Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  The Street of the Bakers wasn’t quite as crowded as the Street of the Merchants but it was still fairly busy. Maximus paused before taking a direction of travel, inspecting the buildings surrounding them to see if he could spot a bath house. He finally poked his head into the nearest bakery and asked the proprietor, who directed him to the next street, a smaller avenue, where a bath house was indeed attached to a neighboring bakery. There was no name on the bath house but there was a piece of wood hanging over the door with a crude flower painted on it. Opening the heavy, awkward door, having swelled from the heat and moisture inside the bath house, Maximus ushered Courtly inside.

  It was very dark inside the structure and the ceiling was low, causing Maximus to have to duck his head. When the proprietress was summoned by a hovering servant, Maximus explained that his lady needed to be bathed and dressed, which the proprietress was more than happy to do. But rather than simply leave Courtly off and allow her to be tended by strangers, Maximus insisted on inspecting the bath house to make sure there were no hidden threats like lascivious men or any other danger to threaten a lady. As the proprietress stood by, rather shocked, Maximus carefully handed Courtly her bundle of possessions, unsheathed his broadsword, and went on the offensive.

  He quickly learned that there were only five rooms to the entire structure; a small greeting room at the door with an attendant and three big dogs, then a room for men and a room for women. Off of each of these rooms were smaller rooms used to dress in. Maximus marched right into the men’s bathing room where two fat merchants were lingering in one of four big, barrel-shaped tubs of lukewarm water. The tubs could each hold two to four men, and serving women attended the bathers by rubbing oil into their skin and then scraping it off with a pewter instrument meant for such a thing. In the corner, a young man played a mandolin very badly, meant to be an entertainment while one bathed. But Maximus didn’t like the fact that it was a bathing house for both sexes if Courtly was going to be in the other room, so he ordered the merchants to put their clothes on and leave.

  Of course, the men didn’t take well to this in the least, so Maximus reached into the bathing vessel and pulled one man out by his neck. Seeing his companion being roughly handled by the enormous knight, the second merchant fled the tub and, with both men dressing hastily, Maximus chased them from the bath house without them as much as having time to put on their shoes. Courtly, in the reception room, watched the barefooted men flee with great curiosity until she saw that Maximus was pursuing them with his enormous broadsword in hand. It made for a very comical situation but she dare not laugh. In fact, she rather appreciated Maximus’ sense of propriety. He didn’t want naked men in the same building with her, and she was deeply flattered.

  With the merchants having been chased out, Maximus then went into the women’s bathing room and was greeted by three women in various stages of undress. They screamed when they saw the knight with the broadsword and it was enough to chase Maximus out of the chamber as abruptly as he had entered. He was fine in a room full of naked men, but a room full of half-dressed women had him somewhat unsettled. He stood at the door and tried not to look too embarrassed.

  “There are already three women in there,” he said to her. “Are you comfortable bathing with other women?”

  Courtly grinned at him. She couldn’t help it. She knew that if she told him that she wasn’t, then he would chase the women from the chamber just as he’d chased the men. Therefore, she nodded.

  “Perfectly comfortable,” she said. “What will you do while I am bathing?”

  He shrugged those wide shoulders. “Wait here until you are finished.”

  “You have nothing else that you could be doing?”

  He shook his head. “I will not leave you unattended.”

  Courtly didn’t have an argument for that. “I see,” she said thoughtfully. “I feel rather guilty that you will be waiting for me to bathe. It will take an hour at the very least.”

  “I will wait.”

  “Why not go and find us something to eat? By the time you return, I should be finished. I will hurry.”

  “Are you famished, then?”

  “I am.”

  It gave Maximus something to do other than hang around a bath house, so he agreed, but not before he explained to the proprietress that Lady Courtly must never be unattended and must be given the best of everything. The woman agreed, especially when Maximus paid her handsomely for her troubles. With a wink to Courtly, he quit the bath house in search of a feast fit for a queen.

