Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)

She cast him a sidelong glance. “I would assume that Alary is returning to Tenebris?”

The man shook his head. “He did not say.”

Ghislaine sighed faintly, her thoughts moving from the defeated army to her brother’s departure. It was what she had feared but honestly hadn’t believed would happen, at least not until tomorrow. She had believed they had time before he left the encampment but she’d been wrong.

“Alary had many wounded,” she said, looking back over to the east, through a debris field of cold fires and the remnants of makeshift camps. “You said he took those who could move with him? What about his wounded?”

The man pointed off to the east. “He left them,” he said grimly. “They are over beyond that row of trees. Brothers from the small priory at Winchelsea have come to take them back to the priory for tending.”

So much hopelessness in the dead, the wounded, and the departed. Looking out over the makeshift encampment was like looking at a graveyard. Ghislaine couldn’t help but feel more grief. This was what was left of her people, her country. It would never be the same again. But her focus soon moved to the men who were standing around her, men that were loyal to her, men waiting for her orders. While others had fled, they had remained. She knew they were waiting for direction from her and she took a deep breath, summoning the bravery that she was known for. She couldn’t let her men down.

“Wytig, have the men pack what possessions they have,” she said. “We will go back to Tamworth Castle. Edwin will want to know what has happened and he will want to hear it from us.”

Wytig, the young man with the dirty hair, nodded. “Aye, my lady,” he said. Other men had heard the order and they were already starting to move, to collect what little they had in preparation for going home, but Wytig was looking at the prisoner beneath Ghislaine’s foot. “What of him? Do we take him?”

Ghislaine looked down at the priest. It reminded her that she needed to return to de Wolfe and tell him what had happened. Taking her foot off of the priest’s head, she yanked the man to his feet.

“Nay,” she said. “I will do what needs to be done with him. Gather the men and, once they are ready, go. I will catch up to you.”

Wytig nodded and turned to the dirty, beaten Anglo-Saxons, encouraging them to gather their possessions. As the men prepared to depart, Ghislaine put her knife in Jathan’s back and turned him back in the direction they had come.

“Go,” she barked.

Her men heard her, watching as she marched the prisoner back towards the trees in the distance. They all assumed that their lady was going to execute the prisoner but no one wanted to interfere. Ghislaine of Mercia could be rather unpredictable and deadly, especially when questioned, so they returned to their task and continued gathering their possessions for the march home. It was time to leave this place of defeat and destruction, and there wasn’t one man who wasn’t eager to do so.

But she wasn’t going to execute the prisoner. She was going to tell de Wolfe that Kristoph had already been taken away. Alary’s departure had been unexpected but he was only a few hours ahead of them, at most. Moreover, most of his men were on foot so it would be slow travel for the most part, time enough for Normans on horseback to catch him. Even if Alary had two hundred men, nine Norman knights on horseback could do a good deal of damage, especially if they first removed Alary with the same arrow de Wolfe had threatened her with should she betray them. Once Alary was dead, his men would be leaderless and it would make it very easy to take back their comrade and depart.

At least, that was her theory, one that Ghislaine wouldn’t hesitate to put to de Wolfe when she told him that her brother had left and had taken de Lohr with him. Alary of Mercia would be no match for angry Norman knights who wanted their friend back.

Would Ghislaine feel any remorse that she had instigated her brother’s demise? About as much remorse as he would feel if the situation was reversed. But one thing was certain; Alary had to die soon or the Norman knight’s life would be forfeit.

So would hers if Alary realized what she had done.





CHAPTER SEVEN




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Go Forth and Conquer


“He has taken Kristoph and headed north,” Gaetan said. “My lord, you know that I cannot let him go. I must retrieve him.”

It was nearing noon on the day after the battle north of Hastings that saw Harold Godwinson killed. Unlike the previous day, which had been wrought with inclement weather as the battle was fought, this day was clearing up and the sun was shining, warming that land. But that also meant the bodies of the dead were heating up. The stench at midday was nearly unbearable as scores of Normans hurried to clear up their dead while, to the north, Saxon dead continued to lay spread out over the ground. Rumor had it that Beddingham Priory had sent most of their priests and servants over to clear the Saxon dead, but from the Norman encampment, there seemed to be very little movement.

Yet, it was of no consequence, at least to Gaetan. He stood in the spacious tent of the Duke of Normandy, alone because he’d asked for privacy, and was even now addressing the man. After explaining what had happened to Kristoph and the subsequent attempt to rescue him, Gaetan was now further explaining to the duke that he and his men intended to follow Alary of Mercia to regain their lost man. Unfortunately for Gaetan, or the duke, or both, the duke didn’t seem to be apt to readily agree.

A potential problem was looming.

“Alary of Mercia,” William of Normandy rolled the name over his tongue thoughtfully. “I know of him. I’ve not had direct dealing with him, of course, but I know of him. His reputation is rather unsavory.”

Gaetan nodded. “According to the man’s sister, unsavory is a kind way of putting it, my lord,” he said. “Surely you can understand my need to remove Kristoph from his custody as soon as possible.”

“And this sister has been the only one to bring you news of Kristoph’s disappearance?”

“Aye, my lord.”

“Is she telling the truth?”

Gaetan sighed heavily. “I have wondered the very same thing. But in the absence of any other eyewitness to Kristoph’s disappearance, I have no choice but to trust her,” he said. “However, when Jathan accompanied her to the Saxon encampment, he heard her men speak of the Norman knight that Alary held prisoner. That seems to prove that she was telling the truth.”

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