Chapter 13

Bonding with Basati

Laudine lay in her mauve velvet canopied bed, gazing at the thick beech trees of the Forest of Brocéliande from her second story alcove window of le Chateau de Landuc .

She felt terribly guilty deceiving her son, but she knew that Cardin would return immediately to Biarritz if he discovered the truth—that she was merely feigning the illness which had forced him to come home, and that she took to her bed each day to keep him here throughout the entire Yuletide season, with the hopes that he would reunite with his estranged son.

Yes, Cardin would be furious indeed if he learned of his mother’s deception. He’d storm off to Aquitaine and never speak to her again. Nevertheless, Laudine was willing to take the risk. And so far, the results were paying off. For, despite his outward appearance as the savage, snarling wolf Basati, her brokenhearted, shattered son Cardin was bonding with Lukaz.

And with the lovely, lonely healer, Ulla.

Although Laudine had initially arranged for Lukaz to have archery lessons with Ulla on alternating days, Cardin now brought his son to the secluded woodland cottage every morning for practice. While Lukaz developed his skills as an archer, Cardin taught Ulla to wield the longbow that he had once used himself as an adolescent squire, explaining that it was the perfect height for her.

Several times, as she’d gathered healing herbs in the forest with the young priestesses under her tutelage, Laudine had spotted them practicing, with Cardin’s arms wrapped around Ulla to demonstrate proper stance and form. An adept archer already, Ulla was a quick learner. And Laudine was delighted to see her glorious smile return under Cardin’s attentive encouragement.

After weeks of diligent training, Lukaz’ young fledgling Rask had begun hunting in tandem with Ulla’s raptor Finn, the two falcons working together as an efficient team, effectively felling their prey. And, much to Laudine’s delight, Cardin now joined Ulla and Lukaz in their daily hunt with the wolf Vill and the two peregrines.

Each afternoon, when father and son returned to the castle, an animated Lukaz regaled Laudine with tales of the raptors’ predatory prowess, of the wolf’s ravenous hunger, and of the savory stews Ulla prepared with fresh meat from the hunt and aromatic herbs from her garden. Proud of his newly acquired skills in cleaning and curing the hides, Lukaz boasted that he was helping the Lady Ulla create perfect Yuletide gifts from the fine pelts of soft fur.

Laudine watched her withdrawn, introverted grandson flourish under the loving attention of his instructive father and nurturing teacher.

Atop a gentle palfrey from the castle stables, Lukaz improved his equestrian skills each day as he rode with Cardin through the Forest of Brocéliande alongside his grandfather Esclados and Lord Quentin, the Master of Horse. Cardin included his son in the daily intensive training with the chivalrous knights of Landuc and Montmarin, promising to replace the lad’s wooden practice sword with a steel blade once Lukaz developed sufficient expertise.

As her Little Wolf was slowly but surely thriving, a grateful Laudine prayed that Cardin—the Basque Wolf Basati—would not abandon Lukaz once again.

Dear Goddess Dana, please help me reach him. Let love heal my shattered son. When Cardin inevitably returns to Biarritz, I pray that he’ll bring Lukaz with him. And take Ulla as his Breton bride.

****

Cardin stood at the edge of the forest near Ulla’s cottage, a hundred yards from the target he’d attached to the giant beech tree. He admired Ulla’s fine form as she drew back the taut bowstring and released the fletched arrow. “Your strength is impressive. Few women would be able to fire a longbow. You’d make a fine castle archer, Ulla.”

She flashed him a dazzling smile that took his breath away. Tossing her luxurious mane of long black curls, she strode proudly across the clearing to retrieve her arrows from the target with the sleek, elegant grace of a magnificent Friesian.

“That’s what I want to be, Papa! A castle archer, just like you.” Arrow nocked, bowstring drawn, Lukaz proudly aimed at his target, but abruptly lowered his weapon. He spun toward Cardin. Worry etched his young, fearful face. “Will you bring me with you when you go back to Biarritz? I don’t want to live with Tonton Bastien and Tatie Gabrielle anymore. I want to live at le Chateau de Montmarin . In Aquitaine. With you .” Tears welling in his forlorn eyes, Lukaz dropped his bow and arrow on the leaf-strewn grass. He flung himself at Cardin, wrapping his little arms tightly around his father’s waist in a frantic, desperate hug. “Please don’t leave me, Papa. I don’t ever want to be called a bastard again.”

Cardin cradled his son’s weeping head against his hard stomach. He met Ulla’s empathetic gaze as she returned from fetching her arrows. In her limpid, deep green eyes, he glimpsed compassion. Sorrow. Suffering.

Instinctively, he reached for her, extending an open palm to invite her in.

Like a whisper of wind, she flew to him. Grasped his beckoning hand. And, wrapping her slender arms around the floundering father and sobbing son, enveloped them both in a quiet, comforting cocoon.

Entwined like vines in the heart of the forest, they clung to each other, interwoven and interlaced.

A thousand conflicting thoughts flowed like raging rapids through Cardin’s tortured mind.

