EPILOGUE
September 1467 A.D.
Wolfe’s Lair (Rule Water Castle)
The children had been rolling around in the dust of the construction of a new wing of Wolfe’s Lair and there was nothing Isobeau could do to stop them. Caius de Wolfe, at five years of age, thought it was an extremely good idea to cover himself in white stone-dust while his younger brother by a year, Leonidus, simply followed what his brother directed. The blond-haired children became white-haired children as their grandfather, Solomon, watched the whole thing and giggled like a fool.
“Solomon?” Isobeau was in the bailey, a very pregnant woman leading a two-year-old girl by the hand. “Where are the boys?”
Solomon was seated on a stack of gray stones that were prepped and waiting to be used to create the inner wall of the addition. He pointed to an area where the masons from Edinburgh were working, men who were spraying white stone dust onto the ground. Isobeau saw the stones, the dust, and then saw her two boys smearing the dust all over themselves. She growled.
“Caius!” she snapped. “Leo! Come to me, now!”
Mother’s orders weren’t meant to be disobeyed and the sons of Atticus de Wolfe were well aware of that. Promptly, the boys stopped rubbing white dust all over each other and skipped over to their mother, who didn’t seem particularly happy that they were covered in stone dust.
“Mama, look,” Leonidus said, grinning in a manner that was very much reminiscent of his father. “We are clouds!”
It was difficult to become angry at the child when he seemed so happy. Isobeau sighed. “But why are you clouds?” she said. “You know that your father’s army has been sighted. He should be back any moment. And see how dirty you are.”
Solomon put a hand on Leonidus’ head, watching a great cloud of dust puff up. He coughed, waving the cloud away. “They are becoming clouds to fly in the sky,” he said, smiling proudly at the boys. “You know how they are fascinated with birds. They know they cannot be birds, so they will be clouds.”
Isobeau shook her head reproachfully, looking pointedly at Caius, the eldest. He was extremely bright and extremely curious and she was positive it was his idea to become a cloud so that he could float in the sky.
“Cai,” she admonished softly; she didn’t want to be too hard on him. “You know you cannot fly like a bird and know you cannot float like a cloud. It frightens me to death to remember the time I found you and Leo standing on the top of the stairs outside of your chamber, preparing to fly off like a bird. You must promise me that you will not do anything so foolish again. You will kill yourself if you do and I could not stand it. Please promise me.”
Caius nodded solemnly, although they both knew he didn’t mean a word of it. He simply did it to placate his mother. “I promise,” he said. “Mama, will Papa be here very soon?”
Isobeau nodded, turning to look at the gatehouse, shielding her eyes from the sun. “He should be here very soon,” she said. “I would like for you to greet your father when he arrives but not covered from head to toe in white powder.”
Solomon stood up, stiffly. He wasn’t moving particularly well these days but he could still handle two small boys. At least, most of the time. His entire life revolved around his grandchildren – Caius, Leonidus, and little Morgana. He loved the children dearly. But Caius and Leonidus reminded him very much of Titus and Atticus, from long ago, so he spent nearly every waking minute with those two, watching them explore and learn and cover themselves in white dust so they could be clouds. So late in his life, he never imagined he would know such joy. Five years ago, he believed his life was over. He could have never guessed that it had only just begun.
“I will clean them off,” Solomon said.
Grasping each boy by the shoulder, he pulled them over to a very large barrel that was used to catch rainwater. The stone masons had been using it to cool off the stone when they worked on it. Picking up Caius, he promptly dunked the lad into the cold water, pushing his head under briefly, and when Caius came up howling, Solomon lifted him out of the water and set him to his feet. He pointed to the drenched, but now clean, child.
“See?” he said. “He is clean now.”
Leonidus, seeing what was coming, tried to run but his grandfather dunked him, too. Soon, Isobeau had two weeping boys on her hands. They were clean but crying because they were now cold and wet. She sighed heavily when what she really wanted to do was laugh. It was unbelievably comical; the children crying while Solomon stood there proudly.
“Do you see now why you should not cover yourself in dust or mud or anything else?” she said to Caius, who was unhappily wiping the tears from his eyes. “Your grandfather will try to drown you.”
Caius frowned at his grandfather and moved closer to his mother because he knew she wouldn’t try to throw him in cold water. “We will go wait for Papa by the gatehouse,” he said, motioning to the still-wailing Leonidus. “Leo, come!”
Little Leonidus followed his older brother, still crying. Isobeau and Solomon watched the boys trot off and Solomon reached down to pick up little Morgana, still standing next to her mother. He cuddled the little girl, who rubbed her hands gleefully all over his bushy beard.
