After that, chaos reigned.
The de Lohr men were, if nothing else, bred for battle. The sight of flashing swords only seemed to feed that innate sense in them of what needed to be done in order to survive. Already, Chad and Daniel began to move – Daniel to his wife and daughter and Chad to Alessandria. De Russe and du Bois, who were, in fact, the only men armed out of the group, unsheathed their broadswords and charged at de Serreaux and d’Vant as the men rushed the group. As the four of them immediately engaged in a nasty sword fight, Daniel motioned to Stefan and Perrin.
“Get your mother and sister back inside the knight quarters!” he snapped. With his younger sons on the move, he turned to his eldest. “Get the lady on her horse and get out of here. We’ll hold the Six as long as we can!”
Chad already had hold of Alessandria, practically throwing the woman onto the leggy mare. He was cool but swift in his actions and he leapt onto his steed, gathering the reins, as de Poyer and de Leybourne came staggering out of the keep, weapons drawn. The Six were outnumbered but they were seasoned knights, and very skilled, so this was a deadly fight from the onset.
Chad knew that very well; he’d seen what these men were capable of upon the fields of Evesham. Now, his sense of urgency was starting to make some sense. There was something in him that told him he’d needed to leave, immediately, so perhaps he had a sixth sense when it came to danger in this instance. Whatever little voice had told him to leave had been right.
But he didn’t have a chance to leave. As he was grabbing at the reins of the leggy mare to encourage the horse to move, St. John and de Garr came pouring from the keep and a dagger suddenly sailed past his head, straight past the lady and nicking her on the arm. Alessandria screamed in fright and pain, so startled that she lost her balance and fell backwards off the horse.
Chad flew off of his steed and was at her side in a minute, picking her up and rushing towards the knight quarters. Putting her on her feet, he saw that the wound to her arm was not life threatening so he shoved her inside, where his mother and sister would tend her, and slammed the door.
“Bolt this!” he shouted. “Do you hear me? Bolt it!”
He heard the bolt thrown on the other side and that was all he needed to shift into full battle mode. Knowing the women were safe, that Alessandria was safe, allowed him to think the way he was born to think. Rushing back to his horse that was trained for battle, he unsheathed his sword, the silver sword, and plunged into the fray.
He knew that de Garr was the one who threw the dagger, mostly because that was what the man was known for. Some men used crossbows but de Garr used daggers. He was an intellect of a man that Chad genuinely liked but, at this moment, he felt nothing but hatred for him. He knew that if de Garr had meant to kill, he would have, so the dagger had only been a warning. But it was a warning that had targeted the lady and Chad would not tolerate that. The man had injured Alessandria and everything protective that Chad had ever held inside of him suddenly came out, all of it seeking revenge against de Garr.
He would beat the man within an inch of his life.
So he shoved through the ruckus that was going on, not paying attention to the de Lohr soldiers who were rushing from the troop house and the wall to break up the fight. He could hear his father shouting and the clash of swords upon swords as his brothers and cousins went head-to-head with the Six, but still, all he cared about was finding de Garr.
He didn’t have far to look. Britt de Garr was engaged in a sword battle with William de Lohr, both men grunting and shoving and swinging the swords when the situation permitted. Chad could see the back of de Garr’s red head as he approached from behind, not at all concerned that he would be attacking the man from the rear, considered bad form in a sword fight among honorable knights. One always faced the enemy.
But in this case, Chad was so angry, and so bent on avenging what de Garr did to Alessandria, that he came up behind de Garr and used the hilt of his sword to smack him on the head, hard enough to send de Garr to the ground in a daze. Then, he pounced.
Being dazed as he was, de Garr was barely able to defend himself as Chad pummeled him. He went for the head, beating de Garr so badly with his big fists that in little time, the man was unconscious and bleeding. In fact, Chad was so unrestrained in his beating that his cousin, William, whom de Garr had been fighting, went to fetch Daniel. When Daniel, who had been supervising his soldiers as they restrained de Poyer, came around and saw the beating his son was dealing de Garr, he immediately reached down to pull his son off of the downed knight.
