Lady de Wrenville nodded. “If I can.”
Emelisse took a deep breath, trying to stave off the tears that were close to the surface. “I was brought here with my father,” she said. “The last I saw of him, he was in the hall. They told me that he was dead. If it is not too much trouble and would not put you in danger, would it be possible to discover what has become of him? My fear is that he may not be dead at all and they simply said that to upset me. Your husband was trying to force meinto telling my brother to surrender the keep, so it is possible… mayhap my father is not dead at all.”
She made it through her request without weeping, but as she came to the end, the tears started again. As she wiped at them quickly, Lady de Wrenville put a hand on her arm.
“I did not know your father was here,” she said quietly. “Of course I shall discover what has become of him.”
Emelisse forced a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “If he is not dead, he was badly injured and needed tending. They would not let me do it. But if he is dead…”
“I will discover where they have taken him.”
Emelisse blinked and tears spattered on her cheek. “If they have thrown him in that terrible moat, do not tell me. I do not want to know.”
Lady de Wrenville simply nodded. She turned to one of her servants, the one named Matilde, and whispered something in the woman’s ear. As the woman slipped from the chamber, Emelisse permitted Lady de Wrenville and her army of well-meaning maids to strip her down, clean her up, feed her, and put her to bed.
Try as she might not to fall asleep awaiting word about her father, her exhaustion claimed her nonetheless.
Her dreams were filled with her father’s smashed face and his teeth on the ground.
CHAPTER SIX
The snows ofwinter had finally come.
After unseasonably good traveling weather all the way from London, the weather finally turned as the turrets of Winterhold Castle came into view.
It was just a light dusting of snow, but it was sticking on the ground, indicative of the dropping temperatures. Under pewter-colored skies, the army from Warstone Castle closed the distance to Winterhold’s gatehouse very quickly. Night was approaching and no one wanted to be caught out in the snow. In fact, they wanted to get their encampment set up as quickly as possible.
Given the fact that Winterhold wasn’t expecting them, there was a good deal of activity on the battlements as they traveled the last quarter of a mile. Edward was flying the de Wolfe and Pembroke standards so there was no mistaking who was approaching, but Winterhold still dropped the portcullis as the army came within range in a decidedly unfriendly move.
The army approached from the south, up and over a strategically built rampart, and the road led right to the first gatehouse built within the outer wall. The castle itself was builtout of gray granite, the pale stone that often turned dark with age. Surrounding the outer wall was a massive moat that reeked of rot and sewage and filth. There were dead animals in it, and certainly nothing living, and it completely encircled the outer wall.
Edward, displeased that the portcullis was in place as they approached, turned to Morgan and Kevin, ordering them to find suitable ground for the army to begin pitching their tents before the snow grew too heavy. The knights took off with young William following his cousin, heading straight for a cleared field to the west. Peter and Gareth soon followed, moving the army off the road, leaving Caius, Edward, Maxton, and about ten of Edward’s private guard to face de Wrenville.
The massive gatehouse loomed before them as they continued onward, but Caius could see the bulk of the castle within the outer walls. It was set upon a raised position and he could see the tall, pale walls of the inner bailey encompassing quite a few buildings. He could see multiple roofs. As the snow began to come down a little heavier, Edward rode up to the portcullis and addressed the men gathered behind it.
“I am Edward de Wolfe, Earl of Wolverhampton,” he said, sounding angry. “Open this portcullis at once. Surely you could see my standards as we rode in. How dare you insult me by raising your defenses.”
Realizing they’d made a very bad move, the men at the gate began to scramble and the chains on the portcullis went taut.
“Forgive me, m’lord,” a grizzled, old sergeant said. “We’re at a state of war. We couldn’t be sure you weren’t here to attack us.”
Edward’s eyebrows flew up. “Attack you?” he repeated, outraged. “Why would Wolverhampton attack you? And who on earth are you at war with?”
“Hawkstone, m’lord.”
That gave Edward pause. “You are atwarwith Hawkstone Castle?” he said. “I am aware there have been hostilities for the past few years, but do you mean to tell me that you are actually at war with them?”
“Aye, m’lord.”
“As inwaginga war?”
“Aye, m’lord.”
Edward’s jaw began to tick. “How long has this been going on?”
Because Edward was becoming angry, the sergeant was becoming nervous. “Weeks, m’lord,” he said. “We breached the gatehouse of Hawkstone today and captured de Thorington himself and his daughter.”
By now, the portcullis was nearly up and Edward charged underneath it, followed by Caius and Maxton and his mounted guard. As soon as Edward came underneath, he leaned over and grabbed the sergeant by the front of his tunic.
