Chapter 11

A Trio of Wolves

In the alcove of her small kitchen, Ulla stared out the open window where her hens picked at grubs in the dewy morning grass behind the grey stone cottage. She inhaled deeply, relishing the rich, decadent aroma of wild plums which wafted in on the warm breeze. Mingling with the ripe fruity fragrance was the heady floral scent of white aubépine blooms tucked amongst the dense hedgerow which enclosed her backyard. She sighed, savoring the moment, before directing her attention back to her task at hand.

She’d just finished preparing an assortment of herbal tinctures, ointments, and elixirs, placing the carefully labeled jars inside the cupboard where she stored her healing supplies. Lukaz would be here soon for his archery lesson. And his father, Laudine’s somber son Cardin, would be with him.

Ulla reflected upon the drastic changes in the dashing, debonair knight she remembered from long ago to the sullen, suffering man of the present.

Basati. He’s savage, like his name implies. Fierce and feral, like a wolf. Wounded and vulnerable, like Vill was when I first found him. Withdrawn and melancholy, like Lukaz before he began his lessons and met our animals.

The Basque Wolf of Biarritz. A wretched loner who gambles excessively, drinks too much mead, and fights in every tavern in town. So very different from Sir Cardin de Landuc, the finest royal archer for King Guillemin of Finistère.

Just like Vill and Lukaz, Basati needs nurturing care.

As a wave of curative compassion flowed through her, Ulla smiled at the stark realization.

All three of them need me.

A trio of wounded wolves for me to heal.

A knock at the cottage door interrupted Ulla’s reverie. She glanced at her yew bow and quiver of arrows leaning against the wall in a far corner of the kitchen. Vill leapt up and dashed to the front entrance, his tail wagging with lupine delight.

Vill knows it’s Lukaz. I wonder how he’ll behave around Cardin—who perhaps prefers to be called Basati.

With a hand command for Vill to sit, Ulla opened the front door to greet her guests.

Exuberant smile stretching from ear to ear, Lukaz wrapped his arms around her hips and hugged her tight. “ Bonjour , Lady Ulla! I’ve brought my Papa to watch me.” Dark brown waves framed his pleading face as he lifted his head from her stomach, imploring her with enormous blue eyes. “Can he hunt with us today? When we go to the stables to fetch N?de, he can borrow one of Papi’s Friesians. Or ride his own horse from Biarritz. Please, Lady Ulla? I want him to meet Finn and Rask. Can he come with us? S’il vous pla?t?”

Ulla chuckled silently, bending down to kiss his soft cheeks as she nodded her assent. While Lukaz whooped with glee, she glanced up at Cardin, whose deep green eyes held hers. A delicious shiver rippled up Ulla’s spine under the intensity of his ardent gaze.

He’s an expert archer and skilled hunter. I can tell by the fierce hunger in his eyes.

A bit flustered from the primal aura exuding from Cardin’s compelling presence, Ulla welcomed Lukaz and his father into her humble home with a sweep of her outstretched arm.

She noted that Cardin carried a shortbow today, to accompany Lukaz for his lesson. As a royal archer for King Guillemin of Finistère, he must be highly proficient with a longbow as well. Perhaps he can give me lessons, too.

The leather quiver of finely fletched arrows slung across his small shoulder, Lukaz gripped his new bow in his right hand, proudly displaying the impressive gift that Laudine and Esclados had given their grandson. With an encouraging smile, Ulla led the little boy and his father into the kitchen where she retrieved her own bow and arrow.

She opened the back door, whistled for Vill, and led Lukaz and Cardin down the three stone steps to the sheltered enclave behind her cottage.

“The target is over there, Papa. On the trunk of that huge tree.” Lukaz pointed to a clearing at the edge of the forest where an enormous oak stretched its majestic branches toward the crisp September sky. “At first, I could only reach it from five yards,” he explained as he and Ulla led Cardin toward the target. “But now, Lady Ulla moved me back to ten yards. And I can hit inside the rings almost every time. Watch me, Papa!”

