Atreus frowned. “To this place?” he said, looking around at the dirt and dogs. “She must be positively thrilled to have such a steaming pile of dung as her domain. Do not be surprised if she runs away.”
Gar grinned. “She will not,” he said. “We have made a pact. She cannot run away and I cannot throw her out, so she willbe forced to become accustomed to my magnificent garrison. Speaking of wives, did you bring yours?”
Atreus nodded. “Mariane and our son have come with me,” he said. “You’ve not seen Perseus yet, Gar. A finer son has never lived.”
Gar sat back down at the table, taking Atreus with him. “I believe you,” he said. “Your grandfather must be thrilled.”
Atreus snorted. “Paris de Norville never quite got over the fact that he does not have as many sons and grandsons as Uncle William,” he said. “He tells me I must have ten sons now to try to even the numbers.”
Gar laughed softly. “You’ll never catch up,” he said. “I intend to have ten sons of my own.”
“Does your new wife know this?”
“Absolutely not,” Gar said flatly. “And you’ll not tell her.”
Atreus started to laugh, hearing a comment against his ability to produce sons from Andreas across the table, and a good-natured verbal battle ensued. Gar was glad to be with his friends and family, but as he listened to Atreus and Andreas spar, his thoughts drifted in the direction of that lovely young woman he’d married.
He still couldn’t believe it.
It was odd. Odd in the sense that when he was at Hensingham, it was as if he were on another planet. It was a different world at that castle along the sea and he and Mattie had enjoyed having time together as if nothing else in the world existed. As if there were no raging Scots, no heavy command burdens, or anything else that might weigh upon him. All was Mattie and Mattie was all, and Gar was satisfied with that. He’d come to know a woman who almost seemed too good to be true. She was kind and attentive, and seemed genuinely interested in the things he wanted to talk about. Frankly, he never knew hehad it in him to be so enamored with someone else. He’d never believed himself capable.
But he was.
Still, it was coming to feel like a dream even though he was back at his garrison and surrounded by his friends and family. It was another normal day in a year that had been full of such normal days, with one slight difference:
Mattie.
This was his world now and she was in it.
“Atreus,” William said, cutting into the conversation at the table. “Dray, both of you quiet down. We have much to discuss now that Gar has returned.”
Distracted from thoughts of Mattie, Gar took another sip of his wine. “Should we continue to wait for Papa?”
William shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Let us go forth with the subject at hand. Blayth has some information he came across while you were away.”
Attention turned to Blayth, one of only two fair de Wolfe sons, having taken after their mother’s coloring. But over the years, the dark blond hair had turned to gray. It was almost completely white these days, cropped short so that the scars on the left side of his head, horrible battle scars, were quite visible. He was the commander of Roxburgh Castle, an extremely volatile castle that tended to go back and forth between the Scots and the English, although under Blayth’s command, it had remained a de Wolfe property for several years. Still, it was quite busy, as was the village around it, and sometimes Blayth heard rumors and intelligence that those at the lesser border garrisons didn’t have a chance to hear. As Gar focused on his uncle, Blayth’s green eyes turned to him.
“We had a visitor into Roxburgh earlier in the week,” he said. Due to his head injury those years ago, he had a slow and deliberate way of speaking. “One of my mother’s kin, from ClanScott, came to tell me that he’d heard rumor that Maxwell of Westerkirk is trying to rally support behind them for another attack on Gleann na Fola.”
Gar grunted. “That is not surprising,” he said. “I am expecting something from them. It is only a matter of time.”
“You know that Ean Maxwell is now clan chief,” Blayth said. “His father was more moderate, but Ean does not have any such restraint.”
“I know,” Gar said. “Arduil was far easier to deal with. Never any trouble. But Ean has always been a bully of a lad. He has always tried to stir up trouble.”
“More than you know,” Blayth said. “He is spreading the rumor that you are holding his young daughter hostage here. He is hoping the outrage of a de Wolfe holding a child captive will motivate the clans into supporting him.”
Gar’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s what you were told?”
Blayth nodded. “That’s what Clan Scott was told to try to convince them to support a Maxwell attack against Gleann na Fola,” he said. “They’re using the fact that we sent their women and children south to give validity to the lie, but I’m told that some of the clans who do not really know the House of de Wolfe, or who have trouble with us, are considering it.”
That was ominous news. Gar and his men could stave off the Maxwell of Westerkirk easily, but if more clans got involved, that might prove to be difficult. As Gar pondered that, he shook his head in frustration.
“So Ean lies to convince other clans to join him,” he said. “The man was punished for the outright murder of two English knights and now he is claiming to be a victim?”
“This stopped being about those two knights from The Keld long ago,” Scott spoke up, low and quiet. He had inherited his father’s wisdom and was a man to be heeded. “Now, this about Ean’s pride. It has turned into far more than paying for hisactions. He’s out to prove a point, to stir hatred against the English. If he can rally more clans, we may very well have a border war and that is the last thing we need.”
“That is true,” William said. The great Wolfe of the Border was the final word in all things when it came to the borders of Scotland. “Gar, I’ve taken the liberty of sending word to The Keld about this. They started this battle by requesting our assistance in punishing Westerkirk for the deaths of their knights, so I have requested they send at least a thousand men to support Gleann na Fola. If Westerkirk manages to rally support, you will need all of the help you can get.”
