“I am well aware of that.”
Warenne knew he was. Unable to stomach looking at the rotting corpse that the mighty Titus de Wolfe had become, he moved over to a stone bench in the cell and sat heavily. He was weary, like the rest of them, but unable to sleep. There was too much to do.
“Kenton, Wellesbourne, de Russe, and Alec le Bec finally have the men settled,” he said, changing the subject away from Titus’ state. “I told them to report to you down in the vault for further orders. Is there anything else you need done, Atticus?”
Atticus was staring at his brother’s sunken face. “I can only imagine they have completed everything that needed handling,” he said. “The men are settled, the dead have been set aside forburial, the wounded are being tended, and the castle is bottled up. What more could there be?”
Warenne’s gaze drifted to Titus, thinking of the obvious. “There is the matter of de Troiu and de la Londe,” he said quietly. “They all know what has happened. What they will want to know is how they can help you find these men and punish them.”
Atticus looked over at Warenne. “Vengeance is mine,” he said, his voice low. “I would not expect them, nor would I want them, to set aside their loyalties to Northumberland and seek justice for my brother. I must do this alone, Ren. This is not a group activity.”
Warenne shook his head. “You cannot deny them their sense of anger against de Troiu and de la Londe,” he reminded him. “These men as much as betrayed all of Northumberland when they decided to seek converts for Norfolk and Edward’s cause. They simply happened to approach Titus first; it could have been any of them. They are hurt and angry, too, Atticus. You cannot take that away from them.”
“He ismybrother.”
“Would you prefer they didn’t care, then?”
The last two sentences were quickly spoken, overlapping. Atticus frowned at Warenne. “I am seeking to kill them, Ren,” he said plainly. “When I say that I must seek justice for Titus, it is to track down those two devils and kill them. I will not bring them before any magistrate or court; I will dispense justice as I see fit. That being said, I cannot pull all of the Northumberland knights into my revenge. That is an unfair expectation to presume all of them will follow me to punish these men and commit murder on behalf of the de Wolfe bloodlines.”
Warenne could see his point but he still disagreed. “You are not pulling them with you,” he said. “They loved Titus, too, or did you forget that?”
Atticus hadn’t. All of Northumberland’s knights had loved his brother. But he was convinced that he and he alone was the only one who could seek justice for his brother. His gaze returned to Titus.
“I do not know what I am going to do without him,” he said, the reflections of grief in his voice. “My father will be devastated when I tell him.”
Warenne crossed his big arms, leaning back against the freezing cold stone. “What about his wife?” he said. “How is Lady de Wolfe? I understand that she and Titus were quite fond of each other.”
Atticus struggled not to make a face. “I have no idea why,” he said, distaste in his tone. “She is a disagreeable, stubborn woman. I have no idea how my brother came to love her, but he did.”
Warenne snorted softly, with humor. “Is she beautiful?”
Atticus looked at him. “Have you not seen her?”
“Nay.”
Atticus shrugged and turned back to Titus. “She is an incredibly beautiful woman,” he admitted. “I thought so the moment I set eyes on her. So did Titus. I have never seen finer. But she has a terrible personality to go along with that beauty.”
Warenne put a hand over his mouth so Atticus would not see him grinning. “And your brother wants you to marry that terrible beauty? Shocking.”
Atticus couldn’t help it now; he pursed his lips irritably, thinking on the shrewish Lady de Wolfe. “Surely he did not know what he was saying,” he said. “His wound must have twisted his mind somehow. Surely he did not mean it.”
Warenne fought off the giggles at Atticus’ lament. “Even so, he asked you to marry her and you agreed,” he said. “My best advice for you is to just do what you promised to do and be donewith it. And if Lady de Wolfe gets out of hand, a good spanking will do wonders.”
“So would fifty lashes.”
Warenne burst out laughing. “She is a de Shera,” he pointed out. “Unless you want the entire war clan of de Shera down around you, I would not lash the woman. And do not forget that she is also related to Anglesey, so I have heard. You do not want to invite the wrath of the Welsh warlords, do you?”
Atticus grunted, scratching his head irritably. “I should simply send her back to Isenhall Castle and forget about her.”
Warenne shrugged. “Aye, you could,” he said. “But you would not forget your promise to your brother. It would eat at you until you fulfilled it. So my advice, once again, is to simply marry the woman and be done with it. You will be unable to live with yourself otherwise.”
He was right. Atticus wiped a weary hand over his face, pondering the mess he found himself in with regards to his brother’s wife, when the sounds of boot falls could be heard on the stairs leading down into the dank and musty vault. The stone steps were slippery with cold and rot and at one point, someone slipped and fell. They could hear the voices of at least two men trying not to fall the entire way down the steps. When the first man finally appeared, he was holding steady to the man just behind him.
“Damnable steps,” the knight in heavy armor hissed as he let go of his companion. “I nearly broke my bleeding neck!”
He was holding on to his heart, not his neck, as if genuinely terrified that he would have met such an end. Sir Adam Wellesbourne was a short, stocky, and muscular knight who more than likely would meet his end on a battlefield and not a flight of stairs, but he was dramatic with the best of them. Following on his heels, the man he had been holding on to, washis cousin, Sir Alec le Bec. A big man, young, with blond hair and bright, blue eyes, he was grinning at the shorter knight.
“You would not break your neck,” Alec said. “With your girth, you would roll all the way to the bottom and bounce off of the walls, just like an inflated bladder.”
