PART ONE
BRIGHT WINTER SKIES
Christmas, 1274 A.D.
The de Wolfe stronghold of Castle Questing
The snows were fierce along the borders this year. The first snow of the season hitting about a week before Christmas and possibly dumping an entire year’s worth of snow onto the countryside in just a few days. The beauty of it was that the entire land was white, from the trees to the structures to the meadows – a pristine, pure white that, under bright winter skies, was blindingly brilliant. But the dreary of it, if there was such a thing, was that there had only been one pristine white day in the past week, and it happened to be Christmas Day. On that day, the inhabitants of Castle Questing had emerged from the keep for a day of celebration in the snow.
The first one bolting from the entry to Questing’s keep was eight-year-old Penelope de Wolfe. With her dark braided hair trailing behind her, she dashed out into the snowy bailey and headed towards the gatehouse, while her nieces and nephews and cousins ran out behind her. With children screaming and frolicking under bright blue skies, the day promised to be, at the very least, a noisy one.
Truthfully, the days past when the snow was billowing out of the sky had already been noisy and crowded inside the walls of Castle Questing. It was a big keep and could easily house dozens of people, but it was at capacity. A wedding was to take place on Christmas Day and not only had the groom’s family come to Questing, but all of the de Wolfe extended family were in attendance as well. Even though some of the families weren’t connected to the de Wolfe household by marriage or by blood, they were headed by men who had served the head of the House of de Wolfe – William – in some capacity over the years, and had faced life and death with the man, so they were therefore considered family.
It was a grand gathering, indeed.
This included the houses of de Bocage, Ellsrod, Gray, de Fortlage, de Longley, and Payton-Forrester. More had been invited for this festive occasion, but those were the only families who could make it before the snows hit. With such heavy snow on the ground, they were all bound to their locations, meaning that travel in the north was difficult if not impossible.
For the coming wedding, which would take place at sunset on this very eve, several of the younger knights had set out for Kelso Abbey to bring a priest back to Questing to perform the wedding mass. William de Wolfe and his Scottish wife, Jordan, were great benefactors of Kelso, so the monks had been more than willing to perform whatever religious ceremonies needed by de Wolfe. Troy de Wolfe, along with his brother, Patrick, brothers Hector and Adonis de Norville, and cousin Alec Hage had set out for Kelso the day before, during a snowy downpour, to bring the priest back to Questing. Although Kelso was a mere ten miles from the de Wolfe seat, in weather such as this, even a simple trip was an effort.
Therefore, it was the mothers of the young men who waited nervously for them to return – Lady Jordan along with her cousin, Jemma, mother to the Hage knight, and another cousin, Caladora, who was mother to the de Norville brothers – were crowded in Jordan’s solar, which was right at the front of Questing’s keep near the entry door, and gave them perfect views over the bailey and gatehouse. From there, they could see everything, including the children and husbands frolicking in the pristine snow outside. When the snowballs began to fly in the bailey, Jemma, who was seated next to the window, shook her head in resignation.
“Now, it begins,” she said. “They’re already doing battle outside. They’ll pick sides and before we know it, we’ll have freezing bairns who have been pummeled with snowballs.”
Jordan was sitting next to her cousin, sewing on a heavy winter tunic for her husband, but she put the sewing in her lap and peered from the window at her cousin’s comment.
“We canna stop them,” she said in resignation. “The lot of them have been caged up in Questing since the snows started. Now they’ll beat each other tae death with snowballs and we canna stop it.”
A flicker of a grin crossed Jemma’s lips. “Ah,” she said with satisfaction, as she had spied something out in the bailey. “Now, that was worth waiting for. It seems that Rosie has hit her Uncle Paris in the face with a snowball. Good for ye, lass!”
She yelled the last four words out of the window, causing Jordan to grin and pass a glance at her cousin, Caladora, who was Paris’ wife. Tall, slender, and red-haired, Caladora was a truly gentle and kind creature, but she was fiercely protective over her proud and sometimes arrogant husband. In fact, in years past, Caladora had been known to slap Jemma over what she considered Jemma’s unreasonable hatred of Paris, but the truth was that Paris and Jemma went back many, many years. They knew each other very well and had a love/hate relationship as a brother and sister would. Paris taunted, Jemma reacted, and all the world was right when those two were name-calling. Only Caladora didn’t see it that way; she thought her cousin Jemma was rather nasty at times.
“Rosie is tae be a bride in a few hours,” Caladora calmly pointed out as she sewed on a small garment for one of her grandchildren. “Do ye think she should be outside at all?”
Jemma was grinning boldly now as she watched from the window as her youngest daughter, Rose, charged her Uncle Paris and sent the man tripping back into the snow. Rose was much like Jemma in that she was tiny, pretty, and very spirited. It was like watching Jemma when she had been a young girl, which was probably why Paris seemed to gravitate towards Rose. Not only did he have the mother to taunt, but now the daughter as well.
But she loved every minute of it.
