William chuckled as Paris stood up, calling to the servants to have his horse prepared. “We can go at first light,” William said. “The sun will be setting soon and we can just as easily take care of this on the morrow.”
“Pah,” Paris said. “There is more than enough daylight left. It will take us a couple of hours at most. We can stay the night and return on the morrow with your son in chains.”
William was still grinning, now shaking his head. “Do not be too harsh with him,” he said. “Tommy has a great weight on his shoulders, greater than you or I ever had at his age. He genuinely feels something for Lady Bowlin, so we must tread carefully.”
“And I will,” Paris said. “But Tommy needs to realize that you are under a great strain as well, and he must not make it worse.”
“He knows.”
“Doeshe?”
It was a pointed question and William nodded, although he truthfully wasn’t sure. Thomas tended to be selfish at times, but William knew his son understood the gravity of the situation he was in. Whether or not he thought of others before his own wants was in question, especially when it came to a woman.
It was a mystery.
As Paris went to change into his protection at the armory, William sat back down at the table and finished off the wine and food. When the last drop of wine went down his throat and the last grape was swallowed, he pulled his gloves back on and headed out to the inner bailey of Northwood, a vast area, where his war horse was waiting in the shade.
In the outer bailey beyond, three hundred of his soldiers waited, men he had taken with him to Kyloe Castle when he’d left his wife off at Castle Questing. Considering what happened to Northumbria, William wasn’t going to travel lightly these days. He wasn’t going to take that chance, as he’d proven when he’d taken so many men to Kyloe.
Off to the east, William could see that they were expanding the already enormous keep by adding on a large section. Stonemasons were working beneath the bright sun; William had seen them when he’d ridden in. He paused a moment, watching the building going on as he tightened up his gloves.
“They’re building a chapel.”
William turned to see Edric Ellsrod standing next to him. The man was the spitting image of his father in his youth; shorter, muscular, and with long blond hair and an edgy look about him. He was hell with a sword.
“Is that what it is?” William asked. “I was wondering. But why a chapel? Northwood already has one.”
Edric cast him a long glance. “Aprivatechapel,” he said. “Lady Teviot does not like to worship with the rank and file, and you know how pious she is. She wants a family chapel.”
William nodded with understanding. “Ah,” he said. “But it is two-storied. What is on the top floor?”
“Lady Teviot has brought in her own priest. That is where he will live.”
William looked around at what used to be a larger area than what it currently was. “If she keeps building, there will no longer be an inner ward,” he said. Then, he returned his focus to Edric. “Where is your mother? I’ve not seen her since my arrival.”
Edric pointed to the second floor of the keep. “She is keeping company with Lord and Lady Teviot,” he said. “I am sure Paris told you that the earl is not doing well.”
“He told me.”
“It has hit my mother fairly hard. She says that Lord Adam was always kind to her.”
William thought on the Earl of Teviot when he’d first met him. A tall, sinewy young man with a crown of pale red hair, William had liked him a great deal. He’d knighted him, in fact. Adam had been young, but he’d been a hard worker andan excellent knight. Kieran never had to bestow the Helm of Shame on Adam’s head, which was something of a tribute to his diligence and character.
“Teviot’s father and I were very close,” he said after a moment. “My father died when I was young and Adam’s father was something of a surrogate to me. Mayhap I shall go and visit Adam before I leave.”
Edric nodded. “That would do the man a world of good.”
As Edric headed off, returning to the gatehouse and his duties, William glanced up at the great keep of Northwood, bracing himself for the visit to a dying man. Paris’ horse was brought around at that point, and Paris emerged from the keep at nearly the same time, so William thought he might have to delay his visit for now. He had pressing matters to attend to and he knew that Adam would understand.
Resigned, he began to move towards his horse just as Paris mounted his steed. Paris’ horse was young and excitable, having been purchased in Belgium when Paris bought the horses for Hermes and Atreus, and William watched Paris wrestle with the big, white horse.
“Mayhap you need a horse that is not so excitable!” he shouted across the ward. “Send that horse back and get one that is more suitable to an old man.”
Paris struggled with the beast. “Bah! He is only spirited.”
“You should not have to fight your horse so much simply to ride him.”
But Paris ignored him. He’d spent his life riding horses and there wasn’t one that had bested him yet. William shook his head at his arrogant friend and went to mount his own horse, but as he got near his animal, Paris’ horse suddenly bucked and sent Paris flying. The horse, now riderless, charged around the inner ward, crashing into William’s horse just as the man went to climb into the saddle.
