Warwolfe (de Wolfe Pack Book 0)(20)

No one had gotten any sleep that night, for a myriad of reasons. Even as Gaetan stood watch over his prize of Harold’s body with all of the confusion related to it, his thoughts lingered on the man that had yet to return to camp. As he, Téo, and Luc remained to watch over Harold’s body, the rest of the Anges de Guerre and many other men set out to find Kristoph.

Sometime before dawn, Wellesbourne returned leading Kristoph’s big bay stallion, a flashy and excitable animal that had been difficult not only to catch but to hold on to. Gaetan had been momentarily excited to see the horse and the fact that all of Kristoph’s possessions were still on it, including his sword. But that excitement was short-lived when Wellesbourne said they’d searched the surrounding area where the horse was found to no avail.

No Kristoph.

Now, it was dawn and Gaetan was waiting for the rest of his men to return from the search. As much as he pretended to be stoic about the situation, the truth was that he was sick inside. Kristoph was his oldest and dearest friend, and facing the very real prospect of his death was devastating. Gaetan had no desire to tell his younger sister Adalie, who was Kristoph’s wife, that her husband had met his death upon the field of battle. Kristoph was too good for that, too valuable to Gaetan’s war machine. He was a man of vast knowledge and wisdom. Gaetan couldn’t face the prospect of future battles without the man, his second-in-command and someone he very much depended on.

Already, he was living that nightmare.

As he fought off the phantoms of despair, de Russe and St. Hèver came into view through the mist of smoke and clouds, fearsome men emerging from the fog like demons on horseback. But they were alone and Gaetan tried not to feel another nail in his coffin of depression. The men slowed their frothing, exhausted beasts to a halt, dismounting wearily as they handed the horses over to their squires who had been hovering near de Wolfe’s tent in their anxious wait for their masters to return. The knights approached Gaetan, removing gloves and helms as they moved.

“We skirted to the east and to the north, Gate,” Aramis said, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. “There is a large contingent of the Anglo-Saxon army off to the east, sheltered in some heavily wooded forest area, but we did not get too close to it. It is possible that if Kristoph is a prisoner, he is there, but we have no way of knowing. The good news is that we did not find his body on our sweep. The bad news is that we did not find him at all.”

Gaetan merely nodded, his jaw tight with emotion. “I suppose we should be grateful for that,” he said. “How big was the contingent off to the east?”

“Big enough,” Kye responded as he pulled his helm off. Blonde curly hair, close-shorn, came into view. “We could see their fires at a distance and there were several.”

Gaetan nodded his head in a northerly direction. “Not all of the army is to the east,” he said. “A goodly portion of it is still to the north. They have been begging for their king’s body all night.”

“Has the duke agreed to turn it over?” Aramis asked.

Gaetan shook his head. “He does not want them to have it. He told me to throw it into the sea but I will not do it.”

“Why not?”

Gaetan looked at the two men. “Something tells me to keep it. It may be of use to us.”

Kye looked at him blankly but Aramis seemed to understand. “If we find Kristoph a prisoner…?” he ventured.

“Exactly.”

Aramis nodded his head in approval. “An exchange, then.”

Suddenly, Kye understood their meaning and he lifted his blonde eyebrows at the prospect. “What does Normandy think of that?”

Gaetan was unremorseful. “He does not know and I have no intention of telling him. He knows that Kristoph is missing. I am afraid I will have to do something drastic if Normandy forbids me to trade Harold’s body for Kristoph.”

Aramis couldn’t disagree. “If the duke told you to throw the body in the sea then, clearly, he cares not for it. What would it matter to him if you used it to regain Kristoph?”

“Those are exactly my thoughts. And woe to the man who tries to stop me.”

It was an extremely touchy situation with Gaetan already planning for the negotiation of his friend’s return. Knowing how close the Anges de Guerre were to each other, and Gaetan and Kristoph in particular, the duke would be taking his life in his hands forbidding his great Warwolfe from regaining one of his captured men by any means possible – even by using the body of a dead king as an incentive.

Aramis and Kye exchanged glances but neither one of them said anything about it. Whatever happened, they would support Gaetan even if it meant alienation from Normandy. Such were the depths of their loyalty.

“Well,” Aramis said, putting a hand on Gaetan’s shoulder as he moved past the man in the search for his own tent. “Let us know if we are needed. Right now, I hope to find some food and my bed. It has been a very long night.”

Gaetan simply nodded as both Aramis and Kye moved past him, seeking some well-deserved rest. As the knights headed to their shelters, Gaetan heard them speaking with Téo as the man emerged from Gaetan’s tent. When the conversation was over, Téo came up beside him, his face pale in the early dawn and his breath hanging in white puffs in the cold air.

“Aramis and Kye have returned, I see,” he said. “They did not bring positive news.”