculous. “Do you truly wish to engage me in a fight?” he said. “You will lose.”
The man, older and round, was struggling to his feet. “You are about to learn a lesson, knight,” he growled. “It’s foolish to interfere in another man’s business.”
William unsheathed his enormous broadsword, the one with the wolf’s head and eyes of topaz. His father had given it to him some time ago. Even at his age, the sword had claimed many victims, so he was ready with it as the man finally got to his feet.
“You made this my business when you threw the wine into my back,” he said. “Leave the girl alone and go on your way and nothing will come of this. But continue on your path and you will not live to see the end of this day.”
The man hesitated because he was studying William closely. He may have been young, but there was no disputing his size and obvious strength. He wasn’t timid in the least, either, which gave the man concern.
“How old are you, boy?” he asked.
“Old enough to kill you,” William replied steadily.
That was true. Seeing this was a situation he couldn’t win, the man took another tactic. “Where is your father?” he said. “I demand to speak with him.”
William’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “My father is the Earl of Wolverhampton,” he said.
“If you wish to speak to him, you must go and find him. Otherwise, this is a matter between you and me, and I am growing weary of your cowardice. If you are going to charge with that dagger, then do it. If not, then stop wasting my time.”
By this time, Addax had stood up, unsheathing a spectacular broadsword that caught the light, flashing wickedly.
The man may have been a fool, but he wasn’t stupid.
He knew he couldn’t survive two heavily armed knights with the dagger he had.
Therefore, he sheathed the dagger, kicked over the table he’d been sitting at so that the food scattered all over the ground, and charged from the common room and out into the rain beyond.
And with that, he was gone.
With a triumphant smirk, William sheathed his sword and was preparing to turn back to his table when he caught sight of the serving wench standing several feet away. She was pale with terror, and he paused, looking over her slovenly form for a moment before crooking his finger at her.
She scurried over to him.
“My apologies, my lord,” she said, her voice trembling. “I did not mean to involve you. The wine was an accident.”
He held up his hand to let her know he wasn’t angry at her. “It was not your fault,” he said. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Nay, my lord,” she said. “You have my gratitude. I am sorry to have troubled you. Usually, a finger in the eye or a fist to the throat will stop them.”