Gallus was struggling to overcome his shock over the fact that Gaerwen had survived. It seemed like a miracle considering the man’s state when last he saw him. He was also overcome with the news that his wife had left Isenhall. He scratched his forehead, his disbelief evident.
“When did she leave?” he finally asked.
Honey looked at him and Gallus could see tears forming in her eyes. He was shocked. Truly shocked. He hadn’t seen his mother cry since his father passed away and, at that moment, he began to see the gravity of what he’d done. What his cowardice and confusion had cost him in ways he couldn’t begin to fathom, but he was starting to. The look on Honey’s face was a gateway to understanding the anguish he had caused.
“After you ran off, Jeniver was truly shattered,” Honey said. “Gallus, I do believe she loved you, or at least she thought she did. With her father as ill as he was, was it fair of you to leave her as you did? Was it fair to any of us? The very least you could have done was to bid the woman a farewell, but you did not even have enough respect for her to do that. You gave her hope that her life would continue in spite of her father’s terrible injury, that she would raise a family of her own with you, but then you crushed that hope. Did I truly raise you to be so careless and cruel? For the first time in my life, I am ashamed of you. You are not the son I raised. You are not a man of honor because a man of honor would not have done what you did.”
She looked away, back to the fire, wiping daintily at her nose as Gallus stood there and watched. He felt as if all of the wind had just been sucked out of him, as if an unseen fist had punched him in the gut and he could no longer draw air. There were no words to describe his humiliation or sorrow, things he had brought down upon himself. Gazing at his mother’s lowered head, for the first time, he was ashamed of something he had done. That had never happened before.
“Oh… God,” he hissed, sinking down onto the nearest bench, near a table in the entry hall. The helm came off and he set it upon the tabletop, raking cold fingers through his hair. “I… I do not even know what to say to all of this.”
Honey sniffled loudly. “Say nothing,” she said. “But I suppose at some point you should go to Wales. She is your wife, after all. Mayhap you can learn to tolerate the woman and at least be civil to her.”
Gallus shook his head, hanging it with shame. “You do not understand.”
Honey wouldn’t listen. “It is my fault, I suppose, for forcing you into a marriage you did not want,” she said. “I never thought you would humiliate me the way you did, nor did I believe you would hurt a young woman who was truly at your mercy. But I was wrong.”
A beating would have been less painful. Honey’s words were cutting deep into his heart. He couldn’t even spare a moment to focus on his daughters, who were trying to climb on him. All he could do was feel gutted, empty, and humbled.
“My behavior is indefensible,” he mumbled. “You believe I hate her… I am afraid it is the exact opposite. She… she frightened me, Mother. She is a beautiful and intelligent woman and I found myself… God, I was so confused and… and guilty. I was guilty for feeling something for her when I am still mourning Catheryn. Dear God, I ran… I ran away because I knew I felt something for Jeniver and I simply couldn’t face it. I was terrified.”
Honey was looking at him by now, listening to him stammer his way through his speech. She believed him, but it didn’t change things. “You have always run from things you do not wish to face,” she said. “You have run away from your grief over Catheryn’s passing. It is little wonder you cannot face it. Now, you run away because you feel something for Jeniver. Gallus, the mark of a true man is not how many battles he fights or how many men he kills. The mark of a true man is in his heart and in his actions. It is how he loves and is loved. Your actions clearly told Jeniver that you had no use for her and no respect. You should have faced your fear, no matter what.”
Gallus hung his head. “I could not,” he whispered. “I could not feel something for her and have my heart ripped out again. If spending a mere day with the woman and knowing I could feel something for her is terrifying, can you imagine what would happen if I spend my entire life with her? I will not be able to breathe for want of her. I would move the sun and moon and stars and even move the heavens if she wished it. And then when it is torn from me, violently… it would destroy me. I would explode into a million dark pieces of pain.”
