Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I understand your orders, St. Héver,” Gallus said. “But we intend to make it so you do not carry them out. We can do this peacefully or we can do it violently. The choice is yours.”

  St. Héver was in a bind and he knew it. “You know that I simply cannot turn her over to you, my lord.”

  “I know.”

  “Then I suppose you are going to have to take her by force.”

  Gallus looked at Maximus, who immediately dismounted his steed and unsheathed his broadsword, a wicked looking thing with a serrated edge on one side. It was designed to slice and cut, and surely there was no more feared weapon in the arsenal of Simon de Montfort. Everyone knew of the Thunder Warrior’s horrific sword that was known to cut men in half. But Maximus paused a moment, looking at St. Héver.

  “Are you sure you will not surrender her peacefully?” he asked.

  St. Héver knew what was coming. God help him, he knew and he was calm. “I cannot, my lord.”

  “St. Héver,” Gallus said. “Swear fealty to me. You are an honorable and strong knight. I could use you in my stable.”

  It was an attempt to diffuse the situation but St. Héver, remorsefully, shook his head. “I have sworn fealty to Lord de Lara,” he said. “I would not be an honorable knight to switch lieges so quickly at the first sign of a threat. I regret that I must decline, my lord.”

  Maximus cocked his head. “I do not want to kill you,” he said. “But know that in order to achieve my wants, I will kill you and all of your men without hesitation.”

  St. Héver nodded steadily. “I realize that, my lord. You must do as you must.”

  Courtly, who had so far been standing silent and shocked throughout the entire exchange, spoke up.

  “Nay,” she said, putting herself between St. Héver and Maximus. Her focus, beseeching, was on Maximus. “Please do not kill him. He is only doing what he was told to do.”

  Maximus cocked an eyebrow at her. “I will speak with you when all of this is settled,” he said, rather ominously. “I will tell you just what I think of your running off and returning to your father.”

  Courtly sighed heavily. “Maximus, I had to,” she said. “I explained everything in the note I left you.”

  Maximus glared at her. He wanted nothing more than to spank her and then hug her, in that order. To have her so close and being unable to pull her into his arms was sheer torture. But he didn’t want to get into a big discussion with her for all to hear, so he moved to the horse next to him where Tiberius was mounted. He faced away from Courtly, and consequently St. Héver, as he spoke to his brother.

  “I do not want to kill St. Héver,” he said to Tiberius. “I did not expect to find him here leading the escort. He is an honorable and good knight, but it is clear he will not turn her over. What do I do?”

  Tiberius had his eyes on St. Héver and the rest of the de Lara men. He, too, dismounted his horse, standing next to his brother, still facing the de Lara group.

  “You have two choices,” Tiberius muttered. “Either kill the man and all of his soldiers like you planned to do all along, or….”

  Maximus scowled at him. “I never said I planned to kill them all along.”

  Tiberius shot him a wry expression. “I know you, dear brother. I know how you think.”

  Insulted, Maximus looked away. “I did not count on St. Héver,” he repeated. “What else can I do?”

  Tiberius cocked an eyebrow at him. “I was getting to that,” he said. “Or we can take them someplace and imprison them so they cannot return to de Lara and tell them what they know.”

  Maximus was interested. “Imprison them for how long?”

  Tiberius shrugged. “Until you give de Lara grandchildren, at least.”

  Maximus pursed his lips wryly in response but he understood the man’s point. There was no knowing how long they would have to keep the men imprisoned. Before he could reply, Gallus came around the back of Maximus’ horse.

  “What are you two muttering about?” he demanded quietly. “To see you in conference makes you look indecisive. What are you talking about?”

  Maximus and Tiberius looked at their brother. “Tiberius suggests we take St. Héver and his men and imprison them somewhere,” Maximus said. “At least for a time. I am agreeable to this because I do not want to outright kill St. Héver. He is a good man.”