  His queen. And he would dare her father to deny him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Garran de Moray had accompanied Lady de Shera on her shopping trip into Oxford but she had quickly become exhausted, and ill, so he’d quickly returned her to the inn where they had been staying. He hoped Gallus was already returned from his meeting with de Montfort but the man was not yet back by the time they returned, so Lady de Shera went up to her rented bedchamber to lay down for a while as the knights settled down in the main room to eat the nooning meal.

  No one seemed to find it odd that Tiberius wasn’t there. He’d been banned from accompanying either of his brothers on their various plans that morning, so the last anyone saw of him, he had been in his bedchamber on the second floor, mending a piece of armor that had pulled loose. Garran, who was close to Tiberius, as well as to Maximus, didn’t give his absence much thought as he delved into a meal of boiled mutton, carrots, beans, and vast quantities of bread. They were halfway through their meal when Tiberius made an appearance.

  Entering the inn from the main door, Tiberius kicked the roving dogs out of the way as he made his way deeper into the room that smelled of smoke, dirt, and unwashed bodies. When he saw the de Shera knights hunched over a table, sharing a meal, he headed in their direction. More specifically, he headed for Garran.

  “De Moray,” he said, sounding surprisingly serious. “How long have you been here?”

  Garran had a mouth full of carrots. “Not long,” he said. “Lady de Shera was not feeling well so she wanted to rest. Maximus is still on the Street of the Merchant’s with de Lara’s daughter and we plan to collect them shortly and then return the lady to her father so it looks as if they have not been alone all afternoon. Quite a plan, is it not?”

  He was grinning, as was Stefan. Only the two of them had gone with Maximus and Jeniver, as the de Wolfe brothers had gone with Gallus. But Tiberius wasn’t interested in what Maximus was or was not doing. He was preoccupied with something else. He leaned down to Garran.

  “I must speak with you,” he said, his voice low. “Come with me.”

  Garran swallowed the carrots in his mouth as he stood up, pausing only to down a swallow of wine to wash the vegetables down. He proceeded to follow Tiberius until they were near the entrance to the inn. There was no one around there. Only then did Tiberius stop and turn to him.

  “After you left this morning, you received a visitor,” he said quietly. “Your father is in town. Did you know this?”

  Garran’s eyes widened. “I did not,” he said, immediately fearing the worst. “What is wrong? Where is he?”

  Tiberius held up a hand to quiet him. “He came specifically to find you,” he said. “Evidently, he arrived in town yesterday and began asking for the de Shera party. He was able to find someone who had seen us and he was directed to this inn. Garran, I know your father is a supporter of the king. We have never truly discussed it with you because your father’s loyalty is his own business and your loyalty is to us and, consequently, de Montfort. But your father needs to speak with you now and I will take you to him.”

  Garran was trying not to panic. “Is he well?”

  “He is well.”

  “And my mother – is she well?”

  “He did not speak of her so I can only assume so.”

  Garran felt some relief at that but not much. There was a sense of urgency in the air, something he did not understand. In fact, the entire situation was pu
zzling and Tiberius’ words were only making it worse. Still, he was on the move, as he’d been asked. Already, he was returning to the table to collect his possessions before riding out with Tiberius. As he moved, Tiberius followed.

  “Have you just come from him?” Garran asked Tiberius. “Where is he staying?”

  Tiberius shoved another dog out of the way when it came too close. Dogs tended to flock to him for some reason. “He is towards the south side of town at an inn called The Bruised Thistle,” he replied. “When he first came to The One-Eyed Raven, we spoke here for some time before moving to his hostel. We have actually been speaking quite a bit.”

  Garran eyed Tiberius curiously as he collected his sword. “What about?”

  Tiberius simply shook his head, unwilling to elaborate with the other knights and a few soldiers eating around the table. He waited until he and Garran were outside in the bright sunshine and heading for the livery before speaking.