Scrunching his face into a grimace of intense concentration, Lukaz aligned himself perpendicular to the target. He nocked his arrow, and—extending his bow to arm’s length and keeping his firing arm parallel to the ground—tautly drew the string back to the corner of his tightly pressed mouth. He released the arrow to a superbly satisfying thwack as it struck the outer ring of the target.

“Excellent shot!” Cardin boomed with a hearty grin. “Let me show you something that will improve your accuracy.” He approached his son and placed his large hands on either side of the boy’s torso to straighten his posture. “Beginners often lean back, as you did just now. But if you keep your collarbone parallel to the arrow, your torso straight, and your hips like this,” he instructed, positioning them in line with the bow, “your aim will be consistent. And you’ll develop accuracy and precision.” Cardin stepped back, away from Lukaz. “Now, make those slight adjustments. And try again.”

With concentrated effort, Lukaz straightened his torso and aligned his hips. Keeping his collarbone parallel to the arrow, he tightly drew the bowstring back to the corner of his compressed lips for a perfect release. When the arrow struck the inner ring of the target, Lukaz shouted in triumph and jumped for joy. He dropped his bow and hurled himself at his father, who nearly toppled backward from the force of the impact. “ ?a y est ! I did it! Merci beaucoup, Papa !” Lukaz buried his head in Cardin’s hard stomach, his youthful face aglow with unbridled bliss. “I am so glad you came home from Biarritz.”

Ulla’s spirit soared at the stirring sight of Cardin embracing his young son.

This is exactly what Lukaz needs. His father’s love and acceptance. And the priceless gift of his time.

Despite her contentment, a nagging doubt niggled at the back of Ulla’s mind.

But what happens to Lukaz when the Basque Wolf Basati returns to Biarritz?

****

Cardin hugged Lukaz tight, sharing the boy’s elation at the improved accuracy in his aim due to the slight adjustment in posture. He eyed the intriguing Ulla, who observed them both with a silent, satisfied smile.

She is enchanting and exotic, like a woodland sprite or forest fairy from ancient Celtic lore. A healing aura emanates from her, like heat rising from a flame. The wild, abundant mane of her long black hair reminds me of an untamed horse. And her alluring eyes, full of wisdom and sorrow, beckon with the verdant mystery of a forbidden forest.

“Lady Ulla, it’s your turn. Show Papa how you can hit the target, too!” Wide-eyed wonder illuminated Lukaz’ face as he beheld his beloved teacher.

With the elegance and grace of a sleek, magnificent horse, Ulla strode away from the enormous oak and positioned her lithe body at a right angle from the target. She shook her luxurious mane of waist-length black curls, straightened her spine and aligned her slim hips. Extending her bow at arm’s length from her shoulder, she nocked her arrow, pulled the string back to the anchor point at her chin, and executed a perfect release. With a resounding thud, her swift arrow embedded in the center ring of the target.

Lukaz squealed with delight and hugged Ulla to congratulate her success.

Dark green gown fluttering like foliage in the early autumn breeze, the priestess strolled across the clearing to retrieve her arrow as an animated Lukaz spun excitedly toward his father.

“Papa, show me your skill. Can you hit the target from fifty yards?”

Cardin watched the enticing sway of Ulla’s rounded hips as she walked toward the target. Quickly averting his gaze, he responded to his eager son. “Indeed I can. In fact, to become a royal archer at le Chateau de Beaufort for King Guillemin of Finistère, I had to accurately hit a target with my shortbow at a distance of one hundred yards.” Cardin chuckled from his belly as the little boy gasped, his rounded mouth agape in awe. “And with my longbow, I had to consistently hit a target at three hundred yards.” He grinned at his astonished son, pleased for the opportunity to demonstrate his prowess to Lukaz. And he had to admit that he really wanted to impress Ulla, a fine archer in her own right.

