You’re a drunken brute. A savage beast.
No woman will ever want the Basque Wolf from Biarritz.
Head bowed in shame, Cardin silently climbed the castle stairs, followed Jehan and Gaultier down the long stone hallway, and escaped into the sanctuary of his solitary room.
****
That evening, as Cardin enjoyed a supper of leek pottage, roast venison, baked trout, and fresh vegetables with herbs from the castle garden, he watched his young son savor the sweetmeats and cherry pastries from the dessert platter and lick his sticky fingers with childish exuberance and obvious relish. “Do you like the honey cakes andtartelettes aux cerises? Maëlys is a talented cook, isn’t she? I always loved those cherry tarts when I was a boy. Seems you do, too.”
“I love them, Papa. But my favorite istarte aux mirabelles. Lady Ulla made one for me, and it was so good! Maybe she’ll make one for you, too.” Lukaz took another hearty bite of the fruit pie, smacking his lips with audible appreciation.
“You really like Lady Ulla, don’t you, Lukaz? She is a talented archer and huntress. I’m delighted your lessons with her are going so well.” Laudine sipped her chamomile tea and smiled sagely at her grandson, her auburn eyes twinkling in the candlelight from the chandelier above the oak table.
“I remember she used to have the most beautiful voice. She’d play the harp and sing Yuletide carols for the entire castle. Yet now it seems she doesn’t speak much, if at all.” Cardin ducked his chin in gratitude and whispered “Merci,” as the valet Jehan refilled his goblet of wine.
“She’s mute, Papa. Lady Ulla can’t talk anymore.” Lukaz regarded him with Charlotte’s expressive blue eyes. Pain sliced Cardin like a knife. “But she can whistle for Vill and Finn—her falcon. And she can write messages on her tablet forMamieto read. That’s how she helped me pick the names for Kol and Rask.”
Cardin raised an inquisitive eyebrow at his mother. “How did Ulla become mute? An injury?”
Reflective and hesitant, Laudine set her ceramic cup of herbal tea down upon the white linen covered table. “She lost her husband, his father and brother, and her infant son in a brutal pirate attack on theirChâteau des Tourellesin Normandy three years ago, while you and Gaultier were in Biarritz. Two of her knights helped Ulla escape, and brought her back here to us. She hasn’t spoken a word ever since.”
She lost her husband, like I lost Charlotte. And her beloved babe, too. Ulla’s entire family has died. No wonder she suffers in silence.
Cardin took a pensive swallow of wine, contemplating Ulla’s inconceivable loss.
Across the table, his older brother Gaultier furrowed his brows in concern and voiced the question Cardin wanted to ask as well. “What happened to her husband’s castle? Does Ulla plan to return to Normandy?”
His innocent face contorted with anguish, Lukaz shot a terrified glance at his grandmother. “I don’t want Lady Ulla to go to Normandy,Mamie. I want her to stay here with us.”
Laudine reached across the table and comfortingly gripped his little arm. Lovelight shone in her sage eyes as she replied soothingly, “Lady Ulla won’t go back to Normandy. She wants to stay here in the Forest of Brocéliande— where she feels safe.”
A brusque counterpoint to Laudine’s melodic voice, Cardin’s father Esclados responded in a rich, deep baritone. “Ulla couldn’t go back tole Château des Tourelleseven if she wanted to.King Philippe sent a legion of royal knights to vanquish the pirates and seize the castle for the French crown. It’s extremely valuable because of its location on the bank of the Seine River, which flows directly into Paris. Lady Ulla’s husband, Sir Romain de Montreuil, was positioned there to defend the fortress and the bridge for the French king.” He swallowed a hearty gulp of wine, wiping his mustached upper lip with a calloused, swarthy hand. “That’s why the pirates wanted the castle—to intercept incoming vessels, laden with goods and riches, on their way to King Philippe’s royal palace—le Palais Royal—onl’Île de la Citéin the heart of Paris.”
