Winter of Solace (The Executioner Knights Book 5) Read online

  “You are gracious, Lady de Wrenville,” she said. “Your kindness is appreciated.”

  Alice eyed her for a moment before turning to her servants and issuing a quiet series of orders – food, clothing, bedding, and a bath were being discussed and as the five women huddled together, hissing and whispering, Emelisse tore her gaze away from them to look at her surroundings.

  She was in a small chamber at the very top of the keep, she assumed, because the ceiling was wooden and vaulted. There were beams overhead and beyond that, the pitched roof, which was actually quite low. It gave the chamber a cramped feeling. A small but empty bed was shoved against the wall along with capcases, trunks, and a wardrobe that had seen better days.

  Clearly, it was a storage chamber or servant’s alcove considering they had passed through a larger chamber to reach it. Whatever it was, it was peaceful and chilly. And very barren. Emelisse hugged her arms against her body as she looked at the small hearth, dark and cold. As she wondered if she would be permitted to have a fire, the servants fled and Lady de Wrenville shut the door behind them, bolting it.

  Everything was suddenly still and awkward with only the two of them in the small chamber. The servants had taken one taper with them, leaving the other one for Lady de Wrenville. When her gaze locked with Emelisse’s, she smiled wanly.

  “You shall have warmth and food soon enough, my lady,” she said. “I do apologize this is the best I can do for now, but it is best this way so my husband will not find you.”

  Emelisse eyed the woman in the darkness. “But if he goes looking for me in the vault, I will not be there.”

  Lady de Wrenville snorted softly. “My dear, he would never set foot in that vault,” she said. “He only knows what he is told. Hallam knows I have you, so if my husband wishes to see you, Hallam will come for you. You needn’t worry about Covington simply showing up.”

  Emelisse could sense a hint of disapproval in Lady de Wrenville’s voice when she spoke of her husband. Or perhaps it was even loathing.

  Anything was possible when it came to Covington de Wrenville.

  Though the woman was closing in on middle age, she was still too young to have a son the age of Marius. Although Emelisse had only met Marius twice, both times when they were younger, she knew he was older than she was by a few years. Lady de Wrenville didn’t look old enough to have given birth to a man of Marius’ age.

  The situation was a little perplexing. But then she recalled that de Wrenville’s wife had died years ago. All that had happened was muddling her mind.

  “May… may I ask why you should do this, my lady?” Emelisse asked. “You are going against your husband and I should not wish to get you into trouble with him. My trouble is my own, though as I said, your kindness is appreciated.”

  Lady de Wrenville didn’t say anything right away. She walked over to one of the two windows in the chamber, both of them shuttered, and released the fasten on the shutters. She pulled them back, allowing frozen air into the chamber, but it was also fresh air, cleaning out the staleness of the room.

  “Clouds are gathering,” she said, looking up at the sky. “Mayhap it shall snow. It has been a mild winter, though not having been at Winterhold very long, I would not know if this is normal. Someone told me that it makes its own weather, which is why they call it Winterhold.”

  As Lady de Wrenville stood at the window, Emelisse studied her a little more. Her clothing was quite beautiful and quite expensive, her hair carefully arranged. Everything about her screamed of money and breeding, but in her simple statement, Emelisse gathered that the woman was new to Winterhold.

  New to the House of de Wrenville.

  A new wife?

  “It is the mountains to the east that make their own weather,” Emelisse said after a moment. “Sometimes, we have storms where there should not be one. Where did you live before?”

  Lady de Wrenville turned to her. “Dudley Castle,” she said. “It is south of here.”

  “Is that where you were born?”

  “Aye,” Lady de Wrenville said. “Where I was born and where I was certain I would remain until my recent marriage to Covington. Do I not appear old for a new bride? Surely that is what you are thinking. It is true, however. I do not fault you.”

  Emelisse shook her head. “You do not look old for a new bride,” she said, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I saw a bride once who had grandchildren. It was her second marriage.”

