Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Davyss knew that Gallus wasn’t allied with the Welsh, as did his brother, Hugh. They both knew that Gallus was not a traitor but every time they tried to bring it up with their father, Grayson would silence them both and encourage them to go about their duties. That went on for the three-day preparation period after they’d received de Montfort’s missive, and now, as they marched to Isenhall, Grayson still remained silent on the issue. Davyss had eventually stopped trying to speak to his father on the matter because it was evident that Grayson did not wish to discuss it.

  Davyss knew the directive had to be affecting his father deeply, but Grayson was stoic. The man never let on what he was feeling, unlike his young and emotional sons. He also had a keen sense of duty. Whatever the king ordered, he would do. The de Winters had served the crown for generations, even during this politically difficult time.

  So they moved the army northwest, out of London, heading for Isenhall. The weather had been decent and they had moved quickly, making the trek north in a little over a week. Davyss knew they were nearing Isenhall but he wasn’t certain how close they were until later in the afternoon of the eighth day, scouts who had been sent forth to ascertain their position returned and reported in. The first group of scouts to return pointed out that Isenhall was less than five miles to the northwest and based on that information, Grayson called a halt to the army. He didn’t want to get any closer to their target, not with night falling. There was a grove of trees a half-mile directly north and he ordered his men to seek shelter there. The de Winter army moved off the road and headed for the distant tree line.

  As night fell and the gentle flicker of campfires created ghostly halos of light within the darkened grove of trees, Grayson and his sons had their great de Winter tent set up away from the bulk of the men. Hugh built a fire and, after a brief sunset hunt, secured three fat rabbits to eat. With the rabbits roasting over an open fire, Grayson sat down next to the fire on a folding sling-bottom chair and sharpened his sword on a pumice stone. A battle was approaching and he would be ready.

  But it was a reluctant battle for all concerned. Davyss, the owner of the sword of his forefathers, was carefully rubbing out a few scratches on the steel blade as Hugh managed the cooking rabbits. The air smelled of roasting meat, greasy and pungent. When the last of the soldiers who had set up their camp wandered away, heading through the trees to where the bulk of the army was set up, Grayson cleared his throat softly.

  “Davyss,” he said to his eldest. “I want you to do something for me.”

  Davyss’ head came up from his great sword. “Anything, Father.”

  Grayson carefully sharpened the already-sharp edge of his two-handed broadsword. “Isenhall is not far from here,” he said. “I want you to send word to Gallus. Tell him we are here, camped over the rise. Ask him to meet us outside of Isenhall’s walls tomorrow at sunrise. Tell him we must speak with him.”

  Davyss stopped rubbing his sword. “Why?” he asked. “What are you going to say to him?”

  Grayson’s focus was still on his blade. “I am not keen on laying siege to Isenhall,” he said quietly. “I have spent many happy hours in that fortress. I want to hear from Gallus’ own lips what is going on with him and his allegiance to the Welsh. Something is not right here and I want to know what it is.”

  Davyss let out a sigh of relief. “God be praised,” he muttered. “I knew you would not attack Isenhall without contacting Gallus first. But why wouldn’t you speak of it before now? I tried to talk to you about it but you would not respond. Why now?”

  Grayson glanced at his son. “Because I have been mulling over the reasons behind Henry’s assault on Isenhall,” he said. “Henry said de Montfort sent him word that not only was Gallus behind the destruction of Jacques Honore, but also that he took a Welsh bride and has allied himself with his new family. Gallus is a favorite of de Montfort. Why would the man betray him like that? I have spent days trying to figure that out and have come to the conclusion that de Montfort is up to something. It may even be a trap, luring Henry’s army into an ambush. We could all be walking into our deaths. Therefore, we will send word to Gallus to find out what is really happening.”

  Davyss nodded firmly. “I absolutely agree with you,” he said. “But didn’t the king question whether or not de Montfort’s missive was a trap?”

  Grayson shrugged. “He did not,” he said, somewhat regretfully. “Simon is married to his sister so I did not suggest it, either. Mayhap the king does not want to believe such a thing. Even though they oppose one another, there is still a familial relationship there.”

