Page 21 of Wolfehound (De Wolfe Pack Generations #11)
“Can it wait?”
The courier shook his head, spying Cassius back in the chamber, before returning his focus to Denys.
“It is from Castle Questing,” the courier said to Denys, lowering his voice. “The messenger was most insistent it be delivered to the king immediately. It is of the utmost importance.”
That set off warning bells in Denys’ head.
Brow furrowed, he took the missive and quietly shut the door.
Cassius hadn’t heard the courier’s mention that it was from Castle Questing, seat of the de Wolfe empire, so he was unconcerned as he watched Denys as the man moved past him, heading for Edward.
The king took the missive from Denys, inspecting the seal as Denys returned to Cassius, resuming his place beside him.
“It’s from Castle Questing,” Denys whispered.
Cassius looked at him, surprised. “That seems oddly coincidental,” he muttered. “We’ve been speaking of the Earl of Warenton and suddenly there is a missive from my uncle?”
“It’s probably to tell Edward that the Scots are on the move again,” Dennis murmured. “Mayhap the de Wolfe army has stopped them from taking yet another castle, which puts Edward into their debt.”
“One cannot suspect a man of treason when he is saving the northern lands of the country you rule.”
“Exactly.”
Cassius sighed faintly. “This position was much more fun when my grandfather and Edward were friendly,” he said. “They had their problems in the past, but it eased up entirely when my grandfather passed away. I hope the animosity is not back again after Canterbury’s lies.”
Denys could only shake his head. “Edward is still madly jealous of your grandfather,” he said. “That envy will always be there because William de Wolfe is a legend. Longshanks is…”
“A mere king.”
They glanced at each other. There was nothing more to say to that.
They both knew what the situation was and the entire conversation between Edward and Canterbury and Cassius had proved it.
They returned their attention to Edward as he read the missive from Scott de Wolfe slowly before a grimace rolled across his face, which concerned Cassius because he thought that his uncle had done something that displeased the king.
In all of the years of both animosity and allyship between Edward and William, strangely, the sons had not been pulled into that situation.
They supported their father, of course, but William supported Edward—such as it was—so the sons supported him, as well.
That was a long-established alliance. Cassius was hoping Scott, or Troy, or even his father hadn’t done anything that would cause Edward to turn against them also.
Cassius wasn’t sure he could hold his position any longer if someone had pulled a rogue move.
As he watched, Edward read the missive once again, all the way through, before handing it over to Canterbury.
“Cassius,” Edward said quietly, “come here.”
Cassius obediently made his way over to the king. “How may I be of service, Your Grace?”
Edward faced him, his expression tense. Cassius had to wonder if it was because a fist was about to come flying at his face, because the king was clearly distressed, so he braced himself.
The king was quite tall, but Cassius was about three inches taller.
Given that his father, Patrick, was a giant among men, the height was not surprising.
All of his brothers, save one, had it. Cassius was standing there, wondering what could have possibly been in that missive, when the man spoke softly.
“Cassius, you know that in spite of our history, I have nothing but the greatest respect for your grandfather and those who served with him,” he said.
“The days of William de Wolfe when he served at Northwood Castle with Paris de Norville and Kieran Hage are legendary. That is when the entire de Wolfe legend got started.”
Cassius nodded. “I know, Your Grace,” he said. “You have always made that clear. And our conversation has not offended me.”
Edward eyed him for a moment. “This discussion with Canterbury,” he said. “The situation with Llywelyn’s child and the suggestion that your grandfather possibly disobeyed my orders when it came to her has made me… angry.”
“I am aware, Your Grace.”
“But it does not change my great admiration for your grandfather and the men allied with him,” Edward said. “They were all great men.”
Cassius smiled faintly. “Uncle Paris is the only one left,” he said.
“He’s as mad as a box of frogs these days, and he’ll kick you if you attempt to kiss him, but when I see him, I see my grandfather.
William and Paris and Kieran were the greatest men I ever knew, men who helped forge a nation alongside the Crown, and they were all very proud of that service. ”
Edward sighed heavily. “Cassius, the message is from your uncle, Scott de Wolfe,” he said quietly. “He wanted us both to know that Paris de Norville, that great and legendary knight, has passed away.”
