Page 217

It was a question from the soul. William felt a surge of flaming anger at Alexander, hoping he was burning in hell at that very moment. He sighed heavily.

“The Scots cut us off,” he explained lamely, knowing it was no excuse at all. “We underestimated their strength. By the time we broke through the lines, the damage had been done.”

Thomas stared back at him, the blatant pain touching William. This was Jordan’s father, his father-in-law, the grandfather of his sons. He felt completely helpless and entirely to blame.

“I know,” Thomas said, much to William’s surprise. He had expected ranting and cursing at the very least, calling him a liar. “Our spies told us the clans formed a line between Langton and England. To divide and conquer is what they intended to do. They conquered us. How did ye fare?”

“We fought them off,” William replied. “Northwood stands.”

Thomas nodded once, faintly. “And my daughter. How is she?”

William could not help himself, he smiled faintly. He suddenly remembered Jordan’s plea to go easy on her father when he informed him of who she had actually married.

“She is well,” he replied noncommittally. Honestly, he didn’t think the man was strong enough to hear any more at the moment.

Thomas nodded again, not noticing the smile on the baron’s face. In faith, he was so damn tired he could have cared less about anything. He simply wanted to die and be free of his misery.

“Then I am glad. But, as ye can see, there is no longer need for the contract. We canna offer ye anymore support, military or otherwise. Langton doesna exist anymore.” His dim eyes filled with weary, pained tears, seeking out William’s gaze in the darkness. “Pray be good to Jordan, man. She is worth nothing but the clothes on her back now, but she is more precious than gold. Dunna allow the situation to reflect unkindly on her.”

William’s chest constricted tightly at the man’s anguish for his daughter. Of course he believed that with Langton gone and the treaty voided for all intents and purposes; Jordan was now at the mercy of the English earl to do with as he pleased. She was his chattel. God, he was going to enjoy relieving the old man’s mind. Jordan was safer than he could possibly know.

“When did you eat last?” William asked quietly.

Thomas sniffed loudly, angrily dashing away an errant tear. “I…I dunna know. Mayhap yesterday or the day before.”

William rose, extending a helping hand. “Come, my lord. We have much to discuss.”

Thomas eyed the outstretched hand distrustfully, glancing for the first time at the knights behind The Wolf. It was as if one could read the emotions rippling across his face as he regained his composure.

“What do ye want of me?” he asked warily.

William silently reached down and pulled him up by the arm. Thomas pulled away from him, although the assistance had not been unkind.

“Is there some place we can go and sit?” William asked, turning to his men. “Bring the provisions.”

Thomas was wise, and even in his disoriented state he knew that if these men had come to kill him, they would have done so by now. More than that, there was something in The Wolf’s voice, something almost gentle that disarmed him. He didn’t know what to think. In his fatigue and desolation he was indecisive. But, as asked of him, he wearily led them down a burnt-out corridor into a small room completely void of any furniture. There was, however, a narrow alcove with a window seat.

“ ’Tis the only place left to sit,” he indicated the stone bench.

William nodded, stepping back as Corin and Deinwald set down the saddlebags bearing food. William dug through one, bringing forth a bladder of wine and offered it to Thomas, who drank nearly the whole thing in three swallows.

Good, William thought to himself. This should fortify him for the news to come.

The wine tasted wonderful and soothed Thomas’ parched throat. Feeling a bit braver, he sat on the bench and dug into the other saddle bag, helping himself to a chunk of black bread. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite.

William motioned to the other knights until they were all eating or drinking something, the past few days had been especially long and there had been little, if any, time to rest. After several minutes of partaking in the dried goods, William continued their conversation.

“Where are all of your men, my lord?” he asked as he bit into a small green apple.

“Dead, or run off,” Thomas swallowed a mouthful. “I carried near six hundred. The allied armies must have numbered over a thousand. We coulda held them off for a long while had we not had a traitor in our midst. As the armies snuck up under the cloak of night, someone opened our gate. After that, it was chaos.”

William nodded. “And they destroyed everything and everyone in their path. How on earth did you manage to survive?”

Thomas shrugged. “It seems they dinna want me,” he said, reliving the horror in his mind. “Seems they thought a fitting punishment would be to destroy all that I am, all that I have, and make me live to see it.” He fixed William with an awesome gaze. “But I know one thing, had they taken Northwood, what they woulda done to Jordi would have been…unspeakable. She is the focal point of much of this hostility because she married a Sassenach.”

William stiffened. “They would not have touched her, I can guarantee you that,” he said with much more force than he had intended.

Thomas looked curiously at him, cocking his eyebrow the same way his daughter did. William felt the pangs of separation stir in him again at that small gesture, but in the same breath wanted to laugh because he had resembled her so much at that moment.