“Come on,” he said. “The sooner we inform the garrison, the sooner we can return.”
As they thundered off, leaving their youngest brother with the group, who was most triumphant that he hadn’t been asked to go to Newcastle, Thomas and Tor pushed forward in the search for The Black Bull.
“I am surprised that you do not know Steffan de Featherstone, Tor,” Thomas said. He addressed him by his nickname, as did the rest of the family, because there were two Thomas de Wolfes, both named for the same man. “I seem to recall that they have a rather large property near Carlisle.”
Tor nodded. “It is south of Brampton,” he said. “And Brampton is south of my fortress. My lands butt up against Viscount Brampton’s properties and I have met Gilbert de Featherstone twice at Brampton’s fortress, but I am not particularly familiar with him or his son. Uncle Blayth said that Steffan serves at Netherghyll Castle. If he’s part of the de Royans war machine, then he must be skilled, indeed.”
Thomas looked at him. Enormously tall and muscular Tor, whose hair was now a pale red in color because it had started turning gray at an early age. He kept it neatly cut and combed back and he was, by all reasonable opinion, a very handsome man of some means.
His father, Scott, worried about him perhaps more than his other children because Tor seemed to have shut himself off from anything to do with female companionship when it came to finding a wife. They all knew why and, surprisingly, it wasn’t because of the beloved wife he lost almost seventeen years ago.
It was because of a pair of vipers he kept close to him.
Tor was the only one who didn’t see it.
Truth be told, Thomas worried about him, too.
“How are things at Blackpool Castle these days?” he asked casually. “Is everything peaceful?”
Tor nodded, though his gaze was searching for something that looked like a tavern. “Peaceful enough,” he said. “Nothing unusual or harried, at least over the past couple of years. When Papa assumed Blackpool, it was because the former lord had been killed in a Scots raid.”
“I remember.”
Tor shrugged. “I must be greater than I thought because in the eight years I’ve been in command, I have seen an astonishing amount of peace. Not completely, but more than I should have. The Scots must be afraid of me.”
He was jesting, mostly. Blackpool Castle had seen few battles over the years, but the ones it had seen had been nasty. Thomas knew this because once, he’d sent half his army over to fend off a rabid Scots attack. That particular area was full of Scots as well as de Wolfes, so there was always some conflict going on and it had earned the moniker of WolfeStrike in the short time it had been in the family’s possession.
It was where the enemy met the hardest strike of all.
“Or it could be that The Lair is north of you and so is Monteviot Castle, Troy’s holding,” Thomas said. “It could be that those two are holding back the Scots so they do not break through to you.”
Tor grinned. “Do not be fooled,” he said. “I am the last line of defense between the Scots and all of northwest England. If they break the lines at The Lair and Monteviot, I can and will hold them. I’ve done it before. But it has been… costly.”
Thomas knew that, better than most. He’d lost his share of men to combat on the Scottish Marches over the years.
“Holding the Marches is always costly,” he said. “When I was in command of Wark Castle, we lost more than our share of good men. Speaking of men, do your wife’s sisters still live with you? Or have you been fortunate enough to find husbands for them yet?”
Tor shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “Neither one has any real desire to leave and the few times I have brought in decent men for them to meet have not gone particularly well.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Barbara is very particular,” he said. “She has never shown any huge interest in being married, so not any man will do. And Lenore shows even less interest. They are still young, however. They are in no rush to marry.”
Thomas grunted. “They are in their mid-twenties, Tor,” he said. “Already, they are spinsters. You are not doing them any favors by not forcing them to marry.”
Tor cast him a long glance. “Like Uncle Blayth forced Isabella to marry and we are now chasing down her groom?” Before Thomas could answer, Tor suddenly gestured ahead of them. “Look – The Black Bull.”
Distracted from the two leeches who had sunk their teeth into Tor and refused to let go, Thomas could see the two-storied establishment on ahead. Immediately, he went into battle mode.
“We must stash the horses,” he said.
Quickly, he pulled his mount to a halt and slid off. To their right was a closed merchant stall and it had a hitching post in front of it, and they tethered the horses.
Then, they spread out.
The night was dark and the watch torches weren’t giving out much light as they approached The Black Bull, brightly lit from within. They could hear the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.
Tor looked at the men around and behind him. Thomas was leading the way, an enormous warrior who was in his prime. He was followed by his son, Artus, well-armed and strong, whereas Nat and Alec Hage were moving faster than anyone else, ready to charge into the tavern. Ronan was sticking close to his uncles while the youngest warrior of the group, Alexander, stayed right by Tor’s side. Tor glanced down at his youngest half-brother.
“You let me and your uncles do the initial fighting,” he said. “Your job will be to watch our backs and make sure no one else jumps into the fray. Can you do that?”
Alexander nodded, but it was clear that he was just a little nervous. At seventeen years, he was still a squire, though his training had been very good. He knew how to handle himself in a fight.
Still…
“Wait,” Thomas said, abruptly coming to a halt. He turned around, seeking out Alexander. “Alex, come here.”
Alexander broke away from Tor and went to his Uncle Thomas. “Aye?”
“Do you know what Steffan de Featherstone looks like?”
Alexander nodded. “Aye.”
Thomas pulled the young man’s cloak up over his head, partially covering his face. “Go inside,” he said. “It is crowded, so you can blend in with the patrons. I want you to see if Steffan is actually inside. Come back out to report to us.”
Alexander didn’t hesitate. He may have been nervous, but he knew how to follow an order. With his cloak mostly over his face at that point, he pushed into the packed tavern as the de Wolfe and Hage knights fell back into the shadows of the street to wait.
Alexander was out in less than a minute.
Concerned, Thomas pulled him into an alley next to the tavern as the others came out of their hiding spots to join them.
“What is wrong?” Thomas hissed. “Is he inside?”
Alexander unwrapped the cloak from his face. “Aye,” he said. “He is sitting at a table with five other heavily armed knights. De Royans men, I believe.”
Thomas sighed heavily and looked at Alec. Not only was Alec Isabella’s uncle and head of the Hage family, but he was also a good deal older than Thomas and the captain of the guard at Berwick Castle. He had an enormous amount of power at his disposal, but this news wasn’t good news.