Cardin eyed his gruff father with concern. “What of Ulla’s dowry? You said she was the daughter of a Viking chieftain. Surely she must have an inheritance.”
“Ulla was twelve years old when her family died. Her dowry—which included vast farmland in Normandy—was seized by the French crown.” Bitterness blazed in Esclados’ dark eyes as he beheld his incredulous son. “She came to live with us as a young girl then. And has returned as a widow now. She has nothing. That’s why she’ll remain here at Landuc with us.”
“And we’re very fortunate to have her. She’s a gifted healer. A skilled archer. And an expert huntress.” Laudine beamed with admiration for the former pupil she had obviously grown to love. “She’s also a furrier and talented seamstress. Ulla cures hides from the animals that her falcon hunts— or the snares she sets in the forest. Many of the villagers pay for her healing services with pelts and skins as well. Ulla uses the fur and leather to craft winter clothing, which she sells at the local market, on festivals, or during jousting tournaments. In fact—that’s how she met her husband. He was the champion of the Beltane Joust held here atle Château de Landucfour years ago.” She smiled nostalgically at Cardin, her voice edged with sorrow. “You and Gaultier were far off in Aquitaine, atle Château de Montmarinin Biarritz. But your father, brother Bastien, and Sir Lancelot organized a magnificent three-day joust. And Sir Romain de Montreuil, one of King Philippe’s royal knights from Paris, was the champion.”
Laudine practically swooned, reliving the romantic, chivalrous tale. “During the joust, Sir Romain wore Ulla’s colors—a ribbon of dark emerald green, symbolic of her healing herbs and of the Forest of Brocéliande. He won not only the jousting championship but Ulla’s heart as well.”
Moved by the stirring memories, Laudine placed a hand over the bodice of her scarlet velvet gown. “Your father and I hosted the wedding here that summer. And Ulla went off with her new husband tole Château des Tourellesin the village of Vernon, where Romain and a bevy of royal knights defended the Seine River for King Philippe of Paris. Until the gruesome attack three years ago, when she was brought back to us, stricken mute with grief. She now lives in a stone cottage at the edge of the forest with the wolf she healed as a cub.”
Lukaz leapt from his chair, spilling his cup of watered ale with a careless elbow in his effervescent exuberance. “That’s Vill, Papa! She healed him, and now he defends her. Like a guard dog.” He turned his large, imploring eyes to Laudine. “Can Papa take me to Lady Ulla’s cottage for my archery lesson tomorrow, Mamie? I want him to see me hit the target. And come hunting with us, too.” He spun toward Cardin, his eager face ablaze with hope. “You can meet Finn, Lady Ulla’s falcon. And my peregrine, Rask. Please, Papa? Will you come with us tomorrow?”
Guilt tugged at Cardin as he beheld his bright-eyed young son.
I’ve been absent his whole life. Such a simple request. But it means so much to him.
As the joy of giving brought an unfamiliar yet welcome warmth into Cardin’s cold, cloistered heart, a grin stretched across his grim, bearded face. “Of course. I want to watch your archery lesson. And I love to hunt, too.”
Lukaz threw his arms around Cardin’s neck and lunged headfirst into his father’s awkward, inexperienced embrace. “I’m so glad you came home, Papa. I told everyone I’m not a bastard. Idohave a father.” Tears brimmed in the enormous blue eyes that were so much like his beloved mother’s. “You.”
Cardin, too overwhelmed to speak, cradled Lukaz against his pounding chest.
And—for the first time in his miserable, wretched life—Basati, the Basque wolf of Biarritz, felt a father’s love for his son.
That evening, when Lukaz insisted that his Papa tell him a bedtime story, Cardin regaled his son with a chivalrous tale of how the valiant knights ofle Château de Montmarindefended Aquitaine against Spanish pirates from Castilla for King Philippe of France. When Lukaz was finally sleeping, Cardin came downstairs to the alcove near the castle kitchen, where his mother Laudine, his father Esclados, and brother Gaultier were enjoying a glass of wine near the crackling fire in the stone hearth.