“Let the lass have some fun,” Jemma finally said, glad that Caladora couldn’t see what a pummeling her husband was receiving. “Soon enough, she’ll be expected tae behave as a wife. She’s only seen eighteen years; let her be young a moment longer.”
Jordan glanced at Jemma, hearing a wistfulness in her tone. “Ye know that James will make her a fine husband,” she assured Jemma softly. “Ye know my lad. He’s the kindest lad of the bunch and he loves Rosie. He’ll not curb her spirit.”
Jemma’s smile faded as she watched her daughter, now throwing a snowball at her future husband. “Nay,” she said after a moment. “He’ll not. If ever there was a man made for Rosie, ’tis James. He reminds me much of Kieran with his gentle ways. I couldna ask for a better husband for my lass.”
There was sadness in her voice as she spoke, the worry of a wife in love with a man who wasn’t doing so well as of late. Jordan smiled up at her cousin, grasping the woman by the arm in a supportive gesture when she spoke of her husband. Kieran Hage was the gentle giant among them; he and Paris were William’s very best friends, a bond between them that was closer than brothers.
Whereas Paris was a proud extrovert, Kieran tended to be quiet and more of an introvert. But there was no one fiercer in battle and Kieran’s strength was unmatched. Yet, he hadn’t been feeling well over the past year and the physic said that it was his heart, a diagnosis that had greatly affected Jemma. She loved her husband with every fiber of her being, a man she could not live without, and his health issue had been a devastating one to them all.
That was why this day was so important to the Hage family as well as the de Wolfe family; it would see two of their children bonded in marriage, a bright spot in a rather dismal year. Even now, Jemma could see Kieran out in the snow, being hit by snowballs by some rowdy children, and then firing back snowballs that ended up hitting Penelope in the side of the head, getting snow in her ear.
As Penelope burst into tears, Uncle Kieran was at her side, soothing her and helping her pick snow out of her ear. Jemma knew the man would suffer unimaginable guilt for the rest of the day for hitting Penelope in the ear with a well-aimed snowball. He was just that sensitive.
“I hear Penny wailing,” Jordan said, setting her sewing down completely and peering from the window to see her daughter crying with Kieran at her side. “What happened tae my lass this time?”
This time. Penelope de Wolfe, a very late baby for her mother and father, and the youngest de Wolfe child, was also the child who ruled the roost. Her parents doted on her, and she was a bright and beautiful girl. But she was also terribly spoiled, and anything that didn’t go her way usually resulted in tears or a tantrum. Jordan had long learned not to run to her daughter’s side every time the girl made a sound, but her husband hadn’t yet developed that restraint. Even with Kieran at Penelope’s side, William pulled himself away from his grandchildren to see what had Penelope so upset. Jordan shook her head in resignation.
“The lass will never learn tae stand for herself if William runs tae her every time she utters a peep.” Jordan sighed, sitting down and collecting her sewing again. “I fear for the day she marries; I truly do. I am not sure what William will do when he canna have her by his side, always.”
Caladora looked up from her sewing. “He clings tae all of his children these days,” she said quietly. “It is not simply Penelope.”
“What do ye mean?”
Caladora didn’t say anything for a moment because it was something they all knew, something not readily spoke of. “Because of Scott.”
Jordan’s pleasant mood sank at the mention of the son she’d not seen in years. Even the mention of his name brought a lump to her throat, but she fought it. Today was a joyful day and she wouldn’t let thoughts of her absent son spoil that.
“William has made amends with Scott,” she said quietly. “He’s gone tae Castle Canaan where Scott is in command and he’s spoken tae him. They’ve said what needed tae be said.”
Caladora looked at her. “But what about ye? Have ye yet said what needed tae be said tae him?”
It was a familiar argument and Jordan turned back to her sewing. “Ye know I havena,” she said. “I’ve not seen my son since he left Questing those years ago.”
“Will ye go and see him, then?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “He knows where I am. If he wants tae make amends with me, then he’ll come. ’Tis not for me to seek him out.”
Caladora had heard that attitude before and she didn’t like it; it irked her. “At least ye still have yer sons, Jordie,” she said. “At least ye can go tae him. I canna say that I still have my daughters, but if I did, no matter how far away from me they were, I wouldna let any more time pass without seeing them again. If something happens tae Scott tomorrow, ye’d be miserable the rest of yer life.”
At the window, Jemma glanced at the pair as they skimmed the surface of a volatile conversation. It was such a sad situation, truly, something that affected all of them so deeply. It was a situation that had started four years ago when the eldest sons of William and Jordan, twins Scott and Troy, had both lost their wives and several of their children in a terrible drowning accident.
Compounding the issue was that the wives had been two of Paris and Caladora’s daughters. The women and their younger children, four in all, had been traveling by coach to Berwick when a bridge gave way and dumped all of them into a swollen river. Both wives and all four children had perished, leaving devastation of two families in their wake.
It had been a terrible time for all concerned.
