She wasn’t being belligerent but she was being firm. Atticus had been trying to formulate a reply that didn’t sound too harsh, or too horrific, but he couldn’t seem to do it. The circumstances surrounding Titus’ death had been nothing short of harsh and horrific. Clearing his throat softly, he began.
“In order for you to understand what has happened, you must understand the dynamics of politics right now,” he said quietly. “Henry had the throne, as the rightful king. Northumberland supports Henry. After this most recent battle, Edward now sits upon the throne. Do you understand that so far?”
Isobeau nodded seriously. “I do.”
Atticus continued. “I would assume you know Simon de la Londe and Declan de Troiu?”
Isobeau nodded again. “I know who they are,” she said. “They are knights sworn to Northumberland. Why do you ask?”
Atticus paused while a soldier passed within close proximity of them. He waited until the man faded out of earshot. “Unbeknownst to us, de Troiu and de la Londe were solicited by John de Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,” he said. “Norfolk somehow convinced the two knights to support Edward and he further convinced them to seek out converts from Northumberland’s ranks. The first knight they approached was my brother, who refused. In order to silence Titus so the man could not tell anyone that de Troiu and de le Londe were now traitors, they tried to kill him. That is how Titus became mortally wounded. It was from men he had once trusted.”
Isobeau was looking at him with wide eyes, her hand over her mouth to somehow hold back her horror. “Sweet Mary,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “His own men tried to kill him?”
Atticus nodded, his jaw ticking faintly. Speaking of the incident was bringing his hurt and fury up all over again. “Aye,” he replied, his voice soft and hoarse. “They tried and they succeeded.”
“Are you for certain they did this terrible thing?”
“Titus told me himself with his dying breath,” Atticus replied. “It is therefore my intention to seek de Troiu and de la Londe and punish them for what they did to my brother. I hope you can understand that, my lady. It is something I must do.”
The hand came away from her mouth, the tears spilling over. “Understandit?” she repeated, aghast. “I encourage you to do it, Sir Atticus. If Titus did indeed name his killers, then it is your duty to find them and punish them. You will find them and you will make them pay, do you hear?”
Atticus was mildly taken aback by her attitude. He had never in his life heard of, or even seen, a woman who was in support of vengeance or killing or punishment. “You do understand that I mean to kill them, do you not?” he asked, just to be clear.
Isobeau nodded vehemently. “Indeed I do,” she said, wiping furiously at the tears on her face. “The murderous blackhearts. They must be punished for what they did.”
Atticus was quite surprised at what he was hearing from her. Women, to him, had always been rather indecisive and needy creatures, but Isobeau certainly wasn’t that at all. She was strong-willed, stubborn, and as he could see, passionate in her views. She understood exactly what he had to do and she was not apt to fight him on it. In fact, her support of his duty was encouraging. He realized that it meant a good deal to have her approval on the matter. An inkling of respect for the woman began to sprout.
Come to know what Titus liked so well about the woman, Warenne had said.
Already, Atticus was coming to see a flicker of it.
“Then know that after we return Titus to Wolfe’s Lair, I will leave to pursue de Troiu and de la Londe,” he told her. “You will remain at Wolfe’s Lair with my father. You will be safe there until I return.”
Isobeau was still wiping at the tears that refused to stop flowing. It was clear that she was shaken, angry even. “I have not yet met your father,” she said. “Titus spoke quite highly of him. I am looking forward to meeting him but I wish the circumstances were not so terrible. But won’t your father want to go with you, too, to punish these men?”
Atticus shook his head. “My father is old now,” he said. “I do not believe he has been out of Wolfe’s Lair for ten years. He does not travel well due to the affliction he has with his joints. They are swollen and he cannot move very well.”
Isobeau pondered that information. “Then if he cannot go with you, I will,” she said decisively. “This is as much my vengeance as it is yours. Oh, I know you told me that it is not my right to grieve Titus but you were wrong. So very wrong, SirAtticus. I adored Titus and he was very good to me. What those knights did… they took away my future and my child’s father. If anyone has a great stake in this, it is me. I will not be any trouble, I swear it.”
Atticus was shaking his head before she even finished her sentence. “My lady, I cannot take you on this journey,” he said, watching her face turn red with anger. “It will be very difficult and the fact that you are with child will only make it harder. You must remain behind and take care of yourself and the baby.”
Isobeau wouldn’t let him deny her so easily. “Think on it this way,” she said, deliberately attempting to coerce him. She wasn’t one to be denied easily. “When I go with you and help you punish these men, then Titus’ son, through me, will also have a hand in punishing those who killed his father. That will bring him great satisfaction in the years to come.”
Atticus was still shaking his head; he’d never truly stopped. “My lady, I understand that you feel your own sense of vengeance, but I cannot take you with me,” he said, more firmly. “Even for the sake of Titus’ son, I cannot take you with me. It would be foolish to risk you and the child in such a way and I suspect that Titus would be quite angry with me to allow it. Nay, then, I will not do it.”
“Please, Sir Atticus. I am begging you.”
“I cannot. Iwillnot.”
“But I must go!”
“I am sorry, but you cannot.”
Isobeau could see, plainly, that he had no intention of allowing her to accompany him but she could also see that he wasn’t being stubborn about it more than he seemed to truly believe it was in her best interest. But that wasn’t good enough for Isobeau; she was seized with a distinct sense of revenge on behalf of Titus, to punish the men who had killed him. Atticus denying her what she felt was her right was extremelyfrustrating. Frustrating, but not the end. Not as far as she was concerned. Still, she hung her head, upset and distraught, and struggling not to weep again.
Atticus could see that the woman was despondent but he wasn’t going to back down from his stance. It was ludicrous for the woman to expect to accompany him on a trip wrought with hazard. Still, her bravery was to be commended. It was apparent to him that the woman had little fear of trying to track down dangerous men; at least, in theory she had little fear. The reality of such a thing would more than likely prove to be quite different. He reached out and grasped her gently by the elbow.
“Come with me,” he said quietly. “It is cold out here. Let us go inside where it is warm and you can rest.”
