Chapter Thirteen
Wolf had only intermittent awareness of his surroundings. At times he thought someone had taken a hot poker to his chest, and his leg throbbed interminably. He knew Kit was with him though, and that was all he really cared about. He felt her tears dampen his face once, and tried to comfort her, but he was too weak. He wanted to assure her that all would be well, but didn’t have the breath or strength to do it.
The dawn light in the room was faint and he had some difficulty seeing who was there, but once, he recognized the voice of Rupert Aires, speaking to Kit.
“I’ll wager you’re sorry now you didn’t marry me instead,” he said quietly.
“You, Rupert?” A bitter laugh escaped her. “It’s been some time since I realized you’d make a terrible husband.” Fatigue was audible in her voice. “Nay, I’ve never been so well satisfied of my choice before. If only God will spare him...”
Wolf had very few lucid moments as he battled fever and infection, and Kit worried that it would ultimately overcome him. The wounds were grave and Kit was not igno rant of the worried looks exchanged between the men who attended her husband, in spite of the physician’s optimism.
On the fourth afternoon., as Kit knelt next to Wolf’s bed, she nearly despaired. She closed her eyes and prayed to God for his recovery. Though she had a long history of unanswered prayers, Kit still pleaded for Wolfs delivery. Deeply immersed in prayer, she heard a strange, distant voice.
“You look like the wrath of God,” it said.
She looked up to see who had spoken, but she and Wolf were alone in the room. Kit sniffled, brushed the tears from her face and sat up, puzzled. Certain that someone had spoken, Kit glanced around the room to see if someone had entered without her knowledge.
“Wrath of God, indeed,” she muttered, seeing no one. It had to be her imagination, what with the fatigue and worry—
“It’s true, Kit. What ails you?”
She snapped her head back toward the sound and found herself looking at Wolf. His eyes were open and focused, and he was frowning at her. It was his first conscious act in over three days.
“What ails me?” she gasped.
“You’ve been weeping.” His voice was weak, his eyes gentle.
Using the backs of her hands, she brushed away the new tears that had sprung from her eyes. Yes, by God, she’d been weeping. It had become a normal state of affairs for her ever since she’d met him.
“Weeping?” she cried. “I’ve been terrified, not knowing if you’d live—”
Nicholas and Edward, having heard voices in Wolf’s chamber, hurried in and stopped short when Wolf cast a dark look at them. He had thought to pursue the moment with Kit to find out what was wrong and why she was terrified that he’d live.
“Nicholas!” She turned to see Wolfs cousin approaching anxiously with Sir Edward alongside. Alfred and Ranulf were not far behind. Kit assumed they all must have heard her startled voice.
“What is it, Kit? Is—”
“He’s conscious!” She knelt back at his side and took his hand in hers.
“What’s wrong with my wife?” Wolf asked the men. “And why does my chest pain me so?”
“Do you not remember, Your Grace?” Edward asked. Several more of Wolf’s men appeared.
“You were injured five nights ago,” Nicholas replied to Wolfs question. “The king was attacked as he left your wedding feast. You and several others were trapped with the king outside the hall...”
Wolf tried to recall it, but his memory was faulty. He remembered the wedding feast... beautiful Kathryn...an attack on the king...Kit weeping...Kit lying with him, holding him?
He tried to sit up but Kit prevented him by holding his shoulders. She’d seen the wounds that morning when the physician dressed them, and they had a long way to go before being healed. “Get off my chest, woman,” Wolf protested, annoyed and dismayed that his wife possessed the greater strength. “I’ll not stay abed any longer.”
“You will stay here until your strength has returned.”
He gave a grim smile at the determined look on her face. Her fresh-flower scent and the fragile transparency of her skin belied her underlying strength. “Do you dare command a duke of the realm?”
“’Tis a wife’s right and duty, Your Grace,” Alfred joked, “perhaps even her purpose.”
“I see,” Wolf said suspiciously, looking around at his knights. They obviously supported Kit in this. Wondering how she had managed to get them all on her side, he turned back to Alfred. “And when did the likes of you—a single man—become an authority on wives?”
“Not ‘wives,’ Your Grace,” Alfred laughed.
