The Lion of the North (12 page)

“It seems that we have not truly had the opportunity to talk before now,” de Mowbray said. “Days of travel have left us all exhausted and scrambling for closure, but now that we have a roof over our head and some privacy, I should like to discuss what happened with Northumberland’s men. I already know that Titus de Wolfe is dead and you told me that you did not have the opportunity to speak to the others, but that is all I know. You will now give me the details. I would hear what happened in-depth.”

De la Londe, even though he was having trouble speaking, answered him. “It was too chaotic to give you any details after the battle, my lord,” he said. “It is true that Titus de Wolfe is dead but not before he did this to my face. This happened in a battle to the death. When we gave him your offer, he became enraged and tried to kill us both. We had no choice but to kill him.”

De Mowbray sat in a nearby chair, accepting a cup of wine from one of his men. “Indeed,” he said seriously. “I am sorry that Titus chose to die rather than serve Edward. But what of Atticus? You were not able to speak with him?”

De la Londe resisted the urge to look at de Troiu; for the past few days, they had discussed what they would tell de Mowbray about their inability to recruit other Northumberland knights. They couldn’t tell the man the truth – that they had fled after they’d killed de Wolfe, so de la Londe had been given a few days to come up with a plausible lie. More than that, he had a suggestion that might help them all.

“We were not able to find Atticus,” he said. “My lord, you must understand that we could not risk being seen as the men who killed Titus de Wolfe. If that were to happen, there would have been questions that we could not answer without consequences. At the time Titus was killed, the battle was just commencing. Men were called to arms. We went to arms, too. There was no longer the time or privacy to try and relay your offer to any more of Northumberland’s men because by that time, they were all heading into battle.”

De Mowbray was listening carefully. “I see,” he sighed heavily. “That is disappointing, I must say. I was hoping you would be able to at least speak with Atticus. The Lion of the North would be a fine weapon in Edward’s arsenal. The king has asked for Atticus personally, you know. It is imperative that we somehow communicate with him. Now with Titus dead, he has no reason to remain with Northumberland any longer.”

De la Londe shrugged. “With Titus dead and Henry Percy dead, Atticus is now in command of Northumberland’s army,” he said. Then, his expression took on something of a sly glint. “But that does not necessarily mean we cannot have him. It simply means we must be cunning as we go about it.”

De Mowbray was interested. “You know the man,” he said. “You know his heart and his loyalties. How can we sway him to Edward’s cause?”

De la Londe glanced at de Troiu, then, seeing the man’s silent nod of encouragement. Tell him what we discussed. De la Londe continued.

“Both Titus and Atticus are very close to their knight corps,” he said. “Le Bec, de Russe, and Wellesbourne serve under them. If we could possibly convince one or more of those houses to pledge loyalty to Edward, it might help sway Atticus’ position. Wellesbourne Castle is not far from here, to the south near Warwick Castle. Even though Warwick has switched loyalties from Edward to Henry and back again, Wellesbourne has remained staunch in Henry’s cause. Adam Wellesbourne’s father, Andrew Wellesbourne, knows me. He knows that I serve with his son. Andrew is old now and, according to Adam, remains at Wellesbourne most of the time, but he has command of over a thousand men. If we could convince Andrew to side with Edward, we may be able to sway Wellesbourne for our cause. If Andrew swears fealty to Edward, it is my suspicion that Adam will, too. With Adam out of Northumberland’s stable, we move to le Bec next.”

De Mowbray was coming to see the brilliance of the scheme. “Wellesbourne is married to a granddaughter of le Bec and a daughter of Bastian de Russe,” he said thoughtfully. “Bastian de Russe is still alive.”

De la Londe shook his head firmly. “He was a guardian to Henry when Henry was very young,” he said. “Because of that, I cannot see Bastian de Russe swearing fealty to Edward. In fact, he may try to kill us if we try to convince him. Nay, my lord, I believe that trying to convince Wellesbourne, and mayhap Stefan and Gannon le Bec, is the only chance we have of gaining fealty of some of the great houses in Edward’s favor. If the House of Wellesbourne and the House of le Bec join Edward’s cause, then de Wolfe might follow. At least he might be willing to listen.”

