Brides With Blades Read online

  “My thoughts exactly,” Dr. Paz said. “You’ll let me know if they find anything?”

  “Of course,” Becker said as he handed the paper back to her. “We keep this between us for now, okay? I don’t want this news getting out, at least not yet. We’re going to have a hell of a time defending this.”

  Dr. Paz agreed. “I know,” she said, her gaze moving to the tent where Becker’s students were working. “But I think I have a theory about your human remains.”

  Becker looked at her curiously. “What’s that?”

  Dr. Paz reached into her pocket and pulled out a long, slender piece of bone. Upon closer inspection, Becker could see that it was a fang or sharp tooth. Silently, Dr. Paz motioned for Becker to follow her back over to the tent where she went to one of the tables and lifted up a femur bone. She looked at Becker.

  “Do you remember telling me that it looked as if these bodies had been hacked apart or dismembered by knives or chisels because of the hack marks in the bone?” she asked.

  Becker nodded. “Yes,” he said, looking at the bones spread over the table. “All of the bones have those marks.”

  Dr. Paz shook her head. “Watch this,” she said. Then she took the long tooth and held it up to one of the hack marks in the femur bone. It fit the shape perfectly. When Becker saw that, his eyes threatened to burst from his skull.

  “No…,” he gasped.

  Dr. Paz nodded as she looked at the tooth, fitting into the hack mark like the last piece of a perfect puzzle.

  “Yes,” she whispered in return. “This is a tooth from that skeleton. These are teeth marks in the bone, not hack marks. Your bodies weren’t in a big battle, Bud. They were eaten by that beast out there.”

  Becker didn’t think he could be more astonished than he already was. He took the femur from her, and the tooth, and fitted the two together perfectly.

  “Holy crap,” he gasped in astonishment. “So there were human sacrifices to it?”

  “That’s as good an explanation as any,” Dr. Paz replied.

  As Dr. Becker’s overwhelmed mind was trying to digest the information, one of Dr. Paz’s students came rushing into the tent.

  “Dr. Paz,” the girl called breathlessly. “Dr. Becker, you both need to come.”

  Dr. Paz was already on the move with Becker right behind her. “Why?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  The student shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said. “But we were moving away some earth just like you instructed and we came across something.”

  “What?”

  The student looked between Dr. Paz and Dr. Becker, excitement in her face. “We thought it was a piece of wood or a log, but it wasn’t,” she said. “We came across a broadsword buried in the earth.”

  Dr. Becker stepped forward. “A broadsword?” he repeated. “Are you sure?”

  The girl nodded firmly. “The steel of the blade is black from the acidic soil that it’s been in, but the hilt is still there.” A grin spread across her face. “It’s gold, Dr. Becker. It’s a big, beautiful Medieval hilt and it looks like there are stones in it. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

  Becker was really curious now. “Let’s go take a look.”

  The girl nodded and rushed off with Dr. Becker and Dr. Paz hot on her heels. The mystery in the marsh was deepening.

  A knight, he traveled, lone and weary,

  Upon a road so nigh.

  Upon this road, a wraith came leery,

  And moved the knight to by.

  “Behold,” said he, “I clearly see,

  Your heart is not content.”

  “Be wise,” it replied, “and know, forsooth,

  That all is not as it seems.

  Your road is long, and your path is wrong,

  For you have entered the realm of the Serpent.”

  ~ 17th Century Welsh Chronicler

  CHAPTER ONE

  Year of Our Lord 1283 A.D., the Month of April

  Reign of Edward I

  Castle Questing, Northumberland, England

  “She did not simply disappear, but I would wager to say she is holed up somewhere in the castle. Woe betide the man who finds her for she shall not make capture easy.”

  The grim prediction came from an elderly man, big and dark and battle-scarred, and a patch over his missing left eye. He was old, that was true, but the gleam in his one good eye was as youthful and strong as it had ever been. The Wolfe of the North, Sir William de Wolfe, gazed at the men surrounding him, his expression wrought with tension. There was battle in the air.

