Chapter Sixteen #3
Warenne was trying not to smile at her reaction to Atticus being in danger because it was plainly obvious that she cared a great deal about it. She cared a great deal about him.
“I have tried to tell him but he will not listen to me,” Warenne said, completely manipulating her emotions. “Mayhap… mayhap if you tell him, my lady, he will listen.”
Isobeau seemed to back down somewhat. “He… he does not wish to hear it from me, I am sure,” she said, averting her gaze and moving over to the table that held her sewing kit.
“We said quite enough to each other on the day du Reims was murdered. I am sure he does not wish to speak with me, but I thank you for coming to tell me of the situation. I will pray for everyone’s good health. ”
Warenne would not be deterred. “We say many things in fear or anger that we do not mean,” he said, eyeing her. “I am sure that when you told him to go away and leave you that you did not mean it.”
She looked at him, then. “Did he tell you I said that?”
Warenne nodded. “Aye,” he replied. “That is why he did not come to see you himself. He is certain you never want to see him again.”
Isobeau’s gaze lingered on the man a moment before turning away, confusion and longing evident on her face.
“I… I meant it at the time,” she said, unsure of what to say.
“But… my lord, I simply do not understand why Atticus had to kill the knight. I am positive the man was not going to harm me. But Atticus killed another woman’s husband and after what happened with Titus…
I am not sure I can forgive him for that.
Already I feel that woman’s grief and it eats at me.
I know how she feels. I wish Atticus had not killed the man. ”
Warenne was careful in his reply but he was also honest. He prayed that Atticus would forgive him for what he was about to say.
“Do you know what Atticus told me about it?” he said softly, watching her turn to him with interest. “He said that when he saw du Reims with his arm around your neck, it was as if something inside of him snapped. He could not prevent Titus’ death but he could prevent yours.
My lady, you must understand that Titus’ death still affects Atticus, every moment of every day.
He already lost someone he cared very deeply for in a situation where he was unable to protect him.
He could not lose someone else he cared deeply for and not do anything about it. Does that make sense?”
Isobeau looked at him, stunned. Her eyes were wide and her hand went to her chest as if to ease the pounding of her heart, pounding at Warenne’s words. “He… cares deeply for me?”
Warenne nodded in a gesture that suggested what Atticus felt for her was much more than that.
“Aye,” he whispered. “He does. Your anger with him over du Reims’ death is tearing him apart.
Will you please see him, my lady? If you care anything about him, will you please see him and tell him that you at least understand why he did what he did? He could not lose you, too.”
Tears sprang to Isobeau’s eyes. Her limbs went warm and fluid and weak with the very idea that Atticus felt something for her. There was joy and jubilation in her heart more than she could control.
“Are you certain of this?” she whispered tightly.
Warenne’s smile returned. “I am,” he said. “Will you please see him?”
Isobeau nodded, so firmly that her hair came out of its careful braid and swung across her face. “I will,” she whispered fervently. “Tell him that I will see him. Tell him… tell him that I would welcome his visit when it is convenient.”
Warenne felt more relief than he could express.
Moving to Isobeau, he took her hands and kissed them both before quitting the chamber in his quest to return to Atticus.
Everything will be all right now, he told himself.
Atticus would be happy, Isobeau would be happy, and soon this entire madness would be over so he could return to his wife and try to make amends with the woman. All would be as it should be.
The colors of sunset were deepening across the sky as Warenne took the steps down into the inner ward, yelling at some men near the stables to take cover, as they were expecting Norfolk’s attack at any second.
In fact, Warenne was halfway across the ward when Norfolk let loose the first barrage of flaming projectiles, arrows that came sailing over the wall, raining a horrific and painful death upon the occupants of Wolfe’s Lair.
There were so many of them that the sky lit up as if it were daylight, and those caught out in the open had nowhere to go.
This included Warenne. In the middle of the inner ward with no cover, he was an open target when the arrows rained down upon him.
He tried to make it to the armory, which was closest, but he wasn’t fast enough to evade a heavy, fat-soaked arrow that hit him in the left eye and penetrated all the way to the back of his skull.
The Earl of Thetford was dead before he hit the ground.