  “This is my first,” Lady de Wrenville said. When Emelisse didn’t have anything to say to that, she smiled faintly. “My first and, God willing, my one and only. If this is what marriage is like, then I could not endure it again. But forgive me; I should not be speaking so. I suppose… I suppose I brought you here because I feel pity for you, my dear. I married Covington de Wrenville two months ago and in that time, all I have heard about is Hawkstone Castle and the cursed de Thoringtons. I have come to live in a warring household, which is unpleasant at best. I heard rumor today that your father was captured, but I did not know you were captured until Hallam told me.”

  More and more, Emelisse didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure if she should defend herself, her family. Surely she had no intention of speaking out against de Wrenville, not to the man’s wife. It might change her situation drastically and she very much wanted to stay in the small chamber under Lady de Wrenville’s watchful eye.

  “Given the circumstances, you are showing great compassion to an enemy,” she said.

  Lady de Wrenville cocked a heavy eyebrow. “Enemy?” she said. Then, she shook her head. “It is not true, is it?”

  “Is what true?”

  “That you are loyal to the French king?”

  Emelisse blinked, shocked. “God’s Bones,” she muttered. “Who told you that?”

  “I have heard it from my husband. He says that is why he is sending his army after you.”

  Confusion swamped Emelisse. “Because we are loyal to Philip?” she said in surprise. That was something she’d not heard. “My lady, I assure you, that is not true. My mother is long dead, God rest her soul, and I swear upon her grave that it is not true in any fashion. Earlier, when I saw your husband in his hall, he told me that my father should have accepted his marital offer between his son, Marius, and me. It seemed as if that was the reason for his attacks against Hawkstone because, up until now, we have had no idea why he should be so aggressive against us. He never gave us the courtesy of a reason.”

  Lady de Wrenville stared at her before shaking her head sadly. “He told me it was because of your loyalty to Philip,” she said. “Are you saying he has lied to me?”

  Emelisse nodded firmly. “My lady, he has lied. I swear to you upon my own soul that he has lied. We are not loyal to Philip. My father has never even been to France. We hold no loyalty to that country at all.”

  Lady de Wrenville began to chuckle, but it wasn’t a humorous sound. It was a bitter, hard sound.

  “I did not think so,” she murmured. “He has lied about nearly everything else. This is nothing different.”

  Emelisse was coming to think that she had Lady de Wrenville’s sympathy, if not her loyalty. Loyalty in the sense that even she knew what her husband was doing was wrong. Emelisse thought that if she could somehow endear the woman to her, it might go even better in her favor. Perhaps Lady de Wrenville, unlike her husband, had a heart and soul.

  Emelisse was willing to take the chance.

  “Have you never heard of Hawk Mountain, my lady?” she asked.

  Lady de Wrenville shook her head. “I have not,” she said. “What is it?”

  Emelisse smiled, a gesture that was known to soften even the hardest of hearts. “Hawk Mountain is named by the Welsh because of the birds that live there,” she said. “On my father’s property rises a mountain, and on that mountain are many things – the birds, as I mentioned, but there are also caves and ponds and waterfalls. It is a magical place where I spent many happy years. Hawkstone Castle is my home and
until this madness with de Wrenville, it was a wonderful and peaceful place. There are many rocks on the mountain and pathways between these great, gray rocks. As children, my brother and I used to pretend that Hawk Mountain was our castle to defend from wicked pirates or evil Welsh armies.”

  Lady de Wrenville listened with a smile on her lips. “It sounds like a castle of dreams.”

  “It is, my lady,” Emelisse said fervently. “There is a pond at the base of the mountain that is a color of blue you have never seen before. If you look above it, there are rocks with streaks through them of the same blue color. The pond is so blue that it nearly glows. My father says it is a magical pond, but when we grew older, we realized it was simply the rain and water washing the blue ore off the rocks and down into the pond. But Papa had us fooled for a while.”

  Unexpectedly, she teared up at the thought of her father, lying dead in the great hall. She blinked quickly, trying to chase away the tears, but she wasn’t fast enough. Tears escaped and she turned quickly to flick them away. It was a gesture not missed by Lady de Wrenville.

