William nodded, seeing the gleam of satisfaction in Gaetan’s eye. “Agreed,” he said. “Call it Wolfeshamtun or Wolverhamtun, or whatever you wish. It shall be your domain, Warwolfe. Go north and conquer.”
Gaetan was feeling increasingly eager to get on with what needed to be done, now fueled by a substantial reward from the man who would be king. Sensing that their conversation was coming to a close or, at the very least, wanting it to come to a close, he bowed his head respectfully to William before turning for the tent opening.
“I will need to depart today, as quickly as possible, my lord,” he said. “If you are agreeable, I will have du Reims and de Reyne select men from the army to accompany us. I have been so involved in Kristoph’s disappearance that I am ashamed to say that I do not even know the strength of our remaining army other than my own men.”
William watched him as he walked away, a very busy man, indeed. “And how many of your men survived?”
Gaetan paused by the tent opening. “I brought two thousand men with me,” he said. “I have lost nearly two hundred with nearly the same number wounded.”
William nodded as he absorbed those statistics. “You fared better than some,” he said. “Select no more than one thousand men to fill in your ranks. That will give you a sizable army with which to infiltrate the heart of England.”
“I am taking archers.”
“You already have a goodly amount of archers, Gate.”
“I need more.”
William sighed at his stubborn commander. “Then, God’s Blood, take them,” he said, annoyed. But the annoyance quickly cleared away. “And this sister of Mercia – where is she?”
“In my tent, my lord. She is awaiting my return.”
“As your captive?”
Gaetan wriggled his dark eyebrows, a somewhat ironic gesture. “As my guide,” he said. “She does not know it yet, but it is she who will take me to Alary. If she thinks to lead me into a trap, then she will be the first one to step into it. Every step we take northward, she will be in the lead.”
William simply nodded. “Send me a message to keep me abreast of your progress,” he said. “I have a suspicion this will be a long and perilous journey.”
“So do I,” Gaetan admitted.
“Gate?”
“Aye, my lord?”
“Et pro Gloria dei.”
The words that the Anges de Guerre used to send each other into battle were now murmured from the duke’s lips. There wasn’t much more to stay at that point because he knew that his Warwolfe would take all precautions necessary to ensure a successful mission which, in William’s estimation, was turning out to be a blessing in disguise. Now, de Wolfe had a reason to head into the heart of England and it had nothing to do with the lands and title he was promised, but everything to do with a missing comrade… and that was most powerful motivator of all.
Nay, William wasn’t genuinely upset about de Wolfe’s intention to head after Alary of Mercia but he wanted the man to be cautious and thoughtful. The last thing he wanted to do was lose one or more of Gaetan’s men but, ultimately, this undertaking would work to everyone’s advantage.
At least, that was the hope. But God help the lords of Mercia if something happened to Kristoph de Lohr. William knew, as he lived and breathed, that the beast would be unleashed if that happened, and that beast would tear apart Mercia and the Midlands like nothing anyone had ever seen before.
God help them all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
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Unlikely Allies
Ghislaine was sitting in de Wolfe’s tent because that was where he put her and told her to stay. He needed to speak with the Duke of Normandy, he said, and his other men had disappeared, including the priest. The squires, however, were crouched outside of the tent like watch dogs, cleaning mail and waiting for their master to return.
Making sure the Saxon woman didn’t escape.
As if they could stop her but, frankly, Ghislaine was too tired to run at the moment. After she had delivered the news that Alary had left the encampment and taken Kristoph with him, Gaetan had gone to seek permission to pursue Alary northward and Ghislaine was left wondering what de Wolfe intended to do once he received that permission. Would he try to follow with only his few men or would he bring an army with him?
At this point, Ghislaine wasn’t entirely sure what her role was in all of this. She’d told de Wolfe about his abducted knight. One of his other knights, a Welshman, knew the area and knew where Alary’s lair of Tenebris was, or at least the proximity thereof.
Now, de Wolfe had a mission to attend to in order to rescue his man but Ghislaine wasn’t part of that mission, or so she thought. There wasn’t any reason for her to go with the Normans as they headed into enemy territory. Perhaps the best thing for her to do would be to catch up with her men and return to Tamworth to tell her brother, Edwin, what had transpired near Hastings. It was time for her to return to her family and pray that de Wolfe and his men killed Alary in their quest to regain their man.
So she waited, impatiently, for de Wolfe to return. Seated on her bum in the middle of the tent with her legs hugged up to her chest, she lay her cheek on her up-bent knees, hearing the sounds outside of the tent, the unfamiliar conversation of Norman warriors. She was cold, and hungry, and wondering where her next meal would come from. Surely the Normans would not feed her, although she had hoped for something. He stomach was growling painfully.
More waiting and wondering as the minutes dragged on. At some point, she must have dozed off because when next she opened her eyes, it was because someone was sniffing around her. Or, more accurately, something was sniffing around her. When her sleepy eyes came into focus, it took her a moment to realize she was looking at a very big dog.
Brown doggy eyes stared aback at her. Startled, Ghislaine refrained from making any sudden movements, afraid the dog might attack her. He was absolutely enormous, with shaggy gray hair and a long snout. And big teeth; definitely big teeth.
As she stared at him, unmoving, he licked his chops and lay down beside her, all the while looking up at her rather expectantly. But Ghislaine had no idea what to do with the monstrous dog looking at her. Perhaps, it was a death watch and he was waiting for her to die first so he could eat her. What else did Norman dogs eat but prisoners? When her stomach growled, loudly, the dog lifted his head and licked his chops again. Ghislaine resisted the urge to scream for help.
It seemed like she spent an eternity watching the dog as it stared at her. It was an odd standoff. Her limbs were becoming cramped from being folded up like they were but she didn’t dare move. Just when she thought she could take no more, she heard the tent flap slap back.