The Wolves of Solomon (Wolves of Solomon Book One)

There was a thick fog that hung low around the countryside, engulfing all that it touched in a white haze. The early morning sun shone through the mist with beams of golden light and made the forest appear ethereal and somehow magical. Catherine could not embrace its magic though as she rode pillion with De Floyran holding her possessively, knowing that there was no respite from his cruelty. He had brutally killed Beaumanoir and she was racked with guilt over it. She knew that she had not asked him to come and see her and even if she had warned him that De Floyran would sense his visit, it would not have saved him. However, she knew that the risk he had taken was because of her and now he was dead.

  Despite De Floyran telling her that he had not wished to hurt her, his lying to De Nogaret about a message to her father confirmed that he had killed Robard for that very reason. He knew that Beaumanoir was no threat to him and if Robard had confessed to agreeing to send a letter of warning to Temple Bruer, then why would De Floyran have said it was a letter to her father? He was lying; Beaumanoir had told him nothing. He had killed him simply because he enjoyed the act but also to remind her that that would be the fate of anyone that she might care for other than him. She could sense his jealousy and knew that he had wanted to kill Beaumanoir to destroy any connection, past or present, that he had shared with her.

  While she thought on the death of Beaumanoir, her grief quickly turned to fear for Galeren’s safety. Beaumanoir had been part of her past and he had betrayed her once, there was no bond between them, not like the one she shared with Galeren. She may have seen him ride out of Montlhéry alive but she had no idea what happened after that. Despite doing what De Floyran wanted, he could still have sent his men after Galeren to kill him. She could not trust De Floyran’s word and the more she thought on it, the more she was convinced that something terrible had happened to Galeren.

  Catherine reached out with her mind, trying to make contact with him. Yet as she feared, there was nothing and no matter how hard she tried all she got was emptiness. Why could she not sense him? She looked around her surroundings desperately as if for a sign of something, anything, but there was nothing. Suddenly she felt dizzy, queasy and lunged forward putting her hand to her head as a sharp pain shot through it. De Floyran sensed her distress and hoping it was to do with Galeren said:

  “Are you well?”

  “No,” Catherine said, “I may be sick, I need you to stop.”

  “We don’t have time to dilly dally Catherine, are you really sick?”

  “Well, if you do not stop forthwith you will find out.” She said sounding weakened. Her state appeared genuine and so De Floyran drew rein and motioned for his troop to do the same. He dismounted first and helped her down.

  “I’ll have to escort you, I can’t very well have you disappear into the mist, change and run away from me.”

  “Whatever you wish,” she said despondently and quickly walked towards the refuge of the trees. He caught up to her and took hold of her arm and they disappeared into the mist together. He only let her go when she lent up against a tree and began to wretch.

  “I hope this is not for the sake of Beaumanoir.” He said pitilessly.

  She shot him a venomous look, as she wiped her mouth and breathed deeply.

  “He is not worth your grief,” De Floyran reasoned, “do not forget that he was happy to abandon you to your fate when his situation was compromised by your father’s wishes.”

  “You did not have to kill him!” Catherine spat. “There was no message to my father.” She added.

  “I know,” he said casually, “but I told him that I would kill him if he went near you. It is done now. I cannot change it.”

  “Did you kill Galeren too?” she said, her voice trembling in fear of the answer.

  “What makes you think that?” De Floyran said, suddenly very interested in what she was saying.

  “I . . .” she began and broke off.

  “Tell me,” De Floyran encouraged, “I won’t punish you for whatever you say.” He smiled reassuringly.

  “I cannot sense him,” she said looking down despairingly, “is he dead?”

  “How would I know?” De Floyran shrugged, “I know as much as you. I saw him the last time you did.”

  “And your men?”

  “I swear they did not leave the château.” He said truthfully. “Do you think I would break my word?”

  “I think you have no reason to let Galeren live. Beaumanoir did nothing to you and you killed him, for nothing. Why would you let Galeren live?”

  “For you,” De Floyran stepped closer to her, “all for you. I killed Beaumanoir because he hurt you; I let Galeren live because I want you. My desire for you is greater than for Galeren’s death.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Catherine said, stepping away. But De Floyran closed in on her and pulled her towards him.

  “Did I not treat you well last night?” he said searching her face, but she averted her eyes from him. “Did I hurt you, Catherine?”

  She shook her head reluctantly but still refused to look him in the eyes. “I know you don’t want to admit it to yourself, but you felt the bond between us last night.”

  “No!” she said aghast, finally meeting his eyes.

  “I know it is hard to accept now and you feel guilt for allowing yourself to feel desire for me but –” he stopped short as he felt Catherine’s hand hard across his face.