When she approached, having fetched her arrow from the target, her eyes held his with a mesmerizing stare. A shivering thrill rippled up his spine and settled in his pounding chest. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

With a subtle nod, he stepped back from Lukaz and Ulla. Gripping his superbly crafted bow— made with the heartwood of supple yew on the inside for compression and the sturdy sapwood on the outside for strength—Cardin trudged across the leaf-strewn forest floor to a distance of approximately one hundred yards from the target. As his breathless son and the bewitching priestess watched in wonder, Cardin nocked an arrow, took aim, and executed a perfect release with effortless grace and flawless aim.

Because of its long, triangular fletching and barbed, double-bladed head, Cardin’s ash arrow flew swiftly and surely, lodging in the dead center of the target. To show off a bit more for his appreciative audience, he fired two more arrows in quick succession, all three superbly striking and embedding in the innermost circle.

Lukaz leapt into the air, whooping and cheering for his father’s impressive feat. When the lad dashed toward the target to retrieve the arrows, the wolf Vill raced eagerly at his side.

A grinning Cardin turned toward Ulla.

And lost all coherent thought in the enticing depths of her dark green eyes.

“Can we go hunting now, Lady Ulla? And fetch N?de at the stables?” Lukaz proudly returned his father’s arrows and looked up at his teacher, beseeching her with bated breath as he anxiously awaited her response.

Ulla smiled at her pupil, her slender hand stroking his soft brown waves. She raised her eyebrows at Cardin, as if to ask, “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ll put our bows and arrows inside the kitchen, Lady Ulla.” Lukaz slung her quiver of arrows over his free shoulder and took her bow in his left hand. He looked up at Cardin. “Do you want to leave yours here too, Papa? Or bring it with you?”

Cardin preferred to be armed—not only for the hunt, but for potential defense as well. “I’ll keep mine. Go ahead and put yours and Lady Ulla’s inside the kitchen. We’ll wait for you right here.”

With Vill at his side, Lukaz dashed across the clearing toward the stone cottage at the edge of the forest.

Cardin watched him disappear inside and reemerge with the wolf a few moments later. He smiled at Ulla. “You’ve taught him well. He’ll become a fine archer. I look forward to seeing the two of you hunt together. I’m anxious to meet the falcons, Finn and Rask. And your Friesian, N?de. Lukaz talks about her—and you—all the time. Thank you for all you’ve done for him. My parents and I are most grateful.”

Ulla blushed and lowered her eyes as Lukaz and Vill rejoined them.

“All set?” Cardin placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. When the lad nodded eagerly, Cardin tilted his head toward the stables with a cheerful grin. “Let’s go.”

****

“This is Rask, Papa. Lord Gauvin is helping me train her.” Lukaz introduced the small peregrine falcon perched on his gloved wrist. The bird observed Cardin with curious, intelligent eyes. “She’s too young now, but when she’s ready, Lady Ulla and I are going to train her to hunt with Finn!” He handed Rask back to the Lord of the Mews while Ulla fetched her falcon, who flapped her wings, eager for the freedom of flight and the excitement of the hunt.

Cardin marveled as Ulla released Finn into the overcast autumn sky, boosted Lukaz into the saddle, and climbed up behind him. She flashed Cardin a glorious smile and motioned for him to follow. Mounting his own horse—a chestnut Ardennes stallion from his father’s renowned stables—he galloped with them through the forest, a joyous Vill bounding along at Ulla’s side.

She’s an expert rider. And Finn is indeed a fierce hunter. Cardin was mesmerized as the falcon plummeted from the clouds and pulverized her prey with razor-sharp talons clenched like fists. He watched in awe as Vill retrieved the fallen fowl and laid it gently at Ulla’s feet for her to place in the satchel. When they’d gathered enough game, the trio of hunters returned to the castle mews, where Ulla fed Finn and Lukaz gave Rask fresh scraps from the hunt.

“She loves rabbit, just like Finn,” Lukaz explained to his father as his fledgling tore into the raw meat. “Vill loves it, too. Lady Ulla and I always feed him a full bowl when we get back to the cottage.” His bright blue eyes blazed with pride in the late morning light.

