Hobelar had to look decisive to his men; he knew that. Any sign of weakness and the faint of heart lost faith.
“We go tae the field,” he said firmly. “We watch tae see if de Wolfe and the Northwood knights part ways. I am willin’ tae take on one lone knight, but I’m not willin’ tae take on several, and especially not men from Northwood Castle. There’s an opportunity in this, lads, but we must be smart about it.”
The men glanced at each other, some of them even nervously. They’d taken a massive beating in Coldstream several days before and they hadn’t come to Kelso with the intention of going into battle, but Hobelar was seeing this as a chance to seek vengeance on de Wolfe. No one had expected to see the man here. Now, a trip to the fair for some easy targets was becoming something else and the breathless man, always the man of reason, summoned his courage to speak on it.
“If the man is with his friends from Northwood, then it would be foolish to challenge them all,” he said. “If you want to be smart about it, then we wait for de Wolfe to leave Kelso and we follow him. Mayhap he’ll leave with just the woman and the children and, if that is the case, we can catch him on the road. If we try to take him now, with his friends around, we could all end up dead.”
Hobelar was eager but he wasn’t stupid. “Then we follow the man,” he said decisively. “We go tae the field and we watch him every moment. When he leaves Kelso, we leave. We follow him wherever he goes and look for the chance tae strike. I’ll not let the deaths of my men go unanswered. God has given me this chance tae seek vengeance and de Wolfe is goin’ tae pay with his blood, do ye hear?”
The breathless man nodded reluctantly. “But if you kill him, you bring the whole of de Wolfe down around us,” he pointed out. “Kill one and they’ll all come. They’ll tear apart the north looking for us and we cannot survive such a thing.”
Hobelar lifted his eyebrows. “I dinna say I was tae kill him,” he said. “But his wife and children are with him. Damage the family and ye damage the man.”
Some of the outlaws didn’t care about the age or sex of those they robbed or murdered, but others did. Attacking a man was one thing, but attacking his young children was another. Hobelar’s intentions were brutal but not unexpected given the man and his reputation.
It was simply his way.
As Hobelar pulled his woolen cloak over his head and dashed out towards the tournament field, followed by most of his men, the breathless man lingered by the abbey for a moment, wondering if Hobelar’s sense of vengeance was going to kill them all. Ambushing a party of men from Wark was one thing, but ambushing a man and his family?
The breathless man suspected this was not going to end well, for any of them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Northwood Castle
“Ihave comelooking for my son but I am told he is not here.”
In the lavish keep of Northwood Castle, and specifically in a hall on the entry level of the keep, William was facing a big man who put his arms around him and hugged him tightly. He’d known the man the better part of his life and several of his children had married several of the man’s children, but when Paris de Norville put his arms around William and hugged him, William simply stood there and didn’t respond.
He was far too angry to do so.
Paris felt the man stiffen up in his arms and he squeezed him tighter for it. The more William resisted, the more Paris squeezed until he ended up squeezing so hard that William grunted.
“Release me, you idiot,” William snapped softly. “I am in no mood for your foolery.”
There wasn’t a day, a time, or a place that Paris couldn’t give in to foolery of any kind. He cupped William’s stern face, looking him in the eye.
“Nay, Tommy is not here, but why take that out on me?” Paris said, his blue eyes twinkling as he dropped his hands. “Is he supposed to be here?”
William sighed heavily, a weary sound. He began to pull off his heavy leather gloves, aiming his body for the nearest bench. He was so weary he had to sit down or fall down. The gloves ended up on the tabletop as he plopped down at the feasting table that stretched nearly the length of the chamber.
“I am too old for this, Paris,” he muttered. “Far too old.”
Paris came around to sit at the end of the table, next to him. “Youdolook much older than I remember,” Paris said, just to get the dig in considering they were both the same age. “What is the matter with you, William? Why are you here looking for Tommy?”
William rubbed his good eye before looking at the man. He was still quite handsome at his age, a man who had been blond and fair in his youth, but that blond hair had turned to gray a long time ago and Paris refused to admit it. He still insisted he had blond hair even though everyone could see he clearly did not. Such was the proud, arrogant man that William had known all of these years, but Paris was also his dearest friend in the world. Beneath that vain exterior beat the heart of gold, with the wisdom to match when Paris was feeling particularly cooperative.
At the moment, William desperately needed that cooperation.
“I have trouble,” he muttered. “Bring me food and drink. You and I have much to discuss.”
Paris was usually glib, sometimes inappropriately so, but he could see by the expression on William’s face thatsomething serious had happened, indeed. He sent a servant for refreshments before returning his attention to William. His manner wasn’t so glib as he faced him.
“Tell me what has happened,” he said quietly. “Why do you look so exhausted?”
William groaned in response, leaning forward to wipe his hands over his face. “Northumbria is dead.”
Paris’ eyes widened. That wasn’t something he had been expecting to hear. “Northumbria?” he repeated. “De Vauden is dead?”