“Ah, my little sweetling,” Solomon said, gazing at the dark-haired, blue-eyed girl. “Have I told you lately how much she looks like Rosalie?”
Isobeau grinned, rubbing at her swollen belly. The next child was due next month but she was ready to be done with it. Her back hurt, she had burning in her belly after she ate, and she was at the stage where she was generally uncomfortable.
“She looks just like Atticus,” she said as they followed the boys and began their walk to the gatehouse. Her thoughts turned to her husband, gone the past seven weeks. Two of his envoys had arrived early this morning, announcing his arrival that day, and she was understandably anxious. “We’ve not had any news of what is happening with Edward and Henry as of late, Solomon. Do you think Atticus returning today will be for good? Do you believe he will be home to stay?”
Solomon, the old and wizened soldier, shook his head. “I do not believe so, lass,” he said as Morgana continued to run her hands over his beard because it tickled. “These wars have been going on since I was a young man and longer even than that. I am not entirely sure they will ever be finished.”
Isobeau didn’t like the sound of that. She continued to rub at her belly, frowning, as they made their way towards the gatehouse. They were in close proximity when the call went up from the sentries on the wall, announcing the imminent arrival of Atticus de Wolfe and his army. Solomon shooed Isobeau and Morgana up onto a flight of stairs so they could watch the arrival but not be trampled by the herd of horses that would soon be filling the inner ward.
True enough, a herd of horses and armed men arrived shortly thereafter, bringing clouds of dust and the smell of battle with them. Isobeau kept an eye out for her husband but she also kept an eye on her boys, who were standing on the steps above her, yelling and cheering the sight of the soldiers. They were so excited that she didn’t want one of them to fall off in their glee, so she admonished them firmly to stop jumping around, which they mostly did. Caius was always the one to push the limits with his mother and he stopped jumping up and down for a few seconds before resuming. Isobeau frowned and he caught her glare and stopped again. But all of that discipline evaporated when they spied Atticus enter.
Riding a new bright red Belgian charger he had purchased the year before, Atticus thundered into the inner ward wearing full armor, which was unusual for him considering he hated armor. Still, he wore it to please his wife who insisted upon the protection, and he didn’t want her to see he’d been riding most of the time without it. Therefore, he pretended to like it, and wore it, as he drew his charger to a halt. Once he did that, the boys flew off the steps and rushed their father.
Atticus was barely off the horse when two wet children came crashing into him. Thrilled to see his boys again, he bent over and picked them up, accepting enthusiastic hugs from them.
“Cai!” he said happily. “Leo! Great Bleeding Jesus, you have both grown a foot since I last saw you. What on earth is your mother feeding you?”
“Anything they will eat,” Isobeau said as she walked up on her husband and her sons. She smiled broadly at the man when their eyes met; instantly, love and comfort and joy filled the air between them. “Your sons eat as much as you do.”
Atticus laughed softly as he set the boys to their feet. “That is good to know,” he said, peering at them strangely. “Why are they all wet?”
“Because they were filthy and your father doused them in the rain barrel,” Isobeau chuckled. Atticus came to her and gently took her in his arms. She gazed up into the face she loved so well. “Welcome home, my love. We are glad to have you back.”
Atticus studied her beautiful face, the emotion of the moment bringing a lump to his throat. “I have missed you every second of every day,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her sweetly. “It was torture without you. How are you feeling? Are you well?”
Isobeau nodded, rubbing at her big belly. “We are both quite well,” she said. “The physic says we will have to wait only another week or two to meet our new son, so you have arrived home just in time. I did not want to have this baby without you.”
He smiled, putting his big gloved hand on her protruding belly. “I am glad you did not,” he said. “What have we decided to name this one?”
“Ares,” Solomon said. “You promised I could name this child, Atticus. His name will be Ares.”
Atticus grinned at his father, reaching out to touch the man on his hairy face. “So I did,” he said. He let go of his wife and reached for his daughter, still in Solomon’s arms. “Give me my baby, Papa. I’ve not seen her in weeks.”
Solomon handed over his granddaughter, who was more than happy to go to her father. Atticus kissed the child on the cheek. “I have missed all of you so much,” he said, patting Leonidus on the head because the child was demanding his attention. “Shall you take me inside the hall now? I am famished. You must feed your father.”
The boys began tugging on him, pulling him towards the great hall. Isobeau and Solomon followed.
“What is the world like these days, Atticus?” Solomon asked. “Where have you been?”
Atticus glanced over his should to make sure his army was being disbanded by Maxim de Russe, who was now his second in command. Much had happened over the past few years; Tertius had returned to Isenhall to serve with his aging father while Kenton had gone to serve with Warwick. Adam Wellesbourne had returned to Wellesbourne Castle, leaving Alec le Bec in charge of defenses for the Earl of Northumberland. The knights of Northumberland were scattered but they were still close, still brothers in bond. Atticus sighed heavily, not knowing where to begin.
