Gallus was immediately on his guard. More than that, fury was racing through his veins as he gazed steadily at Bigod. “Indeed, my lord,” he said. “The weather has been kinder the last few weeks. It has made traveling much easier.”
De Montfort put a hand on Gallus’ shoulder. “And so you have returned to us,” he said. “Please sit and tell us of your trip to Wales. I am most anxious to know if you were able to secure an allegiance with your new Welsh family.”
Gallus couldn’t take his eyes off of Bigod, who was so far meeting his gaze in a fairly neutral manner. Gallus struggled to contain his temper, especially in light of the fact that De Montfort seemed to be treating his visit as something of a social event. It was most certainly not a social call and he would not sit down as requested. He would not face Hugh Bigod by looking up at him.
“My wife’s father, Gaerwen ap Gaerwen, is recovering from wounds sustained in the attack on my lands those months ago,” he said. “We spoke on our resistance to the king, but I will address that later. At the moment, I have a few things to say to Lord Bigod.”
Simon could see, already, that this meeting wasn’t going well. He hadn’t expected any differently but he was hoping to control the situation somewhat. “Gallus, there is nothing to say to Hugh,” he said, his voice quieter. “Petty squabbles are not my concern and should not be yours, either. What I….”
Gallus looked at the man, then, cutting him off. “Petty squabbles?” he repeated, struggling to contain his outrage. “Bigod comes to my home, insults me, upsets my mother, and I am supposed to forget it? I think not, my lord. Hugh and I will come to terms here and now or there will be very little I intend to do for any of you in this rebellion. I will return to Isenhall and pray you all kill one another so that England can start with fresh new blood on the throne.”
De Montfort could see the rage in the Thunder Lord’s eyes. He’d seen it before and when the fire of fury burned, the results were usually deadly. He knew the situation for what it was, God help him, he knew. He had been in the middle of it, advising Hugh to stop speaking of de Shera as if the man had abandoned England as a whole, but Bigod had a big mouth. When he was displeased, everyone would know it, and now his actions were about to have a reaction aimed right between his eyes. De Montfort knew he couldn’t stop it even though he’d hoped to reason with Gallus. Still, he tried.
“Gal,” he muttered quietly. “Listen to me. Hugh has been told that what he has done is most unsavory and I do not think that punishing him is the answer. In fact, I will forbid it. I beg you to forgive and move away from what has happened. I believe I can convince Bigod to move on as well, but if you counter the man, I am afraid this situation will destroy us all. Men will take sides and the resistance against Henry will be weakened. Is that what you want? I knew you were going to seek Bigod out to punish him and that is why I have brought him here. This situation between you two must be eased. I will not have the both of you fighting in public.”
Gallus’ jaw was ticking and his gaze returned to Hugh who was still standing several feet away, in the shadows, watching everything. When Gallus spoke, it wasn’t to de Montfort.
“So you think to undermine men’s faith in me by spreading lies about my time spent in Wales?” he said, loudly enough so that Hugh could hear him. “I am here, Lord Bigod. Tell me to my face what you have been saying about me to other men. Let me hear the slander you sling so freely. Are you afraid to tell me in person what you have said? Shall I now see what a lowly coward you really are?”
Hugh came out of the shadows. He’d been warned by de Montfort against further insults to Gallus but it was difficult for him. He didn’t like to be told what to do and how to behave. It was his privilege to do as he pleased.
“You have returned from Wales and proved me wrong,” he said, almost mockingly. “I am glad to have been proven wrong.”
Gallus moved away from de Montfort, so quickly that the man couldn’t reach out and grab him. Suddenly, Gallus was stalking Bigod and Hugh, now nervous, began to move away from him, in de Montfort’s direction.
“Let us clear the air between us here and now,” Gallus rumbled. “This entire situation stems from the fact that I did not marry your repulsive, dull, and foolish daughter. She is the worst abomination of womanhood I have ever seen and even if she were the last woman in England, I still would not have married her. I do not want her. I do not like her. Not for all the money in the world would I marry her. Is this in any way unclear to you?”