Honey was listening to him seriously. “So you would run from your emotions rather than welcome something that very few people ever know?” she asked softly. “Gallus, you had the blessing of a wonderful marriage with Catheryn. You loved her and she loved you. But that love is never gone. It is simply tucked back into your memory, something to visit on occasion and remember with a smile. If it is true that you feel something for Jeniver, mayhap love again, then you should not run from it. It is the greatest gift of all and you should consider yourself extremely fortunate to have known it twice in a lifetime.”
Gallus was still looking at the ground, caught up in a maelstrom of emotion as Lily wedged herself in his lap and Violet hung around his neck. He knew his mother was right, God help him, he knew it. He had never been afraid of anything in his life, but love itself frightened him. He was terrified to love and lose it again. After a moment, he sighed heavily.
“I am sorry if I shamed you,” he said to his mother. “When I left Isenhall those weeks ago, I was not thinking of anyone other than myself. Please forgive me.”
Honey never could stay mad at him for long. She gazed at her eldest son, shaking her head sadly. “Gallus,” she explained. “You are a brilliant, intelligent man, but sometimes, you are a fool.”
“I am coming to see that.”
With effort, Honey rose from the stool and made her way over to him where he sat on the bench, utterly defeated and somber. Gallus didn’t look up at her and she laid her hand upon his dark, dirty head.
“What do you intend to do to remedy this situation?” she asked.
Gallus shook his head before gently pulling Violet off his neck because she was strangling him. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “Mayhap you can tell me what I must do in order to right this wrong that I have committed.”
Honey stroked his inky hair with her cold fingers. “You must go to Wales and speak with her,” she said. “Jeniver is not an unreasonable woman. She and I had many opportunities to speak on things. She is quite intelligent and she has a good heart. Even after you abruptly left her, she was still very kind to your daughters. She gave them her puppy.”
His head shot up, looking at her with surprise. “She did?” he asked, awed. “But… but that dog meant so much to her. I cannot believe she would give it to them.”
Honey nodded. “I know,” she said, looking him in the eye. “Now do you see what a good heart she has? She gave the girls the puppy because they were distraught over you having left without bidding them a farewell. She did it to make them feel better.”
Gallus felt like the biggest fool in all the world. He clapped both hands over his face in disbelief, struggling to process all he had been told. It was clear to him that there was only one thing to do.
“I must go to Wales,” he said, standing up and lowering Lily to the ground because she was hanging on his arms. “I must apologize to Jeniver and pray she forgives me. I was so… wrong.”
Honey nodded emphatically. “You were,” she agreed. “But if you are honest with her, I believe she will forgive you. But do not expect it easily or completely. You created a great deal of damage to the woman.”
Gallus knew that. But he looked at his mother then and was reminded of her nearly-green color, her terrible countenance. He reached out and took her hand again.
“But I am worried about leaving you,” he said. “You… you clearly are not well. I do not want to leave you if you are… if I was to be away and… oh, God, I cannot bring myself to say it.”
Honey smiled and patted his cold, rough cheek. “It is enough
that you are finally coming to accept it,” she said. “Nothing will happen while you are away, but do not stay away too long. Collect your wife and hurry home.”
The entry door burst open again and Maximus and Tiberius entered, followed by howling winds and blowing snow. The little girls squealed as the two brothers shoved the door shut, shaking off the snow and staging for the fire. Violet and Lily ran straight at them and Tiberius, even though he was nearly frozen, pretended to fall to his knees as the girls giggled and yanked on him. Maximus stepped over his brother and put himself so close to the fire that his clothing began to steam as the water evaporated.
“Welcome home,” Honey said to her other sons, grinning as Violet and Lily tried to drag Tiberius to the floor. “How was your visit to London?”
Maximus was so cold that he was having difficulty moving and Honey began to help him peel away his layers of frozen clothing.
“Eventful,” Maximus said, noting that Gallus was in the room. “Did Gallus tell you everything?”
Honey shook her head as she pulled a cold, wet, woolen scarf from around his neck. “He did not,” she said. “What happened?”
