He asked the question of the servant, who merely shook his head. “You were clever and brilliant young men, my lord,” he said politely.
Gallus laughed softly as he returned his attention to Davyss. “I clothe and feed him so he must say pleasant things about us,” he said. His gaze moved over Davyss’ face, reacquainting himself with his old friend. “I cannot remember when last I saw you, Davyss. How long has it been?”
Davyss scratched his head thoughtfully. “The summer months, at least,” he said. “You were in London and we crossed paths. I was with my mother and father.”
Gallus nodded in remembrance. “I recall now,” he said. “How are your parents?”
Davyss gave him a half-grin. “Well enough,” he said. “You know my mother, she will outlive us all. And my father is doing well. His health had been poor a few months ago but he seems to have recovered well enough.”
Gallus thought on the Lady Katherine de Winter and her husband, Grayson de Winter. The House of de Winter was an extremely powerful family, much like the House of de Shera, and most of the time the two houses were on the same side. Gallus’ father and Grayson de Winter had been good friends, and it had been Grayson who had spent a few weeks at Isenhall with Lady Honey after Antoninus’ death to make sure the de Shera family was well enough after the sudden passing of their patriarch. Gallus had never forgotten the man’s kindness during that time. He considered the House of de Winter family, in fact, and he missed Davyss very much.
“That is good to hear,” he said. Then, he tugged on Davyss’ arm. “Come inside. It is only Maximus and Tiberius and I. They will want to see you.”
Davyss shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “This is between you and me for now. Besides, if anyone saw me inside of Westbourne, anyone other than those we trust, it would look very bad for us both.”
The warm expression on Gallus’ features faded. “I suppose so,” he said, sobering. “I do not like this, Davyss. I do not like that we are not on the same side. This is not the natural order of things.”
Davyss nodded slowly. “I know,” he agreed. “But it has been the unfortunate order of things for four years, ever since Simon de Montfort took the stand at Parliament against Henry. My father took the king’s side and Antoninus took Simon’s side. And here we are.”
Gallus shook his head sadly. “Indeed,” he said, his gaze moving over Davyss’ face. There was something in the man’s expression that suggested he was not here merely for a social call and Gallus suspected he knew what it was. “You heard of Honore’s death.”
It wasn’t a question. Davyss nodded faintly. “Aye,” he replied. “Was it you?”
“Aye.”
Davyss drew in a long breath, digesting the information. “I thought so,” he said. “So did my father. It had every mark of the Thunder Lord; concise, brutal, and deadly. Henry knows it, too. That is why I have come to warn you.”
“What about?”
Davyss shifted on his big legs. “The king is talking about sending assassins after you,” he said. “Or, at the very least, laying siege to Isenhall. You are de Montfort’s muscle and he feels that if he destroys you or, at the very least, damages you, then it will weaken the rebellion. Those men you killed? Honore’s men? Their purpose was going to be to reinforce the ranks Henry was planning on sending to Isenhall, so his move against you was in motion well before this. To say he is furious right now is an understatement.”
Gallus wasn’t surprised, by any of it. “Henry didn’t tell you all of this, did he?”
Davyss shook his head. “He told my father and my father told me,” he said. “My father is the one who sent me here tonight. He wants me to tell you to leave London quickly and go home. He is doing his best to stave off the king’s anger, anger directed at you. He wants to give you time to go home and secure Isenhall.”
Gallus leaned back against the doorjamb, crossing his arms thoughtfully as he faced his friend. “De Montfort has been in London daily,” he said. “He has not mentioned any of this.”
Davyss shifted on his big legs again, resting a hand upon the hilt of his magnificent sword. “Henry has kept his focus against you very quiet,” he said. “He has also sent spies to watch my father to see if he has contacted you.”
Gallus grew concerned. “You were not followed here?”
Davyss shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “Hugh is dressed the same way I am and departed when I did. He will lure away any spies.”
Gallus smiled weakly. “And how is your little brother?”
