“It is not so simple,” he told him, speaking hesitantly. “She does not wish to speak with me.”
“How do you know if you have not tried?”
“She told me to stay away and leave her alone.”
Warenne cooled somewhat. “So you are doing what you think she wants you to do?”
“Of course. If she does not want me near her, I will comply.”
Warenne let out a hiss and shook his head. “Do you know nothing about women?” he demanded. “She regretted what she said the moment it left her mouth. The longer you let this fester between you, the worse it will be.”
Atticus averted his gaze, looking back to the unsteady spear tip. After a moment, he sighed heavily. “I do not wish to speak of this, Ren,” he said. “I cannot be distracted from what is going on outside of the walls. Whatever is happening with Lady de Wolfe will have to wait until this is over.”
Warenne watched the man fidget with the spear. “It may be too late,” he said quietly, glancing off to the southwest, the direction he intended to travel home. “Trust me when I tell you that every day you delay may create damage that cannot be repaired. Unless, of course, she does not matter to you. Is it possible that you do not care what she thinks of you?”
Atticus merely shrugged. “It does not matter.”
“To you?”
Atticus exhaled sharply and looked at him. “Why do you care?” he hissed, looking around to make sure no one heard their conversation. “I will not be distracted with talk of Lady de Wolfe. She believes me a murderer and wants nothing to do with me, so I have remained here on the wall, allowing her privacy in her chamber. That is the way of things, Ren. I would appreciate it if you would stop asking about it.”
Warenne could see the pain in Atticus’ expression as he spoke of Isobeau, but it was pain that Atticus would neveracknowledge. Either he didn’t truly recognize it or he was too proud to admit it. Therefore, Warenne backed off on his approach. He watched as Atticus returned to his spear, leaning against the stone wall behind him, noting that sunset wasn’t far off. The earl’s gaze was distant, reflective, as he gazed into the darkening sky.
“The moon will be full this night,” he said casually, looking up to the surprisingly clear sky. “It will be as bright as day.”
“I know.”
Warenne glanced at him. “They will come tonight, you know,” he said. “If it were me, I would launch a night attack with flaming projectiles and flaming arrows. Have you noticed that they’ve been collecting animal fat for days now? They have it simmering over a big iron pot off towards the far east of the encampment.”
Atticus nodded. “I know,” he said. “We have been soaking the roofs of the stables and outbuildings with water to ensure they do not burn.”
Warenne looked at him. “What about men, Atticus?” he asked quietly. “Men burn.”
“And the men will all remain inside, under cover, until the barrage is over,” he replied steadily. Then, he paused and looked at his friend. “What are you driving at, Ren? What are you thinking?”
Warenne sighed faintly, looking off to the west and to the muted colors of sunset across the expanse of sky. “I am thinking that I should speak with my brother-in-law to see if we can resolve this,” he said. “They can hold out indefinitely and we cannot. Already supplies are running low. Would you have your wife starve to death in a fortress under siege?”
Atticus wasn’t particularly agreeable to what he was saying. “We can manage with what we have for quite some time,” he said. “They’ll not starve us out any time soon.”
Warenne shrugged. “Mayhap not,” he said. “But I want to go home and see my wife, and you have a task to see through. De la Londe and de Troiu are somewhere in this country and you must find them and make them atone for Titus’ murder. We do not have time to be wasting here on the borders while Norfolk’s knights lay siege. This needs to end.”
Atticus stopped fussing with the spear and hung his head, thinking of his brother. He grunted ironically. “It all seems so long ago,” he muttered. “Titus’ death, my vow of vengeance. Nothing has gone as I have planned; not my determination to punish those bastards who killed my brother nor the marriage to Titus’ widow that seemed like a very bad idea from the start. Now I find myself holding off a siege and married to a woman who wants nothing to do with me. This is not how it was supposed to be.”
Warenne watched him carefully. “And you want nothing to do with her?”
It was a leading question. Atticus knew very well that it was a leading question, but his guard was down. He was feeling momentarily confused and vulnerable. After a moment, he shook his head.
“I believe that is the problem,” he mumbled. “I… I cannot stop thinking about her. She is mine; she belongs to me. When I saw du Reims with his arm around her neck it was as if something inside of me snapped. I could not prevent Titus’ death but I could prevent hers. I do not regret what I did, not for one second, but she does not see it that way. She thinks I am a murderer. I suppose that I am.”
Warenne could see the weakness in a man he never knew capable of such a thing. “You care for her,” he whispered. It was not a question.
Atticus, his head hanging as he looked at his lap, nodded once. It was such a faint movement that Warenne barely saw it,but it was there. “Aye,” he murmured. “I do. I could not see her come to harm. I regret that she cannot understand that.”
Warenne was thrilled to hear Atticus’ confession but it also emphasized to him that whatever distress was occurring between him and Lady de Wolfe had to be rectified. Atticus was too afraid or too stubborn to approach the woman and she was more than likely too hurt or too angry to do the same. But Warenne had seen how Lady de Wolfe looked at her new husband; he knew in his heart of hearts that she felt something for Atticus. It was a pity that neither one of them was brave enough to speak of it.
Yet Warenne didn’t have that particular problem. He had the advantage of being removed from the situation somewhat. Still, thoughts of Lady de Wolfe were heavy on Atticus’ mind and it would be a true pity if something happened to Atticus in the coming siege and he had been unable to voice his thoughts to his wife. And poor Lady de Wolfe would have buried two husbands, never knowing how Atticus had felt about her. Warenne simply couldn’t stand by and watch that happen.
Leaning forward, he kissed Atticus on the forehead and departed in silence, heading down the narrow stairs that led into the damaged inner ward, heading for the steps that led to the living levels of the fortress. If Atticus was going to be difficult about this, then the man needed help.