  “He is also a very good fighter,” Gallus said. “There could be a chance of you losing to him, but we will leave that discussion for another day. Imprison them, you say? I would be agreeable to that as well. We can take them back to Oxford Castle and put them in the vault there. De Montfort was staying at the castle but, as of this morning, he is moving on to London. I will speak with the castle constable and have him hold these men for a month or so, at least until we can figure out what to do with them.”

  It was the best of terms all three of them could come up with. Maximus looked over his shoulder to see St. Héver still standing very close to Courtly. “But before we can do any of that, I must remove Courtly from St. Héver’s custody,” he mumbled. “There may be a bitter battle here today yet.”

  Gallus looked over at the de Lara knight as well. “Your only hope of not fighting him is to convince the lady to come with you peacefully,” he said quietly. “Mayhap she can convince St. Héver not to try and stop her.”

  Maximus lifted his eyebrows. “Mayhap,” he said, his gaze still on Courtly and St. Héver. He began to move towards them. “Let us find out.”

  With that, he broke away from his brothers and moved towards Courtly, with St. Héver standing a few feet away from her. His sword was still in his hand and could be raised quite swiftly should he decide to go on the offensive. He hoped he didn’t have to, at least not against St. Héver. That being the case, he had to make his proposal plain for all to hear. He focused on Courtly.

  “It is my intention to take you with me, my lady,” he said. “That is why I have intercepted this escort. I understand St. Héver has his orders, but the fact remains that I will take you one way or another. I will give you a moment to convince St. Héver not to fight back. Make it clear to him that I will kill him if he does.”

  Courtly gazed at Maximus, seeing the beautiful, bearded face that she loved so well, her heart breaking into a million pieces of sorrow.

  “Max,” she breathed, admonishingly. “I went back to Kennington for a reason. It was to keep my father from attacking you and wreaking havoc. Do you think I want to put you at risk because of him? Do you think I want to put your brothers or your men or even Lady Jeniver at risk because of my father? Of course I do not. You have all shown me the most wonderful time of my life and I cannot jeopardize all of you like that. I made this clear in the note I left for you. I told you not to come for me.”

  Maximus was starting to feel some anguish. He couldn’t quite grasp that she wasn’t instantly eager to go with him. She was still speaking of protecting all of them from her father’s madness.

  “I cannot help but come for you,” he said, quietly, knowing that he was speaking for all to hear and struggling not to become embarrassed about it. Maximus de Shera was a warrior with no emotion. Now, he was showing emotion and in unfamiliar waters. “Asking me not to come for you is like asking me not to breathe. I realize you thought you were saving us all from your father’s wrath, but some things are worth fighting for and risking one’s self for. I thought we had a love that was worth these things, but if I am wrong, please tell me. I do not want to fight for something that you do not feel strongly about.”

  It was a shot to the heart. Courtly felt tears popping to her eyes, blinking rapidly to chase them away.

  “I feel more strongly about it than you can know,” she said quietly. “It is not about fighting for something. It is about protecting people I have come to adore. It is about saving you.”

  He was gladdened by her words, touched beyond measure. He smiled faintly. “I do not need protecting, although I thank you for your concern,” he said. “I hav
e been fighting for many years, love. I can handle the Kellen de Laras of this world. But what I cannot handle is being away from you, not even for a moment.”

  It was such a sweet thing to say, now in front of everyone, for all to hear. Now, everyone knew what Maximus felt but he realized that he hardly cared. It was the truth and now was the time for total truth. Men’s lives, his life, was at stake.

  “Do you feel that, already, we have a love worth fighting for, then?” Courtly asked softly. “We have known each other so short a time.”

  He knew there were scores of men, standing around, listening. At that moment, he didn’t care.

  “I knew I loved you within the first few minutes of knowing you,” he said. “I am a man of firm beliefs and firm decisions. I cannot do anything without my whole heart. You already have my whole heart, Courtly. I cannot walk away from you.”