“Your wife. Cousin,” Nicholas said. “She has not left this—”
“Nicholas!” Kit interjected, “Will you send someone to the king to inform him of my husband’s recovery?” It would not do at all for Wolf to know of her attendance on him, not until she knew how he would receive the information. Though he owned her heart, she could not bear to hand it to him now.
“So 1 am to be held prisoner until my wife deems me fit to move?” Wolf was incredulous.
“The king’s physician will determine when you are able to be up and about, husband,” she corrected gently. She realized how it rankled him to be unwell and bound to bed. “Lord Blackmore has attended you since the beginning.”
“Blackmore?”
“The king’s healer.”
“And not you, Kit?” he asked quietly, half teasing, half hoping, his tone making her heart pound in her breast. “Had you no hand in my care?”
The intensity of his eyes flustered her, and she hesitated to reply.
“Your wife is the reason you still live, Wolf,” Nicholas said.
Wolf and Kit’s eyes remained locked making her blood heat and course faster through her veins. Finally, Wolf broke the silence. “Is it your intention to starve me, then?”
“Starve you?” Kit returned to reality. “Of course not. Are you hungry?”
“As a bear.”
“Nicholas,” Kit said, “would you mind seeing to it? I’m sure that somewhere in all of Westminster, you should be able to find something suitable for a sick man to eat.”
“No.” Wolf protested weakly. “Bring me some decent food—not some mush meant for—” But Nicholas had already left the chamber, grinning a ridiculous grin.
Two days passed, and Wolf’s strength returned to him gradually. He became surly with the inactivity imposed on him and barked at Kit and the men who served him. Kit refused to take his attitude to heart, forcing herself to remember the few tender words he’d spoken when the fever was at its worst.
When he was well, she was sure they would come to an understanding. He would realize how she felt about him and at the very least would accept her as his wife, regardless of her parentage.
Wolf remained dubious, however. Whatever had transpired while he was delirious was unclear to him, and he didn’t know whether he could trust his senses. Had she really told Rupert Aires that marriage to Wolf had been her choice? How was he to know he hadn’t heard the words in a dream, that Kit’s tears and tender ministrations were not merely manifestations of his delirium? He even thought he’d felt her curl up against him in the bed those nights when he was sick, though now she disappeared into the next room when night fell. Vague memories of her light hands upon him, touching, exploring, healing, came to him and he was unsure whether it was merely wishful thinking or reality.
He’d also had visions of his father and brother, slaughtered on the road to Bremen; being presented to his mother after his recovery; his mother’s vacant gray eyes as he had cried in her lap. All of it had seemed quite real.
On the day before the king and queen departed England for France again, Henry made a visit to Wolf’s chambers. Assured by Lord Blackmore that the duke’s health was improving by the day, he decided to speak to Wolf of serious affairs, to bring him up to date on all that had been happening since the attack. Finding Wolf and Kathryn alone in the chamber, Henry sent away his squires and attendants to speak privately with his sister and her husband.
“We know the attack on the night of your wedding was perpetrated by Lollards,” the king said. “There is some doubt as to whether or not they intended to kill me. They may have been completely surprised by the ferocity of our defense and were forced to fight back just as brutally.”
“But—” Kit began to question her brother, but he silenced her with a patient gesture.
“Regardless, they were all killed, and their bodies disposed of. All have been identified. No one need ever know of this ambush to give credence to the Lollard cause and their demands. Steps have been taken as well, to assure that no such incident occurs in the future.”
“How did they succeed in getting so close to you, Sire?” Wolf asked.
“They infiltrated the guards,” Henry replied. “We know who was responsible, and he was killed in the attack. There are one or two others who remain.” The king smiled and waved a hand to dismiss the subject. “We will deal with them directly.”
“Thank the saints that Queen Catherine was not with you that night, Your Majesty,” Kit said. “If she had been harmed—”
“Quite,” Henry said gravely. “Until I could get a weapon, I was helpless. You must be sure to thank your wife, Wolf, for saving your neck.” The king grinned. “I don’t recall ever having seen a woman wield a sword with quite the same vigor as Lady Kathryn did that night. You were a sight to behold, dear sister.”
Wolf raised a puzzled brow, and Kit blushed.