  Davyss thought on the complicated connections of the royal family, something they had been dealing with for years. “Mayhap,” he said. Then, he eyed his father. “I will ride to Isenhall myself tonight and see what I can discover. Why wait until the morrow to speak with Gallus? Let me do it tonight.”

  Grayson agreed without much deliberation at all. “Very well,” he said. “Be swift and be careful. Find out why de Montfort would betray Gallus by sending Henry a missive. But if you approach Isenhall and see an army camped around it, then do not try to contact him. Come back and we will decide on a course of action from there.”

  Davyss stood up from the stump he had been sitting on. “Gallus would never be part of an ambush against us and you know it,” he said quietly. “He would not betray us.”

  Grayson shook his head. “Not knowingly, no,” he concurred. “Moreover, he would not know that Henry would send the de Winters to this battle. There are other commanders that Henry could send.”

  Davyss pondered that statement. “That is true,” he said, “but much as Gallus is de Montfort’s might, we are Henry’s. It would make sense that he should send us on a mission such as this.”

  Grayson was forced to agree. “It would,” he said. Then, he shook his head as if perplexed. “Something is odd with this situation and I suspect that de Montfort is at the heart of it. I never have trusted that man. Ride to Isenhall and see what you can find out.”

  “I will.”

  “And, Davyss?”

  “Aye, Father?”

  “If Lady Honey is in residence, you will give her my regards. Tell her I have missed her.”

  Davyss cocked a dark eyebrow. “I will, but if she has any honey and cheese pie, I will eat it all and not share a lick of it with you.”

  Grayson cracked a grin. “You are a wicked lad. I thought I raised you better than that.”

  “You did not.”

  Grayson grinned, waving his son on as Davyss moved out. Leaving his father and Hugh cooking rabbits and sharpening swords, Davyss rode off on his charcoal-gray stallion, into the dark and mild night beneath a three-quarter moon. It was quite bright, casting a silver pallor over the landscape. With Isenhall just a few miles away, he was there in little time.

  Much hinged on his conversation with Gallus this night. Although Davyss tried not to feel apprehension, try as he might, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling.

  Betrayal was in the wind.

  The round, squat fortress with the big walls was illuminated by the moonlight as Davyss drew near but he could see quite clearly that there was no great army encamped around it waiting to ambush Henry’s incoming legion. In fact, everything seemed very peaceful and quiet. Clouds were rolling in from the east but they were far enough away that any rain wouldn’t reach them until morning. It was, in truth, a perfect night for a siege. One could see the target clearly.

  Davyss lingered in a copse of distant trees for several minutes, viewing Isenhall on the horizon, wondering what would happen when he simply went up to the gatehouse and demanded entry. He and his family were fairly well known throughout England and he wondered if any of Gallus’ sentries would recognize him. He had been able to sneak in to Westbourne because an old servant knew him, but this was different. This was the Earl of Coventry’s seat and likely to be better protected than a townhome. Still, he had little choice. He was on a mission, with a good deal hanging in
the balance. Taking a deep breath for courage, and praying a nervous archer didn’t take aim at him, he spurred his rouncey stud across the moonlit fields.

  The castle was buttoned up tightly as he approached. Isenhall didn’t have a moat but it had a wide, cleared field all around it, making it easier for the sentries to spy danger. They saw Davyss coming from fairly far away because he could hear their cries as he loped across a field in their direction. By the time he reached the gatehouse, there was a cluster of men upon the battlements, waiting and watching. Davyss came to a halt just outside of the archer’s range, which meant he would have to shout to be heard. He wasted no time because he knew the men on watch would be suspicious and nervous.

  “I would speak to Gallus de Shera,” he bellowed. “You will produce the man.”

  There was some conversation on the battlements, Davyss could hear it. Irritated at the lack of response, he tried again. “I will speak with Gallus de Shera,” he yelled. “Tell him I have a message from the king that I may only deliver to him personally.”