At first, Cassius didn’t understand what the king was telling him. That wasn’t what he had expected to hear. It took him a few moments to process the statement, and when realization dawned, his eyes widened.
“Uncle Paris?” he said, struggling to find the words. “He… he’s gone?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Cassius stared at him a moment, disbelief rippling through his features, before he turned to Canterbury.
“May I read the missive, too?” he asked.
Canterbury was finished with it. The mood of the chamber, so recently filled with suspicion and accusations, suddenly shifted to something else, something sorrowful and poignant because the end of an era had been announced.
Everyone could feel the shift in ambience, Cassius most of all.
When Canterbury extended the missive, Cassius took it with the greatest of sorrow.
Slowly, he held it up so he could read it.
“Paris de Norville was a great man, Cassius,” Canterbury said, trying to be of some comfort because the situation called for it. “I will have a requiem mass said for him tonight.”
Cassius almost didn’t hear him. He was looking at the carefully scribed words on the vellum.
This is to inform you that on the twenty-first day of April, Year of Our Lord 1302, Paris de Norville, Lord Bowmont, peacefully passed away. Please inform my nephew, Cassius, of this family matter. He will want to know.
Scott de Wolfe
Earl of Warenton
It was short and to the point, as an informational missive would be. No sentiment, no mention of mourning or pain or sorrow. No mention of how much the man was loved or how much he would be missed.
Cassius was so grieved with the news that he didn’t know what to say.
It wasn’t as if it was his father or even his grandfather, but Paris de Norville had been a constant in his life.
He’d called him uncle, and even though he wasn’t by blood, he was in heart and spirit.
Paris de Norville was one of a kind, a powerful knight, a dedicated friend, and a revered father and grandfather.
Cassius could only imagine what Paris’ family was feeling.
If it was half of what he was feeling, then it was terrible, indeed. It was the end of a generation.
Now, they were all gone.
Edward, in a surprising show of sympathy, put his hand on Cassius’ arm.
“Go,” he said quietly. “Go to the cathedral if you wish and pray for de Norville. I know what he meant to your family.”
Cassius didn’t even argue with him. He simply nodded in agreement.
Somehow all of this conjecture about missing princesses and deception didn’t seem all that important anymore.
Not now. With the missive still in his hand, Cassius headed out of the chamber.
Edward caught Denys’ eye and pointed to Cassius, indicating for him to follow the man and provide any support needed.
Denys did, without hesitation, following Cassius into the corridor before he caught up to him.
Silently, the two of them headed out into the midmorning sunshine.
As Denys quickly discovered, all Cassius wanted to do was wander.
He didn’t go to the cathedral, but rather walked around aimlessly in the bailey, all the while clutching the missive in his hand.
Denys finally had enough of wandering in circles and directed him out of the main gatehouse that faced north.
There was a wide street out there and businesses lining the avenue, and Denys grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward an area called White Hall where there were several businesses, including a tavern.
Denys directed Cassius inside, ordered food and drink for them both, and then planted the man at a table by the window overlooking the street.
Until the food and drink came, they simply sat in silence.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Cass,” Denys finally said. “The old guard has died away, one by one. It’s a sad day when the last of them goes.”
Cassius seemed to snap out of his trance. “Sad, indeed,” he said. “I was just thinking about the last time I saw Uncle Paris.”
“When was that?”
“Almost two years ago,” Cassius said. “I was trying to remember the last words we had. I remember that we were celebrating the day of birth for my grandmother.”
“Matha?”
Cassius smiled weakly. “Aye,” he said. “Matha. That small woman who bred a host of giant sons. I think my last words with Uncle Paris were those of farewell, just normal words, but I did tell him that I loved him. Just like the last time I saw my grandfather. I told him that I loved him, too. I was just thinking that those words seem so simple, and simple words do not reflect the totality of a relationship, yet when the words speak of love, they do. I loved my grandfather my entire life, as I loved Uncle Paris, so those words defined the totality of a relationship built on love.”