WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations Read online

  William just stood there and shook his head. “What satisfaction?” he said. “Killing my son? And just how do you think I will respond to that? Did you ever think about that?”

  Paris came to a halt, facing William with wide eyes. “I have every right to seek satisfaction.”

  “If you do, then I have every right to seek revenge.”

  That brought Paris great pause. He stood there, staring at the man he loved best in the world, a man who was closer to him than any brother. But at the moment, he was flabbergasted that William didn’t see his point.

  Paris, as usual, only saw what he wished to see, in this case, the man who had impregnated his fifteen-year-old daughter. It didn’t matter to him that they were in love. It didn’t matter to him that Troy wanted to marry Helene. All that mattered was that his daughter was pregnant out of wedlock.

  He simply wasn’t being rational.

  “You would do that?” Paris hissed. “You would punish me for something that is my right?”

  William was starting to harden. He was no longer the understanding friend, but the father put in a position of defending his son.

  The situation was turning dark.

  “It is not your right to kill my son,” he said, lowering his voice. “Stop being so ridiculous and understand the situation for what it is – there is no slander against your daughter. She loves Troy and he loves her. They demonstrated that love. May I remind you that you demonstrated your love to your children’s mother, many times, that resulted in your eldest child’s conception before you were married, only Caladora didn’t have an enraged father to defend her honor.”

  Cracks were appearing in Paris’ stance. “That is completely different.”

  “It is not.”

  “Caladora was not fifteen years old!”

  “Even so, you were the feral cat that you accuse my son of being, as you’ve been a feral cat your entire life,” William snapped back. “They say that it takes one to know one, and having known you since you were a child, I have seen your collection of deflowered women, so your anger against Troy is not only ridiculous, it is offensive. You were exactly what you accuse him of being, Paris.”

  Paris stiffened. “That may be,” he said. “But those days are gone. I have daughters to protect – three of them. Your son violated my trust when he bedded my daughter.”

  William could see that Paris wasn’t going to relent so easily. The man was angry, and incensed, and his argument kept moving from one reason to the next. William just looked at his friend, realizing that no matter what he said, Paris was going to find an excuse to punish Troy. He felt the de Norville family honor was at stake somehow.

  Perhaps that was really what this was all about.

  William finally looked away.

  “You want to punish my son?” he said. “Then punish him. Do what you will. But whoever draws the first blood is the winner and when you leave, in whatever condition you happen to leave in, you will never return here. Ever.”

  Paris’ brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  William looked at him, angrily. “You are forcing me to take sides,” he said. “Very well; I shall take a side. I shall take Troy’s side and anyone who tries to harm my son is my enemy. Even you, Paris. So, if this foolish surge of manly honor is worth the risk, then go ahead and fight my son. But if you do, it will be the last time I ever speak to you.”

  With that, he turned away, heading back to where Troy and Kieran were standing. But as William drew near, he saw two more heavily armed knights emerging from the keep. It took him a moment to realize he was looking at Scott and Patrick, armed to the teeth as they prepared to defend their brother.

  William was so angry at Paris that he was going to let them.

  “First blood drawn is the winner,” he told Troy and Kieran as he walked past them. “Troy, if Paris de Norville lifts his sword to you, you have my permission to defend yourself. But if he insists on fighting you, then he is dead to me. I think you should know that.”

  As William continued towards the keep, Troy and Kieran passed concerned glances. Troy looked positively shocked. Kieran finally held up a hand to Troy, silently asking him to remain where he was as he went to speak to Paris.

  Paris was in the process of picking his helm off the ground, grunting unhappily when he realized he had scratched it up by throwing it into the dirt. When the man saw Kieran coming, he looked away quickly, trying to ignore him as he put on the helm.

  “Save your breath,” he told Kieran. “I have nothing more to say.”

  Kieran came to a halt. “Maybe you do not, but I do,” he said. “I was told about the situation with Troy and Helene. I take it you have come to avenge your daughter?”

  “I would be a poor father if I did not.”

  Kieran watched Paris, his jerky movements, and knew this situation was close to exploding. But he wondered if Paris really did.

  “William says you are dead to him if you lift a sword to his son,” he said. “Knowing that Troy loves your daughter and wants to marry her, and knowing your daughter loves Troy and wants to marry him, are you still prepared to go through this ridiculous farce?”

  Paris’ head snapped up, his blue eyes narrowing. “And just what would you do if one of your daughters became pregnant without the benefit of a marriage bed?”

  Kieran shrugged. “I would not try to kill the son of my best friend,” he said. “Paris, you are angry for the wrong reasons. And given your past, I would think you would have some understanding when it comes to unrestrained young men.”

  More cracks were appearing in Paris’ determination. “I know this cannot go unanswered, Kieran,” he said. “Troy bedded my fragile flower, my Helene. What in the hell would you suggest I do about it?”

  “No daughter of Caladora Scott is a fragile flower,” Kieran said. “Did she come to you crying and carrying on that her virtue had been stolen?”

  Paris frowned. “Of course not.”

  “Did she beg you to avenge her?”

