Read Online The Lion of the North by Kathryn Le Veque - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
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to pieces so I took to writing a song to Titus instead to distract myself. Atticus said that I had no right to feel grief for a man I had only known a matter of weeks. He said that he found my tears at Titus’ passing insulting, so I have stayed to my rooms in order to write a song to Titus to express how I feel. But… but I am not strong enough to speak of him so please don’t.”
Tertius’ expression tightened. “Atticus told you that?”
Isobeau nodded. “He did,” she said, marginally agitated in her restless movements, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands or body. Everything about her was on edge. “He came to tell me that upon his deathbed, Titus asked him to marry me and take care of me. I sent Atticus away; I do not want to marry the man. I cannot think on such things right now.”
Tertius knew his sister could be temperamental and even sharp at times; Atticus could be the same way. He could only imagine how a conversation must have gone between them regarding the volatile subject of Titus’ death. He cocked his head curiously. “You told Atticus that you did not wish to marry him?”
“I did.”
“How did he react?”
She shrugged, averting her gaze. “He was unpleasant and bitter,” she said. “Tertius, after we return to Wolfe’s Lair to bury Titus, will you please take me home? I want to return to Isenhall. I do not want to say here in the north any longer. I do not like it here. Without Titus, there is no reason to remain.”
Tertius scratched his head, thinking on his sister’s request and realizing that he was somewhat irritated with it. In fact, he was quite irritated with it. “Are you truly so selfish, Iz?” he asked her. “Look around you. Northumberland’s army has been badly defeated in a battle that turned decidedly against the king. Henry Percy was killed alongside Titus, and alongside thousands of other men, and all you can think of is returning home to Isenhall because you do not wish to remain here any longer. More than that, you have blatantly refused a marriage proposal from Atticus de Wolfe. Do you understand that his brother made that request of him? With is dying breath, Titus asked his brother to take care of you and you have refused that request? What on earth is the matter with you that you would be so selfish and short-sighted?”
By now, Isobeau was looking at her brother with a mixture of remorse and sorrow on her features. “How is that being selfish and short-sighted?” she wanted to know. “I do not wish to have another husband!”
“Your husband has made provisions for you,” Tertius pointed out hotly. “The man thought only of you with his last breath and you have the bad manners to disobey him? Worse yet, you shut yourself up in this room while pain and devastation go on all around you and rather than lift a finger to help, you write songs to your dead husband. I am ashamed of you, Isobeau Adelaide de Shera.”
It wasn’t often that Tertius spoke firmly to her, or called her by her full name, but he was certainly doing it now. The more he spoke, the more regretful and confused Isobeau became, mostly because he was making sense. She trusted Tertius and he had always been good to her. She respected his opinion. Therefore, his latest statements had her in utter confusion and despair.
“What would you have me do, then?” she asked, on the defensive. “I cannot do anything to ease the pain and devastation.”
Tertius abruptly stood up and grabbed her by the hand. “Aye, you can,” he said. “You will go down to the great hall and you will tell the surgeon that you are there to help. The man has his hands full with the wounded and dying, and the least you can do is offer your services to comfort them. A kind word or a comforting touch will make a world of difference to those men who are suffering, Isobeau. Stop behaving like a selfish child and do something with yourself. Go help those in need.”
Isobeau frowned as he pulled her
Tertius’ expression tightened. “Atticus told you that?”
Isobeau nodded. “He did,” she said, marginally agitated in her restless movements, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands or body. Everything about her was on edge. “He came to tell me that upon his deathbed, Titus asked him to marry me and take care of me. I sent Atticus away; I do not want to marry the man. I cannot think on such things right now.”
Tertius knew his sister could be temperamental and even sharp at times; Atticus could be the same way. He could only imagine how a conversation must have gone between them regarding the volatile subject of Titus’ death. He cocked his head curiously. “You told Atticus that you did not wish to marry him?”
“I did.”
“How did he react?”
She shrugged, averting her gaze. “He was unpleasant and bitter,” she said. “Tertius, after we return to Wolfe’s Lair to bury Titus, will you please take me home? I want to return to Isenhall. I do not want to say here in the north any longer. I do not like it here. Without Titus, there is no reason to remain.”
Tertius scratched his head, thinking on his sister’s request and realizing that he was somewhat irritated with it. In fact, he was quite irritated with it. “Are you truly so selfish, Iz?” he asked her. “Look around you. Northumberland’s army has been badly defeated in a battle that turned decidedly against the king. Henry Percy was killed alongside Titus, and alongside thousands of other men, and all you can think of is returning home to Isenhall because you do not wish to remain here any longer. More than that, you have blatantly refused a marriage proposal from Atticus de Wolfe. Do you understand that his brother made that request of him? With is dying breath, Titus asked his brother to take care of you and you have refused that request? What on earth is the matter with you that you would be so selfish and short-sighted?”
By now, Isobeau was looking at her brother with a mixture of remorse and sorrow on her features. “How is that being selfish and short-sighted?” she wanted to know. “I do not wish to have another husband!”
“Your husband has made provisions for you,” Tertius pointed out hotly. “The man thought only of you with his last breath and you have the bad manners to disobey him? Worse yet, you shut yourself up in this room while pain and devastation go on all around you and rather than lift a finger to help, you write songs to your dead husband. I am ashamed of you, Isobeau Adelaide de Shera.”
It wasn’t often that Tertius spoke firmly to her, or called her by her full name, but he was certainly doing it now. The more he spoke, the more regretful and confused Isobeau became, mostly because he was making sense. She trusted Tertius and he had always been good to her. She respected his opinion. Therefore, his latest statements had her in utter confusion and despair.
“What would you have me do, then?” she asked, on the defensive. “I cannot do anything to ease the pain and devastation.”
Tertius abruptly stood up and grabbed her by the hand. “Aye, you can,” he said. “You will go down to the great hall and you will tell the surgeon that you are there to help. The man has his hands full with the wounded and dying, and the least you can do is offer your services to comfort them. A kind word or a comforting touch will make a world of difference to those men who are suffering, Isobeau. Stop behaving like a selfish child and do something with yourself. Go help those in need.”
Isobeau frowned as he pulled her
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