“Chad,” he grunted, trying to pull him away. “Enough, lad. You are going to kill him.”
Chad resisted his father. “The son of a whore deserves it,” he snarled. “For that dagger he threw at Alessandria, he is going to pay.”
Daniel hadn’t seen the dagger. Concerned, he looked around to see if there was an injured lady on the ground but seeing nothing, he continued to try and pull Chad away from de Garr. But his son wouldn’t move and Daniel turned to William, standing behind him.
“Help me,” he commanded.
William jumped in and between the two of them, they managed to pull Chad away from de Garr, who was a bloodied mess on the ground. They dragged Chad several feet away, turning him around so he no longer had visual contact with his victim.
“Where is the lady, Chad?” Daniel demanded. “What happened to her?”
Chad, his face splattered with de Garr’s blood, bobbed his head in the direction of the knight quarters. “I put her inside with Mother and Ronnie,” he said. “That bastard threw a dagger that clipped her in the arm.”
Daniel understood a great deal now. He let go of his son but his focus was on William, a young and strong man. “Do not let him go,” he instructed firmly. “Go and see to the lady. If she is well enough to travel, send them both on their way.”
William nodded, pulling Chad over to the entry to the knight quarters as Daniel went to see about de Garr. William rapped on the door, loudly, and called to Liselotte. Chad, still in his cousin’s grip, was struggling to push aside his rage. He still wanted to go back and bash de Garr’s brains in, but the moment the door opened and he could look inside the common room of the knight quarters and see his mother tending Alessandria’s arm, the rage faded away. He became more concerned with the lady’s wound.
“Mother?” he asked, stepping inside. “How is she?”
Liselotte was tying a bandage around the arm, bandages torn from a coverlet on one of the beds. “It is not bad,” she said. “It is not too deep, not deep enough to stitch it. She will be fine.”
Chad watched his mother as she tied off the bandage before looking at Alessandria. She was gazing back at him, pale and frightened, but the moment their eyes met, she smiled. It was a timid smile, but a smile nonetheless. Chad took a deep breath, shaking off his rage.
“I am so sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Ever since I took you from Newington, it has been one tribulation after another. I have not done a very good job of protecting you, which has been my mission all along. I have allowed harm to befall you twice and for that, I must beg your forgiveness.”
The tone of his voice caused Liselotte to look at her son. She’d never heard that level of emotion in his voice and she was surprised by it. Nay; pleased by it. Then she looked at Alessandria, who seemed to be gazing at her son in a most besotted way.
Besotted!
“You have done all you could to protect me, Sir Chad,” Alessandria said quietly. “You have been chivalrous and brave, and I am grateful that you would risk yourself so for someone you do not even know.”
Chad smiled weakly, looking at Alessandria as if she were the only one in the room. He didn’t even notice his mother or sister any longer. “It is a pleasure, my lady, I assure you,” he said with soft sincerity. “Are you well enough to travel, then?”
Alessandria nodded, looking at the bandage wrapped around her upper arm. “I am,” she said, looking to
Liselotte gratefully. “Your mother says it is merely a scratch.”
Chad reached out to grasp her, politely, for the purpose of escorting her back outside but he ended up taking her hand rather than her elbow, a much more personal gesture and not one missed by his gleeful mother.
“Then we must leave,” he said. “Henry’s men are contained, at least for the moment, so let us be gone.”
Alessandria went with him, willingly, leaving Liselotte and Veronica still in the common room, watching them head out into the bailey where the skirmish was essentially over. The Six were contained, at least for the moment, and de Garr was brought into the knight quarters, unconscious and badly beaten, as Chad and Alessandria mounted their horses and headed out of Canterbury.
But the last vision of them had a lingering effect, at least to Liselotte. Even as she tended de Garr, who was beaten so badly she wasn’t sure he would ever recover, her thoughts were of her son as he had spoken to the woman he was trying very hard to save from Henry’s clutches. She thought, perhaps, that it was only duty he was feeling but she hoped it was more than that.