Hugh was turning red in the face. “Why bring her into this?”
Gallus exploded. “Because this entire situation is because you refused to accept that I was not interested in your daughter,” he boomed. “You petty, insignificant fool, do you not understand that no one wants your daughter? I am not alone in this, yet you single me out because you imagine I have somehow insulted your entire family by not marrying her. What about John de Grey? He was the first lord you went after to marry her lumpy hide and he ended up taking a two year journey to the Holy Land to get away from you. There have been at least four other men you approached with the suggestion of your daughter’s hand and they have all turned you down, so I am not entirely sure why your vengeance has singled me out. It stops now, do you hear? If you ever say another word about me, I will cut your tongue out and de Montfort cannot protect you. Is that in any way unclear?”
Hugh’s eyes were wide, his forehead beaded with sweat. He looked at de Montfort. “He threatened me,” he hissed. “You heard him. He threatened me! I want the man arrested!”
De Montfort sighed heavily. “Hugh, if there is any justice dealt in the world, you have just received it,” he said. “I will not arrest Gallus because I need him more than I need you. Whatever he says to you is your own damnable fault.”
Seeing he had no support in Simon, Hugh turned his furious face to Gallus. “You went to Wales when you were supposed to be here,” he said. “Did you receive the support you said you would get?”
Gallus held up a warning finger. “I never said I would receive support,” he said. “I said that I was going to Wales to discover if there was support to be had. While I did not receive a pledge of manpower, I received a pledge of money. I am satisfied.”
Hugh’s eyebrows flew up, accusingly. “So you lied!” he spat. “You said you married the Welshwoman to gain an alliance with the Welsh, but that is clearly not the case.”
Gallus growled, frustrated. “Are you truly such an idiotic bastard that you twist everything I say to suit your malicious purpose?” he asked. “You knew my marriage was hasty. You knew I was going to Wales to see if I could gain Welsh support. I gained some support but not what I had hoped. Now I am here informing de Montfort of the results. What is it that I have lied about?”
Hugh was twitching with fury, his mouth working and spittle on his lips. “What are you not telling him?” he demanded. “There are wars in Wales now, a rebellion that is gaining steam. Did your treacherous wife convince you to fight her wars and not the one you swore allegiance to? All Welsh are manipulative and shallow. Is that the kind of woman you married?”
Gallus was on him in a flash, his hands wrapped around Bigod’s fat neck. Simon leapt up, rushing to separate the two men but unable to budge Gallus’ iron grip. He whispered urgently in Gallus’ ear.
“Let him go,” he hissed. “Please, Gal, let him go. If you kill him, it will destroy what we are attempting to accomplish here. I cannot have my barons killing one another. Please.”
Gallus heard the desperate hissing and when Bigod’s face turned an appropriate shade of purple, he released the man. It was a warning of what he could, and would, do. It was a promise of things to come should Bigod continue along his foolish path. Bigod stumbled back, collapsing to his knees with his hands on his neck.
“Damn… damn you!” he rasped at Gallus. “Damn you for touching me!”
Gallus was still standing over him with de Montfort’s arms restraining him. His expression was nothing sho
rt of deadly.
“You will never speak of my wife again,” he said, oddly calm. “If I hear her name from your lips or I hear that you have spoken of her, I will kill you. Is that clear? Slander me all you want but when you bring my wife into it, I will have no control over my actions. You will die.”
De Montfort was looking at Gallus with some fear and, oddly enough, interest. He’d never seen the man like that before, not ever. At the mere mention of the wife, Gallus had become a madman. De Montfort began to think that maybe there was some truth to Bigod’s accusations that Gallus’ wife could control her husband, bringing him into the Welsh rebellion and taking him from the English. There was no other explanation because, truly, de Montfort had never seen such hazard in Gallus’ face. All at the mention of his wife. Shrewd man that he was, that meant something to him.
“Calm yourself, Gal,” de Montfort finally said, pulling the man away from Bigod, who was struggling to his feet. “He’s simply overwrought. He does not know what he is saying.”