“Things are in turmoil,” he said. “Warwick has distanced himself from Edward and is now siding with Henry once more. He is at his estates in Yorkshire and Kenton is with him as one of his knights in command. It would seem that Henry may be back upon the throne once again, hopefully for good.”
Isobeau slipped her hand into his, listening seriously to the latest news. “And you?” she asked. “How do you fit into this new world?”
Atticus thought on that question for a moment. “I hold the borders,” he said quietly. “We saw a few skirmishes over the past few weeks, but Warwick has sent me home to stay for a while. With the Scots siding with Henry, and a good deal of unrest going on in Yorkshire, I have been returned home to hold the borders and support the Scots, and Henry, if needed. Once again, there is a Wolfe of the Border.”
Solomon grinned. “You are The Lion, Atticus,” he said. “There was only one Wolfe of the Border just as there is only one Lion of the North. Both men are strong and legendary. In any case, we are glad to have you home.”
They reached the great hall and Caius and Leonidus charged in, followed by Solomon. Only Atticus and Isobeau hung back, lingering by the open door. Atticus, with his baby daughter still in his arms, turned to his wife.
“I do not know how long I will be able to stay with you, but I hope it will be for a good, long time,” he told her quietly. “There is much unrest, sweetling. There is talk of unrest in France and Wales even. I do not know where my new alliance with Warwick will take me, but for now, it has brought me home to my family. There is no place I would rather be.”
Isobeau smiled up at him, her hand on his cheek, her fingers in his hair. “You know that wherever you go, your heart is here,” she murmured. “I am here. I will always be here, waiting for you, no matter where your duties take you.”
He smiled faintly, drinking in the sight of the face he loved so well. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Not lately.”
He sobered. “Then hear me now,” he whispered. “I cannot remember when I have not loved you. You belong to me and I will love you, and only you, until I die.”
Isobeau smiled sweetly, accepting his kiss as he rubbed her belly, feeling the life that they had created together. “As I love you,” she murmured. “You are my heart and soul. Without you, I would be lost.”
He kissed her again and then was distracted when Morgana wanted to be put down. He put the baby on her feet, watching her toddle over to her brothers and grandfather, over near the feasting table as the three men demanded food and drink. Solomon was encouraging his grandsons to yell quite loudly, praising them when they would bellow. Atticus had to chuckle at his father.
“I have never seen my father so happy,” he said, taking his wife’s hand and leading her over towards the rest of the family. “I remember when I was young and my mother was alive, how much happiness there was in this house. I never thought I would see such times again. I wish….”
He trailed off and Isobeau looked up at him, seeing his wistful expression as he gazed at his father and children. “What do you wish, my love?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I wish that Titus could have been here to see this,” he said. “The joy returned to Wolfe’s Lair, and father’s happiness. I think it’s in moments like this that I miss him most.”
Isobeau squeezed his gloved hand. “If he was still here, there would be no children, at least our children,” she reminded him softly. “Nay, Atticus; I am under the belief that everything happens for a reason and everything happens as it should. Titus’ passing is still a sorrowful thing, and I am still saddened when I think of it, but mayhap he is gone so that our children could be born. Mayhap Cai or Leo or even the child I carry is meant for greatness, mayhap to change the course of history. That is the way I think about it and wherever Titus is, I know he understands that. I like to think that he can see your father now and see how he dunks our boys in the rain barrel or plays tricks on them or makes them yell like knights for food and drink. I also like to think that he can see how happy you and I are and knows that he made the right decision by asking you to marry me those years ago. For certain, it is something we can both thank him for.”
Atticus smiled at her, warmed by her words, thinking that she made a good deal of sense, as always. He kissed the tip of her nose.
“That is all true,” he said. “But I still wish he was here.”
“He is. In everything around you.”
Atticus liked that thought. “Your wisdom is something I have come to depend upon,” he said, wincing when Caius yelled so loud for food that his voice cracked. He grinned when Isobeau laughed. “As much as my father wants to name this child Ares, I have been thinking on naming him something else.”
“What would you prefer?”
“Something that means a great deal to us both.”
Two weeks later, after four hours of a very fast and somewhat easy labor, a big, healthy boy was born much to the delight of his parents and grandfather. When his grandfather demanded to name the child Ares, Atticus and Isobeau put up a united front to deny the old man.
Initially upset that his wishes had been denied, that irritation had vanished when he was presented with the new child and the name his parents had chosen to give him.
Solomon wept as he held Titus Warenne de Wolfe, who would go on to do great and noble things.
* THE END *