Page 20 of Wolfehound (De Wolfe Pack Generations #11)

Cassius was more than a protector, more than just a skilled sword at the disposal of the king.

Edward had more than his share of advisors, nobility who constantly vied for his attention and favor.

He was also dealing with the behavior of his son, also Edward, who had his share of favorites, and those favorites were a thorn in the side of the nobility.

Going into the position, Cassius had known there was going to be politics in the court of England, but he hadn’t realized how much it played into every single day and every breath he took.

This was no easy task, and there were times when he cursed his brother for recommending him for the position.

There were times when he simply wanted to walk away and return home and serve his father.

But there was something else at play here.

Though Edward had never said anything about it, Cassius thought that he wanted a de Wolfe close by either because it seemed to give him comfort or he thought Cassius knew what his grandfather was up to.

That was not the case, as Cassius wasn’t the first person William de Wolfe had spoken to whenever he made a decision, and it was ridiculous that the king seemed to think so.

But quickly, Cassius had begun to see that his position close to the king gave him a bird’s-eye view into the man’s plans and politics, and on at least two occasions, he had sent word to his father on Edward’s movements simply so Patrick and the rest of the de Wolfe family were aware of things that might directly affect them.

Therefore, Cassius’ position with Edward was as advantageous to him as it was to the king, and he had no intention of walking away from it—but at this moment, he was having a good deal of difficulty with the Archbishop of Canterbury and the message the man bore.

In fact, he considered himself very fortunate that he’d been here to witness the exchange.

It was definitely something his family would need to know.

“Cassius?” Edward said, jolting him from his train of thought. “Did you hear what I said about your uncle?”

“I did, Your Grace.”

“You did not comment.”

“That is because I cannot confirm or deny your assertion, Your Grace,” he said. “I am not close to my uncle and therefore do not know his mind.”

Edward’s gaze lingered on him for a few moments before he stood up from his chair and began to wander the audience chamber.

There were great lancet windows that faced the River Thames and a moist breeze blew in from the water.

Birds could be heard, crying overhead, as Edward meandered over to the window, clearly lost in thought.

A gentle wind lifted his gray hair as his gaze beheld the city, the river, and the country he commanded.

He was a man with much on his mind.

“Cassius, I am going to ask you a question and you will answer me without hesitation,” he finally said.

Cassius moved in his direction, closer, so he could hear him better. “Your Grace?”

“Do you know Carlton de Royans?”

Cassius came to a pause about ten feet away. “I’ve only met him once, Your Grace,” he said. “That was very long ago.”

“Do you know Colm de Lara?”

“I know of him, Your Grace, but I do not know him personally.”

Edward nodded, but he still seemed to be preoccupied. “Is one of your brothers or cousins betrothed to a de Royans daughter?”

“Not that I am aware of, Your Grace.”

“Do you ever recall hearing your father or grandfather discuss de Royans or Sempringham Priory?”

“Never, Your Grace.”

“But Colm de Lara says they are in this together,” Edward said.

“That your grandfather and de Royans plotted against me when it came to the last Welsh princess. That your grandfather made the decision to have her assume the identity of a de Royans daughter while he sent another child to Sempringham, posing as the princess. If this is true, then he has deceived me.”

Cassius didn’t look at Canterbury, but that anger he’d managed to keep down at the mention of his grandfather’s lack of loyalty to the king was beginning to surface again.

He didn’t like Robert Winchelsey making problems for a dead man.

Since Edward and William had never really seen eye to eye, his grandfather didn’t need any help when it came to raising the king’s ire and suspicions.

Even from the grave.

“Your Grace, may I speak freely?” he asked.

Edward turned to him. “Of course,” he said. “I wish you would.”

That was when Cassius turned to look at Canterbury.

“Meaning no disrespect to the archbishop, I fear I must point out the obvious,” he said, returning his attention to Edward.