  “That hurts.” He said with a wry smile.

  She looked at him with loathing. “I will never desire you! Willingly means without resistance and that’s all you got.” She said and tried to walk away but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

  “I know you fight it. I know deep down, you like me. Your body betrayed that fact last night.”

  “No! I hate you! I hate you!” she screamed and tried to slap him again. He grabbed her hand.

  “Convince yourself of that, not me.” He grinned. “Much has happened, but believe me I would not entertain such wilfulness if I did not sense our bond deep within you.”

  She shook her head defiantly. “You are mistaken. I’ll save you your time, my wilfulness will never cease! There is no bond. You have had me, now you can kill me.”

  “I know you want me to because you believe Galeren is dead,” he smiled and pulled her close to him, “but this is not about what you want, is it? Remember, there are others that you care about in our midst, how they are treated depends on you.” He kissed her swiftly on the lips, before she had the chance to react.

  “Now come, no more delays, we have a journey to make.” He said and marched her back to his waiting retinue.

  Galeren returned to Montlhéry as a wolf. He had tried to contact Catherine but the effect of the wolfsbane seemed to have dampened his senses and his single attempt had made him feel extremely nauseous. He didn’t persist, not willing to waste what precious time he had; he just wanted to get to her. But first, he must free the others. This time he knew his entrance into the château would be easy, there were only men now guarding its entrance and passageways and a dungeon full of werewolves whom he meant to release. He was confident in his plan and although the wolfsbane poisoning may have dulled his senses, they were still sharper than any man’s, especially the dullards who were here.

  The gates of the bailey were still open and the château doors were flung wide and Galeren could see that a massive clear up of the château, inside and out, was taking place. Having played host to the large numbers of men that had been in the King and Pope’s retinues, it would need to be put back in order. Servants were sweeping the château steps and several men were raking over the earth in the bailey, levelling it out after it had been severely chewed up by all the comings and goings of the numerous wagons and horses. Galeren, now a man and naked, boldly walked across the bailey hoping he would be noticed immediately, he was.

  “Halt there!” a gravelly voice called out, “where the fuck do you think you’re going?” the sergeant, who should have been watching the postern gate, march
ed forcefully over to him.

  “Inside,” Galeren shrugged.

  “What?” the man said, shaking his head in disbelief as he took in the state of the intruder.

  “I am a Templar.”

  “You are an idiot,” the man said, losing patience, “we’re arresting Templars around here.” He added raising his eyebrows at the young man, whom he reasoned was probably dim-witted.

  “Well, I’ve come to the right place then.” Galeren said. “Arrest me.” He held out his hands to be bound.

  “Are you completely witless? Fuck off and stop wasting my time.” The sergeant said and made to escort him out of the bailey.

  “Stop wasting mine,” Galeren said and struck him hard in the face. The sergeant stumbled backwards with his hand raised to his bloody nose. He stared at Galeren furiously and a little dumbfounded.

  “Like it?” Galeren said, “want some more?”

  “Guards!” the man yelled out and Galeren was promptly surrounded and seized. “This lack wit fancies to be incarcerated with the Templar scum that are here, see that he is!” he spat and back handed Galeren across the face in return.

  Galeren remained patient while he received a half-hearted beating from the guards. Three of them then led him into the familiar château and rapidly took him down to the entrance of the dungeons, where he was swiftly and securely bound in chains. Confident that he was no further trouble, they left him with the guard on duty at the dungeon door who, fumbling with his mass of keys, finally unlocked it. He shoved Galeren onto the top of the stairs as he set about locking the door behind them and Galeren was immediately hit by hundreds of different scents, each telling a bleak tale. He could smell old torture and suffering, his father, Catherine and even himself amongst the enduring odour of history that lingered in the putrid darkness. He could also sense that there were eleven Templars still living and he was going to get them all out.

  The guard pushed him down the steps ahead of him, and upon reaching one of the cells he began to fumble with his ring of keys once more. He swore softly in frustration and was so engrossed in the task at hand that he didn’t notice the young man beside him disappear. When he found the key he was after, he put it into the lock of the cell door and then paused before turning it as he heard the low guttural growl of a creature behind him. He turned slowly and saw to his horror that his bound prisoner was no longer there but instead was a huge white wolf.

  “Sweet Jesus!” the man uttered briefly but Galeren did not give him grace to digest the situation, time was against him and so swiftly he took the man’s throat. He changed back into human form before the guard’s body hit the floor. He reached for the key in the door but heard the startled voices of two others and saw another guard come rushing at him from out of the darkness.

