Dolssa shuddered at the thought. Her overbearing father—Velasco Calderón, Count of Zaragoza—had arranged for his daughter to wed the lecherous, decrepit, and wealthy Vicomte de Toulouse. Horrified by the idea of a forced marriage to the hideous noble, Dolssa had disguised herself as a commoner and escaped with a band of gypsies whose caravan had passed through Zaragoza en route from Barcelona to the Basque coast. For now, safely hidden in the Sultry Siren, she’d managed to elude her arrogant father, who would never imagine his highborn daughter working as a lowly serving wench in a tawdry tavern. Still, she prayed Gaultier would soon return to Biarritz, marry her, and whisk her far away to his native Bretagne.
She sighed wistfully, rising from her chair with the intention of going to bed, when an urgent knock sounded on her wooden door. Dolssa opened it to find Euri—a close friend who also worked at the Sultry Siren—standing beside a strikingly beautiful, curvaceous redhead.
Euri’s fair, freckled face was frantic. “Dolssa, we need your help. May we come in?”
“Of course.” Dolssa welcomed the pair of visitors into her humble room, closing and bolting the heavy door behind them. “What’s wrong?”
“This is Mélisende, the mistress of one of Andoni Zilar’s men. She overhead a private conversation with specific details of a planned assassination of Eztebe Ibarra. We must get an urgent message to Gaultier about his brother Basati. The murderous plot implicates him.” Euri gave Mélisende an encouraging nod. “Inform Dolssa what you told me.”
Amber eyes wide with fright, the auburn-haired mistress whispered, “Count Ibarra left Biarritz a few days ago. He’s traveling to Paris—to sign the Yuletide Treaty between King Guillemin of Finistère and King Philippe of France atle Palais Royal.” She swallowed forcefully, wiping her palms along the sides of her dress. “I overheard two of Zilar’s men say that Ibarra will make a planned stop atle Château de Toursin the Loire Valley along the way.” Mélisende grasped Dolssa’s hands. “Zilar’s men plan to kill Ibarra at that castle. With Basati’s dagger—the one with the head of the wolf. That will thwart the Alliance with Aquitaine, and Basati will be blamed for the crime.”
Dolssa dropped into a chair, stunned by the shocking news.We must get a message to Gaultier and Basati. But if Ibarra has already left, it will never reach them in time.
Euri pulled up a chair, sat down beside Dolssa, and took hold of her hand. “I sent a message to Xabi atle Château de Montmarin. I told him to assemble the knights in the Great Hall. I asked him to come here, to escort the three of us to the castle. I explained that we have critical news for Sir Aimeric de Tarn, the First Knight of Montmarin who’s in charge of thechâteauduring Count Ibarra’s absence. We’ll dispatch an urgent message to Gaultier and Basati. And pray that they can intercept Ibarra before it’s too late.”
Chapter 13
Bonding with Basati
Laudine lay in her mauve velvet canopied bed, gazing at the thick beech trees of the Forest of Brocéliande from her second story alcove window ofle Château de Landuc.
She felt terribly guilty deceiving her son, but she knew that Cardin would return immediately to Biarritz if he discovered the truth—that she was merely feigning the illness which had forced him to come home, and that she took to her bed each day to keep him here throughout the entire Yuletide season, with the hopes that he would reunite with his estranged son.
Yes, Cardin would be furious indeed if he learned of his mother’s deception. He’d storm off to Aquitaine and never speak to her again. Nevertheless, Laudine was willing to take the risk. And so far, the results were paying off. For, despite his outward appearance as the savage, snarling wolf Basati, her brokenhearted, shattered son Cardin was bonding with Lukaz.
And with the lovely, lonely healer, Ulla.
Although Laudine had initially arranged for Lukaz to have archery lessons with Ulla on alternating days, Cardin now brought his son to the secluded woodland cottage every morning for practice. While Lukaz developed his skills as an archer, Cardin taught Ulla to wield the longbow that he had once used himself as an adolescent squire, explaining that it was the perfect height for her.
