Page 19 of Wolfehound (De Wolfe Pack Generations #11)

Westminster Palace

“A lthough I cannot tell you who gave such information because confessionals are privileged communication between God and man, I can tell you that the information came from someone who was close to Carlton de Royans for many years. He witnessed everything with his own eyes.”

Canterbury finished speaking, watching the expression of the man seated across from him with great anticipation.

Edward III, or Edward Longshanks as he was colloquially known, had never been one to keep his feelings or opinions hidden.

He’d been king for many years and had a reputation of being shrewd, hard-hitting, and, at times, conniving.

But Edward was so much more, a many-faceted man, who gazed steadily at the ecclesiastical prince across the table.

Even though he and the Archbishop of Canterbury weren’t on the greatest terms at the best of times, he’d never known the man to lie.

Frankly, he was trying to conceal his shock at what he’d just heard.

“Preposterous,” he finally said in a tone that suggested the entire story was utterly foolish. “Who told you such nonsense?”

“A loyal priest,” Canterbury said steadily. “Why? Do you know differently?”

Edward eyed him, annoyed. “I do,” he said. “Years ago, I sent someone to ensure she was at the priory and in good health. I have even granted her a pension to pay her expenses at the priory. She is there.”

“How do you know it is the Gwenllian of Wales?”

That gave Edward pause because he didn’t know.

Not for certain, really, and that seemed to annoy him further.

“Because Mother Cecelia, the prioress, confirmed it,” he said irritably.

“She confirmed that the very child was delivered by Patrick de Wolfe, Earl of Berwick, having been brought straight from Wales.”

“And if the child given over to Sempringham was a decoy, and Berwick delivered her on the instruction of his father, do you not think he could have lied to the prioress?”

Unfortunately, that was very true, but Edward didn’t want to admit it. To admit that he might have been duped after all these years was to admit weakness, and that wasn’t something Edward would ever acknowledge. He was the Hammer of the Scots, after all. There was no weakness.

Except when there was.

Unfortunately, the archbishop’s words were beginning to cast doubt.

“It is possible he could have,” Edward finally said. “Anything is possible. But Patrick de Wolfe has held Berwick for years in my name. Why should he lie about something like this?”

“Because you are not his father,” Canterbury pointed out. “Who do you think he will be more loyal to in the end? You or his father?”

They both knew the answer to that one. Edward wasn’t going to dignify the question with a reply. That doubt was starting to claw at him, making him feel sick and irritable. With a heavy sigh, he shifted the focus slightly.

“This priest who told you about this,” he said. “How trustworthy is he?”

Canterbury shrugged. “He is ambitious, but I do not think he is a liar,” he said. “Liars are discovered sooner or later, and he would not risk that. He hoped to gain a favorable position in my household by relaying this tale to me.”

“And is that the same reason you relay it to me?”

It was, but Canterbury wasn’t going to admit anything. He wasn’t going to admit the leverage he was seeking by relaying the information or the fact that St. Zosimus wouldn’t be around to confirm the tale. If le Mon did his job correctly, there was no more St. Zosimus.

Just the way Canterbury had planned it.

“I am telling you because Llywelyn’s daughter is living incognito with de Royans and she is already betrothed,” he said evenly.

“Since it seems to have been orchestrated by de Wolfe, he has already selected someone, though who, exactly, was not made clear to me. De Lara evidently died before he could give a name. But my concern is that de Wolfe selected one of his own grandsons. The House of de Wolfe is already dangerously close to the Welsh princes, but imagine if they had all of Wales behind them? The dowager Countess of Warenton is Scottish and, historically, most of the Lowlands have been loyal to de Wolfe. That being the case, their power would rival yours.”

“So this is about power?”

“What else could it be?”

They were playing that dangerous chess game again.

Edward would move, and then Canterbury would move, and then they would spend the rest of their time counter-moving against one another until one of them came out on top.

Usually, it was Edward, but today… today, it seemed that Canterbury had the upper hand.

Because nothing he said was untrue.