  That seemed to prompt more of a response. Men were shuffling above and Davyss was growing impatient. He debated whether or not to announce who he was because it could have a dual effect; either they would try to shoot him with crossbows or they would, indeed, produce Gallus. Gazing up at the battlements, he was preparing to shout again when someone called back to him.

  “Announce yourself,” came the bellow. “Who are you?”

  Davyss wasn’t ready to reveal himself yet. “I come from Henry,” he said. “I am a messenger.”

  The cold, deep voice came back. “You are a knight of the highest order,” was the reply. “I can tell by your horse and by your equipment. Give me a name, Sir Knight.”

  Davyss didn’t reply for a moment. He figured he could outrun them should they open the gates and men came pouring forth, so he was brave enough to reveal his name.

  “De Winter,” he said.

  There was a long pause. “Davyss?”

  “Aye.”

  No reply. Davyss sat there on his nervous horse, waiting, suspecting that his name was being relayed to Gallus. The wait was becoming excessive when the gates to Isenhall suddenly lurched and one gate rolled open, spilling forth a horse and rider. Davyss remained in position but he was bracing himself. He wasn’t sure it was Gallus. Even though the moon was bright, it was still difficult to make out features but as the rider drew close, recognition dawned. Davyss’ mouth popped open in surprise.

  “De Wolfe,” he breathed as the knight came near. “God’s Bones, I have not seen you in years.”

  Troy came to a halt several feet away, his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “You get uglier by the year, de Winter,” he greeted him fondly in spite of his words. “What in the hell are you doing upon my doorstep?”

  Davyss grinned at the man he’d known a very long time. “There is much to tell, my friend,” he said. “Where is Gallus?”

  Troy threw a thumb in a westerly direction. “At Kenilworth with de Montfort,” he said. “Why? What is happening?”

  Davyss’ brow furrowed, confused. “He is with de Montfort?” he clarified.

  Troy nodded. “He has been there for a little over two weeks,” he said. “Why? What in the name of Lucifer is happening? Why are you here?”

  Davyss was thoroughly baffled by now. With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward on the pommel of his saddle.

  “I do not even know where to begin,” he said, scratching his forehead. “The king received word from de Montfort that suggests Gallus has fallen out of favor. The missive the king received said that not only was Gallus responsible for the death of Jacques Honore, but that he had taken a Welsh bride and was now allied with the Welsh against the whole of England. Henry has sent me and my father to take Isenhall.”

  Troy’s eyes narrowed in both confusion and disbelief. “De Montfort told you that?” he asked, incredulous. “Why in the hell would he send a missive like that? Are you sure it was de Montfort who sent it and not someone who is trying to betray Gallus?”

  Davyss shrugged. “I did not see the missive but I can only assume Henry believed it authentic,” he said. “I know what Gallus did to Honore, he told me. But what about his Welsh relations? Is there any truth to that?”

  Troy shook his head. “Gallus went to Wales, that is true, but he is not siding with the Welsh, in anything,” he said sincerely. “Gallus went to Wales to retrieve his wife because she had taken her father home to recover from his wounds. He did not go to Wales to conspire with the Welsh – he only went to recover his wife and bring her back to Isenhall.”

  Davyss was as perplexed as Troy was because none of this was making sense. “Then I return to the question I have had since the beginning of all of this,” he said. “Why would de Montfort send a missive like that? My father thought that mayhap de Montfort was luring Henry’s army into a trap. You don’t have a thousand men inside that castle waiting to ambush me, do you?”

  Troy snorted. “I have a mere two hundred men,” he said. “Gallus, Maximus, Tiberius, Scott, de Moray, du Bois, and the rest of our army are all at Kenilworth because de Montfort is holding a major assembly of the barons. I was left here to watch over the castle as well as Lady de Shera and Lady Honey. How many men did you and your father bring?”

  Davyss cocked a dark eyebrow. “Eleven hundred,” he said. “I also have two siege engines that would put me over the wall of Isenhall before sunrise. I do not want to do this, Troy. I do not want to take my friend’s fortress, but I am not sure I have any choice. I must speak with Gallus. He must know that de Montfort is out to betray him.”

