They were prevented from further conversation by a soft hail at the tent flap. Davyss went to push back the fabric panel to reveal de Serreaux standing there. Davyss wasn’t surprised to see the man but he wondered if he’d heard any of their conversation.
“Torran,” he greeted evenly. “Will you come in? My brother and I were just having some wine.”
De Serreaux shook his head. “Thank you, no,” he replied. “Henry has sent me to retrieve you. He wishes to discuss tomorrow’s approach on Isenhall.”
The time had finally come to face what they did not want to face. Davyss simply motioned to his brother, who stood up from the stool and stretched the kinks out of his big body as he made his way to the tent flap. Once outside, beneath the carpet of stars against the black sky on a breezy and cold night, the three men headed for Henry’s tent several dozen yards away.
As they walked, de Serreaux sniffed the air. “It smells like rot,” he said casually. “I smell moldering leaves.”
Davyss pointed off to the west. “There is a bog not far from here,” he said. “It always smells of compost, worse when the wind shifts.”
De Serreaux gazed off into the night towards the west. “You are familiar with this area, are you not?”
“I am.”
“And you are familiar with Isenhall.”
“Verily.”
De Serreaux looked at him. “You and Gallus are childhood friends.”
“Everyone knows that.”
De Serreaux came to a halt, facing Davyss in the dark. “Henry wants to glean your knowledge of Isenhall’s weaknesses to plan this siege,” he said. “I’m assuming you already know that as well.”
Davyss’ dark eyes glittered in the starlight. “What would you have me say?” he asked. “Of course I know. I have known from the start. Why would you ask such a question?”
De Serreaux shrugged. “I simply want to make sure you are aware,” he said. “I can only imagine that this is a very difficult situation for you.”
Davyss was immediately suspicious of the line of conversation. “That would go without saying,” he said, his gaze lingering on the man. “What will you run back and tell Henry of this conversation, Torran?”
De Serreaux could see the defensiveness in Davyss’ expression. Not that he blamed the man. It was difficult to let on to the fact that he was sympathetic to Davyss’ position. He didn’t like what Henry was doing, either, and hadn’t since he sent that missive to Isenhall himself. Still, there was a line between him and Davyss; he could see it. It was the line of mistrust.
“Nothing,” he finally said. “You and I have not had much opportunity to speak privately on this battle march.”
Davyss glanced at Hugh, who was less adept at hiding his wariness of what seemed to be a probe from de Serreaux.
“What could we possibly have in common to speak privately about?” Hugh demanded. “There is nothing to say, de Serreaux. We are doing our duty just as you are. We do not have to be happy about it. What else did you want to know?”
De Serreaux shook his head calmly. “Nothing, Hugh.”
Hugh didn’t believe him in the least. “Did you want to ask us of our loyalties?” he said. “Come out with it, then. Do not make foolish conversation about bogs. Ask us who we are to support in this battle. In fact, ask us about what men have been whispering of since Evesham – ask us if we have finally regained de Montfort’s head from Roger Mortimer. Don’t you want to know?”
De Serreaux cocked an eyebrow at the belligerent tone. “Not particularly.”
Hugh threw up his hands, exasperated. “The man is my wife’s father,” he said. “I have personally asked him to give it to us. He is considering it. You can tell Henry that if it pleases you.”
De Serreaux’s gaze lingered on Hugh, the fiery brother. “I have no intention of telling Henry anything,” he said, looking back to Davyss. “I thought we had trust between us. We have fought in a number of battles together, de Winter. I thought trust had been established. I see that mayhap I was wrong.”
Davyss shook his head, stepping in to the conversation before his brother’s heated manner began to fire up de Serreaux. “I trust you with my life in battle,” he said. “But this is a difficult situation. Surely you know that. I have been asked to march against my best friend and I am understandably unhappy about it. There is no secret in that, nothing that requires trust. Henry is aware of it. Now, he is waiting for us, so let us proceed.”
