William felt tremendous guilt for the state of their relationship when Garren had passed. It had been strained, though in William’s estimation that could not have beenhelped. Still, he would have liked to have known that Garren harbored no permanent ill will. William had hoped that the marcher lordship of Buckton would have eased any hardship. The lordship came with two castles and a large chunk of land, something Garren deserved. Now that he was no longer in the land of the living to accept it, William could think of nothing else but granting it posthumously to his wife. Perhaps by making amends to Garren’s widow, it would right things between them in the next life.
That was his guilt talking. He hated feeling the strange stirrings of indecision and regret. Hoyt had been at his side constantly since his return and the two of them had sparred with their philosophies on life and death. Even tonight, they shared a blood-red wine and discussed a variety of critical subjects, and the important subject, Lady le Mon’s future.
“I never asked Garren where she was,” Hoyt muttered, staring at the liquid in his cup. “In all of the months I fought at his side, I never asked. I did not want to know, as I thought it was best considering the circumstances. But you must know.”
“Of course I do,” William would not mention the entire ugly incident with Fergus and blackmailing Garren into service. “She is well taken care of at the moment, I assure you.”
Hoyt glanced at him. “Then I will ask you. Where is she?”
“Wales.”
“It is a big country.”
“Cilgarren Castle. Near Pembroke.”
“I must stand by my opinion, William. She should return to Framlingham.”
“And I must stand by mine. She will be granted the titles and lands that were intended for Garren. That is suitable to his legacy. Should she return to Framlingham, the de Rosas will erase all memories of him from your niece’s mind. That is an unacceptable end for such a man.”
Hoyt couldn’t completely disagree. “So you intend to grant her the lordship of Knighton?”
William’s answer was to summon a messenger to the borrowed solar. The young, skinny lad was barely a man, but William had used him before. He was cunning and rode like the wind. Standing at the waist-high writing table, he authored two missives by himself in the flickering candlelight. He carefully sanded the ink, blew it away, rolled and sealed both missives. The messenger watched anxiously as William handed over one parchment.
“You will find your way to Pembroke Castle,” he instructed. “Do you know it?”
The lad nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
“Then go there with all haste. Find Keller de Poyer, the knight in charge of the garrison. He is an older man, with brown hair last I knew, and arms the size of battering rams. Give him this first missive.” William handed the boy a second rolled parchment. “And give him this one as well. Tell him it is for Lady le Mon. Is this, in any way, unclear?”
“Nay, my lord.”
“It is of the utmost importance that you deliver these safely to him.”
“I will, my lord.”
“Be gone, then.”
The lad fled. William wandered to the lancet window, watching the bailey below as the young man leapt onto his long-legged horse and thundered through the gates. When the rider was out of view, William gazed into the misty night, struggling to release his guilt now that the deed was complete. He did not look at Hoyt, still seated by the empty bottle of claret.
“This does not ease the loss of Garren, to be sure, but it will ease the situation with time,” William said.
“How do you mean?”
“I have provided well for the widow in two ways; titles and lands will be hers, making her a very wealthy woman. The second provision is to give her an attractive dowry to make my orders to de Poyer more palatable.”
“Why should they be palatable to de Poyer?”
William believed he was doing the best thing for all concerned, but he had to remind himself that Hoyt was the Widow le Mon’s uncle and, understandably, very fond of her. He needed to be diplomatic.
“I have known Keller for years, as had Garren,” the Marshal replied. “In fact, they fought together on many campaigns and are of the same warrior fabric; powerful, cunning, and resourceful, though Keller does not have nearly the intelligence that Garren had. He is a large man with more strength than brains, but his nature is good and he is obedient to a fault. He will do as he was told, no matter what the order.”
An inkling of suspicion came to Hoyt’s mind as to the nature of the request. “And that would be?”
William looked at him. “The protection of a strong husband is necessary to a widowed woman, especially Garren’s widow.”
Hoyt knew instantly what was coming. “And you have asked de Poyer to marry her.”
“Garren would want her well taken care of.”
