Wolfeshield, p.1
WolfeShield, page 1
WOLFESHIELD
A Medieval Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
Part of the de Wolfe Pack Generations Series
© Copyright 2022 by Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
Kindle Edition
Text by Kathryn Le Veque
Cover by Kim Killion
Edited by Scott Moreland
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
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Sometimes, men are impulsive in life and love. When Ronan de Wolfe, son of James de Wolfe (A Wolfe Among Dragons), marries young and impulsively, the consequences will prove to be disastrous when he meets the love of his life.
Will de Wolfe honor stand the test? Or will true love crush a man of good character?
Ronan de Wolfe, the mild-mannered but powerful son of James de Wolfe, married on a whim against the advice of his father and grandfather. He married into the powerful Northumberland de Grey family, a family that rivals the House of de Wolfe in both strength and wealth. Coerced by a cunning de Grey father, Ronan found himself married before he knew what had happened.
The years pass. Ronan is married and miserable. His wife has lovers, shaming both houses. Children are born, but they are not Ronan’s. With some measure of peace on the England/Scotland borders, Ronan amuses himself in local tournaments to get away from his horrible home life. Along with his best friend, they enjoy celebrity status of the great tournament champions, but when his friend is mortally wounded and asks Ronan to take care of his pregnant wife, the situation changes drastically.
Ronan meets the woman he should have married.
Isabeth de Brito is a beautiful woman from a minor noble family. Pregnant with her dead husband’s child, she and Ronan form a strong friendship as he tends to her every need. But in Ronan’s case, it is much more. Friendship turns to love. When Ronan’s petty, foolish wife realizes Ronan is paying attention to another woman, innocent as it is, the claws come out. Her powerful family can ruin Isabeth and her family – permanently.
When Isabeth’s father is forced into finding Isabeth another husband, Ronan can only stand by and watch the woman he loves as she is courted by another man.
Will there be a happily ever after for Ronan and Isabeth? Or will Ronan have to watch his love marry another?
It’s another wild ride for the de Wolfe Pack Generations.
De Wolfe Pack Generations/ Grandsons of de Wolfe series:
WolfeHeart (Markus de Wolfe)
WolfeStrike (Thomas “Tor” de Wolfe)
WolfeSword (Cassius de Wolfe)
WolfeBlade (Andreas de Wolfe)
WolfeLord (William “Will” de Wolfe)
WolfeShield (Ronan de Wolfe – son of James/Blayth and Rose)
WolfeBorn (Titus de Wolfe – son of Patrick and Bridey – 2023)
WolfeDagger (Gareth de Wolfe – son of Troy and Rhoswyn – 2023)
WolfeFire (Maddock de Wolfe – son of James/Blayth and Asmara – 2023)
De Wolfe Pack Generations
The grandsons of William de Wolfe are referred to as “The de Wolfe Cubs”. There are more than forty of them, both biological and adopted, and each young man is sworn to his powerful and rich legacy. When each grandson comes of age and is knighted, he tattoos the de Wolfe standard onto some part of his body. It is a rite of passage and it is that mark that links these young men together more than blood.
More than brotherhood.
It is the de Wolfe birthright.
The de Wolfe Pack standard is meant to be worn with honor, with pride, and with resilience, for there is no more recognizable standard in Medieval England. To shame the Pack is to have the tattoo removed, never to be regained.
This is their world.
Welcome to the Cub Generation.
De Wolfe Motto: Fortis in arduis
Strength in times of trouble
Author’s Note
Now, it’s Ronan’s turn.
We met Ronan in a few of the de Wolfe Pack Generations books, most prominently in WolfeStrike because his younger sister had been wronged. We got a taste of impulsive Ronan, fearless when it comes to defending his family, which I love about him. But, let’s be honest – writing a de Wolfe Pack book gives me so much joy!
One of the best things about the de Wolfe Pack Generations books is the fact that I get to set them in a time period when William de Wolfe is still alive. If I’m lucky enough, Paris is around, too. Ronan, however, was still a young man when his grandfather passed away in his mid-90s (at a VERY ripe old age), so although William and Kieran are in the prologue, by the time the bulk of the story comes along, they’ve long passed away.