Hugh and Davyss continued on but de Serreaux did not; he remained standing where they’d left him. “There is something you should know,” he said.
The de Winter brothers came to a halt, turning to face de Serreaux, who moved to catch up with them when he saw that he had their attention. He moved in very close to the brothers, his dark eyes serious.
“I sent word to Chad at Isenhall to inform him of Henry’s movements,” he said quietly. “Isenhall knows we are coming.”
Hugh’s eyes widened but Davyss was more controlled in his reaction. He was suddenly quite interested in what de Serreaux had to say and the defensiveness that he and his brother had exhibited eased accordingly.
“You did what?” he hissed. “You sent a missive to Chad at Isenhall? He knows we are coming?”
“Aye.”
“All of us?”
“Aye.”
Davyss’ jaw dropped; he couldn’t help it. “But why did you do it?” he demanded, although his voice was no more than a harsh whisper. “Does Henry know? Did he tell you to do it?”
De Serreaux shook his head. “Henry knows nothing,” he said. “I did it because of Henry’s mindset right now… he’s not right, Davyss. Surely you have sensed it. There is some kind of madness that has infected him ever since Evesham, a madness that has him suspicious of everyone’s loyalties, including yours. Don’t you know that is why you have been asked to march on Isenhall? Henry wants to see who you will be loyal to – to him or to Gallus. Have you not realized that?”
It took Davyss a moment to understand that de Serreaux didn’t like what was happening any more than he did. In fact, he was coming to see that de Serreaux had tipped off Isenhall about Henry’s approach which meant that Gallus and his brothers would be prepared. When the full realization hit him, Davyss nearly collapsed with relief.
“Sweet Jesus,” Davyss hissed, a hand to his head in shock. “Of course I know why my army was summoned to march on Isenhall. I know it will come down to a choice between Gallus and Henry. I am prepared to make that choice.”
No matter that they were speaking more freely now, Davyss stopped short of giving de Serreaux an answer, still holding the slightest bit of suspicion that all of this might be a trap. De Serreaux could easily run back to Henry and tell the man that de Winter was disloyal, so it was that fear that kept him silent. It was better to be prudent than completely trusting of a man as close to the king as de Serreaux was.
But De Serreaux must have sensed Davyss’ reluctance to make a declaration of loyalty one way or the other but he didn’t push him. It really didn’t matter in the long run; they would all know soon enough. Still, there was more he had to say.
“This isn’t only about you,” de Serreaux said, his voice low. “Henry wants to see if de Lohr is there to support Gallus as well, and if de Moray has finally been pushed onto the side of his daughter’s husband. He wants to see just who is against him and this is how he intends to do it. Be prepared for this, Davyss. Henry is suspicious of all of you and if he determines that you all support de Shera and not him, the consequences could be very bad, indeed.”
Davyss’ jaw ticked. “Then Henry is a fool if he believes he can defeat the House of de Shera, the House of de Lohr, and the House of de Winter,” he hissed. “Think on the holdings we collectively have and the manpower. We can bring Henry to his knees if he is not careful. I am not declaring my loyalties one way or the other but I am emphasizing to you that if Henry insults our honor and doubts our loyalties with some foolish test of wills, t
hen he will lose. Make no mistake; he cannot defeat us all. We will destroy him.”
De Serreaux knew that. He sighed, long and heavy. “Let us hope it does not come to that,” he replied. “I simply wanted you to be aware of what is really at stake, Davyss. I see much. I know much. And Henry is out to punish everyone with any association to those who allied themselves with de Montfort. The House of de Shera is his biggest target and along with it, so are all of you.”
Davyss sensed the man’s sympathy at that point but he still couldn’t give in to it and trust him completely. It was better if he didn’t. “I understand,” he said. “But what I do not understand is why you would betray Henry by sending word to Isenhall of his approach.”