Gallus’ eyes never left Bigod as the man stood up and staggered to the nearest chair, rubbing his neck. “He knows very well what he is saying but I will reiterate this,” he said. “If I hear the man has spoken of my wife, in any fashion, I will kill him and to hell with the barons. They can go to the devil for all I care.”
De Montfort was trying to direct him to a chair. “He will not speak of her,” he assured him. “Hugh has learned his lesson.”
Gallus doubted that seriously. “Then let him prove it,” he said. “Let him stand up in front of all of our allies and announce to them that he has lied about me. Let him tell the throng that he has the utmost faith in me and that he was wrong. Let him swear it. Otherwise, I will consider us enemies, and I do not stand alongside an enemy, no matter what the cause.”
De Montfort looked at him, stunned. “You cannot be serious.”
Gallus looked him squarely in the eye. “I am deadly serious,” he said. “Let Bigod stand before all of the barons and tell them that he was wrong or I will go to Henry this night and fight for him. And I take all of my support and manpower with me.”
De Montfort knew he was sincere. Gallus de Shera never said anything he didn’t mean implicitly. He looked at Hugh. “Damn you,” he hissed. “Do you hear his terms? You will comply or your foolishness will have destroyed what we are attempting to accomplish.”
Hugh was still rubbing his neck. Furious, ashamed, and the least bit frightened, he turned away without a word, grunting and coughing, struggling with his nearly-crushed throat. He wouldn’t answer. De Montfort sighed heavily as he turned to Gallus.
“Gal, please…,” he began.
Gallus ignored him, turning for the door. “I will give him one day,” he said. “One day to do this or I go to Henry.”
With that, he marched from the room, his heavy bootfalls fading down the corridor. De Montfort stood there, still astonished by the entire event, before returning his attention to Hugh.
“Do you see what you have caused?” he demanded. “I told you to shut your mouth but you would not listen. How can I impress upon you the need to behave like a man and not a spoiled boy?”
Hugh would not be berated. “He went to Wales and returned with nothing,” he said, his voice hoarse. “There is at least some truth to what I have said.”
De Montfort rolled his eyes. “There is no truth to it and you know it,” he said. “But now we find ourselves in a predicament. We cannot have the man going to Henry. If he does, all we are working for will be lost.”
Hugh was trying not to feel guilty for the situation. Rising from the chair he had flopped upon, he staggered towards a pitcher of wine on a table near the lancet windows that overlooked the Great Mere beyond. He poured himself a sloppy cup and drank.
“Then what will you do?” he asked. “You heard him. He will go to Henry if I do not prostrate myself before the barons. I will not do it!”
De Montfort was deep in deliberation, struggling to find a way out of this situation. The man’s wife controls him, he thought of Gallus. Thoughts of Gallus and Henry and Hugh tumbled about in his mind, searching for an answer. He could not have his barons at odds. The more he deliberated, the more a solution seemed to be in sight. It was devious, but if all went according to plan, it would work.
“You may not have to,” de Montfort said after a moment. “Gallus hates you, that is true, but if we could turn his hatred away from you and on to someone he hates more, then this situation will be solved. What if you were to ride to the man’s aid? Better still, what if you saved his wife? You saw how he flared when you mentioned her.”
Hugh looked at him. “What do you mean?”
De Montfort was shrewd, he knew how to manipulate men. He knew what needed to be done in order to achieve a greater good. He turned to Hugh.
“What if we were to send word to Henry that it was Gallus who was responsible for Jacques Honore’s death?” he ventured. “Henry was already contemplating laying siege to Isenhall before Gallus intercepted and destroyed Honore’s men. What if we confirm that Gallus is the culprit and that his wife and mother are now vulnerable at Isenhall because Gallus is not there? If I were Henry, I would send my troops to Isenhall to lay siege. I would try and take the castle to punish Gallus for the Honore defeat, punishing him more by capturing his wife and ill mother. When Gallus hears of it, he will rush to Isenhall to fight off Henry. What if you were to offer your troops to help? You help defeat Henry, help save Gallus’ wife and mother, and then the man is not only back in our fold, but he will be determined to ruin Henry once and for all. Never underestimate a man’s sense of vengeance when something he loves has been threatened.”
