WolfeBlade: de Wolfe Pack Generations Kathryn Veque (interesting books to read .TXT) 📖

Clan Maxwell and its enemies, Clan Elliot and Clan Johnstone, but that feud was spilling over into de Wolfe lands and tearing up everything in its path.

The English found themselves caught up in a clan war.

It was a nasty, political conflict. The House of de Wolfe had tens of thousands of men at their disposal, but there was such a buildup of angry clans on the border that William de Wolfe, the Earl of Warenton and the head of the House of de Wolfe, had called upon the king to send more troops north to help contain the rage. Considering King Edward was mostly focused in Wales at this time, he hadn’t been happy about moving men and material from the Welsh Marches to deal with the conflict happening along the Scottish border.

De Wolfe was holding the line, but he was calling in reinforcements.

Other great de Wolfe allies had come to their aid – de Lohr, de Winter, de Shera, du Reims, de Royans, de Reyne, and more. Wellesbourne and de Russe had also headed north with their massive armies, which the Scots saw as a buildup to an English invasion. Or, perhaps they saw it as an insult that the English should involve themselves in a bloody conflict between clans that was just growing worse. Whatever the case, that brought more Scots to the border.

The entire north of England was straining against a Scots surge.

Wolfe’s Lair was right in the middle of it because, technically, it was in Clan Elliot territory. Wolfe’s Lair belonged to Scott de Wolfe, the heir to the House of de Wolfe, but what made the situation complicated was the fact that Scott’s twin, Troy, had married a chieftain’s daughter from Clan Kerr. That particular clan was allied with Clan Maxwell but in the midst of these border wars, they were doing their best to remain neutral.

As Troy had put it, the whole thing was a goddamned mess.

On this icy winter’s day as the sun set against an orange sky to the west and the embattled army filtered into the bailey for the night, Wolfe’s Lair sat like an immovable sentinel against the dramatic Scottish landscape, protecting the armies that trusted her.

The Lair…

In truth, Rule Water Castle hadn’t been called by its proper name in decades, ever since the de Wolfe family from nearby Castle Questing had annexed the former Scottish garrison for the de Wolfe barony of Kilham, now the Earldom of Warenton. Everyone in England and Scotland knew the place as Wolfe’s Lair, or simply The Lair, an extremely fortified fortress that had an imposing look to it.

Much like infamous Hell’s Guardhouse Castle about a day’s ride to the southwest, seat of the terrible de Soulis family, Rule Water Castle was built in much the same design and it was almost twice the size. It was square, box-shaped, and four stories tall. The walls of the keep were also the exterior walls of the fortress, with massive flying buttresses by design. It also had an enormous moat that was fed by a nearby stream, a wide and muck-filled ditch that was at least twenty feet wide in places and had a massive retractable wooden bridge that crossed it.

The impression of Wolfe’s Lair was one of intimidation. It sat on a flat plain, with rolling hills in the distance, and could been seen for miles. With its sheer, dark walls, it had the look of dread and danger about it. The entrance to the fortress was also much like Hermitage Castle in that it was a Norman arch, several stories tall, and had two enormous gates that had been forged from the strongest iron. These gates were thick, vastly heavy, and impossible to breach once closed.

The great gates protected the interior of the fortress, which included an enormous bailey in the center. The stables, trades, small chapel, and kitchens were all located in the vast bailey while the second level contained sleeping quarters for the soldiers. The third level contained living and sleeping accommodations for the family and the fourth floor was mostly the wall walk, a flat roof over the third floor that spanned the perimeter of the fortress. The hall, a great thing that took up one entire side of the second floor, was designed to hold a thousand men at any given time.

It was into this hall that the de Wolfe knights moved.

Andreas was at the head of the exhausted de Wolfe pack, along with Will and Tor, Markus de Wolfe and his brother, Cassius, sons of their uncle, Patrick. They were joined by Brodie de Reyne, Troy’s garrison commander from Scotland, along with Scott de Wolfe, Troy de Wolfe, and another de Wolfe brother, Blayth.

Blayth had been born James de Wolfe, but the horrible battle at Llandeilo that Andreas wouldn’t speak of was where the man received a near-fatal head injury. The entire de Wolfe family believed he was dead for five years until he resurfaced with no memory of who he had once been. It had taken time, and the loving arms of his family, to return much of Blayth’s memory, but given that he’d spent those years in Wales as part of the Welsh rebellion, no one knew rebellion and clan battles better than Blayth did.

His advice and experience during these recent battles had been invaluable.

These were knights in their prime, fighting men who kept the Scots from invading the north of England, but they were joined by their counterparts to the east, men who were preventing the Scots from infiltrating the entire eastern seaboard of England. Northwood Castle, Castle Questing, Wark Castle, Berwick Castle, and Kyloe Castle were just a few of the fortresses who had mounted massive armies to hold the border.

Northwood was commanded by the Earl of Warenton’s best friend, Paris de Norville, and his sons Hector and Adonis, while mighty Berwick Castle was commanded by the Constable of the North, Patrick de Wolfe, and his knights Alec Hage and Apollo de Norville. Patrick had sent