De Serreaux shrugged. “Because above all else, I am a man of honor,” he said simply. “What Henry is doing is not honorable. It is fed by madness and I do not want to see good and noble men consumed by it. That is the best way I can explain it. As I said, Henry does not know of the missive to Isenhall so I would be appreciative if you did not tell him.”
In that small request, Davyss began to understand something; de Serreaux had risked himself for the opposition. For men he considered honorable even if they were on the opposing side. He was asking Davyss to keep that confidence, and Davyss intended to. More than that, it was enough to cause Davyss to finally believe that de Serreaux might actually be telling the truth. He had known de Serreaux for years and he was a man of his word. It was enough to lower Davyss’ guard somewhat.
“You have my oath that I will not mention it,” he muttered, “but I hope it does not come down to me fighting against you in battle. I should not look forward to that.”
De Serreaux’s gaze lingered on him. “It is quite possible that I would not let that happen,” he said, turning for Henry’s tent in the distance. “It is quite possible that I would rather stand by men of honor than by a king of madness.”
With that, he walked off, leaving Davyss and Hugh staring at each other in surprise. Was it possible that de Serreaux, leader of Henry’s Six, would turn on his king? Or was the man simply saying such things to gain their confidence only to betray them? Perhaps Davyss didn’t have as much trust in the man as he thought he had.
In this world, anything was possible.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The outskirts of Coventry
Henry is here.
At least, that’s what Curtis’ breathless scouts had told him. The king, escorted by the de Winter army, had been seen north of Northampton, camping peacefully in the night, but it was clear that they would be at Isenhall on the morrow.
That fact made Curtis move his army when they should be sleeping.
Up until that point, his pace from Lioncross had been relatively leisurely. But that was no more. He wasn’t going to wait until morning to get to Isenhall given that Henry was already extremely close. He had to make it to the fortress before Henry did, so his sons and knights pushed the army through the darkness, through the last few miles under a silver moon and a brilliant blanket of stars tossed across the cold night sky. The men weren’t particularly weary, as it had only been a few days of travel from Lioncross Abbey, so no one particularly minded traveling on a pleasant night. Some of the men had even taken up singing to pass the time, trudging down the road, catching whiffs of the stinky bog to the southwest.
Curtis traveled towards the middle of the fifteen-hundred-man army, allowing Chris and Arthur and William command of the men for the most part. He could hear Chris up ahead, bellowing orders, and Curtis had to smile at a son who reminded him so much of his own father. Over the years, men had come to call him Christopher the Lesser so that he would not be so confused with his grandfather, a title that Chris didn’t much like. He felt that it implied that he was less of a man than his grandfather was, which he surely was not. He was every bit the man his grandfather had been.
It was comforting to hear the voice, to see the man move among the army with such confidence. Somehow, it made Curtis miss his father less when he saw his son moving and acting like him. Curtis still remembered the fresh sorrow from the day his father passed away, a very old man, so his death had not been completely unexpected. It had simply been unwanted.
But it was a tender sense of reflection that Curtis had even now as he watched his sons, typical de Lohr men in the sense of command and size and sheer presence. Men that were all, to varying degrees, like his father. Curtis had continued the de Lohr legacy with his large stable of children and grandchildren, and he knew that when the time came that Chris would make an excellent Earl of Worcester. He was confident in the legacy he would leave behind.
He knew his father would have been pleased.
But this march to Isenhall was something of a threat to that legacy. With Henry’s behavior unsteady in the wake of Evesham, there was no telling how the man would react to seeing the de Lohr army spread around Isenhall like a shield, but Curtis had to make that statement to the crown. He fully intended to speak with Henry about the situation and make it clear to the man that if push came to shove, the House of de Lohr would support the House of de Shera.
Yet, in accordance with his conversation with Avrielle, he would also speak to Gallus to try to convince the man to swallow his pride and swear fealty to the king. For the survival of the House of de Shera, and essentially the survival of them all, Gallus had to understand the necessity of it. Curtis could only pray Gallus would. Having descended from the House of de Lohr on his mother’s side, Gallus had that stubborn streak in him that all de Lohr males had.