  “Your father mostly spoke of the old days,” he finally said. “He knew my mother as a young woman, you know. He never courted Honey but he knew her. He also knows Davyss and Grayson de Winter, which I’m sure you already know. The de Winters are close friends of the de Sheras and have always championed the king, much as your father does.”

  Garran already knew all of this. “None of this tells me why he has come to Oxford to seek me,” he said. “He has traveled all the way from Dorset, which took him weeks at the very least. Did he come alone?”

  Tiberius nodded. “He had four men-at-arms with him,” he replied. They entered the livery, sending a pair of servant boys running for their horses. As they paused to wait for the animals to be brought out, Tiberius spoke again. “Garran, from the conversation your father and I had, it seems to me as if he has come to Oxford before heading on to London. You know that the king has summoned the council he intends to represent his interests in de Montfort’s parliament. Although your father did not tell me directly, it is my suspicion that your father intends to sit upon the king’s council.”

  Garran’s brow furrowed as he looked at Tiberius. “What makes you think so?”

  Tiberius shrugged. “Simply the way he was speaking about the king and his advisors,” he said. “He mentioned bringing balance to London. Mayhap that is what he intends to tell you, that he is sitting on the king’s council. That means he will be sitting opposite Gallus and Maximus and me. We will be on opposite sides.”

  Garran thought on the greater implications of that. He loved his father dearly but he did not like the king nor supported the man’s ideals. He was much more supportive of the government that de Montfort was trying to establish. Still, he loved his father in spite of his politics. And there was a reason why Bose de Moray was so supportive of the king. After a moment, he sighed heavily.

  “My father is an old and wise man,” he said. “He is the most rational and unselfish supporter the king has.”

  “I know. God would be on our side if de Moray would pledge allegiance to de Montfort.”

  Garran shook his head, as if such a thing would never happen. “There is a very good reason why he supports the king so stringently,” he said. “But his reason is not my reason. I do not support Henry and probably never will.”

  Tiberius was listening carefully. “What is the reason?” he asked. “Will you tell me?”

  Garran nodded faintly. “When my father first met my mother, he wanted very much to marry her but my grandfather would not have it,” he said, his voice softening as he spoke of his beloved father. “In fact, my grandfather somehow managed to cast my father in a very negative light and he was actually slated for execution. The only thing that saved him was King Henry and ever since then, my father has unwaveringly supported him. The man saved his life and he would never side against him.”

  Tiberius registered mild surprise. “I never knew that.”

  Garran shrugged his big shoulders, glancing at the horses as they were brought out to be saddled. “As you said, we have never spoken of my father’s allegiance to the king, but that is why the man is so supportive of him,” he said. “My father was Captain of the King’s Guard in his younger years, when Henry was also quite young. They became friends and they share a special bond, even to this day.”

  Tiberius didn’t have much to say to that, although the elder de Moray’s loyalty to the king now made much more sense. He fell silent as the horses were saddled and then moved to help the stable boys secure his gear to his saddle. He and Garran left the livery and headed south, towards the inn where Bose de Moray was staying. There wasn’t much chatter between them as they moved through the city streets, some crowded and some not, until they reached the southern tip of the town.

  This portion of the town was seedier, dirtier, with several brothels and bath houses posing as brothels. Crime was rampant. Tiberius and Garran pulled their horses to a halt in front of The Bruised Thistle, a very big building of waddle and daub amongst small and run-down wooden structures. There were several young boys standing around and Tiberius paid two of the boys well to have them tend the horses. Taking their saddlebags with them, the knights proceeded into the inn.

  The common room of the tavern was, literally, a big pit in the floor. And it was very crowded, mostly with people drinking or gambling or fornicating in the shadows. As the knights passed through the room, women approached them, offering to service their needs for a few pences. Tiberius ignored them, as did Garran, and they headed to an old, unsteady staircase that led to the second floor of the structure.

