War nodded. “When one trains at Blackchurch, the training is done in segments,” he said. “You spend one year with each trainer. One trains in the history of ancient warfare, one trains in hand-to-hand combat using different methods, and so on. Some training is constant, like weapons and tactics. Practice is daily. But my year with the trainer of ancient warfare took us all over the known world, studying buildings that have withstood the test of time. That is what I mean when I said I received a broader perspective of the world. I have seen a great deal. I have come to understand how men think.”
William was listening intently to the well-spoken, articulate man who was clearly quite intelligent. “That can only help you understand better why they do what they do,” he said. “That should be particularly useful when dealing with foolish lords who dress as women and try to hide from their enemies.”
He was referring to de Whitton and War smiled thinly. “I think that is where you could educate all of us,” he said. “I watched you deal with de Whitton today, my lord. One of the things Blackchurch did not teach us was compassion. It is a very stark way to live, not knowing compassion for a man and why he does what he does. We are taught to understand a man’s motives, but not to sympathize with them. My father taught me compassion, however, something the trainers at Blackchurch could not erase. What I saw today from you was great compassion and mercy when it came to Lord de Whitton. That was admirable.”
William shrugged modestly. “All of the education in the world cannot teach a man mercy,” he said. “That is an inherent quality. Either you have it or you do not. Not everything is clear-cut. Every man must learn that for himself.”
“Indeed,” War agreed. But his gaze seemed to be lingering on William as if Paris wasn’t still standing there. “My lord… may I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
War started to speak but couldn’t seem to say what he wanted to say. He finally broke down in an embarrassed grin. “I suppose I have never met a legend before,” he said. “But I have always wanted to ask a man who has achieved such greatness if he is satisfied with his life. What I mean is that even though you have so much in life, things that are well-earned, has that stopped you from wanting more?”
William snorted softly. “I am not a legend,” he said. “Although I appreciate your saying so, I am a man like any other. I have lived a good life, a life of service to king and country, but I will not go down in the annals of history as anyone noteworthy. There are thousands of such men who will never be noted as great men or men who shaped a country and that is what I prefer– to be a man who moves this country towards a better future without all of the pomp and circumstance that can accompany such a position. Actions, to me, speak much louder than a man’s words.”
War thought on that. “But some men like to be recognized.”
“And I am one of them,” William said. “Do not misunderstand me. I do expect to be rewarded for my service. But it is simply that I like to speak loudly by action, as I said. A man must do what he says he is going to do or his words mean nothing. But this does not answer your question. You have asked me if I am ever satisfied with what I have or do I have an inherent need for more.”
“Aye, my lord.”
William glanced at Paris, who had a sort of approving smirk on his face. In fact, it was Paris who answered for him.
“There is always more, Herringthorpe,” he said quietly. “Any man who is satisfied with what he has is either dead or stupid.”
War chuckled. “Fortunately, I am neither.”
“Then always keep that hunger. It will keep you alive.”
“I intend to,” he assured them. “But I am grateful for the advice.”
Paris wondered if that was true. If the knight had trained at Blackchurch, then perhaps they could use advice from him also. “I will give you more when you come to Castle Questing, as William suggested,” he said. “Youwillcome, won’t you?”
War looked to William. “I would be honored.”
William had just taken a long drink of the warmed wine. “Come soon,” he said. “There are men you must meet and there are things we should discuss. It is time you become one of the Northerners, Herringthorpe.”
War wanted nothing more at this point in his career. To be mentored and allied with the most powerful men in the north was a garrison commander’s dream. As he pondered the possibilities, they were joined by the older sons of both William and Paris.
War found himself introduced to Scott de Wolfe, Troy de Wolfe, Patrick de Wolfe, Hector de Norville, and Apollo de Norville. He’d seen them in the battle earlier in the day, though he had not been formally introduced to them. They were all fine, young, strapping knights, somewhat wearied and bloodied from the intense battle that had taken place, but like all young warriors, they were energized from it.
“Papa,” Scott said as he turned to William when the introductions were finished. “De Whitton is asking for you. I do not know if you wish to be bothered by the man, but he has askedthat you come to him. He says that he has something to say to you.”
William didn’t particularly want to go. He hadn’t eaten yet and was hungry, but he’d also established a rapport with de Whitton earlier in the day, so he didn’t want to minimize that. He’d established it for a reason, to perhaps make an ally out of the man in the long run, something he was quite good at.
He set his wine cup down.
“Very well,” he said. “Herringthorpe, will you attend me? He is your prisoner, after all.”
War immediately set his cup down, following William from the shelter and out into the rain as his sons remained behind to eat the food their father had yet the opportunity to taste.
Once outside, they were met by the rain again. Around them, the men were hunkered down under shelters and trees, eating and drinking and singing as they tried to stay warm and dry. The smell of smoke was quite heavy due to the canopy of trees and the low clouds, but the atmosphere was relaxed after three solid days of battle as they made their way to the area where the prisoners were being held, including de Whitton.
“I hope the Thropton men do not float away,” War said, noting the brook that had become an angry river. “I’m not exactly sure how I would explain that to Henry.”
William snorted softly. “If he thought that he could use the army, he would be unforgiving,” he said. “But if the men refuse to fight for him, he’ll wash them out to sea himself. This is a very delicate situation, as you know.”
“You have known the king a long time?”
