De la Londe shook his head firmly. “He was a guardian to Henry when Henry was very young,” he said. “Because of that, I cannot see Bastian de Russe swearing fealty to Edward. In fact, he may try to kill us if we try to convince him. Nay, my lord, I believe that trying to convince Wellesbourne, and mayhap Stefan and Gannon le Bec, is the only chance we have of gaining fealty of some of the great houses in Edward’s favor. If the House of Wellesbourne and the House of le Bec join Edward’s cause, then de Wolfe might follow. At least he might be willing to listen.”
De Mowbray was somewhat dubious about le Bec. “Richmond le Bec’s wife is a daughter of Henry of Bolingbroke,” he said. “I doubt you’ll be able to convince the sons to side against their own blood.”
“We can but try, my lord.”
That was true. It would be something of a triumph if they were even able to sway Wellesbourne. If Sir Andrew was convinced, then it would seriously weaken that entire le Bec-de Russe-Wellesbourne unity, which was a very powerful front. But there was something even more than that lingering on de Mowbray’s mind.
“I am not in the habit of putting all of my hopes in one scheme,” he said. “As encouraged as I am by your approach toWellesbourne, let us return to the subject of Atticus. Now that Titus is gone, I am assuming Atticus will return his brother home for burial. The entire de Wolfe family resides at Castle Questing, does it not? Tell me what you know of Atticus’ immediate family and where they live.”
De la Londe thought a moment. “Atticus’ father is the second son, brother to Baron Killham of Castle Questing,” he said. “Atticus has spoken many times of his father and of his home, Wolfe’s Lair. It is a garrison for Questing. Atticus’ father has lived there for many years. It is where Atticus and Titus were born, so I would assume Atticus will return Titus to Wolfe’s Lair.”
“Do you know where this garrison is?”
De la Londe nodded. “Near Hawick.”
“That is Scotland.”
“It is indeed, my lord.”
De Mowbray thought on that a moment. “Mayhap whilst you go to Wellesbourne Castle to convince Andrew Wellesbourne to side with Edward, I will send another contingent of men to Wolfe’s Lair,” he said pensively. “If Atticus is there, then mayhap we can open a dialogue with him about his support for Edward now that Henry is in defeat. I will tell him, of course, of Andrew Wellesbourne’s switch in loyalty because I am quite certain your mission to Wellesbourne will be successful. Mayhap if Atticus believes Wellesbourne has sworn allegiance to Edward, it might be enough for him to consider it.”
De la Londe sighed with doubt. “It will take more than that to convince Atticus, I fear,” he said. “It would be wise to wait and work through his knight corps first. Once we have their loyalty, or at lease loyalty from some of them, that would be more persuasive for Atticus.”
De Mowbray scratched his neck, thinking on all of the ways he could convince Atticus de Wolfe to support Edward’s cause. “Is Atticus’ father still alive?”
“He is as far as I know.”
De Mowbray cocked his head thoughtfully. “Then mayhap we use the father to convince the son.”
De la Londe wasn’t sure what, exactly, the duke meant but he knew instinctively that it could not be good. “I would be wary, my lord,” he said, his voice low. “With Titus gone, Atticus is bound to be very protective of his father. If I were you, I would be very careful what I did to Solomon de Wolfe. If you unleash The Lion’s rage, there will be no stopping Atticus. He will come after you.”
De Mowbray pretended not to care, although deep-down he cared a great deal. He did not want The Lion of the North on a vendetta against him. “Your concern is noted,” he said. “You have your orders, de la Londe. Tomorrow, you will depart for Wellesbourne Castle while I send a contingent of men to Hawick. As soon as you are able to speak with Andrew Wellesbourne, I will expect your victorious news.”
“Where will you be, my lord?”
“In London.”
De la Londe simply nodded, collecting a cup of wine and drinking some of the willow powder that the surgeon had left. He wondered if the powder would also take away the uncertain feeling he was having, as if suddenly realizing he was in far deeper than he had imagined he ever would be. Accepting de Mowbray’s bribe had seemed like a simple thing at the time until the conversation with de Wolfe had turned deadly. Truth was, de la Londe felt very badly about Titus. The man had been a friend and fair commander. But he had convinced himself that the rewards from de Mowbray had been worth the price of Titus’ life.
Less and less, however, it was starting to seem that way. He was seriously coming to wonder if the entire situation and his treachery were about to catch up with him.
*
Isobeau was vaguelyaware of light in the room. She stirred a bit, realizing she was lying on her belly when her eyes flitted open and she could see the angle of her head. She could also see a pair of big legs near her bed, legs clad in worn leather breeches. It would have looked like any man’s legs except she recognized the boots with an “S” carved into the strap. With a groan, she lifted her head.
“What are you doing here, Tertius?” she said, grumpy, putting her face in her hands in a miserable gesture.
Tertius, seated next to his sister with one big boot up on the table and the other on the floor, looked up from the watered ale in his hand.
“Is this the gracious thanks I receive for spending the entire night by your side to make sure you came to no harm?” he said, incensed. “You ungrateful, little cow. I will leave this very moment if you do not show me more gratitude.”
Grunting, Isobeau rolled onto her side, struggling to acclimate herself. She began to look around strangely. “What on earth happened?” she asked, trying very hard to recall her last conscious thought. “I was in the hall and then I spoke with Sir Atticus out in the ward. And then… then….”
Tertius knew what the “and then” was. Atticus had told him after the man had carried the unconscious Isobeau up from the vault and put her to bed. In fact, Atticus had remained with Isobeau until just before dawn when the man, exhausted beyond endurance, had finally gone to bed at Tertius’ insistence. Aye,Tertius knew what the “and then” was. He was rather hoping Isobeau would not remember.
“It was a very strenuous day for you,” he said, taking his big boot off the table. “You were exhausted. Today will be a better day, I am sure.”
Isobeau was still trying to recall what had happened when suddenly her eyes flew open wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth in a mortified gesture.