De Mowbray was somewhat dubious about le Bec. “Richmond le Bec’s wife is a daughter of Henry of Bolingbroke,” he said. “I doubt you’ll be able to convince the sons to side against their own blood.”

“We can but try, my lord.”

That was true. It would be something of a triumph if they were even able to sway Wellesbourne. If Sir Andrew was convinced, then it would seriously weaken that entire le Bec-de Russe-Wellesbourne unity, which was a very powerful front. But there was something even more than that lingering on de Mowbray’s mind.

“I am not in the habit of putting all of my hopes in one scheme,” he said. “As encouraged as I am by your approach to Wellesbourne, let us return to the subject of Atticus. Now that Titus is gone, I am assuming Atticus will return his brother home for burial. The entire de Wolfe family resides at Castle Questing, does it not? Tell me what you know of Atticus’ immediate family and where they live.”

De la Londe thought a moment. “Atticus’ father is the second son, brother to Baron Killham of Castle Questing,” he said. “Atticus has spoken many times of his father and of his home, Wolfe’s Lair. It is a garrison for Questing. Atticus’ father has lived there for many years. It is where Atticus and Titus were born, so I would assume Atticus will return Titus to Wolfe’s Lair.”

“Do you know where this garrison is?”

De la Londe nodded. “Near Hawick.”

“That is Scotland.”

“It is indeed, my lord.”

De Mowbray thought on that a moment. “Mayhap whilst you go to Wellesbourne Castle to convince Andrew Wellesbourne to side with Edward, I will send another contingent of men to Wolfe’s Lair,” he said pensively. “If Atticus is there, then mayhap we can open a dialogue with him about his support for Edward now that Henry is in defeat. I will tell him, of course, of Andrew Wellesbourne’s switch in loyalty because I am quite certain your mission to Wellesbourne will be successful. Mayhap if Atticus believes Wellesbourne has sworn allegiance to Edward, it might be enough for him to consider it.”

De la Londe sighed with doubt. “It will take more than that to convince Atticus, I fear,” he said. “It would be wise to wait and work through his knight corps first. Once we have their loyalty, or at lease loyalty from some of them, that would be more persuasive for Atticus.”

De Mowbray scratched his neck, thinking on all of the ways he could convince Atticus de Wolfe to support Edward’s cause. “Is Atticus’ father still alive?”

“He is as far as I know.”

De Mowbray cocked his head thoughtfully. “Then mayhap we use the father to convince the son.”

De la Londe wasn’t sure what, exactly, the duke meant but he knew instinctively that it could not be good. “I would be wary, my lord,” he said, his voice low. “With Titus gone, Atticus is bound to be very protective of his father. If I were you, I would be very careful what I did to Solomon de Wolfe. If you unleash The Lion’s rage, there will be no stopping Atticus. He will come after you.”

De Mowbray pretended not to care, although deep-down he cared a great deal. He did not want The Lion of the North on a vendetta against him. “Your concern is noted,” he said. “You have your orders, de la Londe. Tomorrow, you will depart for Wellesbourne Castle while I send a contingent of men to Hawick. As soon as you are able to speak with Andrew Wellesbourne, I will expect your victorious news.”

“Where will you be, my lord?”

“In London.”

De la Londe simply nodded, collecting a cup of wine and drinking some of the willow powder that the surgeon had left. He wondered if the powder would also take away the uncertain feeling he was having, as if suddenly realizing he was in far deeper than he had imagined he ever would be. Accepting de Mowbray’s bribe had seemed like a simple thing at the time until the conversation with de Wolfe had turned deadly. Truth was, de la Londe felt very badly about Titus. The man had been a friend and fair commander. But he had convinced himself that the rewards from de Mowbray had been worth the price of Titus’ life.