The smug expression on Edward’s face faded.

“According to the information you have relayed, William de Wolfe betrayed me years ago,” he said matter-of-factly. “But how is that possible when one of his grandsons is my Lord Protector? Does that not show the man’s loyalty?”

Both Edward and Canterbury turned to look at the big, tall knight standing several feet away.

He was dark-haired, hazel-eyed, and had most of the women in London begging for a glance or a smile or a lock of his hair.

This particular de Wolfe male was, as most men and women would describe him, uncannily beautiful.

He was also talented, strong, educated, and unwaveringly loyal to the king.

Edward crooked a finger in the knight’s direction.

“Cassius, come here,” he said.

Cassius de Wolfe immediately moved out of the shadows, going to stand in front of Edward.

“Your Grace?” he said smartly.

Edward looked up at the knight. “Did you hear what Canterbury told me?”

“I did, Your Grace.”

“Do you know anything about this situation with de Royans and Llywelyn ap Gruffudd’s infant daughter?”

“Nay, Your Grace.”

“Was your grandfather disloyal to me?”

“Nay, Your Grace.”

“If he had been, would you tell me?”

“If you asked me, I would tell you the truth, Your Grace.”

“You would betray your grandfather?”

“Never. But I would tell you the truth, and the truth is that he was not disloyal to you, Your Grace.”

Canterbury, who had been listening to the crisp replies, cast a long look at Edward.

He wanted to see how he was handling the answers from a man who was in charge of the king’s personal protection.

Young knights from the House of de Wolfe had been historically offered the position, and that was for a reason—to keep a de Wolfe close to the Crown.

It was a position of honor, but also one of political leverage.

The House of de Wolfe wouldn’t do anything overtly against the Crown if one of its members were so close to the king.

Scott de Wolfe, the current earl, didn’t have the same quarrelsome relationship with Edward that his father had, but that could change.

Edward liked to think of Cassius’ position as insurance against such an occurrence.

But in this case, whatever happened had occurred twenty years ago. Whatever insurance he held today against Warenton’s behavior was a moot point. The betrayal had already happened.

The more he thought about it, the more anger he began to feel.

“Cassius, how old were you when your grandfather was in Wales fighting Llywelyn the Last?” he asked.

Cassius had to think about it. “Twenty years ago I would have been fostering at Kenilworth, Your Grace,” he said. “I was around ten years of age.”

“Then you were not at home when your grandfather returned.”

Cassius shook his dark head. “Nay, Your Grace,” he said. “But I received word through my father that my uncle, James de Wolfe, had been killed in Wales.”

“Killed and resurrected,” Edward said. “He returned as Blayth the Strong, the product of Welsh rebels who restored his damaged memory with lies.”

“He serves my grandfather flawlessly now, Your Grace.”

Edward waved him off irritably. “I am aware,” he said. “Though he has no love for me, so I’m told. Pity. I hear he’s an excellent knight.”

Cassius wasn’t sure what to say to that.

His Uncle James, thought killed in Wales, had in reality suffered a terrible head injury that erased most of his memory.

That was what the king referred to when he mentioned his damaged memory.

Cassius had been too young, and also fostering far away, to really know the extent of William’s bitterness and grief when it came to James’ death.

And the truth was that he knew nothing about the news he’d just heard from Canterbury, but the man was insinuating that William de Wolfe had done something underhanded against Edward years ago, which had his dander up.

In Cassius’ eyes, his grandfather could do no wrong, and he would tell Canterbury that to his face if the man asked him a direct question.

Edward, however, was another matter.

Cassius had been serving the king for not quite a year on the recommendation of his older brother, who had originally been offered the position of Lord Protector.

Markus de Wolfe had fallen for a woman in the north of England and declined the position to remain with her and start a new life.

That was why he had recommended Cassius.

In fact, Cassius had been quite honored by the recommendation and tried very hard to serve with distinction.

Entering into the position, he wasn’t exactly sure what it was going to be like as the personal protector of the king, but it had turned into something far more than anything he had anticipated.