  Even though Courtly was grinning broadly, the tears came. She laughed at herself, at the situation, and at her unmitigated joy in general. As she wiped the tears off her face, Isadora moved over to St. Héver.

  The child was looking at the big, blond knight, even going so far as to slip her hand into his big, gloved one, the hand that wasn’t holding the sword. When he looked down at her, she gazed up at him with her big, blue eyes.

  “Can you not simply let her go?” she asked the knight. “I know you like her very much but she likes Sir Maximus. You want to see her happy, don’t you?”

  St. Héver’s expression remained steady as the child divulged some very private information. He had no idea how she knew what he felt, although he supposed, in hindsight, that he hadn’t been very good at hiding his feelings, once. About a year ago, he’d been fairly obvious about it to Courtly but, fortunately, Kellen had not caught on. But his infatuation with her was over. There had never been any hope between them.

  He wasn’t bitter about it. But in listening to the conversation between Maximus and Courtly, he was starting to feel a sense of defeat. Defeat because he knew love was something he could not fight. There was no defense against it. Courtly de Lara had been a fairly lonely lady for several years, thanks to her father. St. Héver had watched the man chase away at least two very good, marital prospects for his daughter among the six or seven that had come to vie for her hand. Even if St. Héver didn’t have feelings for her any longer, it still wasn’t right that she should be denied what he himself had been. He knew he shouldn’t relent but he was starting to topple. He squeezed Isadora’s hand as he spoke to Maximus.

  “My lord,” he said. “May we have a word without weapons present?”

  Maximus immediately complied. He handed his sword over to Tiberius and walked away from the group, down the road, as St. Héver paralleled his path on the opposite side of the road. When they were several yards from the group, they came together in the middle of the muddy, uneven path. Maximus faced St. Héver expectantly.

  “It would seem that we have something to discuss, my lord,” St. Héver said quietly. “You want Lady Courtly but I am bound to take her to Trelystan.”

  Maximus’ expression held steady. “You love her?”

  St. Héver wasn’t surprised by the question but he struggled not to be embarrassed by it. “No longer,” he admitted. “There was a time I did but she did not return those feelings. Still, she has remained kind and considerate towards me. She is a very kind and gracious woman in general.”

  Maximus turned to look down the road where Courtly was standing, now with Isadora next to her. The little sister had her arms around the big sister’s waist and the two stood there, hugging.

  “I have come to learn that about her as well,” he said, returning his attention to St. Héver. “What did you wish to speak of?”

  St. Héver drew in a deep, contemplative breath. He shouldn’t be proposing what he was about to say but he found that he couldn’t help it.

  “If I allow her to go with you, then twenty de Lara soldiers will have seen the exchange,” he said. “It will get back to de Lara and I am not in the habit of disobeying orders.”

  “Understood.”

  “But I do not wish to fight you over it, either.”

  “That is wise.”

  St. Héver chuckled at the man’s arrogance. He couldn’t help it. “However, if the lady were to run off,” he continued, “tonight, mayhap, when we stop in the town of Woodstock for the night, I would not know about her disappearance until the morning, at which time it would be too late to go after her. Moreover, I have my orders, to return de Lara’s daughters to Trelystan. I would still have Lady Isadora to return, and that would take weeks. By the time I return to Lord de Lara, Lady Courtly could be… anywhere. Long gone, in any case.”

  Maximus was coming to understand his meaning, quite clearly, and he was both relieved and grateful.

  “What a coincidence,” he said. “We were planning on being in Woodstock tonight.”

  “I thought you might be.”

  They understood one another. Maximus cleared his throat quietly, glancing off again towards Courtly and her sister.

  “There is a tavern in Woodstock called The Buck and Bounty,” he said. “The owner is a friend of mine. I think I shall visit him tonight. I will be there all night.”

  St. Héver nodded in understanding. “That is good to know.”

  “It is.”

