The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7) (19 page)

We set out for Kerolton on a fine day, with the sun shining down upon us and a pleasant wind at our backs. The weather had been nowhere near warm enough to even begin to melt the massive snow drifts that had piled up during the Great Storm, but the going was easier than I had feared, the sturdy horses we rode making their way across the wintry landscape without flagging.

When the trees of the Sarisfell woods appeared in the distance, I felt my heart lift, for I knew we did not have that much farther to go. We had already decided to go to my grandmother’s cottage first. If she had abandoned it during the storm, by this time she would most likely have returned, as long as the place was still habitable. And if not, then we would head off to look for her in the village.

I would not let my mind go any further than that. I had to believe she was safe, that she had taken refuge in Kerolton before the storm grew too fierce.

Our party was small enough; Phelan and myself and four of his men-at-arms. Master Merryk had remained behind to keep watch on Harrow Hall — as well as to make sure the repairs on the castle would continue in a timely manner. Once we had entered the forest, I took the lead, as I was the only one who knew the location of our destination.

But when we entered the clearing where my grandmother’s cottage stood, I found myself pulling the horse I rode to an abrupt stop. For the cottage was a ruin of broken plaster and splintered timbers, the only thing still standing the chimney, and even that had become a sad stub, half its bricks tumbled into a pile in the snow.

Although I had feared something like this, seeing the reality of it was enough to bring a strangled sob to my throat. Phelan spurred his horse forward and came up beside me. “My love,” he said, “I am sure your grandmother is safe. You yourself told me that most likely she would have sheltered in the village once she saw how bad the storm had become.”

I could but nod, as I did not trust myself to speak. In that moment, I was glad of the presence of the men-at-arms, for if I had been alone with Phelan, I had no doubt I would have burst into tears.

After swallowing past the thickness in my throat, I said, “You are right, my husband. We will go there now, and no doubt we will find her teaching Master Willar’s daughters how to spin properly, for I know that his wife is none too gifted at the task.”

“I am sure of that, dear wife,” Phelan said. “You may continue to lead, as you know the way better than the rest of us.”

I blinked back the remnants of my tears, then nodded as I turned my horse around. Once again we made our way through the winter woods, although the sun was not quite as fine and bright in here among the thickets of pine and fir. But the paths were clear enough, seeming to indicate that people had been coming and going in this area, probably to gather firewood and to hunt what squirrels and rabbits they could find.

After a few more minutes, we came out of the woods and into the open fields that surrounded the village. Here, the snow looked more or less untouched, except for paths that appeared to have been laboriously carved through the heavy snow. I also spotted the tracks of deer and other woodland creatures, showing that not all had perished in the Great Storm.

And then I saw smoke rising from the chimneys of the village houses, pale against the hard blue sky. As we approached, I was relieved to note that the buildings here appeared to have fared better than my grandmother’s cottage. Yes, snow was piled up in enormous drifts everywhere I looked, but the doorways were clear. Many of the houses had their windows boarded up, a necessary precaution against the weight of the accumulating snow. But the smoke told me that people had survived. There was life here.

I guided my horse toward Amery Willar’s home, thinking it was with him I would receive the most favorable reception, even if my grandmother had ended up sheltering elsewhere. We came to a stop in front of his house, where a narrow path had been carved out between the drifts blocking his boarded-up windows.

Phelan dismounted first, then came to me so he could help me down from the saddle. I had been given a docile horse to ride and so had fared well enough on the journey here, but I was still awkward on horseback, as of course my grandmother and I had been too poor to own a horse or even a pony, and so I had never learned to ride with any degree of skill.

The feel of my husband’s strong, gloved fingers reassured me somewhat, and I settled my cloak on my shoulders and smoothed the front of my gown before stepping forward so I might knock on the door. A long pause followed that knock. I cast a nervous glance at Phelan, but he only smiled, head cocked to one side, as if amused by my impatience.

Then the door opened, and Amery Willar stared out at me, blue eyes widening so much that I feared they might pop out of his head. “B-Bettany?”

