William nodded wearily. “I know,” he said hoarsely. “I am writing his father now. I will send the missive on ahead, but you will make arrangements for a contingent of de Wolfe men to take him home to Thunderbey Castle. You must do this right away.”
“I already have,” Kieran said. “They will be ready to depart at dawn.”
“Good.”
“What are we going to do about The Bones?”
William stopped writing and looked at him. There was fire in his hazel eye as he set the quill down.
“Find them and burn them,” he growled. “They have bases around here from where they launch their raids. I want those locations found and I want every man in that bloody band of murderers burned until they are ashes. Then we’ll put the ashes in the garderobe and shit upon them every day for the rest of eternity.”
A look of approval crossed Kieran’s face. “Excellent,” he said. “Are you telling Talus’ father that?”
William nodded. “I am telling him that and more,” he said. “There will be one man we will not burn. I want you to identify the leader of The Bones and that man will be sent, in irons, to Thunderbey for Tobin du Reims to do with as he pleases. I will deliver the man responsible for Talus’ death and deliver him with pleasure.”
Kieran was more than willing to do all of that. He liked Talus and the young knight’s loss weighed heavily on him. It could have just as easily been one of his own sons, like Christian since Christian had been in that battle, too. Honestly, he had no idea how he would go on with life should something happen to Christian.
It was something he tried not to think about.
Kieran had four sons– Alec, Christian, Kevin, and Nathaniel, and he loved his sons as deeply as any man had ever loved his offspring, but there was a pride he took in Christian that was difficult to describe. Probably because he was so unlike Kieran in many ways. Alec and Kevin looked like Kieran and acted like him, and Nathaniel was very much Jemma’s son, but Christian was different than all of them. Maybe that’s why Kieran was grieving Talus’ loss more deeply than he should have; it reminded him that his own sons could have very well have fallen victim, too.
And whoever was responsible was going to pay dearly.
“I will do this and do it gladly,” he said after a moment. “Christian and Talus were friends, you know. My son grieves him.”
“We all do,” William said, returning to his vellum. “This is not a joyful task, composing this letter.”
“I imagine not.”
William picked up his quill and continued writing out the words, pausing when he was searching for the right phrase, as Kieran closed his eyes and immediately drifted off to sleep. William finished the missive to Kieran’s heavy snoring, but that wasn’t unusual. He and Kieran had been friends since they’d been young boys and they’d rarely been apart in all that time, so William was well-acquainted with Kieran’s snoring. Truthfully, he found it comforting because it was one thing that never changed. Men lived or men died, kings came and went, butKieran kept right on snoring. William was nearly finished with the missive when Kieran suddenly snored loudly as if startled and his head popped up.
“He does not trust him,” he muttered.
William signed the missive and reached for the sand. “Who does not trust him?”
“Christian,” Kieran mumbled. “He does not trust him.”
William sanded the missive and blew off the excess. “Go back to sleep,” he said. “You are dreaming.”
But Kieran didn’t do as he was told. He rubbed his eyes, becoming more oriented. “I was dreaming of Christian,” he said, sounding sleepy and weary. “He spoke with Herringthorpe and he thinks the man is hiding something. He doesn’t trust him. I forgot to tell you that with everything that has gone on since yesterday.”
William looked at him for a long moment. It was clear that something was going on in his mind. Slowly, he put the missive to East Anglia aside, stood up, and walked around the table. He picked up a small missive right on the edge of the tabletop. It was folded up but he unfolded it and went to Kieran, extending it to the man.
“And with everything that has gone on since yesterday, I forgot to tell you this,” he said quietly. “Read it.”
Kieran took it from him, looking at it curiously. “What is it?”
“Readit.”
Kieran did. William wandered back to his table, pausing only once to see if Kieran had changed expression, but the man’s features remained like stone.
Until he read it a second time.
Kieran’s brow furrowed as he read it through again, as if his initial shock were over and now he was starting to show some emotion. By this time, William had reclaimed his seat and was carefully rolling the missive to East Anglia. As he heated the waxto create the big de Wolfe seal, Kieran lowered the missive in his hands and rose stiffly from the chair.
“Then we were correct all along,” he said quietly. “War reallyisyour son.”
William nodded. “He is.”