  “She begged me not to.”

  Kieran’s eyebrows lifted. “And still, you are here?” he said, incredulous. “Do you know what I think? I think you are doing what you think you should do. I think you are doing what all of those angry fathers did when you compromised their daughters. You know nothing else, so that is how you are behaving. Because it happened to you. The difference is that you ran from these fathers – do not deny it for I know it to be true. William and I helped you fight your way out of at least two instances that I can recall. And still, you want to kill Troy? Of course you don’t. I do not truly believe that. If you try, it is going to ruin your relationship with William.”

  “Then he should have raised his son better.”

  “What if the situation were reversed and it was William at Northwood, wanting to run Hector through?” Kiera fired back softly. “What would you say to William for wanting to kill your son for this same offense?”

  The cracks in Paris’ determination were starting to join up, weakening everything about him. “I would understand, of course.”

  “Would you let him kill your son?”

  Paris didn’t answer for several long moments. “I would not,” he finally said. “But I would be…”

  Kieran cut him off. “Is your pride worth the high price this is going to cost you, Paris?”

  Kieran was hammering it home as only Kieran could. Paris was starting to calm a little, realizing that he was on the precipice of something he didn’t want to topple from.

  Was his pride worth William’s friendship?

  Pride, with him, had always been his problem. But in this case, he was going to have to swallow it or risk everything.

  But he wasn’t sure he could. He’d never had to. Paris had never believed himself to be wrong, under any circumstances, but much of what Kiernan said was true. He was here to fight Troy because he believed it was expected of him. There was a sense of family honor at stake. He was mad enough to kill, but truly mad enough
to kill Troy? Nay, he wasn’t. The reality was that he wasn’t.

  Damn Kieran for forcing him to face that very truth.

  Bless Kieran for forcing him to face that very truth.

  “It is not worth losing William,” he finally said. “But Troy must be punished. Mayhap it is foolish to think that family honor is at stake here, but it is, Kieran. I cannot let this go unanswered.”

  Kieran was saying a silent prayer that the man was seeing reason. In fact, he was more relieved than he cared to admit. “I know,” he said. “And he should be punished. But this is not worth his life, Paris. He is a good man and he loves your daughter. Would you really try to kill him over this?”

  Paris sighed heavily. Kieran had a way of defusing a situation and making one see reason. “Nay,” he said reluctantly. “I… I would not kill him, in any case. But I am furious enough to beat the humors out of him and then some.”

  Kieran held up a finger as if an idea occurred to him. “He’s young and strong,” he said. “And he would fight back, so you would risk injury if you tried. Therefore, your punishment must be creative.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A glimmer of deviousness flickered in Kieran’s dark eyes. “Sometimes, humiliation is far worse than death. It is just as permanent but doesn’t leave a mark. At least, not physically.”

  Paris was listening, but he didn’t understand what Kieran was suggesting. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the Helm of Shame?”

  Paris’ eyes widened. “Of course I do.”

  “Would you say that is something a man would consider adequate punishment?”

  “God’s Bones, it is. More than adequate.”

  “Something he would be unwilling to tell his friends or brothers and suffer silently?”

  Paris nodded firmly. “Indeed,” he said. “What do you have in mind?”

  Kieran held up both hands. “Stay here,” he said. “Please… just stay here. Do not move, do not advance on Troy. I shall return.”

  Paris watched the man run off towards the keep. He wondered what Kieran, a man with a truly devious mind when it came to dirty tricks, was up to.

  He would soon find out.

  The Helm of Shame was one of those brilliant, nasty tricks used for punishment on lazy knights. They all knew of it, every last one of them, because it was legendary. It had all started a few years ago at a battle near Whiteadder Water when someone cut the garter off the mail of Kieran’s left leg during the heat of battle. The mail slid down and took his breeches with it, and suddenly, Kieran was fighting with his bare arse exposed.

  Once the fighting stopped, Kieran was so angry at the rebelling Scots that he refused to pull up his breeches. He left his backside hanging out and made it all the way back to the encampment that way. But it didn’t end there; he went to the Scots prisoners and made them all look at his bare buttocks to punish them for their insurrection.

  And so, came the Helm of Shame.

  As Kieran was walking around, holding up his breeches in the front so his manhood was covered, he came across a knight from Northwood Castle. The young knight was named Corin de Fortlage and he had pulled out of the battle early, pleading exhaustion. Kieran was so angry at Corin that he pushed the man to the ground and sat on his head with his bare buttocks. He called it the Helm of Shame and told Corin if he ever left the field of battle early again, he would punish him with the Helm of Shame. It had been particularly ghastly for Corin because of the way he’d fallen on the ground – when Kieran squatted on him, from the angle of his head, the man’s testicles were right by Corin’s nose.

  Corin was always the last man to leave the field of battle after that.

  The Helm of Shame was legendary amongst the de Wolfe armies and it was something that Kieran had done more than once. If a young knight displeased him, they were threatened with the Helm of Shame. No one else could do it better than Kieran and the older knights began using it as a threat to the younger knights or misbehaving squires. William, Paris, and Kieran had even used it on their own sons to keep them from being naughty.