  Galeren side stepped the portly guard and slammed the flat of his hand into his advancing nose. The bone shattered and made its way into the man’s skull. He dropped to the floor, his body juddering spasmodically in the throes of brain death. The other guard managed to draw his sword and thrust it towards Galeren. Galeren parried to the side once more to avoid the blade. As it slashed past him, he grabbed the guard’s arm. Avoiding the sword, he pulled the man forcefully towards him and head butted him, again connecting with the nose. The guard fell to the floor but he was not dead. Quickly, Galeren put his foot on the man’s neck and with little effort broke it cleanly. It was more mercy than they had shown any of his brethren.

  Certain that there were no more guards, he turned the key in the lock and opened the door of the first cell. He took the keys and proceeded to unlock the doors of every cell. The men inside had stirred in the commotion and were sat upright having watched the scene unfold before their disbelieving eyes, daring to hope that there was now a way out of their gruesome fate.

  “I am Galeren de Massard.” He bellowed out so that all could hear him. “How badly injured are you all?” he asked.

  “We are mostly fine,” one of the Templar prisoners said, “the torture ceased some time ago, but we have acted on our suffering to save us from more attention from the bastards. We have conserved what strength we have for a chance such as this. Others died though.”

  “I know.” Galeren said as he unlocked the last dungeon. He went to check the torture room and the room that his father had been left in. They were both empty. The men in the cells left them and joined Galeren in the centre of the main dungeon area.

  “I am John St Clair.” The Templar who’d first spoken said. “You’re De Molay’s son, you were in the oubliette. We thought De Floyran had put pay to you.”

  “He tried.” Galeren said. “The woman that was here, Catherine, is my mate and De Floyran has her. I need some help to get her back and finish De Floyran and his men off, once and for all. Will any of you help me?” Galeren asked, but he knew well that his brothers would, and without question.

  “Of course,” John said and the others echoed his willingness. They all had revenge of their own to mete out, for their suffering and for the deaths of their brothers. Their target would be the traitors De Floyran and his men.

  “They are on their way to Chinon, with the Grand Master. I know that De Floyran travels with four of our race and there is likely to be a retinue of King’s men too, but I don’t know how many. There is a thick fog in the woods and I think to ambush them as a pack. Kill everyone,” Galeren said unfalteringly, “except of course Catherine and my father.”

  “We are with you, brother.” John St Clair said.

  Galeren nodded and took the dungeon keys and unlocked the main entrance.

  “The bailey gates should still be open.” He said and changed back into wolf form.

  There is no reason to hide our secret anymore, Galeren said and watched as his brethren took his lead and changed. With the cells emptied of Templars, the eleven wolves swiftly followed their white leader out of the dungeon, up the stone steps and through the château’s passageways with savage determination. They were not stopped and the château guards and servants merely froze in terror and awe as the pack of wolves raced suddenly past them, hardly believing what they were witnessing.

  They ran out of the château’s entrance and across the bailey towards the gates and Galeren paused briefly, letting his brethren pass him, so he could fix eyes with the sergeant. The sergeant looked into the white wolf’s eyes and was sure that he recognized the cool blue look that came back at him. The frigid stare was that of the young fool, who had moments before assaulted him and gotten himself arrested. The sergeant shook his head in disbelief and the wolf turned his gaze from him and broke into a run as he sought to catch up with his pack.

  The sergeant’s eyes followed the wolf’s passage out of the bailey and down the road into the misty distance. Stunned, but regaining his senses once all the wolves were out of sight, he wasted no time and immediately commanded that the postern gate be lowered. He quickly ran past his dumbstruck men and into the château and made his way down to the dungeon. He didn’t really believe in what he was going to find but as he approached the entrance he saw that there was no guard and with dread in his bones he cautiously descended the steps into the dungeon’s depths. He at once saw that all of the cell doors were open and not a single Templar was left within them. He stared at the bodies of the slain guards and crossed himself.

  “God’s blood!” he swore and then wondered how the hell he was going to explain this to the King.

  “Fuck!” De Floyran cried out but it was too late, no sooner had he sensed their approach, then they were upon them. De Nogaret stared about him and gasped as he saw several pairs of eyes gleaming out of the mist at him.

  “Caradas!” De Floyran screamed and motioned to him to go just before the first wolf flew out of the white haze, slamming into the side of De Nogaret’s horse. The horse whinnied in panic as it was toppled by the force of the impact. It struck the ground, crashing down on De Nogaret’s leg which was pinned beneath his mount’s bulk. De Nogaret heard and felt the c
rack of his thigh bone as it snapped and the horse rolled off him. He screamed out as a searing agony assaulted his senses and his vision blurred as the horse rose, uninjured, and rapidly made its escape. He screamed out for help but his painful wails were lost amongst the cries and shouts of others as the wolf pack attacked in force.