“Yes, Master Willar. I am glad to see that you appear to have weathered the storm well enough. May we come in?”

At the word “we,” Amery’s gaze shifted past me to Phelan. The richness of my husband’s dress, and the band of silver that held his heavy dark hair back from his brow, made his identity clear enough. If possible, Master Willar’s eyes widened even further. “M-my lord?”

“Yes, Master Willar,” Phelan said. “I am Lord Greymount. Mistress Sendris took refuge in my keep during the storm, and now she has some news for her grandmother. Is she here?”

“Why, yes, she is, my lord,” Amery replied, and a great rush of relief went over me. Ever since I had seen the ruin of the cottage, I had feared the worst, but it seemed I would not have to mourn her after all. “My youngest brought her here when the snow began to fall so thickly, and she has sheltered with us the entire time.” He paused, then waved a hand, ushering us inside. “But here I am talking while you stand out in the cold. Please come in, my lord.”

Phelan offered him a pleasant smile, then took my hand and brought me into the house. I had been there once or twice; we now stood in the small entry hall, and two short corridors led off in opposite directions, one toward the wing where the bedrooms were located, and the other toward the more public areas of the house — the sitting room and dining room and kitchen. From that direction I heard the sound of voices, and it was there that Amery led us, looking back over his shoulder from time to time, as if he could not quite believe the evidence of his own eyes.

Although they had not been invited in, the men-at-arms came inside as well, although they waited in the entryway rather than accompanying us to the sitting room. Just as well, for the place would have been quite crowded if they had attempted to squeeze in there with us and the rest of Amery’s family.

The sitting room was good-sized chamber, with a large fireplace on one wall and a floor of smoothly sanded oak. Gathered around the hearth was a group of women — Amery’s wife and daughters. Sitting in the center of all of them was a woman with sleek, grey-streaked hair, a woman who turned along with all the rest of them to see who had just entered the room.

Her hand went to her mouth. She had been holding a drop spindle and a fluffy bunch of carded wool, but they both fell to the floor as she caught sight of me. Her face was pale. Indeed, she had the appearance of someone who had just seen a ghost. Not so strange, I supposed, for she must have surely thought me dead, perished weeks ago in the howling blizzard that had swept down upon us all.

I let go of Phelan’s hand and moved forward, my skirts of fine wool whispering over the wooden floor. Standing behind my grandmother was Amery’s daughter Vianna; her eyes narrowed as she cast an envious glance at the rich clothing I wore. Yes, it was quite out of date, but still finer than anything she owned.

“I am so glad you were able to take refuge here,” I said to my grandmother, doing my best to ignore the stares from the female members of Amery’s family. His two boys must have been out hunting or perhaps gathering wood for the fire. “Just as I was able to take refuge in Harrow Hall.”

My grandmother’s gaze flicked toward Phelan and back to me. “So you were able to reach the castle safely.”

“Yes,” I said. Perhaps later I would tell her how I had nearly perished in the cold before Phelan’s men found me, but I saw no reason to go into such detail right then, for I thought that information would only upset her unnecessarily. “I did wait out the storm there, and was given all consideration and kindness. Indeed” — I paused then, and sent a quick glance toward my husband. He inclined his head, encouraging me to continue — “indeed, I was made so welcome that Lord Greymount and I formed quite an attachment. We were married a little more than a fortnight ago.”

This declaration elicited a gasp from the members of Amery’s family, while the man himself gave me another of those pop-eyed stares. My grandmother went very still, then stood up straighter as she looked past me to the lord of Harrow Hall.

“You love her?” she asked.

Another gasp from the assemblage. Clearly, they did not possess the courage to have asked such a question, and so were shocked to see that my grandmother apparently did.

Quite calmly, Phelan replied, “More than life itself. Indeed, she is my life. I thank the gods daily, for they were the ones who sent her to me.”

This answer made my grandmother nod in some approval. Then she glanced back over at me. “And I suppose you love him.”

“Of course I do,” I said stoutly. “You know me well enough, Grandmother, to know that I am not swayed by wealth.”

“Or a title?” she asked.