  With that, St. Héver silently begged his leave with a bow of the head and moved off towards the de Lara party. Maximus headed back to his men, bellowing for his soldiers to mount their horses. Tiberius and Gallus watched him with some curiosity, Gallus going so far as to reach out and grasp Maximus’ arm as the man gave the order for the soldiers to move out and south. All Maximus did was wink at him and give him a hint of a smile.

  Confused, Gallus and Tiberius followed their men southward, leaving the de Lara party to continue along their way. It wasn’t until they got down the road and out of sight of St. Héver and his men that Maximus pulled his animal to a halt and explained to his brothers what had taken place. Then, and only then, did they understand.

  When Courtly appeared at The Buck and Bounty Inn towards dawn the next day, Maximus was waiting for her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The next day

  It was mid-morning in Oxford as Maximus and Courtly, both of them upon Maximus’ black and white jennet, made their way to St. Clement’s Church. Courtly, exhausted from the events of the past two days and having very little sleep, was sitting across Maximus’ lap, sleeping quite soundly against him. He held her with one hand and controlled the horse with the other. Even when he pulled the horse to a halt at the livery they had been using when in Oxford, he still didn’t have the heart to wake her. But it was necessary.

  “Courtly?” he whispered, giving her a gentle shake. “Wake up, love. We have arrived.”

  It took Courtly one or two more shakes before she roused. Yawning, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking at her surroundings. It took her a moment to recognize their location.

  “We are back in Oxford,” she said as Maximus dismounted his steed and lifted her off the horse, setting her carefully to the ground. “Why did you choose to come back here? It is too close to my father, Max.”

  He shook his head. “I would not worry about it,” he said. “In any case, I do not see him coming to this section of Oxford and, more specifically, St. Clement’s any time soon.”

  She looked up at him with her sleepy eyes. “Is that where we are going?”

  “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  “To get married.”

  She gave him a half-grin. “We may as well,” she said, feigning sarcasm. “We have gone through an awful lot of trouble in order to be together. You had better marry me if you know what’s good for you.”

  Maximus laughed softly. “I would have told you this at The Buck and Bounty last night only you came in the door, threw yourself into my arms, and promptly fell asleep.”

  Courtly yawned again. “That is because I was up the enti
re night before and all day, too,” she said. “I am still so sleepy that I could lay down right here on the hay and go back to sleep.”

  He put his arm around her. “I know, love,” he said quietly. “But let us be done with our business this morning and then you can sleep.”

  Maximus gathered his saddlebags and weapons before allowing a stable boy to take his horse away. With his weaponry and bags slung over his left shoulder, he took Courtly with his right hand and led her from the strong-smelling livery and out into the cool, bright day beyond.

  The Street of the Merchants was immediately to their right and St. Clement’s to their left as they emerged from the yard. Before he went to the church, however, Maximus returned to his favorite merchant to see if the man had any manner of gift to give his bride on the event of their wedding. Maximus’ mother, Honey, had been given a beautiful necklace from their father at the wedding and she wore it always, but in later years, Antoninus de Shera had given his wife a ring. Maximus liked that symbol very much because, to him, it looked like a golden shackle by which to keep his wife bound to him. Therefore, he was specifically looking for a ring, which the white-haired merchant was more than happy to sell him.

  After a looking at several choices, Courtly selected a golden ring with a beautiful, yellow stone in the center. A yellow diamond, the merchant had said, and Maximus had paid handsomely for the thick-banded ring. He also paid for a well-made, dark blue cloak for her also, as she had nothing of warmth to wear. The cloak, lined with gray rabbit, was warm and beautiful, and with that, Maximus and Courtly headed over to St. Clement’s.

  The morning mass had come and gone, and the church was relatively empty as Maximus went in search of a priest. He found two of them in the back of the church, behind the screen that separated the rear of the church from the major part of the sanctuary. As Courtly wait patiently on the main floor of the sanctuary, watching an occasional worshiper move past her, Maximus conducted business behind the screen.