William shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Why would I make you a martyr to your people?”
Ean struggled to sit up. “Ye Sassenach dog,” he said, spittle flying from his lips. “Just kill me! Hang my body from a pole! Are ye a coward tae not destroy yer enemy?”
Thomas raised a hand again and Troy lifted his big boot, but William stopped them. He was looking at this young, arrogant Scotsman, seeing him for what he was—a frightened child who had taken on a man’s game only to lose. But he wasn’t a fool—he knew what the value of his death would be for his men. William had already stated it—executing Ean would make him a martyr, which was what he wanted.
William wasn’t going to give it to him.
No matter how much he wanted to.
“I’ve heard that you told your allies that your young daughter was a captive at Gleann na Fola,” he said, almost casually. “Thatwas how you were trying to solicit their help for your attack on the fortress. Although it wasn’t true, I can tell you what will be true now. There will, indeed, be a member of your family held captive by the House of de Wolfe becauseyouare going to be my captive. I’m going to put you in the bowels of Castle Questing and let you rot. No martyrdom, no victory, no legend to your people. Just four cold walls and a lifetime of darkness. That is the price you pay for attacking a de Wolfe. And I will be certain to tell your allies how you cried all the way to your cell, like the child you are.”
With that, he flicked his hand at Thomas and Blayth, who lifted Ean to his feet. The young man began to curse and spit and kick, so much so that Thomas had to throw him into a choke hold as they carried him out. William listed to the screaming fade from a man who hadn’t gotten what he wanted. It had been William de Wolfe who emerged the ultimate victor. Though William would never know the man named Gordie who had nearly turned the tides, and he would never know what, exactly, happened with the rush on the gatehouse to ensure Gordie could complete his task, none of that mattered because, in the end, the House of de Wolfe was triumphant.
And that was why William had come to Westerkirk.
To ensure everything happened the way he wanted it to.
“Well done, Papa,” Scott said, breaking into his thoughts. “Making that man a martyr to the Scots would have had lasting consequences.”
William looked at his eldest. “I knew Arduil,” he said. “Troy, I think he was an ally of Red Keith at one point, was he not?”
Troy nodded. “He was,” he said. “But not in the last years of his life. The man lived like a hermit. When Ean took control of the clan, we thought that might change, but it did not. Ean did not want allies with English relatives.”
William snorted at the irony of that. “On the border, one can hardly avoid such a thing,” he said. “Speaking of Red Keith, where is he? I’ve not seen him to thank him.”
Troy scratched his head wearily. “The man may be willing to help us, but socializing with us is another matter,” he said. “He’s still a Scot, not a traitor, as he so eloquently put it to me.”
William grinned. “He’s an old man, set in his ways,” he said. “I remember when we laid siege to Monteviot Tower, where you first met Rhos. Now,thatwas a battle.”
That had Troy grinning, looking at Scott, who smirked and rolled his eyes. “The same battle where we saw naked Scots arses, and piss poured on young knights who challenged the Scots,” Troy said. “Aye,thatwas a battle. It was a good day.”
William continued to grin, thinking back on that particular battle, seemingly so long ago. “All of us were there,” he said in quiet reflection. “I think that is one of the last battles I can remember that had everyone of us in attendance. De Wolfe, de Norville, Hage. There were many.”
Troy nodded. “Old knights from Northwood were there, also.”
William’s smile faded. “I will admit that a battle march has never seemed the same without Paris and Kieran,” he said. “I do not mean they were any better, of course, just… different.”
Scott went to his father and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “If Kieran were here, he would tell you that your time for battle marches is over,” he said. “I do not know how we are going to explain your injured hand to Mama, but we had better think of something. She is going to be furious.”
William looked at his hand, tightly wrapped. “I know,” he sighed. “I will come up with an explanation. I always do.”
Scott patted his shoulder before moving for the tent flap alongside Troy. “Try to get some sleep, Papa,” he said. “We have everything under control. You needn’t worry.”
“I never do.”
With that, the men quit the tent, heading out into the encampment to go about their duties. William put his head back, against the back of the chair, but he was too achy for sleep. He stood up from the chair, wearily, and walked to the tent opening. He watched his sons fade into the encampment, which was starting to settle in for the night.
Yet another encampment on yet another battle march.
William wasn’t sure why he was feeling nostalgic, but he was. He suddenly missed Kieran very much. Kieran Hage had been in innumerable battles with him and William had always drawn comfort from the fact that he knew Kieran was fighting beside him. The man could swing a sword better than anyone, stronger than any man alive, and wiser than God himself.
He felt Kieran’s presence strongly tonight.
Wandering out of the tent, he found himself thinking heavily on Kieran, walking around the tent and looking at the smoldering ruins of Bailie Castle. He could, of course, claim it as a spoil of victory, and he very well might, but tonight was more about vengeance than anything else. He wondered if Gar were even still alive. As he walked toward the castle beneath the dusk as it transformed into night, he thought on his grandson, who had been the beginning of a new life for the boy’s father. William loved all of his grandsons equally, but there was something special about Gar. Perhaps itwasbecause he represented a new life for Troy after the horrific loss of Helene. Gar had been a symbol of hope to the entire family, a light that brought them out of a very dark time.
He just couldn’t face the thought of losing him.
There was a small hill to the west of Bailie and that was where William found himself, gazing up at the stars. They were so clear tonight that he swore he could have reached up and grabbed one. He was going to miss nights like this at the end of a battle,when the surge of excitement in his veins had cooled and he would give thanks that he had survived yet another fight. He was going to miss the camaraderie of the knights, of his sons, as they shared their stories and bonded over victory.