  “We checked all of the usual places, Father,” a big, brawny man with blond hair and hazel-gold eyes informed him. “She is nowhere to be found.”

  “She is somewhere,” William repeated steadily. “I would suggest you are fully armed as you search. If I know my youngest daughter, and I believe I do, she is armed and lying in wait for one of you hapless souls to come across her. She does not wish to be captured so heed my advice; she has a tendency to go for the neck so if I were you, I would take all steps to protect myself should you happen to find her. She will fight like a caged beast.”

  The brawny blond man grunted, perhaps in disapproval, and glanced at the men around him; four of them were his brothers, including his twin, and they all had the very same thought when it came to their youngest sister, the Lady Penelope Adalira de Wolfe. Mayhap you should not have raised her as a knight, Father. She can best every one of us if she puts her mind to it. They were all thinking the same thing but no one had the courage to speak it.

  No one dared lecture The Wolfe; to do so was a sign of disrespect and all of them had the very greatest esteem for their father. But even infallible men sometimes had a weakness; in William’s case, it happened to be his youngest child. A surprise baby that was born when both of her parents were well past their prime, she had been doted on and spoiled ridiculously, and when she had shown interest in doing what her older brothers were doing, William had not the heart to tell his cherubic little Penelope that she could not do what the boys did. He let her do it. The older she grew, the more strong-willed she had become and now he was facing the results of his lack of parental control. It was about to bite him in the arse.

  “’Tis yer own fault, English,” came the softly uttered voice of their mother, her words infused with a heavy Scots accent. “Ye taught Penelope well and now ye must pay for yer sins. She has yer cunning and she willna be snared. If she truly wishes tae hide from ye, then ye’ve taught her enough that she can stay away quite adequately.”

  William glanced at his wife as she stood in the doorway of his massive solar. Illuminated by the soft light, she looked far younger than her sixty-odd years. “So you have come to scold me?” he asked, somewhat defensively.

  “I have come tae warn ye. She’ll not be taken easily.”

  William already knew that. He tried to keep his patience with his wife but he couldn’t stomach the “I told you so” attitude. “Then what do you suggest?” he nearly demanded.

  The Lady Jordan Scott de Wolfe gazed steadily at her husband of nearly forty years. She knew what he was thinking, just as he knew what she was thinking. There wasn’t much they thought differently on, although Penelope had been one of those things. William had indulged the girl’s interest in knights and weapons whereas Jordan had tried to dissuade her, knowing how difficult it would be for her once she grew older. She would be an oddity in a man’s world. It would seem that Jordan had been increasingly correct, as the current situation now exemplified. They were in for trouble.

  Stepping into the solar, Jordan glanced at the rich and comfortable surroundings. Planted in the heart of Castle Questing, a massive fortress that crouched upon the lines of the Scottish border like a lion waiting to feed upon the unwitting souls of the Scots, the solar was a room that had seen more of its share of triumph and tragedy. The cold stone walls themselves reeked of power and warfare, as the lair of The Wolfe weaved its own web of intrigue and mystery.


  “Dunna search for her,” Jordan said quietly, pulling her wrap more tightly around her slender shoulders against the chill of the room. “She is smart enough tae hide from ye. A trap is the best thing for Penelope.”

  William was intrigued. “A trap?”

  Jordan nodded her head, gazing at the knights in the room; a few were her sons, a few were sons of other elderly knights that had been with her husband since he had been a young warrior. She gazed at the handsome faces of her sons; Scott, blond and brawny, and his twin Troy, who was dark like his father. Her gaze fell upon Patrick, her third son and the biggest and most powerful of them all, and then to Edward and Thomas, strapping men who were seasoned even at their young age. Five sons of the mighty Wolfe, all of them distinguished warriors in their own right, but the sixth son was missing. James had been killed in Wales the year before and the agony was still very fresh when she gazed at her boys. She imagined the missing one who had been tall and blond with an impish grin. Struggling against the familiar grief, her gaze returned to her husband.