Ronan is the first son of James de Wolfe, who later became Blayth (A Wolfe Among Dragons), and Blayth’s book is one of my favorites of all time. James and his first wife, Rose, were married in A Joyous de Wolfe Christmas, so if you haven’t read that novella yet, please do so. Ronan is very much like his father, and very much a de Wolfe, but he’s got a lot of Kieran Hage in him, too. As you’ll recall, Kieran is his maternal grandfather, so he has Kieran’s size and strength. He’s very much a mix of both grandfathers, his father, and his paternal grandmother, Jordan, so he’s got a lot of great traits in him, but I think you’ll find he’s mostly got Kieran in him. The gentle giant, so to speak. But he also has a tad of his grandmother, Jemma, in him in his rash decision making (at least he did when he was younger) and that has gotten him into trouble.
There are some fun things in this tale and, as always, I point out a few. One of them is a Medieval version of a Scotch egg. If you don’t know what that is, a Scotch egg is a hard-boiled egg surrounded by sausage meat and then coated with breadcrumbs. It’s deep fried to produce a yummy delicacy. However, in my research, I came across a Medieval version, which is basically the hard-boiled egg smeared in fish paste and breadcrumbs before being fried. I think I like the sausage version better, personally.
As always, I have a blend of fact and fiction in my novels and this one is no exception. One of the historical “facts” in this novel is the de Grey family, a very prominent Medieval family. There is a mention of Portepool Manor in this book which was, in fact, a real location in London for the de Grey household. Lady Jane Grey, the “Nine Day Queen”, was a descendant of this family. And, of course, there’s Earl Grey tea.
There are several references to A Wolfe Among Dragons in this novel, so if you haven’t read it yet, you must do so. Not only to help you in understanding some of the references, but also because I think it’s one of the best books I’ve ever written. It was a book that I had never expected to write because the hero of the book was dead according to de Wolfe history. But… never say never in my world and James de Wolfe rose from the ashes of death in A Wolfe Among Dragons. Make sure to grab a copy if you haven’t read it.
I’ve got some Easter eggs in this one, too. For example – a mention of a Dragonblade series knight as a young man. Just a brief mention and nothing more. There are also mentions of scenes in past de Wolfe books. See if you can pick them out.
The usual pronunciation guide:
Isabeth – EEsa-beth
Middlesbrough (for the Americans!): Middles-bruh
And with that, I’ll end my notes and introduce you to Ronan and Isabeth, a couple I have become very fond of. I hope you will, too!
Hugs,
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
De Wolfe Pack Generations
Author’s Note
Prologue
PART ONE: MIDDLESBROUGH
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
PART TWO: RAVENSCAR
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
The parents, children, and grandchildren of de Wolfe
Holdings and Titles of the House of
Kathryn Le Veque Novels
About Kathryn Le Veque
’Tis thee, my dear, that I adore
And will, my darling, forever more.
PROLOGUE
“I saw him, William. Ramming a sword into the chests of injured Scots and then running off. We need to find him before someone else does.”
Kieran Hage was covered in gore and filth from where a band of Scots had pushed him down and tried to beat him to death. But Kieran was strong, and big, and he’d managed to get to his feet and break a couple of necks before the Scots went off to find another victim. In a battle against the English, there were always plenty of targets for their rage.
And apparently, now there was an unexpected target in their midst.
William looked at Kieran with confusion.
“Repeat what you just said to me,” he said, keeping an eye out on the fighting around him as he held a conversation. “Say again.”
Kieran took a deep breath. He was an old man these days, fighting in wars he should not be fighting in because William was fighting. William de Wolfe never went to battle without his second in command, so no matter how poorly Kieran felt, he was at William’s side, always.
He had been for forty years.
But this… this was something different.
“I saw Ronan,” he said succinctly. Then, he jabbed a finger towards the field of battle. “James’ lad is out there, somewhere, killing off men and then running and hiding. He must have followed us from Castle Questing.”
William’s jaw dropped as Kieran’s news sank in. “He’s only eight years of age,” he said. “He would never do such a thing.”
“I have two eyes, William, and you have only one. I know what I saw.”
That was true. William had lost his left eye many years ago in battle. He held up a hand of apology. “I do not dispute your sight,” he said. “I’m simply in disbelief that an eight-year-old lad would follow us into battle.”
Kieran took another deep breath, a smile flickering across his lips. “He has de Wolfe and Hage blood in him,” he said. “He was a knight the day he was born. He is out here, fighting. We must find our grandson before the Scots do.”
That was an understatement. They were near Canonbie, Scotland where the large Douglas Clan had pushed through the border and attacked Carlisle Castle because a soldier from Carlisle had killed the son of an important Douglas man. This was an attack of vengeance and the garrison commander at Carlisle had called in reinforcements. Armies as far away as Castle Questing and Northwood Castle, closer to Berwick, answered the call.
And, evidently, one eight-year-old boy.