  “I realize the situation seems dire,” she said quietly. “I wish I could offer you words of comfort. I will speak to my husband about sending you home.”

  But Emelisse shook her head firmly, wiping away the tears that had escaped. “Nay,” she said. “As I said, I do not wish for you to assume my troubles. The situation between Winterhold and Hawkstone has been going on well before you came here, though I will confess we did not know de Wrenville had married again. I remember when his first wife died. My father even attended her mass at St. Nicholas’ in the village of Chetfell. Our relationship with Winterhold has not always been as you see it, my lady. Once, we were neighborly.”

  As Emelisse said it, she trailed off, thinking of those days. It seemed like another lifetime ago. Lady de Wrenville stood by the door to the chamber, watching her, feeling a good deal of sorrow for the young woman simply by her expression. War was a terrible thing at any time, but this… it just seemed so terribly excessive and unnecessary. She was about to say so when there was a knock on the chamber door.

  Emelisse instinctively gasped, whirling in the direction of the door even as she backed away from it. Lady de Wrenville rushed to the door, listening for sounds on the other side.

  “Who comes?” she demanded.

  “Matilde, my lady.”

  Lady de Wrenville yanked the door open, admitting one of her well-dressed maids, who had laundry stacked in her arms. Behind her came food, drink, a copper tub, and buckets of hot water. Lady de Wrenville organized them like a master sergeant, directing the servants to set down the food and drink, to fill the tub, and sent others off for still more items.

  It was an efficient army.

  Emelisse watched from her position back by one of the windows in the chamber. It was the one that Lady de Wrenville had opened and, having enough of the chill wind, she shut the shutters as a servant started a fire in the hearth. Wood was laid down first but it was followed by big chunks of black coal, so prevalent to the area. Once the wood started burning, it ignited the coal, and the servant piled more on. Soon, Emelisse could feel the first strains of heat wafting into the chamber. Just as she headed for the hearth, holding out her hands to warm them against the glow, Lady de Wrenville caught her attention.

  “Now, my lady,” she said briskly. “We shall bathe you and feed you. It is the least we can do after your harrowing day.”

  Emelisse had to admit that it sounded good. Certainly, she was in the bosom of the enemy, but she was cold and hungry, and filthy from having rolled around on the floor of the great hall. There was some trust established with Lady de Wrenville, so she would permit the woman to tend to her needs.

  But there was something else she wanted from her, something she couldn’t shake from her mind. She was safe for the moment, on her way to being warm and fed, but her father…

  She simply couldn’t pretend that her heart wasn’t broken.

  “Before you do, may… may I ask a favor, my lady?” she asked.

  Lady de Wrenville nodded. “If I can.”

  Emelisse took a deep breath, trying to stave off the tears that were close to the surface. “I was brought here with my father,” she said. “The last I saw of him, he was in the hall. They told me that he was dead. If it is not too much trouble and would not put you in danger, would it be possible to discover what has become of him? My fear is that he may not be dead at all and they simply said that to upset me. Your husband was trying to force me into telling my brother to surrender the keep, so it is possible… mayhap my father is not dead at all.”

  She made it through her request without weeping, but as she came to the end, the tears started again. As she wiped at them quickly, Lady de Wrenville put a hand on her arm.

  “I did not know your father was here,” she said quietly. “Of course I shall discover what has become of him.”

  Emelisse forced a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “If he is not dead, he was badly injured and needed tending. They would not let me do it. But if he is dead…”

  “I will discover where they have taken him.”

  Emelisse blinked and tears spattered on her cheek. “If they have thrown him in that terrible moat, do not tell me. I do not want to know.”

  Lady de Wrenville simply nodded. She turned to one of her servants, the one named Matilde, and whispered something in the woman’s ear. As the woman slipped from the chamber, Emelisse permitted Lady de Wrenville and her army of well-meaning maids to strip her down, clean her up, feed her, and put her to bed.

  Try as she might not to fall asleep awaiting word about her father, her exhaustion claimed her nonetheless.