Maximus pulled off his helm with great effort, revealing his pale, cold face beneath. “We single-handedly averted a small invasion of Savoyard loyalists,” he said. “Eleanor and her relations have some regrouping to do.”
Honey didn’t particularly care about the politics of England although she was well-versed in them thanks to her sons. She knew Eleanor, the queen, through her family’s dealings and had met the woman on more than one occasion. She stood back as Maximus shook off the heavy, fur cloak he was wearing, handing it over to servants for it to be shaken out and dried.
“I am sure de Montfort and Bigod were glad for your presence,” she said evenly, giving no hint of the displeasure she felt at their sudden departure. She was certain that neither Maximus nor Tiberius had a hand in Gallus’ decision to flee Isenhall without a word. “When do you return?”
Maximus shook his head. “De Montfort is calling an assembly at Kenilworth soon and we must attend,” he said, holding out his frozen hands to the fire. “Other than that, I do not know when next we will be summoned. Unless something catastrophic happens, our next assembly will be at Kenilworth.”
Gallus, who had been standing back in the shadows until this point, made his way forward and extended his hands before the fire to warm them.
“You may have to attend the assembly at Kenilworth without me,” he said quietly.
Maximus peered at him curiously. “Why do you say that?”
Gallus was looking into the flames. “Because I must go to Wales to retrieve my wife,” he said. “She has gone home.”
Maximus’ brow furrowed with confusion. “She went back to Wales?” he asked, looking curiously at his mother. “Why did she leave?”
Honey wouldn’t answer so Gallus replied. “Because I’ve not been much of a husband,” he said vaguely, looking at his brother. “Suffice it to say that I have wronged her. I must go to Wales to retrieve her and if de Montfort calls the barons to Kenilworth before I can return home, you will have to attend without me.”
Maximus wasn’t clear on how his brother had wronged his new wife because Gallus had never told him or Tiberius that he’d left Isenhall without a word to her or to any of the womenfolk. It simply wasn’t something they had discussed.
“De Montfort will not be pleased if you do not attend the assembly,” he said. “In fact, he will be angry.”
Gallus shrugged. “It cannot be helped,” he said. “Hopefully he will not convene the barons before I return from Wales.”
“Must you go?”
“I must.”
Maximus wouldn’t argue with him. By this time, Tiberius was listening, holding both of his nieces in his arms. He looked curiously at Maximus who simply shrugged.
“Then I shall go with you,” he said to Gallus. “You should not go to Wales alone.”
Gallus shook his head. “Nay,” he said firmly. “For the very reason that de Montfort may summon us, you must remain here and in command. I will return from Wales as quickly as I can.”
There wasn’t much more to say on the subject. Maximus and Tiberius exchanged resigned, if not slightly annoyed, glances, knowing there would be no discouraging their brother. When Gallus’ mind was set, there was no changing it. Wearily, Maximus wiped at his eyes.
“When will you leave?” he asked.
Gallus turned away from the hearth. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I will not waste any time.”
Maximus didn’t agree with his plan. “If you leave during this snow, it will take you months to reach Anglesey,” he said. “Why not wait until the weather clears?”
Gallus simply shook his head and wandered off, taking the steps to the second floor, heading to his bower that was now cold and lonely and without Jeniver. Honey, Maximus, and Tiberius watched him go. When his footfalls faded away, Maximus turned to his mother.
“What happened?” he asked her. “Why did Jeniver go back to Wales?”
Honey wasn’t in the habit of disparaging her sons in front of one another so she simply shook her head.
“Your brother has a difficult road ahead of him with her,” she said. “Do not ask him any more about it. If he wants you to know, he will tell you.”
With that, she followed Gallus’ path up the steps, leaving Maximus and Tiberius with Violet and Lily. When she was gone, Maximus turned to his younger brother. He had no idea what to say to the man so he ended up shaking his head in exasperation.
“Now, what was that all about?” he wondered aloud. “Why did the woman flee back to Wales?”