  Ourri’s nibble fingers worked on the knot of the cord that bound him to De Molay, as their horse raced away from the scene, led by Caradas, at full gallop.

  “Done, done!” he cried, as he wrestled his hands free and ripped both their hoods off.

  “Change!” De Molay cried and pushed Ourri out of the saddle. Ourri hit the ground rolling but was a wolf before he came to a stop. He stood up and looked after the Grand Master whose head was turned and his eyes were locked on Ourri’s.

  Jump, you’re free. Ourri said, as he saw him receding further into the distance but the determined look on De Molay’s face told him that he was not coming with them. Powerless, Ourri reluctantly turned his attention away from the Grand Master and back to the fray that was underway and quickly joined in. Wolves were seemingly everywhere, tearing the King’s guards off their horses and laying waste to them on the ground. The men were powerless in the assault and completely unprepared. They swung their swords desperately at the unrelenting attackers but it was a one-sided bloody slaughter that only the horses were being spared from.

  Galeren shook his ringing head as he recovered from the collision with De Nogaret’s horse and, ignoring the injured councillor writhing on the ground in agony, immediately looked for Catherine. He could see her wrestling with De Floyran still upon his mount and started towards them, but his path was suddenly blocked by Huguard Parry. The dark grey wolf bared his teeth at Galeren and issued forth a challenge.

  Damn you Parry! Galeren said as he charged at his foe with relentless fury.

  Catherine fought with De Floyran on horseback; she was desperate to be out of his clutches and on the ground with the others. She had seen Galeren come flying out of the fog and her heart soared with relief that he was alive.

  “Catherine, Catherine!” De Floyran cried. “Don’t be stupid!” he said as he tried to restrain her, while urging his mount onwards and away from the danger. She was strong though and he hoped that he could hold onto her, to prevent her from changing.

  “Let me go, Esquin,” she screamed at him, “it’s over.”

  “No!” he said, determined not to. He could not lose her to Galeren, she was his! She clawed at his face and he pulled back momentarily in shock and lost his grasp. It was all that Catherine needed. She flung herself from the saddle and landed hard on the ground. She cried out as she hit it but without even willing herself to, she changed and rolled in the dirt desperate to get away from De Floyran and his horse.

  “Arhhhh!” she heard De Floyran scream as she scarpered away and looked for safety. There was such a blur of chaos before her eyes she was not sure who was on whose side.

  De Floyran cried out again in rage as he saw Catherine’s grey form disappear into the mêlée, but there was nothing he could do about it. He quickly realized that if he didn’t get out of there at once, he would be swiftly slaughtered. Caradas had gone and hopefully still had the Grand Master with him. De Floyran called out to his men and then turned his mount to flee but spotted De Nogaret lying in the dirt in amongst the fray.

  “Help me, Esquin! Don’t leave me here!” he cried out desperately, locking panic filled eyes with De Floyran. De Floyran hesitated momentarily and considered his options. He knew De Nogaret would be savaged if he left him here and he didn’t really care if he was. However, he reasoned, he may yet need the vile little councillor, especially as a buffer between him and the King when this event came to light. Galeren had survived his attack and gone back to Montlhéry, freeing the remaining Templars that were there. Quickly, De Floyran reined his horse over to the injured De Nogaret and swinging out of his saddle he offered him his hand.

  “Give me your hand, I’ll pull you up!” he said, “quickly!”

  “My leg is broken!” De Nogaret whined pathetically.

  “I don’t give a shit, take my hand or I will leave you here.”

  De Nogaret gritted his teeth and reached up to grasp De Floyran’s outstretched hand. He screamed profusely as De Floyran hauled him up into the saddle in front of him and spurred his horse onwards and out of the conflict. De Nogaret continued screaming in agony.

  “Shut up or I’ll throw you off!” De Floyran said unsympathetically and De Nogaret, terrified that he would make good his threat, immediately shut his mouth and suffered the excruciating pain in silence.

  Catherine watched the bloody scene unfold around her. She was transfixed momentarily, remembering that she had seen something like this before. However, this time there were more wolves, more men and more limbs to be torn and ripped from bodies; this time she was one of the wolves. She searched for Galeren and quickly saw the bloodied white wolf locked in a savage battle with another. Both were bitten and bleeding and they backed away from each other for a moment’s respite before charging again.