  Paris didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before.

  It was the perfect way to punish Troy.

  And he was going to use it.

  Unfortunately, Kieran had a time pulling William out into the bailey again. William had remained stubbornly in his solar until Kieran managed to coax him out with the inference that Paris wanted to apologize. Still frustrated and hurt, William came back out into the bailey, walking past Troy and Scott and Patrick, who were still in full armor. Young knights, still ready to fight for their cause.

  But William didn’t look at them, nor did he acknowledge them. He was focused on Paris, still standing where he had left him. Marching up on him, he came to a halt and folded his arms across his chest expectantly.

  “Well?” he said.

  Kieran spoke before Paris could reply. Things were so fragile that he didn’t want them to get off on the wrong foot.

  “I have an idea, William,” he said. “First of all, I lied to get you out here. Paris has not offered to apologize to you, but I believe we have hit upon a compromise to satisfy everyone.”

  William scowled. “What?”

  “The Helm of Shame.”

  William had been gearing up to blast both Kieran and Paris, but when he heard Kieran’s words, he cocked his head at the man in confusion.

  “The Helm of Shame?” he repeated. “What are you talking about?”

  Kieran focused on him. “Would you be willing to admit your son should face some measure of punishment for his actions?”

  William sighed sharply. “What he did was not ideal, but…”

  “And if Hector impregnated Evelyn, would you say the man needed to be punished?”

  “I’d bloody well kill him.”

  He said it so fast that he didn’t really have time to think on what he said and, in that moment, Paris looked at him in shock. Realizing he’d been caught with the same attitude that Paris now had, William rolled his eye and looked away.

  “So now you have it,” he said. “I would kill the man, but not literally. But I’d certainly make sure he felt my rage.”

  Kieran was fighting off a grin. “Exactly,” he said. “And Paris wants Troy to feel his rage, as well. As a father, that is his right. Would you not agree?”

  William bobbed his head impatiently. “Fine, Kieran,” he said irritably. “What do you have planned? Clearly, you have something on your mind.”

  “As I said, the Helm of Shame would be ideal.”

  William couldn’t help it; he started to smile, but he bit his lip. “Troy would rather face Paris in mortal combat than assume the Helm of Shame.”

  Kieran was trying hard not to smile. “Not if he does not know it is coming.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you willing to help?”

  William eyed him dubiously. “Me? Help?”

  “He’s your son. If anyone should deal out punishment, it should be you. He damaged the de Wolfe name by impregnating a young girl.”

  “The impetuousness of youth.”

  “And if some impetuous youth did that to your daughter?”

  He was bringing that reasoning to bear again and William threw up his hands in surrender. “Very well,” he said quickly. “I get your point. But what in the hell do you want me to do?”

  “Like Paris, you are going to stand by while I deliver the punishment.”

  “You? Why you?”

  “Because I have no stake in this,” Kieran said. “I am simply the vessel by which to deliver the fair and just punishment. You and Paris are going to present a united and agreeable front to such judgment. Troy will take it like a man or risk completely shaming the de Wolfe name.”

  “And he wouldn’t dare.”

  “Nay, he would not.”

  William sighed heavily again before looking at Paris. “And you agree with this?”

  Paris nodded, once. “I do.”<
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  “And you will be satisfied?”

  “I will.”

  “And Troy will marry Helene and this will be the end of it?”

  “Indeed.”

  Because Paris agreed, William agreed. “Very well,” he said. “But how do you intend to do this? Troy will not make an easy target.”

  Kieran shrugged. “That will be up to you,” he said. “Take him to the stable and have Troy remove his armor and weapons. Paris brought several soldiers with him. I saw them outside of the gatehouse. Those soldiers will pin Troy down while I deliver the punishment.”

  William wasn’t so sure. “Someone might get hurt. Troy will fight viciously.”

  “Not if he doesn’t see them coming.”

  William still wasn’t sure about this, but it was better than Paris trying to kill his son. Maybe there was a small part of him that didn’t want to see Troy humiliated like this but, on the other hand, Troy did do wrong. He did deserve to be punished.

  Maybe this was the lesser of the evils.

  “Go on,” Kieran said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  As he turned towards the stable, William turned for the keep but Paris stopped him.

  “William,” he said quietly, firmly. “Wait a moment.”

  William stopped, turning to the man he knew best in the entire world. “What is it?”

  Paris cleared his throat softly. “I really wouldn’t have killed your son,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to get in a few good licks, something he would remember from his future wife’s angry father. I… I am sorry if I sounded unreasonable.”

  William simply shook his head. “You are unreasonable,” he said. “You’re a big, unreasonable dolt and sometimes I want to shake you until your head falls off and your bones turn to dust. But I also love you, you idiot. Just do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “If any of our children marry in the future, and my sons become too amorous, don’t do this again. We can always reason through any situation if you’d only stop being so stubborn.”

  Paris gave him a smirk, like he wasn’t entirely sure there would be a time when he wasn’t utterly stubborn, and William smirked in return.