“Or a title,” I responded. “I would have married him even if he had been Kerolton’s poorest woodcutter.”

“Fortunately for both of us,” Phelan put in them, “I am no such thing. I am able to give your granddaughter the comforts and ease that she deserves. The same comforts and ease I am now offering to you. It was very noble of Master Willar to offer you shelter here, but just as Harrow Hall is now her ladyship’s home, it shall be your home as well.”

“I am no grand lady, to live in a castle,” my grandmother said. Bold words, I supposed, but since I knew her so well, I could hear the hesitation beneath them. Yes, it would take some time for her to adjust to the alteration in her situation. I understood that, but we all understood as well that her own home had been destroyed, and she could not stay with the Willar family indefinitely. At any rate, she was my family, and she needed to be with me and Phelan.

“I did not think I was, either,” I said. “But I have lately conceded that there is much to be said for such a life. So come with us, Grandmother.”

“Would you not wish to be there to watch your great-grandchildren grow up?” Phelan inquired.

My grandmother shot a quick glance at my waistline, although even if I were with child — which I knew I was not — I would not be showing any evidence of such a condition. Then she let out a small breath. “You are a clever one, Lord Greymount, to know exactly how to persuade an old woman. Very well. I will come with you. No doubt the Willars will be glad enough to have me out from underfoot.”

This comment provoked a half-hearted protest from Mistress Willar, one which my grandmother pointedly ignored. It could not have been easy to have a houseguest for such an extended period of time under such trying conditions.

“I will gather my things,” my grandmother said. “They aren’t many, so it shan’t take me very long. But I will also have to chase down Malkin,” she added, then left the room, clearly headed to the wing of the house that contained the bedchambers.

“Malkin?” Phelan inquired with a lift of the eyebrow.

“Her cat,” I explained.

“Ah.” His lips quirked. “We shall have to see what Linsi and Doxen make of that.”

“As they are very well-behaved dogs, I am sure they will be just fine.”

Phelan smiled, even as he shook his head. But, since he seemed to note how the Willar family was staring at the two of us, he filled the awkward silence by saying in that easy manner of his,

“Please know, Master Willar, that if there were any costs incurred by housing Mistress Sendris — and Malkin — here for so many days, I would be happy to compensate you for them.”

“N-no, of course not,” Amery Willar replied at once. A flash of irritation passed over his daughter Vianna’s face, while his wife only appeared resigned, as if she had known that her husband would never accept such an offer, even if doing so could only benefit his family.

“You are certain?”

“Very certain,” Amery said. “We were honored to shelter Mistress Sendris here.”

In that moment, my grandmother returned. In one hand she held a small battered leather satchel, one I knew she had brought with her to the forest of Sarisfell many, many years ago when she came here to be my grandfather’s wife. In the other was a large wicker cage, from which emerged a low growl. Malkin had never much enjoyed being transported in such a manner.

“I will warn you,” she said. “I am not a very good horsewoman.”

“No matter,” Phelan replied. “Neither is your granddaughter, and so we shall set an easy pace.”

At that response, she chuckled, and I could feel myself begin to relax. My grandmother was not one for easy laughter, and if you were lucky enough to amuse her, it meant she thought well of you.

“But because of that pace,” my husband went on, “we should go now, so we have plenty of daylight to guide us home.”

“Sensible of you.”

Then she turned and thanked Amery and his wife for their hospitality, added a few words to the girls in praise of their improved spinning — leaving Vianna out of that compliment, I noticed — and headed out to the entryway. Phelan and I followed. His mouth was pursed with amusement, and I guessed that he was rather looking forward to having someone under his roof who was not particularly impressed by him.

But once we were outside, he appeared sober and respectful enough, relieving my grandmother of her burdens and handing them off to our escort, then guiding her into the saddle of the horse we had brought for her before he did the same thing for me. The men-at-arms also mounted, and in no time we were headed out of Kerolton and into the forest.

Phelan and I rode just far enough ahead of our companions that we were able to exchange a few words in relative privacy. “You did not mention what a singular person your grandmother was,” my husband remarked.