  “Aye,” she said finally. “Ye must lure her out if ye have any chance of capturing her.”

  “How shall we lure her?”

  Jordan shrugged, a twinkle in her soft green eyes. “’Tis ye who are the military genius, English,” she said. “I shall leave that up tae ye.”

  William twisted his lips irritably at her but the truth was that he was trying not to grin. “You are no help at all, woman,” he growled.

  “Ye didna marry me tae help ye. Ye married me tae breed a host of strong sons and tell ye when ye are wrong.”

  William’s smile broke through. “I shall beat you severely for being so insolent.”

  Jordan snorted, glancing at her boys, who were also grinning. As she turned for the door, the panel to the chamber suddenly slammed shut hard enough to rattle the expensive plate armor that was stacked up over the massive hearth. The very shelves shook. They all heard something slam up against the door, a second blow, and William, puzzled, made his way to the door and lifted the old iron latch. It was jammed. Curious, he shook the door as if attempting to open it.

  “Who shut this door?” he yelled, pounding a fist against it. “Who is there?”

  There was a brief pause. “I shall not let you out until we come to an agreement, Father!”

  It was a decidedly feminine voice and they all recognized it in an instant. Frustrated, though not surprised, William looked at his wife.

  “Penelope,” he hissed. “Did you put her up to this?”

  Jordan’s expression was innocent. “Now, why would I do that?”

  He pointed a finger at her. “Because you have been against my decision from the beginning,” he accused. “You’ve not supported me one bit!”

  Jordan was trying not to crack a smile. “Yer mad, English,” she dismissed him. “Ye know she’s a clever lass. Mayhap ye shouldna have piled most of yer knights intae one room. Now she has ye trapped, all of ye.”

  William scowled at her; he wasn’t the scowling type but his wife had pushed his hand. He snapped his big fingers at the eleven knights in the room. “Edward, Thomas,” he hissed at the younger, thinner, and more agile sons. “Climb out through the window and get around to the corridor where she is. Do not let her get away from you, do you understand?”

  The young knights were nodding even as they swiftly moved for the long lancet windows that overlooked the bailey. The other knights followed them and began helping them strip off the heavy armor so they could move more freely.

  “’Tis a two-story drop to the bailey, Father,” Scott reminded his father.

  William waived him off tersely. “Then use the tapestry near the hearth as a rope,” he said. “If the rest of you can fit through the windows, then go with them.”

  The knights were on the move as William returned his attention to the door. “Penelope?” he called sweetly, hoping she hadn’t heard the commands being issued inside the room. “Penelope, my love? Please open the door. I promise we shall speak with reason and wisdom on the matter. Penelope, do you hear me?”

  “Father!” Edward called; his body was halfway out of the window but he refused to go any further. He was pointing down into the darkened bailey. “Father, Penelope is down there with a broadsword!”

  William and Jordan rushed to the windows, as did the other knights. They could see the young woman down in the darkness of the bailey, dressed in mail and pieces of armor that had been custom-fitted to her body. In her hand was a very sharp broadsword. When she saw all of the faces looking down at her, she assumed a defensive stance.

  “Come down here, all of you,” she challenged. “You shall be very sorry.”

  William sighed heavily and looked at his wife. “Now what?” he asked. He threw a hand in the direction of the solar door. “She has us trapped in here.”

  “That is because ye made it easy for her,” Jordan scolded softly. “Did ye not think she would take advantage of it?”

  “She would with her mother advising her.”

  “Then that would make me a better military commander than ye.”

  William couldn’t decide whether to laugh or spank her. “You’re so smart,” he said sarcastically. “Now what do we do?”

  Jordan couldn’t help but grin; a small but scrappy woman had twelve very big men trapped in a little room and was holding them hostage. It was a fairly comical situation and very damaging to the male pride. Jordan was very proud of her little girl.

  “Mayhap ye should tell her that she doesna have tae marry the warlord ye’ve pledged her tae,” she said casually. “Mayhap then she shall let ye out. She doesna want tae marry the man and unless ye wish tae remain her hostage the rest of yer life, then I would suggest yet negotiate with her.”

