William lifted his big shoulders. “She is not happy about it, but she understands,” he said. “There is no pleasing alternative to this, Paris. Either Tommy marries the witch or one of Edward’s favorites does. I have not lived all of these years, building an empire, only to see it threatened by a Frenchman.”
Paris shook his head. “That is a very real possibility if Edward discovers the Northumbria heiress is unwed.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
The weight of the situation was settling on two old knights who had seen much in their lifetime. Power and politics and battle had always been their stock and trade, so this latest issuewas nothing new. It was simply uglier than most, and the pair had the ability to overlook the emotion in the situation and focus on what needed to be done. William began cutting up an apple, his thoughts lingering on his missing son.
“Thomas told me he was coming to Northwood to visit,” he said. “That is why I came here after leaving Kyloe. When I came through the gatehouse, I was greeted by Deinwald’s son, Edric. He said that everyone has gone into Kelso for a fair and tournament.”
Paris nodded. “They have,” he said. “I remained here, of course, and Edric chose to remain behind. Deinwald went with his grandsons.”
William snorted. “Grandsons,” he muttered. “And I even have great-grandchildren. Scott is a grandfather with Will’s children through his wife, Lily de Lohr, and his second son, Thomas, has also married and is expecting a child.”
Paris grinned. “Your father, a close and dear friend of Christopher de Lohr those years ago, would have been delighted to see the two families joined,” he said. “Will has a son, doesn’t he?”
“Two.”
Paris nodded his approval. “They shall be the greatest knights England has ever seen with de Wolfe and de Lohr blood.”
William fell silent a moment, his thoughts turning from Thomas to the vast legacy he had. “Children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren,” he muttered. “It is enough to make a man believe that he shall live forever.”
Paris wriggled his eyebrows in agreement. “And you shall,” he said. “So shall I. Do you know how I know this? Look at Kieran’s children. Alec and Kevin and Nathaniel are just like him, and Kevin now is the Duke of Dorset. His own son is named Kieran, which means Kieran Hage, in time, will become the nextDuke of Dorset. Kieran the Old is in every inch of that boy, so I’m told. That is not simply immortality, William– it is legend.”
William smiled faintly, thinking on the grandchildren he shared with Kieran. “Edward and Axel already have Kieran’s size, but they have too much of Jemma in them,” he said. “Only the youngest, Christoph, has Kieran’s manners. Eddie and Axel are aggressive and fearless.”
Paris cocked an eyebrow. “They have too much of the banshee in them.”
“You had better stop calling her that. She’s not beyond taking a fist to you.”
Paris grinned. He and Jemma Hage, Kieran’s wife, had shared a love/hate relationship from the moment they met, decades ago when she was a tiny, fiery Scotswoman and he was an arrogant young knight. Truth be told, he still missed harassing her on a regular basis, but in the times they were together these days, the old spark of aggravation was there. It made reunions rather fun until she took a stick to him.
“She would die of a broken heart if I stopped pestering her,” Paris said. “She looks forward to it as much as I do.”
William couldn’t help but grin, but that gesture soon faded as he thought of Jemma, alone now that Kieran was gone. The woman still lived at Castle Questing since her husband’s death, making herself useful, but the light had gone out of her.
“She has changed since Kieran’s passing,” he said quietly. “She is not the same. Something in her died right along with him.”
All jesting aside, Paris knew that. He’d seen it in her, too. “I know,” he said. “She loved him, William. We all did.”
William nodded faintly, thinking on Kieran. “I miss him greatly,” he whispered. “I held him in my arms as he breathed his last and I will say this; it was a privilege. It was a privilege to be with him as he took his last breath. I was speaking tohim of the battle near Whiteadder Water when someone cut the garter of the mail of his left leg. Do you remember that? The mail slid down and took his breeches with it, and suddenly, Kieran is fighting with his bare arse exposed. I laughed so hard I nearly got myself killed because I was not paying attention to my opponent.”
Paris was grinning. “I remember,” he said. “It was even more humorous because once the fighting stopped, he refused to pull up his breeches. He left his backside hanging out and made it back to the encampment that way. Then he went to the Scots prisoners and made them all look at his bare buttocks to punish them for what their kinsmen did.”
William was starting to laugh, as he always did when they discussed the battle at Whiteadder Water. Anyone who had been there those years ago, fighting in the skirmish against the Scots, remembered that battle with humor because it was the beginning of the infamous Helm of Shame. William began to howl and Paris right along with him.
“And so came the Helm of Shame,” William said, wiping the tears from his eye. “Do you remember what Kieran did that moment when it all began?”
Paris was giggling like a fool. “I do,” he said. “But I know that Michael put him up to it. Those two were merciless in their pranks.”
It felt so good to laugh. William had spent so much of the past several days being depressed and troubled that to laugh over Kieran’s antics after Whiteadder was cathartic.
“As Kieran was walking around, holding up his breeches in the front so his manhood was at least covered, he comes across Corin de Fortlage, a younger knight who pulled out of the battle early,” William said, starting to cry again because he was laughing so hard. “He was so angry that Corin pulled back early that he pushed the man to the ground and sat on his head withhis bare buttocks. He called it the Helm of Shame and told Corin if he ever left the field of battle early again, he would punish him with the Helm of Shame again. Corin was always the last man to leave the field of battle after that.”
They burst into a new fit of giggles, reliving memories that were so precious to them. The Helm of Shame was legendary amongst the de Wolfe armies and it was something that Kieran had done more than once. If a young knight displeased him, they were threatened with the Helm of Shame. Humor, brotherhood, and battle had a special meaning to old knights. They’d known so much death and pain that to relive the better moments somehow took the sting of horror away.
“Corin was the last man from the field until the last battle he ever fought,” Paris said, wiping his eyes of tears as he sobered. “It was difficult to lose Corin when we did. He was just starting to become an excellent knight.”
William, too, sobered, remembering the young, blond knight who fought so fiercely but could be lazy at times. “How long has it been now?” he asked. “At least thirty years since we lost him?”