“I knew of your skill with the leather sling, and I’ve heard of your prowess with a bow. Now I find you can handle a sword that must have been half your weight.”
“Sire, I only did what I thought was necessary, and awkwardly at that,” she said, embarrassed. “I...I’ve never actually been taught to use a sword,” she added meekly.
“Be that as it may, at least the two of us owe you our lives for your quick action. I thank you.”
Kit gave a nod to accept his thanks, unaware of anything she’d done to protect the king. Her actions that night had been solely for Wolf’s benefit.
“The next news is not good.” The king directed his words to Wolf. “I forbade your men to speak of it until I was certain of your recovery.”
“Sire?”
“Philip Colston has disappeared.”
“The Earl of Windermere?” Kit asked.
“On the contrary, my dear,” Henry said, “your husband holds Windermere. I sent a small army to take Philip Colston into custody and bring him to London. The men returned three days ago with neither Philip nor Lady Agatha.”
“Agatha?” Kit whispered.
“He must have found out somehow,” Wolf said.
Henry nodded. “’Tis likely. The servants were questioned, and all of them thought Philip was somewhere within the castle. No one was notified of his departure, yet he most certainly disappeared.”
“I’ll find him.”
“I have every confidence you will, Wolf,” Henry replied. “And when you do, deal with him as you see fit. However, until he is found, guard your back. When you return him to London, he will be tried on the evidence you and Kendal presented to me. I have written my opinion on the matter, and of course, I’ve stripped Philip Colston of the title.”
“I am grateful, Sire—”
“Also, be aware that Baron Somers’ men have been here and know of your marriage to Kit,” the king said. “I understand they returned to Somerton several days ago, so you should be prepared for possible trouble from that front. Kathryn is to be protected from her stepfather, though the man would have to be a fool to offend a duke, not to mention his king. Somerton knows I favor Kit, as did my father who managed to send a man to Somerton once or twice a year to evaluate her circumstances.”
Wolf nodded. That would explain the knights who Kit said had visited periodically and had asked about her welfare. Somehow, the blockheads always missed seeing the bruised and battered child.
“Which brings me to my last point,” Henry interrupted. “As to your request, my decision is—no.”
Kit looked from her husband to her brother, having some difficulty following this part of the conversation. She knew of no request.
“You will remain here in England and deal with Philip Colston, get Windermere back in order and see to your other ducal responsibilities.” Henry stood to take his leave. “No, remain seated. Let those wounds heal. We need strength in the north, Wolf, and I rely on you to provide a goodly portion of it.”
Wolf acquiesced as the king moved with Kit towards the door.
“You also have a new wife to attend to.” He embraced Kit loosely. “Farewell. You shall hear from me from Paris. And of course I wish to be apprised of the situation with Philip Colston.”
Nicholas and Chester returned after Henry left. They began discussing Windermere with Wolf and what might have happened to Philip. There was a good bit of conjecture regarding Hugh Dryden, who had been sent to Windermere before the wedding, and whether Wolfs man knew of Philip’s whereabouts.
While the men spoke, Kit tried to puzzle out what Wolf’s request to the king must have been. Henry insisted that Wolf fortify the north and get Windermere in order. Did that mean that Wolf hadn’t intended to deal with Windermere and the rest of it? Had he planned on going somewhere other than his estates, somewhere away from her? Henry had most distinctly said that Wolf had a new wife to attend to, hadn’t he?
Her heart was in her throat when the realization struck her. Wolf had asked to accompany the king to France. Without her.
“Philip must have friends—”
“There are plenty of places to hide—”
“A few of us can go undetected—”
“We must get to Hugh—”
The discussion went on, and Kit was oblivious to it. Tears stung the back of her eyes as she twisted the band of emeralds on her finger. She despaired of ever coming to terms with Wolf. He wanted to be away from her. He couldn’t stand to be near her, and it was only the king’s command that kept him at her side. What was she to do? Perhaps marriage to Rupert would have been better than this—at least Rupert didn’t detest her company.
“We’ll depart for Windermere in five days,” Wolf concluded. “I’ll be able to sit a horse by then. In the meantime, four or five men are to ride on ahead. I want them to see that rooms are made ready. They can meet with Hugh, scour the neighborhood, sound out the town, follow up on rumors...”