  Galeren bared his teeth and backing away from Huguard, to give himself more ground, he charged. The two wolves collided and the force of it caused Galeren’s legs to skid in the dirt and end up on his side with Huguard above him. Huguard took his chance. Pre-empting the strike, Galeren lowered his head to protect his throat and instead felt Huguard sink his teeth into his shoulder. The teeth crunched down and Galeren fought his instinct to pull away, knowing that it would only cause more damage. It was his throat that needed protecting and he knew he was in a precarious position, trapped beneath his foe it need only take lightening reflexes from Huguard to withdraw and go for his throat.

  Galeren’s own mouth snapped at Huguard’s muzzle in an attempt to get him to release his hold. Suddenly, he let go and yelping rolled off Galeren as he was struck in the side by another wolf. It was Catherine. They rolled over several times together in the dirt but she was quick to regain her feet and senses. Wasting no time, she leapt on the winded Huguard and tore out his unguarded throat. The taste of blood was new to her. She had tasted her own before when she had pricked her finger with a needle, but this was different. There was a lot of blood and flesh in her mouth and she quickly spat it out in horror at what she had done. Yet, at the same time she felt immensely powerful and knew that her actions were justified. She looked up and surveyed her surroundings in search of more foes but saw Galeren approaching her and was immediately conscious of her bloodied mouth.

  Are you hurt? he asked.

  I’ve never killed anyone before, she answered, surprised by her action. She looked at Galeren’s expression and realized that it should come as no surprise, tearing out the throat of her mate’s attacker.

  It’s alright. Galeren nodded and then looked around and saw two more wolves had suffered the same fate, but they were his men not De Floyran’s. The King’s men had been totally slaughtered and lay in bloody heaps on the road. But there was no sign of De Floyran and the rest of his men, or his father.

  Christ! How could they have gotten away!

  There had been about thirty of the King’s guards and all the Templar wolves had been busy putting pay to them, or battling with De Floyran’s other men. Even so, Galeren was unsatisfied with the outcome.

  There were fourteen of us and we only managed to get one of De Floyran’s men? he said exasperated. Ourri Venois approached him and Catherine.

  Your father could have escaped with me, but there was a look in his eyes, like he did not want to be rescued, sir.

  He is fool! But it should be of no surprise to me. He shook his head. Your father will be pleased to see you, Ourri. Galeren said and then looked at Catherine. She could see that there was immense relief in his eyes but also a little dread and she knew the reason for it.

  We should get out of here, he said and she knew that this was not the time for an emotional reunion; that would have to wait. He turned from her and went over t
o the two dead men John St Clair was stood by.

  Alain Roullion and Paul de Chinois. John said. They would have rather died this way than in that rotting dungeon, Galeren.

  I know, he lamented, but we have lost enough of our men. He shook his head bitterly, De Floyran is as slippery as an eel and I wanted that snake De Nogaret as well!

  Another day, John said, they will not get away with this.

  Oath, Galeren confirmed.

  What are we going to do now? Catherine asked, joining them.

  Galeren looked around and sighed. Go to England. We need to get catch our breath and draw a plan together.

  He changed form and walked over to look the King’s slaughtered men. Catherine wanted to change too, but aware that she would be naked and in the company of males, she decided against it. She watched Galeren as he strode confidently around, inspecting the fallen guards and felt her heart tighten. He had not said much to her. Though she knew the time was not right to be selfish for his attention, she could not help fearing he may feel differently about her, sensing as he must what had occurred the previous night.

  “Some of their undergarments are not too badly stained. We can use them.” He called out and began to undress the remains of one of the dead men. The other Templars changed and followed suit.

  Catherine looked back at the wolf she had slain and saw that it too had changed into its human form. Huguard Parry. Puzzled, she nevertheless looked away from him, not wishing to dwell on what she had done. De Floyran had escaped, which gave her the ominous feeling that her fate with him was far from over. Galeren marched over to her dressed as one of the King’s guards carrying some clothing in his hands.

  “Feel like being a man for a while?” he smiled at her. She nodded smiling back and made her way into the bushes to change. Galeren followed her and lay the clothing within easy reach.

  “They were the smallest I could find. It will do for now.” He said and left her to change while he helped round up the remaining horses with the others. When changed and clothed, she rejoined him and was aware that all eyes were on her. She knew it was merely curiosity. These were the men who had been at Montlhéry and they all knew who she was and her relationship with Galeren. These men had helped him to rescue her. She lowered her head modestly and approached the horse that Galeren held ready for her. He helped her into the saddle and then went to his own mount.

  “Let’s get out of here!” he said leaping into the saddle, and spurred his horse onwards.