Less and less, however, it was starting to seem that way. He was seriously coming to wonder if the entire situation and his treachery were about to catch up with him.

Isobeau was vaguely
aware of light in the room. She stirred a bit, realizing she was lying on her belly when her eyes flitted open and she could see the angle of her head. She could also see a pair of big legs near her bed, legs clad in worn leather breeches. It would have looked like any man’s legs except she recognized the boots with an “S” carved into the strap. With a groan, she lifted her head.

“What are you doing here, Tertius?” she said, grumpy, putting her face in her hands in a miserable gesture.

Tertius, seated next to his sister with one big boot up on the table and the other on the floor, looked up from the watered ale in his hand.

“Is this the gracious thanks I receive for spending the entire night by your side to make sure you came to no harm?” he said, incensed. “You ungrateful, little cow. I will leave this very moment if you do not show me more gratitude.”

Grunting, Isobeau rolled onto her side, struggling to acclimate herself. She began to look around strangely. “What on earth happened?” she asked, trying very hard to recall her last conscious thought. “I was in the hall and then I spoke with Sir Atticus out in the ward. And then… then….”

Tertius knew what the “and then” was. Atticus had told him after the man had carried the unconscious Isobeau up from the vault and put her to bed. In fact, Atticus had remained with Isobeau until just before dawn when the man, exhausted beyond endurance, had finally gone to bed at Tertius’ insistence. Aye, Tertius knew what the “and then” was. He was rather hoping Isobeau would not remember.

“It was a very strenuous day for you,” he said, taking his big boot off the table. “You were exhausted. Today will be a better day, I am sure.”

Isobeau was still trying to recall what had happened when suddenly her eyes flew open wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth in a mortified gesture.

“Titus!” she gasped. “Tertius, it was Titus! Sweet Jesus, he was
green
!”

Tertius, regretful that she finally remembered, stood up and went to her as she burst into quiet tears. He patted her shoulder comfortingly.

“I know,” he said softly. “I am sorry you had to see that. Atticus should not have allowed it.”

Isobeau wiped her eyes. “He did not have a choice,” she sniffed. “I asked him to take me to Titus. Actually, I demanded he take me to him.”

Tertius sighed heavily, dropping his hand from her shoulder. “Why would you do that?”

She looked up at him, still wiping her eyes. “Because he is my husband and it is my right to see him,” she insisted. “I… I had to see him, Tertius. I had to know that he was truly gone.”

Tertius understood, somewhat. “We all told you he was truly gone,” he said. “Did you not believe us?”

Isobeau nodded, sniffling delicately, trying not to think of her green-tinged husband. “I did,” she said. “But I had to see for myself.”

Tertius lifted his eyebrows and moved away from her, towards the table where there was food and drink. “And so you did,” he said. “But it would have been better to remember the man as he was and not his state the very last time you saw him. Sometimes you should not be so stubborn, Izzy.”

Isobeau watched him as he brought her a hunk of bread; she waved it off, nauseous. “Did Atticus tell you that he intends to go after the men who killed Titus?” she asked.

Tertius looked at her with a mixture of disapproval and distress. “How would you know that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Did Atticus tell you the circumstances surrounding Titus’ death?”

Isobeau nodded. “He did,” she said. “But he was not going to tell me. A wounded man in the hall spoke of it and I made Atticus tell me the truth. He is going to find de la Londe and de Troiu but he will not take me with him.”

Tertius threw up his hands in relief. “Finally,” he hissed, “the man is showing some sense. Of course you should not go with him, Isobeau. He will not even let any of the knights go with him, me included. I asked to go on behalf of you but he would not allow it.”

Isobeau frowned. “He acts as if he is the only one with a measure of vengeance to be had,” she said. “He acts as if I have no say in this at all.”

“You don’t,” Tertius said sternly. “Let de Wolfe do what he is bound to do. You cannot stop him and he will not let any of us go with him, so there is nothing we can do about it. But trust me when I say that de la Londe and de Troiu will be found and they will be punished. Atticus de Wolfe will make sure of it.”