The knowledge that they knew they were right, no matter what the circumstance.
Lost in thought, he was startled when the cry went up through the ranks that Isenhall had been sighted. Driving his spurs into the flanks of his great red steed, he charged forward, through the ranks of men, to the front of the column where his sons were gathered. They were pointing at something in the distance, having come around a bend in the road, and a great flat expanse of land was set before them.
Even in the darkness they could see Isenhall in the distance, with her dark walls and flickering points of light as men with torches manned the battlements. Chris immediately sent two messengers ahead to announce their arrival so that Gallus and his brothers wouldn’t panic and launch an offensive against them in the darkness. Hearing the thunder of a horse’s movement beside him, he turned to his father just as the man rode up.
“I will make sure Gallus knows it is us who approach,” Chris said, indicating the messengers that were riding on ahead. “I do not want to have a rain of arrows greet us as we approach.”
Curtis nodded, trying to peer through the darkness to see what was ahead. His eyesight had been failing as of late, attributed to age, and it was particularly difficult for him to see in the darkness. With the messengers heading into the distance, he motioned to Chris to come closer. The man did and Curtis pulled him aside, reining their horses off the road as the army passed them by.
They came to a pause in the heavy grass, watching the army lumber by. Curtis turned his horse so that his words would not be heard by the men.
“I have been thinking,” he said to his son. “As much as I want Gallus and Max and Ty to know that we have arrived, I also want Henry to know it. The scouts tell us that Henry is camping just outside of Northampton.”
“I heard.”
“Henry will be here on the morrow.”
“Aye, he will.”
Curtis shook his head. “You will send a messenger to Henry this night with a message from me,” he said firmly. “I want to see Henry before this gets out of hand. I want to talk to the man to see what his mindset is. I have been hearing rumors and hearsay about his state of mind and his objectives, but I want to hear it from him. Furthermore, if he is truly determined to attack Isenhall, then he must know we will not stand by and watch this happen. I have told you this before, Chris, on the day we departed from Lioncross; Henry must know we will not stand by while he attacks our kin. I certain
ly will not support him in such a move. So if he decides to attack, he must know that I will do everything I can to defend Isenhall.”
Chris nodded in understanding. “I know, Papa,” he said. “Rather than send a messenger, however, let me send Arthur or William. He will take the message more seriously if a de Lohr delivers it.”
Curtis thought on that. “It is a good suggestion,” he said. “Tell Henry I will meet him before dawn at St. Mary’s Cathedral. We can pray for a solution to this problem. We can pray that we will all remain friends when it is over.”
Chris nodded sharply to the command. “Aye,” he said. “I will send Arthur. He has a more pleasing manner than William does. Willie can be a bit intimidating at times.”
“We do not want to intimidate Henry.”
“Nay, we do not. He would not take kindly to it and I do not want to be attacking Henry’s army to wrest my hostage brother away from him.”
Curtis snorted at the thought. “Willie in chains,” he said. “What an image that would be.”
Chris was smiling because his father was. “Willie would not think so.”
Curtis roared with laughter. “Then send Arthur,” he said. “Tell the man to use his best diplomacy. He has more of my father’s ability to negotiate.”
“And Willie inherited Grandmother’s demeanor.”
Curtis was back to snorting. “My mother was a fierce and passionate woman,” he said. “But her idea of diplomacy was a fist to the eye.”
“That is Willie’s idea as well.”
Curtis’ chortling lingered. “I know,” he said, sobering. “Therefore, send Arthur on his way. Meanwhile, I am going to speak with Gallus about this and see if we cannot come to a solution that does not involve men dying and a castle being razed. You know I love your cousin, Chris, but Gallus has that de Lohr stubborn streak in him. I hope I can convince him otherwise because, quite honestly, I do not want to have to go the rest of my life protecting him and his brothers from the crown. That will put us in a very bad position, not to mention it will be most tiresome.”
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 217