Hugh was staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and hope. Aye, there was hope there – hope that he would emerge the hero in all of this. It would save his pride. De Montfort was doing what he did best – knowing the hearts of men, saving what could be a very terrible situation between Gallus and Hugh, and keeping the focus on what was important – a better England. He understood Gallus and he understood Hugh, and he knew what he had to do in order to see the men reconciled. Once reconciled, it would strengthen the rebellion beyond measure. Indeed, Hugh was not disagreeable to what de Montfort was concocting. In his mind, it made sense.
“But it will take weeks for Henry to amass an army to march on Isenhall,” he finally said. “Gallus has given me a day to throw myself at his feet.”
De Montfort waved him off. “I will talk to him,” he said, confidently. “I will tell him you agreed to apologize but that you need time to prepare. If he believes an apology is coming, he may be patient. But you will have to help extend that patience.”
Hugh cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
De Montfort sat down in the chair Hugh had vacated, great possibilities brewing in his mind. He could see an end to all of this, something that would not only drive Gallus back into their fold but also solve the hostilities between him and Bigod. As much as de Montfort hated to put Lady de Shera and Gallus’ mother in harm’s way, it had to be done.
“You will have to do what you do so well,” he said, looking at Hugh. “You are a worse gossip than most women I know. Now you will gossip about your respect for Gallus. To only a few people, mind you. Tell them you were wrong, enough so that Gallus catches wind of what you have done. That will keep him in check, at least until we can send word to Henry. If Gallus believes you are preparing to make a public apology, he will be momentarily satisfied. But we must move swiftly. I will send word to Henry today. The man must be made to march on Isenhall.”
Hugh didn’t care if the king marched on Isenhall or not. It seemed like a rather elaborate plan to force Gallus’ loyalty to their cause but it could not be helped. If Gallus’ hatred against Henry was greater than his hatred of Bigod, then he would remain with de Montfort. It was all about retaining Gallus and for no other reason than that, because like de Montfort, Hugh was quite certain that Gallus meant what he said. If he didn’
t receive a public apology from Bigod, then he would side with Henry. If that happened, England’s hope for a new government and a new future would be lost. Loss of the loyalty of the Lords of Thunder could change everything.
By noon, a messenger with a carefully crafted missive was already heading for London.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mid-April
It was a day like any other mild spring day. The grass, having burst its frozen bonds, was emerging brilliantly across the land, and the birds in the sky and in the trees were being very noisy with their joy. As the king’s army traveled the road west, heading for Isenhall Castle, a pair of mockingbirds had singled out a particular man-at-arms and were diving on the man’s head, much to the delight of the rest of the army. Laughter could be heard in the ranks as the birds swooped and pecked on the hapless victim, who kept swiping at them.
Only the knights on point weren’t laughing. Davyss de Winter, riding at the head of the column with his father, Grayson, and his brother, Hugh, had his thoughts elsewhere. He was riding to lay siege to his best friend’s fortress and, try as he might, he couldn’t reconcile that in any fashion. Although, politically, he and Gallus were on opposite sides of the spectrum, in his heart, he was joined with Gallus. His father, at the head of the de Winter army, accepted his orders from Henry without question and his sons had been livid about the entire circumstance.
Still, Grayson, a calm and even-tempered man, had spoken with the king at length about a siege on Isenhall Castle. Henry had received word, from de Montfort no less, that Gallus de Shera had carried out the ambush on Jacques Honore and de Montfort had gone on to stress that de Shera was allying himself with the Welsh these days because of his recent marriage to a Welsh princess. Based on that missive alone, Henry had summoned his army to move against Isenhall. He intended to confiscate the property for the crown, fearful it would become a base for the Welsh in England. The king didn’t need any more trouble than he already had.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 23