“Your Grace, Canterbury is giving you third-hand information. Allegedly, a dying knight has told a priest, who in turn ran to Canterbury, who in turn has come to you. As I said, I do not know Colm de Lara, but he was the Lord of the Trilaterals and an ally of my father and grandfather. They do not ally with fools or liars. I do not know who this priest is who came to Canterbury, but it is quite possible he is lying for his own gain. Canterbury himself admitted that the man was ambitious. What better way to secure a coveted position for himself than by relaying a bit of scandalous gossip about a dead man who cannot defend himself? I fear you do my grandfather’s history of service a great dis service by believing malicious rumors. ”

Edward’s eyes crinkled with a hint of humor. After a moment, he chuckled. “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “I do believe I’ve just been reprimanded.”

Cassius quickly shook his head. “Not at all, Your Grace,” he said. “That was not my intent. I simply wanted to point out that an ambitious man brought this information to Canterbury. If it can be proven, then I would suggest he do so.”

“I intend to do so.” Canterbury stood up, furious that a mere knight had challenged him. Even if that knight was the grandson of the man in question. “I have sent for a man who has been of great service to me to discover the truth of these rumors.”

Cassius turned to him again. “May I ask whom you have summoned, Your Grace?”

“Tyrus le Mon.”

Even Edward looked sharply at him when he heard the name, but before he could say a word, Cassius spoke.

“Your Grace, forgive me, but everyone knows le Mon is a man of questionable tactics,” he said sternly.

“He used to serve with the Executioner Knights in de Lohr’s circle of spies, and considering what the Executioner Knights do on a regular basis, the mere fact that they exiled le Mon should tell you what kind of man he is. ”

Canterbury had little patience for the king’s Lord Protector.

“I know what kind of man he is,” he snapped.

“And a knight should know his place. I do not care if your father is the Earl of Berwick, nor do I care that your grandfather was the great William de Wolfe. That does not give you the right to speak to me in such a manner.”

Cassius didn’t back down. He merely cocked an eyebrow. “I did not mean to offend, Your Grace,” he said. “But the man you have summoned for something as important as determining if my grandfather was a liar is a man not even the Executioner Knights could trust. Why do you?”

Canterbury’s face turned red. “Do you question my judgment?”

Cassius had pushed the archbishop as far as he could.

He looked to Edward to see how the king wanted him to respond, only to see Edward gazing back at him with an amused expression on his face.

He’s enjoying this, Cassius thought. Unwilling to engage in fisticuffs with a prince of the church, he simply lowered his head in submission.

“I do not, Your Grace,” he said. “Your reputation is without compare. It is simply that men like le Mon can ingratiate themselves to great men, and I did not want to see you fall victim to his unsavory ambitions.”

He made it sound as if he were trying to look out for the archbishop, which eased the situation a little.

The man’s insult was doused, but not by much.

Edward was still watching the interaction, taking great pride in Cassius’ unwillingness to be bullied by Canterbury.

As he strolled back in their direction, sending Cassius back to his post with a nod of his head, he caught sight of the other knight in the chamber.

Yet another protector from another powerful family, this time of the Norfolk House of de Winter.

Big, blond, brawny, and powerful.

Denys de Winter was that knight.

“Denys?” he said. “Have you been listening to all of this?”

Denys stepped out of the shadows.

“I have, Your Grace.”

“And what do you think about Canterbury’s tale?”

“I think that William de Wolfe is beyond suspicion, Your Grace.”

Edward turned to Canterbury. “There,” he said. “You see? Both of these men think your priest lied to you. They do not believe Warenton betrayed me.”

Canterbury was feeling bullied and offended.

“One is Warenton’s grandson and the other is from a family who is allied with de Wolfe,” he pointed out.

“Let them stand on their words, because le Mon will get to the bottom of this. I’ve already sent my own man, Ronec de Nerra, to fetch him, and then we shall soon know if my priest lied or not. ”

“Or if the source lied to him,” Edward reminded him. “It could be either one of them.”

“Or neither,” Canterbury said, glancing resentfully at the two big knights in the shadows. “The man who gave the original confession could have told the truth. There would be no reason to lie.”

“We shall see.”

A silence settled between the men as Edward returned to his window and Canterbury hit the wine.

There was a rock-crystal decanter of it on a nearby table and he poured himself a healthy measure of the ruby liquid.

As this was going on, there was a knock at the chamber door.

Denys went to the door and opened it, only to find a royal courier standing outside.

“What is it?” Denys asked.

“A missive, my lord,” the courier said. “For the king.”