War stood up. “As a rebel?”
William nodded. “Mayhap,” he said. “But not a rebel for rebellion’s sake. De Whitton is an old man. In speaking to him today, he seemed like an idealist. He would be rebelling for the sake of that idea.”
“De Montfort’s idea of government?”
William half-shrugged, half-nodded. “Mayhap it is better that he did this so we would not return here in three years when Henry catches wind of his subversion again,” he said. “Sometimes men, especially old men, simply cannot change their ways.”
War cocked his head. “Then if you suspected this, why be so lenient on him?” he said. “Why not tie him up and restrain him with the rest of his men?”
There might have been an accusation in that. It was enough of a curious tone that Kieran looked up from Christian’s arm.
“Because men like de Whitton do not deserve to be restrained like a common soldier,” Kieran said. “By giving the man his dignity, the hope is to show him that men he considers his enemy are not as barbaric as he would believe. It is that show of trust and humanity that sometimes can turn the tides of a man’s beliefs.”
“Or the course of a country,” War said softly.
Kieran nodded, conceding the point. “Or the course of the world,” he said. “You cannot blame William that de Whitton took his own life. In fact… William gave him the dignity of that choice. Don’t you see that?”
War did. “I think so,” he said. “By putting de Whitton in his own tent, providing him with shelter and food and respect, it was up to de Whitton what to do with it. He was captured. His castle had fallen. He was facing a life that might or might not have been one he wanted to live. A world with no de Montfort, no high ideas of the people ruling the people.”
Kieran nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “Now you are coming to understand why de Whitton was given this choice. If you were in the same position, wouldn’t you hope for that kind of respect to decide your future and the way you would want to live it?”
War sighed faintly. “Aye,” he said. “But now I must tell Henry that Lord de Whitton has taken his own life. I am not certain that is what Henry wanted.”
“Tell Henry that de Whitton made his own choice,” William said quietly. “You gave him that opportunity and he made his decision. Henry will understand that.”
“Will he?”
“I promise he will.”
War wasn’t so sure. The king he knew saw things in black or white, not the gray area in between, but he didn’t argue with the senior knights. He wasn’t so arrogant that he didn’t know that they might somehow know better than he in such matters.
And they were old friends of an old king.
War lingered on their words, their advice, coming to think that the Blackchurch trainers could learn something about human nature from those two. War had compassion but he was still working on empathy. That was the hard part. As he watched Christian and Alec summon soldiers to wrap up de Whitton’s body, he was coming to think that this venture to Thropton Castle hadn’t been a wasted effort. The castle had been claimed and, surprisingly, War had learned a little something along the way.
From a living legend, he’d learned a little something about humanity.
Perhaps the seizure of Thropton Castle had been a success, after all.
CHAPTER THREE
Castle Questing
Achild wasscreaming.
Not just screaming– hysterically screaming. Annaleigh could hear her from the vast bailey of Castle Questing, which had been her home now for the past three months. Her cousin was the Lady of Questing, Lady Jordan Scott de Wolfe, wife of the greatest English knight on the border.
A man she’d found kind and gentle in spite of his deadly reputation.
And he’d welcomed her into his home and into his family. From the very first day she’d arrived at her father’s request, William had never made her feel like an outsider. His children had welcomed her, as well, and he had eight of them. There were the older boys– Scott, Troy and Patrick, and then James and Katheryn, the twins, who were Annaleigh’s age. Evelyn, Edward, Thomas, and Penelope rounded out the younger de Wolfes and at this moment, it was Penelope who was screaming her lungs out.
After three months, Annaleigh had learned that sound.
She followed the noise.
The day was bright as she headed towards the stable block where she’d seen some of the younger children playing– Penelope and Thomas, and also Kieran and Jemma Hage’s younger children, Rose and Nathaniel. Lastly, Cassiopeia de Norville was with them, also, though she was quite a prim young lady at nine years of age and didn’t often go for the rough games that the children would play.
But this game had Penelope in fits.