  It was quieter up here but smelled badly of urine, from men relieving themselves against walls and in corners, with no one bothering to clean it up. Tiberius headed for the last door on the left, rapping softly when they reached it. He was preparing to rap again when the door jerked open and a mountain of a man stood in the doorway. Garran barely had time to recognize his father before the man was pulling him into his enormous embrace.

  “My son,” Bose de Moray breathed. “You cannot know how pleased I am to see you.”

  Garran hugged his father tightly. “Papa,” he said with satisfaction. “It has been a long time.”

  Bose let his son go long enough to cup his face between his two big hands, gazing into features that looked very much like his own.

  “Garran,” he murmured. “Are you well, my son?”

  Garran nodded, smiling at his father. The man didn’t change much from year to year. With black hair and black eyes and the big scar on his left cheek, Bose de Moray was a legendary knight who had dominated the tournament circuit for many years. Now, he lived a quieter life, but he was still dangerous and formidable when the occasion called for it.

  “Well, Papa,” he said. “I am well. And you? Have you been well? And how is Mother?”

  Bose kissed his boy on the cheek and dropped his hands. “Your mother is very well,” he said. “She sends her love. I have been well also.”

  Bose was moving back into his room and Garran and Tiberius followed. As Tiberius closed the chamber door and bolted it, Garran spoke.

  “I am very glad to hear that,” he said. “What a surprise to find you in Oxford, Papa. Why are you here?”

  Garran had been given several minutes to think on his father’s unexpected appearance on the ride over from The One-Eyed Raven so he would not waste any time getting to the point. Bose didn’t reply right away. He sank into a stiff chair positioned next to the hearth and held out his hands to the blaze, warming them.

  “Many reasons, my son,” he said. Then, he glanced at Tiberius. “I had a long and pleasant conversation with Tiberius. Did he not tell you?”

  Garran nodded. “He said you came to The One-Eyed Raven looking for me,” he replied. “He did not say why. What is the matter, Papa? What makes you hunt me down in Oxford?”

  Bose scratched his head, looking at Garran as the man sat down on the floor next to him. In the tight and cramped room, there was nowhere else to sit. Bose reached out a big, calloused hand and patted his son’s chee
k.

  “Many reasons,” he repeated softly. “I had heard that de Montfort was convening in Oxford and assumed you would be with the de Shera brothers. I am pleased to see that I was correct.”

  Garran nodded. He couldn’t help notice that his father, so far, had not directly answered any of his questions. “Aye, you were,” he said. “But why do you need to speak with me?”

  Bose glanced over at Tiberius, who was sitting on the small cot in the room. “My lord,” he said. “Would you mind giving me a few moments alone with my son? If it would not be too much trouble?”

  Tiberius was already on his feet, moving for the chamber door. “Of course not,” he said. “I will be right outside should you need me.”

  Bose watched the tall, dark-haired de Shera brother as the man opened the door. “Thank you,” he said.

  Tiberius quit the room, shutting the old, oak panel softly behind him. When he was gone and they were alone, Garran returned his attention to his father.

  “Why did you ask him to leave?” he asked quietly. “Papa, what is happening? Why do you need to speak with me alone?”

  Bose gazed down at his son, his only son. He and his wife, Lady Summer, had four children. Garran was the eldest and the man had three younger sisters. It had been very hard for Bose to allow Garran to leave his home and swear fealty to the House of de Shera, but Bose understood that Garran was his own man and needed to do what he felt best. Now, as he gazed down into his son’s eyes, he began to feel very possessive of him. He wanted him back.

  “Henry is convening a council in London next week,” he said quietly. “Surely you know of all of this, Garran. Your lords were instrumental in nearly wresting the country from Henry. The man was only able to save himself by agreeing to share power with de Montfort and the barons. I do not think it was right of the barons to do this. The king is the monarch and his rule should be absolute, not shared with a group of power-hungry barons. That is all this is, Garran; a grab for power.”