  Troy could only shake his head in disgust. “It is beyond comprehension what is going through de Montfort’s mind,” he replied. “Will your father hold off an attack until I send a message to Gallus? I will send one this very night.”

  Davyss nodded. “He is no more anxious to lay siege to Isenhall than I am,” he replied. “He and Antoninus de Shera were very good friends, you know. He views Isenhall as an ally. He will hold off until we can straighten this out with Gallus, of that I am certain.”

  Troy was relieved. He didn’t relish trying to hold off Davyss and two siege engines. “Then I will send word to Gallus immediately,” he said. “Will you come inside and help me compose a missive? I do not want whatever we write to fall into de Montfort’s hands. If the man is conspiring, I do not want to tip him off that we know of his scheme against Gallus. Whatever we send must be worded carefully.”

  Davyss was in complete agreement. “We must take this to a higher authority, you know,” he said.

  Troy looked at him, curiously. “Who?”

  “Lady Honey.”

  Troy grinned in understanding. “Ah,” he said. “Of course. We will let her write the missive.”

  Together, the two knights began to move towards the darkened bastion of Isenhall. As they drew close, Davyss’ gaze moved fondly over the old walls.

  “I have not been here in years,” he said. “I have fond memories of Lady Honey’s cheese pie. Does she still make it?”

  Troy nodded. “Her cook does,” he said. “Lady Honey is very ill these days. A cancer, the physic says. She does not do much of anything except lay in bed and wait for death to come.”

  Davyss looked at him, stricken. “And Gallus is away at time like this?”

  Troy shrugged. “Lady Honey insisted,” he said. “You know that when Lady Honey insists, you have little choice in the matter.”

  Davyss sighed, thinking of the woman he had grown up viewing as another mother. “That is true,” he said. “She is much like my own mother in that respect. But is she truly dying? You are certain?”

  They had reached the gates of Isenhall but before they passed through into the torch-lit bailey beyond, Troy looked at Davyss.

  “You will see for yourself,” he said quietly.

  It was an ominous statement, one Davyss didn’t like in the least. Following Troy into the great innards of the mighty
fortress, he couldn’t shake the sense of dread that followed him. So much of this venture was distasteful and dark, and he didn’t like any of it. He didn’t like de Montfort attempting to betray an honorable and gracious knight and he didn’t like the fact that death, in general, seemed to be hanging over Isenhall. Once a home of joy and power, now, there seemed to be a cloud of doom hanging over it. Doom, death, and betrayal.

  When he finally laid eyes on Lady Honey, he wept.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The cheese and honey pie was gone.

  It was meant to be Jeniver’s, and she had indeed eaten a large piece of it, but when the knight who had been introduced to her the night before as Davyss de Winter plowed into it, there was nothing left but crumbs.

  Seated in the small dining hall on the ground level of Isenhall’s keep, Jeniver had never seen anyone eat so fast or in such great chunks. De Winter had eaten three-quarters of a fairly large pie in five or six big bites. Jeniver would swear the man had inhaled it. Violet and Lily, seated at the table with Jeniver during what was supposed to be a morning meal, giggled and laughed as Davyss did everything but eat the knife and spoon he had used to devour the pie.

  In her early pregnancy, Jeniver’s stomach was a fickle thing, and watching the knight suck up the pie had made her rather nauseous. So she sat, sipping on boiled apple juice with cloves, as Davyss proceeded to eat a half a loaf of bread, a goodly portion of boiled beef, baked eggs with cheese, and a mashed fruit and grain porridge that the little girls were eating. When Davyss realized that Gallus’ children were laughing at him, he pretended to try and eat their hands, too. The girls squealed happily with Lily going so far as to offer her fingers repeatedly to him. Davyss would eat a bite of his food, swallow, and then nibble on her little fingers. This went on until Davyss was nearly finished with his meal but, still, the girls wanted him to eat their fingers. Finally, he looked to Jeniver for assistance.