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Paris held up a scroll of parchment. “This. It came last night for you.”

William looked at it as if he could read through the paper and knew the message already. After a long, reluctant moment he took it.

“From Henry,” he murmured as he broke the seal. “I knew it. ’Twas only a matter of time before….” He broke off and began to read.

It was a short missive. Almost as soon as he opened it he was closing it.

“I am called back to London,” he said simply, emotionlessly.

Paris nodded, knowing as much. “When?”

William became brisk and business-like, not wishing to dwell on the unpleasantries he knew were bound to come. “I will be sending six men on to Questing today. I would like Roan and Michael to take them, and anyone else you can spare. I shall be taking Kieran and Deinwald with me.”

“Aye, I can spare someone; me,” Paris said curtly. “I shall get your fortress up and running while you are in London.”

William nodded. “I would appreciate it,” he said, his gaze lingering on Paris for a moment. “Paris, we’ve never discussed this, but what do you plan to do when I take possession of Questing? Will you stay here at Northwood or go with me?”

Paris met his gaze, pausing but a moment. “I have given it a great deal of thought, William, have no doubt,” he said slowly. “You are my closest friend and my greatest source of inspiration. But you do not need me. Adam, however, does. He is young and inexperienced, and he needs a firm, wise hand to guide him. He has come to depend on me a great deal and I feel that it would be unfair to leave him, considering the majority of the knights, if given the choice, will go with you. In my heart, I feel that I must stay here.”

William looked at him, his heart saddened but understanding completely. “Then I will miss you, my friend,” he said after a moment; his throat tight. “And you may do me another favor while I am away. If Adam has no objections, then approach the knights with the choice of where they wish to serve. Those who choose to serve at Questing may go there and wait for me to return from London.”

“I know of only two knights who will stay here at Northwood,” Paris said. “Ranulf, although he lives to serve you, feels much as I do. Adam needs Ranulf to handle the men-at-arms and you already have Deinwald for that duty. And Corin and Adam are the best of friends; they are both young. You see, William, we knew this day would come and each man has already made up his mind. When you return to Questing, you will find Michael, Marc, and Roan waiting for you. Corin, Ranulf, and I will remain here.”

The more William thought about it, the more he wanted Paris with him. They had been together for so long it was as if he was having an arm amputated. Yet he would have felt the same way if Kieran had decided to stay. He was so fortunate in that he had two right-hand men he could trust.

“If I thought begging you would change your mind, I would do it,” he said softly, clapping Paris on the shoulder. “It will not be the same without you.”

Paris smiled uncomfortably. “Stop it, William, or you shall have me bawling like a woman. You know you will never face a battle without me, I swear it.”

“Nor will you,” William replied, glancing at the parchment in his hand. He took a deep breath. “I had better go inform my wife of our future plans. Lord knows, she will not be happy to hear this.”

He left Paris with a friendly smile and a warm handshake. Much to William’s surprise, his wife was quite calm about the whole thing. Almost instantaneously she whipped out her traveling satchel and began to pack. He watched her, knowing how her heart must be breaking to be separated so soon from her family, but she was reacting how she thought he would want her to react; there was nothing she could do about it, therefore, she must deal with it.

“Jordan,” he said softly as she stuffed garments into the bag. “Love, look at me.”

She stopped abruptly and looked at him, her face artificially void of emotion. “What?”

He smiled sadly and pulled her to his massive chest, burying his face in the top of her head. She held onto him, drawing strength from him.

“I am sorry,” he said.

“For what?” she asked. “For being so magnificent and skilled that Henry would demand that ye champion him? ’Tis nothing to be sorry for, English; ’tis an honor to serve yer king.”

“Well-rehearsed, wife,” he said. “What I meant is that I am sorry you must leave your father and family. Unless, of course, you would rather stay. I would not fault you.”

She looked up at him sharply. “Never,” she said emphatically. “My place is with ye, wherever ye go. And I would not leave ye alone in London with all of those court wenches hot for yer body.”

He grinned. “God help them now that you are in full vigor. Mayhap I should seek out Miranda and Amanda and Camanda, or whatever the hell their names are, and tell them to run for their lives.”

She fought off a grin. “Ye’d better not get anywhere near them,” she ordered, then looked thoughtful. “I think that I shall bring my dirk with me to London this time.”

He laughed softly and kissed her forehead before releasing her. “I will leave you to pack, then. I have got one thousand troops to divide and assemble.”

“I shall pack for ye,” she told him already back to the task.

“Absolutely,” he nodded. “Luke will have his hands full with my armor and weapons. And be sure to pack nothing that will attract women, will you? I have had a problem with that as of late.”

She threw a pillow at him as he moved for the door and he easily ducked it, chuckling, “Temper, Lady de Wolfe. Remember your station.”