The glorious smile on Ulla’s beautiful face twinkled in her verdant gaze.

They returned to the stables, where Lukaz confidently stroked the muzzle of his sleek black Friesian colt. “When I’m ten, Papa, Kol will be old enough for me to ride. Then I’ll have my own horse when I hunt with Lady Ulla.” His flashed a gap-toothed, hopeful grin at Cardin. “Maybe Papi will let you keep Kalon,” he suggested, indicating the Ardennes stallion Cardin had ridden today. “Then you can hunt with us, too!”

Cardin chuckled huskily as he handed the reins to the Master of Horse, Quentin. “We’ll see, Lukaz. For now, let’s escort Lady Ulla back to her cottage.”

“Not yet, Papa. We have to check our traps. Lady Ulla snares rabbits, and she feeds the meat to Vill. Sometimes, she even makes rabbit stew. It’s delicious, Papa. Lady Ulla is a great cook!” He beamed at his teacher, who flushed under the praise and lowered her gaze to her brown leather boots. “She’s teaching me how to cure the pelts so we can use the fur to make winter cloaks. Come on, Papa. I’ll show you where we set our traps.” Lukaz dashed off, with Vill bounding exuberantly at his side.

Her pretty face alight with a bemused grin, Ulla led a laughing Cardin away from the stables to follow their ebullient six-year-old guide and his loyal lupine companion.

“That makes eight,” Lukaz announced loftily as handed the strung rabbits to Cardin and reset the snares under Ulla’s watchful guidance. “Last time, we only caught four.” He glanced up at Ulla. “Do we have enough now for Mamie’s cloak?”

Ulla raised her eyebrows, smiled and nodded.

“We’re making a cloak for Mamie as a Yuletide gift. Lady Ulla is showing me how to sew the pelts together to make a fine fur cloak. It will be beautiful—and keep Mamie warm in the winter. She’ll love it, won’t she, Papa?” Satisfied with the snares, Lukaz stood, brushed the dirt and crumbled leaves from his grimy small hands along the sides of his woolen breeches, and looked up expectantly at his father.

“I’m sure she will. Especially since it’s made with so much love.” Cardin ruffled his son’s dark hair and met Ulla’s enigmatic gaze, where gratitude warred with apprehension. “Shall we head back to the cottage now? I’m sure Vill is famished. And don’t forget—you and I promised Uncle Gaultier that we would train with the knights from Montmarin this afternoon. Remember?”

“ Oui, Papa. I can’t wait!” Lukaz grabbed Ulla’s hand and pulled her toward the cottage. “Come on, Lady Ulla. Let’s feed Vill!”

Inside the cottage, Lukaz laid the strung rabbits upon the counter while Ulla retrieved a flat wooden board. Using the dagger strapped at her waist, she carefully scraped the flesh from the hides.

“Lady Ulla cuts the meat off the pelts so we can feed it to Vill. When she’s done, we wash the hides in a bucket of soapy water, rinse them off, and let them dry.” Lukaz pointed to a few pelts hanging in a corner of the kitchen. “Those aren’t ready yet. But these are.” He fetched a few rabbit hides from a small table near the drying pelts and brought them over to show his father. “Feel how soft they are. We’re going to use them for Mamie’s cloak.”

After Cardin complied, Lukaz returned the rabbit hides to the tabletop. He hoisted a bucket of water, lugged it across the kitchen, and placed it on the floor at Ulla’s side.

With an unexpected pang of jealousy, Cardin wished he could be part of the closeknit bond that Ulla and Lukaz had obviously formed. He watched in amazement as his impressively efficient young son worked closely and collaboratively with the mute priestess.

Lukaz added soap to the bucket of water, stirring with a long handled wooden spoon. He carefully placed the meat-free pelts which Ulla handed him into the frothy liquid. “We have to wash the blood off first,” he explained sagely to his bemused father. While Ulla smiled proudly at her expert pupil, Lukaz strode across the kitchen and fetched a second bucket of water, which he lugged with considerable exertion, placing it at his feet beside the first. “Then, we rinse them, like this.” He removed the pelts from the soapy mixture and dunked them into the clean bucket, gently squeezing the excess water and placing the fur on the towel that Ulla had laid upon the counter.