“Tell Scott and Troy,” William said, referring to his older sons and the boy’s uncles. “And anyone else in the family that you happen to see. Tell them to keep an eye out for Ronan and hold him for me. I’m going to give that boy a beating he’ll not soon forget.”
Kieran, who was more of a soft touch with children and grandchildren, put a hand on William’s arm. “Nay,” he said quietly. “Do not do that. This is the life he was born for and he is eager to fulfill his destiny. You cannot fault him for that.”
William was snappish. “Nay, I cannot fault him, but I also cannot lose him,” he said, a hint of grief flickering in his face. “He is all I have left of his father. Should he foolishly lose his life out here, then James’ legacy is ended. It will be as if he never existed.”
Kieran grunted softly. “William,” he said softly. “Ronan has a sister. Isabella looks just like James. He will live on through her. But to your point, I cannot lose Ronan, either. We must find him.”
William softened, just for a moment, knowing that Kieran’s daughter had married his son, James, who had perished in Wales the year before. The de Wolfe and Hage families were so intertwined that William and Kieran shared several grandchildren. But more importantly, their rebel grandson was the eldest offspring of a son William still wasn’t over losing. He never would be.
Nor would Kieran.
That pain ran deep.
“I will not beat him,” he finally said, forcing himself to calm. “But find him, Kieran. We must find him.”
Kieran nodded, heading off to find any knights he could to help in the search. William did the same, heading off towards the west where the sun was beginning to set, bathing the battlefield in rays of red and gold light that made it seem as if the entire world were bathed in blood. Men were dying all around them, mostly Scots, and as William walked, he picked up soldiers who naturally gravitated around England’s great Wolfe of the Border to both protect him and obey any commands he might have.
But his commands were most confusing at this moment.
Find Ronan!
Men began to spread out, heading towards the outskirts of the battle to search for the errant young lad as William came to a halt. He scratched his chin wearily, trying to think like an eight-year-old boy who was determined to find glory. They were on the north side of Carlisle Castle, between the fortress and the river, and he could see a thicket of trees near the river’s edge.
If I was a lad and trying to hide, I might hide there.
He mounted his battle-hardened steed. Spurring his warhorse straight through the battle that was beginning to wane, William had to fight off a couple of Scots who came at him, but they were easily subdued or brushed aside as he went. He headed straight for the trees, now lit up by the brilliant sunset. As he drew close, he could see another horse and rider in the trees, realizing it was Kieran. The man had the same idea he’d had.
He plunged into the brush.
It was cool and damp, moisture from the river heavy in the air. William caught up to Kieran, holding a finger to his lips in a silent gesture as the two of them fanned out, heading southeast. There was movement in that direction that could quite possibly be a young man hiding out from his grandfathers. It was thicker in this area, with plenty of places to hide, and as the two of them created a sweep with the intention of flushing Ronan from the brush, several Scots suddenly appeared instead.
The fight was on.
William took a club to the chest almost immediately. His shield was still slung over his left knee and his broadsword was sheathed on the side of his saddle, so the Scotsman flying out of a tree and clobbering him on the chest took him by surprise. Off-guard, William went toppling off his horse.
Because of the heavy foliage, it was difficult for Kieran to get to William. He could see the Scots attacking him as he lay on the ground and, on horseback, Kieran was at a disadvantage for once. He couldn’t maneuver his animal through the saplings and bushes to get to him, which spurred his panic. He began kicking men in the face and using his broadsword to chop through the branches as William finally lurched to his feet.
Without his sword or shield, William was vulnerable. He had daggers and other weapons on his body, so he unsheathed two wicked-looking daggers and began slashing and stabbing at anything that came close. Men were losing eyes or receiving enormous gashes to the arm as The Wolfe cut and chopped and gored. They began falling away only to regroup and make attempts to overwhelm him again. William was in a fight for his life, with Kieran nearly upon him, when another figure rushed forward from the thicket.
The figure was small but as fast as lightning. He had a large dagger with him which, upon closer inspection, was really a small sword. He rammed it into the backs of two Scotsmen before the others, realizing there was some kind of tempest in their midst, turned on the little figure as it darted in and out of the foliage. It was enough of a distraction for William to recover. A couple of limbs were hacked off and one man had his neck broken when Kieran reached down and squeezed, and that was enough for the Scots to take off running.
As William stood in the middle of the carnage, breathing heavily with exertion, Kieran dismounted his steed and rushed to his side.
“Are you injured?” he asked, concerned.
William shook his head, wiping a bit of blood from his upper lip. “Nay,” he said. “I am not. Are you?”