  William’s frustration was mounting at his taunting wife. With an angry sigh, he pushed Troy out of the way so he could get closer to the lancet window.

  “Penelope?” he called down to her. “Penelope, my sweet, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Will you do this, please?”

  Penelope had not moved from her defensive stance. “I have already heard you, Father. You know my thoughts on the matter. I will not let you out of that room until you promise me I do not have to go to Wales.”

  By now, most of Castle Questing was alerted to what was going on; there was too much shouting on the east side of the keep to maintain the secrecy of the situation. The Lady Penelope had her father and most of his senior knights trapped in her father’s solar and a shouting match was going on; Penelope in the bailey and her father with his head out of the window two stories above. Men were starting to come around to see what all of the yelling was about, including William’s second in command, Sir Kieran Hage.

  Kieran, as old as he was, still drew the night watch every night. The massive knight with the piercing brown eyes still guarded the dark. He was on the wall, watching the happening and coming to see what had occurred; in fact, his own three sons were in that solar; Alec, Kevin, and Christian. He knew this was a particularly painful moment for Kevin, in fact, being in love with Penelope as he was. He knew the man was in the solar, cheering her on. Resist, Penelope! Resist with all your might!

  But that didn’t erase the fact that there was a stand-off going on. As Kieran swiftly made his way off the wall, William proceeded to reason with a very angry young lady.

  “Penelope,” he began, “you understand a knight’s heart. You understand what it is to fight and die for what you believe in. You understand what makes England what it is and how important loyalty and allegiance are to the king. You also understand that peace is made in many ways and the least violent method is through negotiations and treaties and contracts. That being said, I know you understand how much of an honor it is that King Edward has asked that you become his emissary for peace.”

  Even in the darkness, they could see Penelope’s scowl, which was an unfortunate expression on her exquisite face.

  “I am not to be an emissary for peace,” s
he countered firmly. “The king has had a time of it in Wales and he seeks to make me a sacrifice to the biggest Welsh warlord of all by marrying me to the man.”

  “He is trying to make an alliance.”

  “He is trying to make me the sacrificial lamb!”

  William was struggling to remain calm. “I know you are not that dense,” he said. “You know who Bhrodi de Shera is; the man still holds the hereditary title of King of Anglesey, for Christ’s sake. He descends from Welsh royalty on his mother’s side and on his father’s side, he holds the title of Earl of Coventry. He is both Welsh and English, my love, but Edward wishes to appeal to his English blood by marrying the daughter of a great English warlord to him. It will ally our two families, Penelope, and it will guarantee Edward control of Northern Wales. After that disastrous defeat at Llandeilo last year when we lost your brother and then the terrible defeat at Moel-y-don a few months ago, the king is tired of losing so many men. He is hoping you can save lives by marrying the man who holds most of Northern Wales in his grasp. Can you not understand this?”

  By now, Penelope had calmed somewhat but she was still clearly unhappy. “You put too much of a burden upon me, Father,” she said. “You make it seem as if I do not marry the man, then I will be responsible for all of the English deaths that will result in continued warfare. I am not to blame; it is the king. His greed kills men.”

  “Silence,” William hissed at her. “You cannot judge the fortunes of the king. It is his right to expand his holdings and you are, by law, sworn to do his bidding. What is the difference if he sends you to Wales to fight or to marry a warlord to secure peace? Either way, you are doing his bidding. If you are a knight, as you have so often sworn you are, then you have no choice. You must do as you are told.”

  Penelope was losing ground. “I would rather fight than marry a man I would be bound to for life.”

  William went for the kill. “Fine,” he said as if agreeing to her terms. “Then the next time there are battles in Wales, your brothers will go and fight. We’ve already lost James, but mayhap that will just be the beginning. It would be a true tragedy to see more of your brothers die in a battle you could have just as easily prevented. They will do their duty and fight for the king; will you do your duty and marry for peace so they will not have to die?”