Davyss snorted. “Insufferable,” he said. “I would sell him to the gypsies if I thought I could get away with it.”
Gallus laughed softly. Then his gaze fell upon the sword at Davyss’ side, the splendid work of art that was Davyss’ constant companion. He tilted his head in the direction of the weapon.
“When you came out of the shadows just now, I saw the sword before I saw your face,” he said. “Lespada. L’épée de champions.”
The sword of champions. Davyss looked down at the broadsword at his side. “Six generations of my family have carried this sword,” he said. “Do you remember when my father gave it over to me when I received my spurs? He wept. One would have thought he had just handed over his favorite child.”
Gallus remembered those days when he and Davyss had fostered together. “Those were good days,” he reminisced, “fostering at Kenilworth.”
“They were, indeed.”
Gallus reflected on those days of his youth a moment longer before sighing heavily. “I never thought you and I would be on opposing sides,” he said with regret. “My greatest fear is that we will be called to battle and I will be facing against you. If that happens… know that I will not fight you and I will not kill you, not even in the name of England. Some things are stronger than loyalty to one’s country. If it ever comes to that, I will lay down my sword before I will raise it against you.”
Davyss’ expression was equally sad. “As will I,” he said. “I could not do it, no matter if Henry himself ordered me to. Tiberius is another matter altogether, but I could not raise a weapon against you and Max.”
Gallus chuckled. “Are you sure you will not come inside to see them?”
Davyss shook his head. “I have stayed overlong already,” he said. “I must leave before I am discovered.”
Gallus understood. He reached out and grasped Davyss’ hand, squeezing it, reaffirming the bonds of brotherhood.
“Thank you for coming,” he said softly. “You are my brother, Davyss. I miss you every day.”
Davyss squeezed back. “As do I,” he said. “I am looking forward to the day when I can speak openly of you and visit your mother so I can eat her honey and cheese pie. I have missed it.”
Gallus grinned. “It is still as delicious as ever,” he said. “And I am anxious for you to meet my wife.”
Davyss’ expression washed with shock. “Wife?” he repeated. “I did not hear of this. God’s Bones, man, when did you take a wife?”
Gallus grinned. “Last month,” he said. “It was quite unexpected, but that is a story for another time. She is a hereditary princess of Anglesey and when her father passes away, all of his titles and possessions will pass to me. I will be Anglesey. Would you have ever guessed such a thing?”
Davyss was astonished. “Never,” he breathed. “I do not know whether to congratulate you or give you my condolences.”
Gallus laughed softly. “Congratulate me,” he said. “My wife is a beauty. I… I think I can be happy with her.”
Davyss studied the man’s features, looking for any signs that he was fooling himself into believing that his second marriage would be as pleasant as his first. “Are you certain?” he asked. “I know that Catheryn’s passing was… difficult.”
Gallus sobered, thinking on the wife he lost, the wife he had gained. “It was,” he agreed quietly. “But Jeniver has helped me to heal, I think. She does not know that, but she has.”
Davyss gave h
is hand one last squeeze and released it. “Then I wish you the best,” he said. “I look forward to meeting her.”
“You shall, very soon.”
Davyss smiled, gazing up at his friend in the darkness. It was difficult to leave his friend. “I must be going,” he said, glancing around the yard to make sure there was no one watching. “Remember what I said, Gal. Get out of London and go home. My father is doing what he can to deflect Henry’s anger off of you, but you must go home and stay there. Let things blow over.”
Gallus nodded. “I will,” he replied. “Thank you for coming, my friend.”
Davyss reached out and slapped him affectionately on the arm before fleeing across the darkened kitchen yard and out to the postern gate. Gallus watched as the man disappeared through the gate, but well after Davyss was gone, Gallus continued to stand there, reflecting upon their conversation. There was something ominous in his tidings.