Despite the lad’s best efforts to avoid spills, Lukaz had nevertheless slopped soapy water all over the wooden floor. With a soft smirk, Cardin fetched a few drying cloths from the oak kitchen table and knelt down beside his industrious, drenched son. “Here, let me help.” He sopped up the mess, wringing the rags over the bucket of soapy water while Ulla laughed silently from the kitchen counter.

“Should we dump the dirty water in the backyard?” Cardin asked as he rose to his feet.

“Yes, and then we can feed Vill!” Lukaz lifted one of the buckets, and Cardin followed his example. They carried the wooden containers out of the kitchen and down the stone steps. Once they’d emptied the contents into the thick overgrowth at the edge of the forest, Cardin and his son returned to rejoin Ulla in the cottage kitchen.

From the wooden cutting board where she had carefully removed flesh from the hides, Ulla used her knife to scrape the portions of rabbit meat into a large ceramic bowl. Enthusiasm sparkled in her emerald eyes as she handed the bowl to Lukaz.

“Papa, you should be the one to feed Vill. Then he’ll know you’re his friend, too.” Lukaz carried the bowl to the corner of the kitchen where the wolf lay on the floor, watching their every move, anxiously awaiting his meal. The lad gave the dish to Cardin, knelt at the animal’s side, and scratched the wiry grey fur behind Vill’s alert ears. The wolf affectionately licked Lukaz’ joyful face.

With a gap-toothed grin, Lukaz looked up at his father. “Let him sniff your hand first, so he’ll recognize your scent. Then, set the bowl down in front of him.”

Cardin crouched beside his son, cautiously extending his hand to the wolf’s enormous maw. He spoke in a calm, reassuring voice. “Good boy, Vill. Here’s some fresh rabbit meat for you.” He placed the container in front of the wolf, pulling Lukaz to a stand as he rose to his feet.

“He likes you. Now he knows you’re his friend.” Lukaz wrapped his arms around Cardin’s waist, nestling his head into his father’s stomach. “I’m so glad you came home. I love you, Papa.”

A wave of overwhelming love and smothering guilt crashed over Cardin as he held his young son. He glanced across the kitchen and met Ulla’s expressive green eyes. His throat clenching with remorse and regret, he rasped hoarsely, in a barely audible voice. “I…I love you, too. My son .”

Shaken from the onslaught of unfamiliar emotions, Cardin inhaled deeply to regain his usual steely composure. He looked at the little boy who beamed up at him with adulation in his bright blue eyes. “We need to get back to the castle. We promised Uncle Gaultier we’d train with the knights. Let’s say goodbye to Lady Ulla and Vill.”

Lukaz raced across the room and lunged into Ulla’s outstretched arms.

As he watched his son tightly hug the bewitching healer—whose long black curls cascaded around the little boy like a blanket of love— a stark realization struck Cardin like a swift, savage blow to the gut.

She’s become a mother to my son.

Withdrawing from Ulla’s nurturing embrace, Lukaz dashed back to hug Vill’s thick, shaggy coat. “Bye, Vill. I’ll see you soon.”

Across the kitchen, Cardin held Ulla’s verdant gaze, his soul stirring in their entrancing depths. “Thank you, Ulla. I’ll bring Lukaz for his lesson Friday morning. I bid you good day and farewell. Au revoir, et bonne journée.” He turned to address the prone wolf, whose massive head rested on his enormous front paws. “Goodbye, Vill. See you soon.” With a hearty grin, Cardin led Lukaz out the back door, down the stone steps, and away from the cozy cottage at the edge of the woods.

His step light for the first time in many long years, Cardin traversed the leaf-strewn meadow, crossed the castle bailey, and returned with his exuberant son to le Chateau de Landuc.