Tiberius shrugged, still holding his nieces, one girl in each big arm. “I have no idea,” he said. “But he did not speak of her at all during our trip to London. At least, he didn’t speak of her to me. Did he speak of her to you?”
Maximus shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “And now that I think upon it, it is a bit strange. You would think he would have said something about the woman. She is his wife, after all.”
“Should we go with him, anyway?” Tiberius asked. “We can follow him.”
Maximus shook his head. “He would simply become angry,” he said. “Besides, I suspect this is something Gallus must do alone. We have no right to interfere in his marriage.”
“Then we let him go alone?”
“We do.”
Tiberius didn’t say anything more. Maximus was correct in that Gallus’ marriage was his own. They had no right to interfere. As much as it seemed out of the natural order of things not to ride with their brother to Wales, this was evidently something he had to face alone.
If your brother wants you to know, he will tell you.
They had to let him go.
PART THREE
GLAD TIDINGS
March
CHAPTER TWELVE
The snows of winter had been brutal. On the fifth day of March, after more than three weeks of travel that, under normal circumstances should have only taken eight or ten days, Gallus took the ferry across the ice-clogged Menai Strait and landed on the Isle of Anglesey.
He had come this far alone, without his usual army, even though his brothers had fits about him going it alone. Maximus nearly burst a blood vessel at first, but eventually, he resigned himself to the inevitable even as Tiberius tried to plead with Gallus to take a small contingent of men.
In the end, Gallus made a concession by taking three hearty soldiers with him, and once a week, no matter where he was, he would send one of the soldiers home with a missive for the family letting them know he was well. Now, three weeks later, he had sent the last soldier back to Isenhall to let his family know that he was crossing over into Anglesey.
Wales was one big, white country. The mountains were white, the fields were white, and the little towns were covered in great mounds of snow. As he’d made his way across the very northern tip of the country, he’d spotted goats with big horns that seemed to
have an affinity for the snow. The trip, other than the freezing weather and snow, hadn’t been particularly miserable until he’d begun sneezing and coughing a few days ago. He suspected he was running a fever as well and his throat was so raw that when he coughed, he hacked up blood.
Crossing the wind-blown strait upon the small ferry, he’d felt truly wretched but refused to give in to the misery. There wasn’t much he could do about it, anyway. Moreover, he had a castle to find once he set his feet on solid ground again and he reasoned that anyone on Anglesey would know where Rhydilian was. He had been correct. He asked the ferryman on the isle and was given directions to the castle in broken French. With a massive, icy gale blowing off of the Irish Sea, Gallus made his way inland, following the directions the man had given him.
Anglesey was frozen just like the rest of Wales was. It made it difficult to spot landmarks that the ferryman had given him. Gallus took a road that led to the north side of the isle, struggling through the horrific road conditions and trying to keep his horse from injuring something. The horse he had ridden from Isenhall had been a half-breed, part Spanish Jennet, and was very hearty in all conditions. A great, hairy beast, the horse had performed beautifully and he intended to keep it that way.
The road to Rhydilian was heavily forested and Gallus made his way along the terrible road, gazing up into the trees to see that the boughs were heavy from the build-up of snow. He moved away from under particularly heavily-laden branches because more than once on his trip north, he’d seen entire halves of trees collapse under the weight of the snow. He had no desire to be crushed by snow and heavy branches.
Nearly four hours since crossing on the ferry, he began to see a structure on the horizon. It took about a half hour more before he could make out a castle perched up on the crest of a small mountain, shrouded by clouds and mist. Coughing, hacking, he continued to make his way towards the bastion, finally making his trek up the hill that led to the mouth of the fortress. The winds had died down but the snow was falling again, and he was covered with it, frozen in spite of the heavy furs he wore. It was also increasingly difficult for him to breathe because of his illness and his eyeballs were hot, a sure sign that he had a serious fever raging. Still, he forged ahead, making his way up the slippery, snowy road until he reached the massive gatehouse of an equally massive castle.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 16
