They were going to find the errant groom and make him pay.
Along with his three younger half-brothers, Tor was joined by Isabella’s uncles, Nathaniel and Alec Hage. Since there were two Nathaniels in the family, named in honor of different men, the older Nathaniel, from the Hage branch, was called Nat. Nat and Alec were very big, very seasoned knights, and part of the reason Blayth had sent Tor and the others along was to keep Nat and Alec from tearing their niece’s intended into tiny pieces.
Nat was particularly upset and he kept talking about cutting off that which was most vital to a man while his brother, Alec, who was the oldest of the siblings and the head of the House of Hage, didn’t seem too inclined to tell his younger brother to calm down. Nat’s rage seemed to please him.
But Nat wasn’t the only one who was angry. Their posse had stopped at Kyloe Castle to collect Blayth’s youngest brother, Thomas, and his oldest son, Artus. Thomas de Wolfe was the Earl of Northumbria, a title he had inherited through marriage, and he had a very large army. Artus was his adopted son, a former orphan, who had been trained as any noble son would have been. At twenty years of age, he was already a formidable knight and Thomas could not have been prouder of the young man had he been of his own blood.
The last addition to what they had deemed the Hunting Party had been the brother of the bride herself. Ronan de Wolfe was Blayth’s eldest son and the fact that his sister had been shamed had the young knight’s blood boiling even more than Nat’s blood was. Nat was only an uncle, a brother of Isabella’s mother, but Ronan was her brother. He was the angriest of all because he actually knew the groom, Steffan de Featherstone, who had been a friend. Or, at least, he thought he was a friend. It was through Ronan that Steffan had been considered a marital prospect for Isabella.
Now, Ronan was feeling like a fool.
He, more than any of them, had a score to settle.
Upon leaving Kyloe, the group of de Wolfe and Hage knights continued south to Newcastle upon Tyne. They knew that was where the groom was going because when he’d fled, he had left behind a terrified squire who had told Blayth everything because he feared for his life at the hands of too many vicious de Wolfe men. The squire had spilled his master’s plans quite easily, so the pursuing knights knew where they were going.
They were going to find that bastard if it was the last thing they did.
It was late spring, and along with late spring came the storms that would turn the land into flowers in the summertime. But those same storms also turned the roads into soup and the collective party of heavily armed knights were covered in mud from their travels. The nine of them made a formidable sight as they stopped at Alnwick Castle on their way south to sup and pay their respects to Lord de Vesci. When Lord de Vesci heard the tale of a jilted de Wolfe bride, he offered them four of his most seasoned knights. Thomas, who knew de Vesci as a friend, readily accepted.
The de Wolfe Hunting Party grew.
Perhaps it wasn’t necessary to have so many men, but it was prudent because Steffan de Featherstone was a seasoned knight in his own right. He served the Lords of de Royans at Netherghyll Castle and everyone knew their knights were the best. Therefore, being prepared was only wise because they were certain de Featherstone was going to put up a fight. He had fled for a reason and, for his sake, they could only hope it wasn’t another lover.
As the group entered the outskirts of Newcastle on an evening with another storm on the horizon, they slowed their pace as they filtered into the village that was beginning to shut down for the night. The heady smells of the cooking fires was heavy on the air as the group plodded down one of the main avenues leading towards the center of the village, and they could hear people inside their homes, sitting down to an evening meal with the soft hum of conversation.
It all seemed rather quiet and calm, but it was the calm before the storm. As the small avenue widened and they ended up on a main street that was lined with residences as well as businesses, they were specifically looking for a tavern called The Black Bull. That was where de Featherstone’s squire told them that they would possibly find their target.
Unfortunately, the squire wasn’t entirely certain, and all of the threatening posturing by the irate father of the bride meant to scare him couldn’t force him to change his story, so it was assumed that the squire was only guessing where they could find de Featherstone.
“He owns a big, white warhorse with brown spots on the rump,” Ronan said, his blue eyes scanning the surrounding area as night fell. “We should check the liveries around here. Mayhap we can find his horse.”
Tor turned to the four de Vesci knights, who had heard young Ronan. With a low whistle between his teeth and a gesture advising they do exactly what Ronan had suggested, the de Vesci knights split off and began heading in different directions, looking for the local liveries.
“I’ve been to Newcastle a couple times, but Uncle Tommy should know it better than I do,” Tor said, turning to Thomas de Wolfe, riding next to his son. “You are the one with lands closer to Newcastle than any of us. Do you know where we can find The Black Bull tavern?”
Thomas nodded thoughtfully. “It is here, in the village center,” he said. “I was last here about three years ago, so it has not changed so much that I do not recognize the place. As I recall, it was over near one of the town’s wells.”
The sun was almost down and the torches lit by the town’s watch weren’t giving off a tremendous amount of light, so the group moved forward, straining to catch a glimpse of the establishments that were still open. There was a small tavern to their left that seemed to be serving only food, and food that people were even taking home, because they had one entire side of the tavern open as they dished out food into empty pots for a few pence.
“What about sending word to the castle?” Nat Hage asked. “It’s a royal garrison with hundreds of men. We could flush de Featherstone out quickly with enough help.”
“Nay, lad,” Thomas said. “The garrison at Newcastle is meant to defend the city, not roust it to find an errant groom. However, I will send Jeremy and Nathaniel to the castle to let the garrison commander know why we are here. I do not want word to reach them that a gang of de Wolfe knights are terrorizing the town. It would be the polite thing to tell him first.”
“Before we terrorize the town,” Tor muttered. “Informing them will not stop us.”
“Exactly.”
As they grinned at each other, Jeremy and Nathaniel took exception to being sent away from the Hunting Party.
“Why us?” Jeremy said. Usually, he was a very obedient young man, but he also had battle fever. He wanted to beat up Steffan de Featherstone as much as the next man. “Why not send one of the de Vesci knights?
Thomas turned to look at him. A seasoned knight as well as a powerful earl, he was still big and muscular and imposing. Imposing enough to scare his nephews into submission.
“Because I asked you,” he said pointedly. “Disobey me and I will have to tell your father. I do not think he would like it.”
Scott was Thomas’ eldest brother, and the two of them were close, so they knew that the threat was not an idle one. Jeremy refrained from frowning, but Nathaniel wasn’t so adept at hiding his displeasure. He started to say something, but Jeremy slapped him on the back of the head.