As Paris and Caladora had lost themselves in their grief, Scott and Troy had each dealt with their loss quite different. Troy had thrown himself into battle, into his duties, anything to work through the pain of losing his wife and two youngest children, while Scott had simply run away. That was the last he’d see of Questing and of his entire family, save his father.
William had kept track of his son no matter where the man had gone. William had even written to the king for assistance with Scott. Rather than see the man wander aimlessly, which he did for the first year, the king had given him a command at a strategic castle in Cumbria. Scott had settled in and eventually married the widow of the man who used to command the castle. When William heard of the marriage, he’d gone to see Scott and old wounds were healed. But Jordan was correct; Scott had remained away from Questing, and all of the memories there, since the day he’d left.
She wondered if she would ever see him again.
But at least her loss wasn’t what Caladora’s had been. The woman had lost two of her beloved daughters and Jordan knew that hers was the greater loss. But sometimes, Jordan felt Scott’s absence as painfully as if he had died.
In a sense, the old Scott had.
“I know, lass,” Jordan said after a moment, reaching out to lay a hand on her cousin’s arm as she reflected on the past four years. “What ye’ve suffered is beyond all human endurance. I dinna mean tae compare yer loss tae mine. But sometimes… sometimes I feel as if Scott has died. He’s not the same man, my sweet and funny lad. I havena seen him in years. I fear that he will never return tae Questing. Too many terrible memories for him. Sometime I wonder if I am part of those terrible memories.”
Caladora clasped Jordan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. As women, they suffered in silence sometimes. It was their job to be stronger than the rest, to show courage and fortitude in situations that would crumble others. But among themselves, they could let their guards down. Jordan squeezed Caladora’s hand in return, her focus turning to her pale cousin.
“How are ye, lass?” she asked her cousin softly. “We’ve not spoken of Athena and Helene in some time.”
Caladora sighed faintly. “I have days when I feel as if everything is so dark, that I canna get out of bed,” she admitted. “But Paris… he dunna think I know but, sometimes, I hear him weeping. Whenever he sees the older children of Helene and Athena, he weeps. I think he still feels as if he’s failed his daughters. He thinks he should have been there tae save them.”
It was a painful admission of a parent’s guilt. Jordan understood it well. “William has spoken tae me of his regrets,” she said. “When he sees Scott’s older lads, Will and Tommy, and Troy’s son, Andreas, he regrets that they lost their mothers at such a young age. I believe he, too, feels guilt that he wasna there tae save them.”
Hushed words spoken about a terrible tragedy. Before the mood grew too dark and painful, Jordan took a deep breath and picked up her sewing.
“So, we remember Athena and Helene and the children tonight,” she said with renewed fortitude. “We remember them at the marriage so that even in spirit, they are with us.”
Caladora simply nodded, not feeling particularly enthusiastic now that memories of her dead daughters and grandchildren were heavy on her mind. But Jemma, who had been watching the exchange, came away from the window, her focus on her cousins.
“Of course they are with us,” she said. “Callie, I dinna tell ye because I wanted it tae be a surprise, but Rosie’s wedding dress has ribbon on it that was on Athena’s wedding dress. It also has a sash that I took from Helene’s dress. Paris gave them tae me. I wanted tae honor the lasses in such a way. I hope ye dunna mind.”
Caladora’s head came up, her blue eyes brimming with tears. “’Tis a beautiful thought, Jemma,” she said sincerely. “I dunna mind at all.”
Jemma went to her cousin and gave the woman a squeeze. “Rosie is most excited for the ceremony tonight and tae show ye her dress,” she said. “Act surprised when she tells ye. She wanted tae surprise ye, too.”
Caladora sniffled, flicking away the tears that threatened. “I’ll act surprised,” she said. “I might even give her a good cry. Do ye think she’ll like that?”
Jemma grinned. “She’ll love it,” she said. Then, she moved back over to the window where the snowball fight was starting to dwindle. “Looks as if Penny has come inside, Jordie. Ye may want tae see tae her ear.”
Jordan set her sewing aside yet again and rose from her seat. “I dunna know why I should go,” she said. “William is probably doing all the mothering tae the lass that she’ll ever need.”
Jemma grinned. “I dunna see William out in the yard, either.”
Jordan snorted. “See? What did I tell ye.” She sighed heavily and headed for the door. “Mayhap, I’d better go see tae my lass. Her da’s sympathy only goes so far sometimes.”
As the woman headed from the solar, Jemma and Caladora were smiling, each woman settling back to her sewing. It wasn’t just William who doted on his children; Paris and Kieran did enough of it, too. After Penelope was born, Kieran had even hinted at wanting to have another child, but Jemma wouldn’t hear of it; with six children already, her childbearing days were over, much to her husband’s disappointment.
But Jemma had to admit… sometimes, she wished she’d had just one more child. Watching William with Penelope had given her that longing. After all, Kieran deserved a lass to spoil and dote on, too. What was one more spoiled half-Scottish lass to rule the roost at Questing?
Jemma grinned at the mental image, something she could only wonder about now.
But it would have been fun to see.