Page 8 of Wolfehound
“Aye.”
Pondering the fate of the infant, Paris gazed off toward the grove of trees that William had disappeared into. “May I make a suggestion?”
“What?”
“Move the children now,” he said quietly. “While William is distracted, move them out. Form escorts and move those children away from this encampment and away from William. If he takes it into his mind to deal with them personally, it will cause more problems than we can fathom.”
“I regret to say that I was thinking the same thing but did not wish to voice it.”
“I have no such restraint,” Paris said. “We must do this for William, to protect him from whatever his grief might dictate. Return to the administrative tent and I will notify the escorts and send them to you, including de Royans. He already knows this is coming, but you can give the final instructions. If we work quickly, we can accomplish this within the hour.”
There was nothing more to say to that. Kieran simply nodded and reined his horse back toward the encampment. Paris, too, was in motion, heading to the end of the encampment that contained the prisoners. The last he saw, the children were gathered there, tended to by fearful nurses and guarded by Edward’s royal soldiers. Henry of England had been dead a scant month and Edward, as the new king, had been able to claim the final victory over Wales. There had been much change for all of them over the past six months, but one thing neither Paris nor Kieran wanted was for William to do something to displease Edward. Historically, there had been tension between the pair because Edward had always been threatened by William’spower, so it was imperative to prevent William from interfering with Edward’s Welsh prisoners because of a personal vendetta.
And no one wanted to see William dishonor himself out of grief.
Therefore, they moved quickly.
Time was running out.
CHAPTER TWO
Six Days Later
Near Folkingham, England
He’d been saddledwith the baby.
A big, stinky baby.
But he had absolutely no recourse because he’d been ordered to mind the child on the journey from Wales, and a squire did not disobey his master. Not ever. If Liam Herringthorpe wanted to become a knight himself someday, as was expected of him, he had to be obedient no matter what the circumstance.
No matter how much the baby stank.
But it was a complicated situation. His master, Sir Carlton de Royans, and another knight by the name of Colm de Lara had been given orders from Sir Paris de Norville of Northwood Castle to take the infant to Sempringham Priory in Lincolnshire. It was all very confusing but, from what Liam understood, the orders came directly from the king himself. The baby, a little girl, belonged to one of the Welsh princes who had been so recently subdued, so the king wanted the child taken to a priory and hidden away for the rest of her life, under English protection.
It had all seemed so secretive and so hurried. There were other children involved, taken by other knights, but de Norville seemed to be rushing Carlton and Colm a great deal. There was already a wet nurse for the infant, an older Welsh woman, and it was that woman who had come along with them as they hurriedly made their way out of Wales. There were twenty of them in total, including several heavily armed soldiers, with Liam and another old soldier driving the wagon containing the woman and baby while everyone else seemed to be nervously watching the landscape as if waiting for something to happen.
Nothing had.
Not yet, anyway.
But something was in the air.
As Liam sat in the wagon seat, watching the landscape just like everyone else, a scout on horseback came thundering up the column, heading for Carlton and Colm at the head of the line. As Liam watched, the scout had a spirited conversation with Carlton, gesturing toward the west. When the conversation concluded, Carlton sent the man back the way he’d come while he reined his warhorse around and came back to the wagon.
“We will be making our stop at Folkingham,” he said. “It is nearly nightfall as it is.”
Liam, being young and certain he knew everything there was to know, spoke quickly. “Is there trouble, my lord?” he said. “Should I retrieve my weapon?”
Carlton de Royans was a kind man. He was well liked, part of the de Royans family of Netherghyll Castle in the north. His great-uncle, Juston de Royans, had played an important role with Henry II and Richard I, so the family had prestige and wealth along with their strong political connections. Folkingham Castle was his, through his wife, a de Beaumont, and Sempringham Priory was part of his property. That was why he was in charge of the infant and her fate.
It was his job to hide her away forever.
“Nay,” he said in answer to Liam’s question. “There is no need for you to fight. We shall arrive at Folkingham shortly and my wife will make us all welcome. We will be safe.”
“Safe from what?” Liam wanted to know, turning to look off toward the west where the scout had gone. “Are you sure there is no trouble?”
Carlton shook his head. “No trouble,” he said. “We shall be home shortly.”