I can’t bring him with me back to Biarritz. I’m a drunken gambler, drowning in debt. I have no home. No honor. Nowhere for him to live. He’s better off with Bastien and Gabrielle at le Chateau de Beaufort in Finistère.

But Lukaz is miserable there. Mercilessly teased as a bastard. If I abandon him again, it will break him. He’ll lose his father. With Maman’s impending death, he’ll soon lose his beloved grandmother. If he returns to Finistère, he’ll lose Ulla, too, the teacher he has grown to love. Her wolf, Vill. The falcons, Finn and Rask. His majestic colt, Kol. All the animals with Viking names he chose with her.

He can bring Rask with him back to le Chateau de Beaufort. My brother Bastien hunts with falcons. When Lukaz returns here for the holidays each Yuletide season, Papa and Quentin will train him to ride the Friesian. In three years, when Kol is ready, Lukaz can ride his stallion back to Finistère. Serve as a squire to a knight of Beaufort, like Gaultier, Bastien, and I did as lads. Every summer, Lukaz can go to la Joyeuse Garde with his Uncle Bastien and his cousins, Gunnar and Haldar. Train at Lancelot’s castle. Just like I did as a boy.

Waves of gut-wrenching guilt washed over him as he came to the stark realization.

Lukaz is better off without me. He’ll go back to Beaufort, and I’ll return to Biarritz. Win enough silver to pay off Itzal Baroja. And drown my sorrows in an endless sea of glorious, golden mead.

Cardin forced a reassuring smile and glanced down at his young, anxious son. “We’ll see, Lukaz. But for now, we need to escort Lady Ulla home. And join Papi and Lord Quentin at the castle stables.”

He led Lukaz and Ulla—the vigilant wolf Vill, as always, at her side— through the dense woods, back to the secluded stone cottage. While he watched his son hug the beguiling priestess goodbye, Cardin bid her farewell with a forced cheer he did not feel. “ Bonne journée , Ulla. See you tomorrow. à demain.”

His heart as heavy as a bourdon funeral bell, a solemn Cardin brought a silent Lukaz through the thick forest, across the leaf-strewn castle bailey, and back to le Chateau de Landuc .

****

As Ma?lys tucked him into bed, Laudine kissed Lukas goodnight before heading to the private solar to join her husband Esclados, oldest son Gaultier, and youngest son Cardin in front of the hearth. Relaxing in wooden tufted chairs as they imbibed mead, her three men sat companionably in front of the blazing fire, enjoying its lulling warmth against the late October chill.

She accepted a cup of chamomile tea from a competent servant, settled into a comfortable seat, and observed Cardin out of the corner of her eye.

Although Esclados and Gaultier chatted amicably about training with the knights, Cardin scowled in silence and stared into his mug of mead. Brows furrowed into a pensive, brooding frown, he downed the contents of his silver chalice and signaled a valet for more.

Something is troubling him. He’s deep into his cups. What happened at Ulla’s cottage?

An urgent knock at the door interrupted Laudine’s thoughts. When she looked up to see who was calling at this late hour, her heart leapt to her throat at the sight of the crimson-faced stable hand. Hunched over, breath heaving, Argant gasped, “Lady Laudine! Lord Quentin sent me to fetch you.” Swallowing forcefully, he stood, inhaled deeply, and spoke in a quavering, anguished voice. “We must hurry, milady. Rozenn’s baby is coming. But…there’s too much blood!”

Laudine sprang to her feet, wiping damp palms along the sides of her gown. She summoned the dutiful valet who had greeted Argant at the door. “Fetch the Lady Ulla. I will need her assistance for this difficult birth. Tell her to bring the satchel of herbs, and to come with you at once. Go quickly!” As the messenger raced out the door, Laudine mentally calculated what she would need as she spoke to her husband and sons. “I know Ulla does not want to deliver the babe, but I need her skills as a midwife and healer.” She turned toward Cardin, whose impassioned eyes blazed in the flickering flames. He is reliving the night Lukaz was born. When his beloved wife Charlotte died. “Stay here with Lukaz. If we’re not back by morning, bring him to the cottage so he can feed Vill and let Ulla’s hens out of the chicken coop.” She squeezed his calloused, shaking hand and kissed his bristled, bearded cheek. “I’ll send word as soon as I can.”

While Esclados and Gaultier strapped on their swords and summoned two additional knights to escort the pair of midwives through the forest, Laudine retrieved her bag of medicinal herbs from the corner cupboard of the alcove in her kitchen. She tucked a needle, thread, beeswax candle, and calendula soap inside the large leather sack. Grabbing a bottle of wine to cleanse potential wounds, she rejoined the men in the castle solar, heading toward the front door just as the valet appeared with a visibly distraught Ulla.

“It’s Rozenn’s babe,” Laudine explained, hooking her elbow inside the healer’s slender arm. “I need your help. And your skill. Come, we must hurry.” Motioning for her husband, son, and duo of protective knights to depart, she addressed the stable hand Argant. “Lead the way. We’ll follow you.”