Several times, as she’d gathered healing herbs in the forest with the young priestesses under her tutelage, Laudine had spotted them practicing, with Cardin’s arms wrapped around Ulla to demonstrate proper stance and form. An adept archer already, Ulla was a quick learner. And Laudine was delighted to see her glorious smile return under Cardin’s attentive encouragement.
After weeks of diligent training, Lukaz’ young fledgling Rask had begun hunting in tandem with Ulla’s raptor Finn, the two falcons working together as an efficient team, effectively felling their prey. And, much to Laudine’s delight, Cardin now joined Ulla and Lukaz in their daily hunt with the wolf Vill and the two peregrines.
Each afternoon, when father and son returned to the castle, an animated Lukaz regaled Laudine with tales of the raptors’ predatory prowess, of the wolf’s ravenous hunger, and of the savory stews Ulla prepared with fresh meat from the hunt and aromatic herbs from her garden. Proud of his newly acquired skills in cleaning and curing the hides, Lukaz boasted that he was helping the Lady Ulla create perfect Yuletide gifts from the fine pelts of soft fur.
Laudine watched her withdrawn, introverted grandson flourish under the loving attention of his instructive father and nurturing teacher.
Atop a gentle palfrey from the castle stables, Lukaz improved his equestrian skills each day as he rode with Cardin through the Forest of Brocéliande alongside his grandfather Esclados and Lord Quentin, the Master of Horse. Cardin included his son in the daily intensive training with the chivalrous knights ofLanduc and Montmarin, promising to replace the lad’s wooden practice sword with a steel blade once Lukaz developed sufficient expertise.
As her Little Wolf was slowly but surely thriving, a grateful Laudine prayed that Cardin—the Basque Wolf Basati—would not abandon Lukaz once again.
Dear Goddess Dana, please help me reach him. Let love heal my shattered son. When Cardin inevitably returns to Biarritz, I pray that he’ll bring Lukaz with him. And take Ulla as his Breton bride.
****
Cardin stood at the edge of the forest near Ulla’s cottage, a hundred yards from the target he’d attached to the giant beech tree. He admired Ulla’s fine form as she drew back the taut bowstring and released the fletched arrow. “Your strength is impressive. Few women would be able to fire a longbow. You’d make a fine castle archer, Ulla.”
She flashed him a dazzling smile that took his breath away. Tossing her luxurious mane of long black curls, she strode proudly across the clearing to retrieve her arrows from the target with the sleek, elegant grace of a magnificent Friesian.
“That’s what I want to be, Papa! A castle archer, just like you.” Arrow nocked, bowstring drawn, Lukaz proudly aimed at his target, but abruptly lowered his weapon. He spun toward Cardin. Worry etched his young, fearful face. “Will you bring me with you when you go back to Biarritz? I don’t want to live withTontonBastien andTatieGabrielle anymore. I want to live atle Château de Montmarin. In Aquitaine. Withyou.” Tears welling in his forlorn eyes, Lukaz dropped his bow and arrow on the leaf-strewn grass. He flung himself at Cardin, wrapping his little arms tightly around his father’s waist in a frantic, desperate hug. “Please don’t leave me, Papa. I don’t ever want to be called a bastard again.”
Cardin cradled his son’s weeping head against his hard stomach. He met Ulla’s empathetic gaze as she returned from fetching her arrows. In her limpid, deep green eyes, he glimpsed compassion. Sorrow. Suffering.
Instinctively, he reached for her, extending an open palm to invite her in.
Like a whisper of wind, she flew to him. Grasped his beckoning hand. And, wrapping her slender arms around the floundering father and sobbing son, enveloped them both in a quiet, comforting cocoon.
Entwined like vines in the heart of the forest, they clung to each other, interwoven and interlaced.