Go home, Davyss had said. Gallus would, but not before he sent word to de Montfort of Davyss’ visit. De Montfort and the de Winter family were very old friends as well. Simon was, in fact, Davyss’ godfather. Much as Davyss and Gallus remained friendly in spite of being on opposite sides, Gallus suspected that Simon and Davyss had remained friendly as well, although they’d never spoken openly of it. Subjects such as that were better left unspoken lest someone overhear, but he knew de Montfort would not betray Davyss, no matter what.
Before dawn, the Lords of Thunder were on the road back to Isenhall.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Isenhall Castle
Another storm had hit on the journey back to Isenhall, but with this storm came snow. The storm earlier in the week that had provided all of the thunder and lightning had been cold, but this storm was freezing. Massive amounts of white stuff poured from the sky and the temperature plummeted, making for truly miserable traveling.
Because of Henry’s threat against Isenhall, Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius had taken two hundred men-at-arms from Westbourne to take them back to Isenhall to reinforce the ranks there. That left Westbourne with a little over one hundred men to protect her, but it didn’t matter much considering Gallus wasn’t there, and Henry wanted Gallus. Therefore, there wasn’t much worry for Westbourne.
A trip from London to Isenhall that should have taken six or seven days at most, ended up taking almost fourteen days due to the foul weather. Along with the two hundred men and several wagons, Gallus also brought the horses he had confiscated from Honore’s fleet, eight fine animals in all, and they spent a good deal of time wrapping the horses’ legs with wool and blanketing the animals with fur so they wouldn’t freeze in the snow. They had a heavy, winter coat but it wasn’t enough against the blowing snow.
Gallus made a point every night of finding a town to sleep in, paying peasants for the use of their barns, homes, and outbuildings to house his army. Maximus, in charge of the horseflesh, would spend his time unwrapping horse legs and rubbing them with warmed wine or ale, as the alcohol wouldn’t freeze and tended to keep the animals’ legs in good shape. Every night, before a fire, Maximus would tend his new brood, including the spectacular, silver charger he adored. The animal was starting to come around, accepting treats and pets from Maximus without trying to rip his hand off. It was progress.
On the fifteenth day after leaving London, the tall, snow-bound walls of Isenhall came into view in the distance, but it took them almost a day to reach it because of the difficulty in traveling over the snowy, frozen, muddy road. Eventually, they reached their destination and the great iron and oak gates of Isenhall opened wide for her returning sons.
The bailey was a great jumble of dirty snow banks and soupy mud, and it took the incoming party some time to settle in. While Maximus took the horses and wagons to the stables, Tiberius ordered the men into the great hall or into the bottom floor of the keep, anywhere they could dry off and warm up. As the half-frozen men disbursed, Gallus, after turning his horse over to a groom, headed into the keep.
A great gust of wind caught him just as he opened the door to the keep, nearly shoving him inside as it whistled through the entry hall. Gallus heard women shriek as he shoved the door closed, half-blind from the wind and cold. A warm fire was off to his left and he stumbled towards it, pulling off his gloves and wiping at his eyes. Violet and Lily were suddenly at his feet, screaming in excitement, but Gallus gently pushed them back.
“Nay, ladies, not yet,” he told them. “I am covered with snow. You will get wet. Let me take my outer clothing off before you touch me.”
The little girls wriggled and jumped around, impatient, as Gallus tossed his gloves onto the nearby table and went to unfasten his fur cloak. His eyes were becoming more accustomed to the dim light around him and the first thing he saw, after his daughters, was Honey standing a few feet away. He smiled when he saw his mother.
“The weather gods have not been kind since we left London,” he told her. “How long has it been snowing like this?”
Honey watched her son as his frozen fingers struggled to untie the cloak that was covered in ice. “Weeks, at least,” she said. “Are you well, Gallus?”
Gallus nodded his head. “Max and Ty are with me,” he said. “We are all well.”
“Excellent.”
She didn’t say any more and Gallus wiped at his eyes again, blinking them to focus on her. For the first time since entering the keep, he took a good look at the woman and noticed that she looked particularly pale. She was so pale that she was nearly green in countenance and he became very concerned.