  Her dreams were filled with her father’s smashed face and his teeth on the ground.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The snows of winter had finally come.

  After unseasonably good traveling weather all the way from London, the weather finally turned as the turrets of Winterhold Castle came into view.

  It was just a light dusting of snow, but it was sticking on the ground, indicative of the dropping temperatures. Under pewter-colored skies, the army from Warstone Castle closed the distance to Winterhold’s gatehouse very quickly. Night was approaching and no one wanted to be caught out in the snow. In fact, they wanted to get their encampment set up as quickly as possible.

  Given the fact that Winterhold wasn’t expecting them, there was a good deal of activity on the battlements as they traveled the last quarter of a mile. Edward was flying the de Wolfe and Pembroke standards so there was no mistaking who was approaching, but Winterhold still dropped the portcullis as the army came within range in a decidedly unfriendly move.

  The army approached from the south, up and over a strategically built rampart, and the road led right to the first gatehouse built within the outer wall. The castle itself was built out of gray granite, the pale stone that often turned dark with age. Surrounding the outer wall was a massive moat that reeked of rot and sewage and filth. There were dead animals in it, and certainly nothing living, and it completely encircled the outer wall.

  Edward, displeased that the portcullis was in place as they approached, turned to Morgan and Kevin, ordering them to find suitable ground for the army to begin pitching their tents before the snow grew too heavy. The knights took off with young William following his cousin, heading straight for a cleared field to the west. Peter and Gareth soon followed, moving the army off the road, leaving Caius, Edward, Maxton, and about ten of Edward’s private guard to face de Wrenville.

  The massive gatehouse loomed before them as they continued onward, but Caius could see the bulk of the castle within the outer walls. It was set upon a raised position and he could see the tall, pale walls of the inner bailey encompassing quite a few buildings. He could see multiple roofs. As the snow began to come down a little heavier, Edward rode up to the portcullis and addressed the men gathered behind it.

  “I am Edward de Wolfe, Earl of Wolverhampton,�
�� he said, sounding angry. “Open this portcullis at once. Surely you could see my standards as we rode in. How dare you insult me by raising your defenses.”

  Realizing they’d made a very bad move, the men at the gate began to scramble and the chains on the portcullis went taut.

  “Forgive me, m’lord,” a grizzled, old sergeant said. “We’re at a state of war. We couldn’t be sure you weren’t here to attack us.”

  Edward’s eyebrows few up. “Attack you?” he repeated, outraged. “Why would Wolverhampton attack you? And who on earth are you at war with?”

  “Hawkstone, m’lord.”

  That gave Edward pause. “You are at war with Hawkstone Castle?” he said. “I am aware there have been hostilities for the past few years, but do you mean to tell me that you are actually at war with them?”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  “As in waging a war?”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  Edward’s jaw began to tick. “How long has this been going on?”

  Because Edward was becoming angry, the sergeant was becoming nervous. “Weeks, m’lord,” he said. “We breached the gatehouse of Hawkstone today and captured de Thorington himself and his daughter.”

  By now, the portcullis was nearly up and Edward charged underneath it, followed by Caius and Maxton and his mounted guard. As soon as Edward came underneath, he leaned over and grabbed the sergeant by the front of his tunic.

  “Where is your liege?” he demanded.

  The sergeant’s eyes widened at the sight of an angry earl with a big army. He pointed towards the inner bailey.

  “Inside the hall the last I saw, m’lord,” he said. “I will escort you.”

  Edward let go of the man, eyeing Caius and Maxton as they began to follow the sergeant through the gatehouse and into the outer ward, which contained troop houses and trades and the stables. It was large area surrounded by walls and moats on all sides. They proceeded across a massive bridge that spanned an inner moat, which was nearly as large as the outer moat, and smelled just as awful. Caius found himself looking down into it, seeing all manner of rotting carcasses floating in it, including what looked to be a fresh human body. As Edward stayed close to the sergeant, who was running at this point, Caius reined his steed back by Maxton.