“What is the matter?” he asked her, picking up Lily because she was clinging to his leg. “Are you ill?”
Honey was wrapped in a heavy rabbit cloak, the top layer of several layers of clothing she was wearing. The keep of Isenhall was only marginally warm and that was because of the blazing fires in every room to ward off the ice radiating from the very walls. Even so, she was greatly affected by the cold and the past several weeks, in addition to the cold, had not been pleasant ones. Ominous tidings were afoot.
“You know I am ill,” she said quietly. “I have been ill for some time yet you and your brothers refuse to acknowledge it. It has grown worse, Gallus. I have been quite ill since you left.”
Gallus looked at her, stricken. Sorrow was already creeping into his veins as he reached out and grasped for the woman’s hand, buried beneath the cloak. He brought her very cold hand to his lips and kissed it.
“I am sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely. “I left the surgeon here with you. What has he said?”
Honey hissed. “Pah,” she spat. “Your surgeon is meant for men and Gaerwen required his attention day and night. I sent for a physic from Coventry.”
“Is he here?”
Honey nodded. “He has been here for over four weeks,” she replied. “He has taken a room on the top floor of the keep. We have been daily companions, he and I. He says I will not live out this year.”
Gallus didn’t want to hear that. His breath caught in his throat and he held his mother’s hand tightly, clasping it against his frozen cheek. “That is not true,” he whispered, closing his eyes tightly to ward off the agony. “He must be wrong.”
Honey watched her eldest as he struggled with his fear. The fear of losing a parent was a horrible, lonely fear for every child. She tried to feel some pity for him at the moment, innate motherly pity, but she couldn’t muster it. At least, not now. She was still quite angry at him for leaving for London without bidding farewell to his family. Perhaps it was her anger at him that had brought about the ill health. In any case, she hadn’t felt well since he had left.
“It is true,” she said, her voice quiet. “You know it is true yet you refuse to believe it. Gallus, I do not need your doubt any longer. You must face the facts and so must your brothers. I have a cancer in my belly that is weakening me by the day and ignoring it will not change things.”
Gallus’ head came up and he looked at her, turmoil in his eyes. “I will send for anothe
r physic,” he said. “One who is more competent than the one you have engaged.”
Honey shook her head. “Nay, Gallus,” she said, more strongly. “That will not change the way of things. I need for you to face the truth. We must all die at some point. The difference is that I know that my time is approaching soon. What I do not need is for you and your brothers to ignore the truth and I do not need the added stress of you running off for London without telling anyone you are leaving. What on earth made you do such a thing?”
It was then that Gallus began to realize that Jeniver was nowhere in sight. It was Violet, Lily, and Honey to greet him as he returned. Gallus began to look around.
“Where is my wife?” he asked.
Honey sighed heavily, shaking her head with disapproval. “Do you truly care?” she asked. “You ran off without telling the woman you were leaving and that led her, and me, to believe that you did not care. She is not here and I am sure that does not matter to you.”
Gallus set Lily down on her feet. His expression was tense. “Where is she?”
Honey turned away from him and shuffled over to a stool next to the fire. Slowly, she lowered herself down. “Gone,” she said. “She left and took Gaerwen back to Wales with my blessing.”
Gallus stood there, his brow furrowing with confusion. “With your blessing?” he repeated. “What in the hell are you talking about? I told her that I would escort her back to Wales when I returned from London.”
Honey cocked an eyebrow. “Since you did not bid us farewell when you left, we had no way of knowing when you were returning,” she said, bitterly. “Gaerwen wanted to go home, so she took him.”
Gallus was stunned. “Gaerwen wanted to go home?” he repeated. “The man did not die?”
Honey shook her head. “If you ever sought contact with your family while you were gone, you would have known that,” she said. “He will more than likely pass at some point soon but he did not wish to die in England, so your wife took him and the rest of their traveling party home.”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 15