Chad was a virtuous man of great character and she wanted very much for him to find love, to know the joy and triumph that she had known with his father. Every mother wanted what was best for her son and Liselotte was no exception. She truly hoped he could find love with the beautiful Lady Alessandria and even as she prayed for the recovery of the knight her son had badly beaten, she also said a prayer for Chad’s heart. She prayed that love found its way into it. It was a big and giving heart.
From what she had seen of the interaction between Chad and the lady, perhaps love already had found its way inside.
Call it Mother’s Intuition, but she suspected as much.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Isenhall Castle
Coventry
“It is my sense, at this point, that Henry is not beyond anything distasteful. Holding Alessandria as a hostage simply proves that.”
Gallus de Shera, the Earl of Coventry, sat in a small room on the entry level of Isenhall’s big, squat keep. It was a low-ceilinged room, vaulted, with heavy beams supporting the ceiling and smoke that gathered up at the apex.
The room was usually used for family meals, much smaller and cozier than the massive hall in Isenhall Castle’s compact complex, but it was also used for conferences. Men could sit more closely to one another around the heavy oak table that could seat fifteen to twenty people at a time and conversations could be heard. On this day, Gallus and his brothers, Maximus and Tiberius, sat around the table, unmistakably hearing what Bose de Moray was telling them.
It was sobering news, indeed.
“Chad de Lohr and his men have gone to take Aurelius’ sister from Newington Priory before Henry’s men can get to her,” Bose said. “I trust Chad and I know you do also. If it is at all possible for him to take the lady to safety, he will.”
“And Henry has one less bargaining chip,” Maximus, the big, gruff middle brother spoke. Green-eyed and dark-haired, much like his older and younger brothers, his voice was ominous. “For Christ’s sake, why would he seek out Aurelius’ sister as a hostage? Doesn’t he know we cannot stand the man?”
Tiberius, the youngest brother, grinned even though the situation as quite serious. He was grinning because Maximus was the brother who never had any tact.
“I have only met the sister once,” Tiberius said. “Honestly, I do not even remember her, but she is a de Shera. Henry is as wise as he is devious in using her against us.”
Gallus shook his head. “It will not work,” he said. “Although I am saddened to know she is his target, surely he knows that I must look at the bigger picture. I cannot surrender the entire House of de Shera for a cousin I hardly know. Her single life is not worth all of ours, as harsh as that sounds.”
Bose, seated across the well-used table from Gallus, sighed faintly. He was exhausted from his ride to Isenhall to deliver Henry’s ultimatum to three men the king very badly wanted. Henry was desperate for the support of the Earl of Coventry and his brothers but, as the conversation over the past hour had proven, the earl and his brothers, men known as the Lords of Thunder, were not eager or even remotely inclined to support the king at this point. Not after what Henry and his supporters had done to Simon de Montfort. That, in truth, was abundantly clear.
“As I said, Henry wanted me to make it clear to you that you could retain your lands and titles and fortune if you were to recant your support for de Montfort and give Henry your fealty,” Bose said. “If you do not, Henry has also made it clear that he intends to destroy you. Gallus, the man is bent on vengeance and you are at the top of his list. How can I make this any plainer to you?”
Gallus, the handsome eldest brother, eyed his youngest brother’s father-in-law. “You have made it very plain, Bose,” he said. “You know that we adore and respect you. But our path was set from the beginning of de Montfort’s rebellion. We have always, and only, supported him and his ideals of a government that should be run by the people and for the people. Henry may be the rightful king but he has no business administering this country. He has proven himself incompetent time and time again. I know you are friends with him and that you admire him, but I must differ with you on that opinion. There is nothing of the man to admire or support as far as we are concerned.”
Bose didn’t like where the conversation was heading. “Is that stance worth the life of your wife and children?” he asked, hitting Gallus where it would hurt him the most – his family. “For that is what it will come to, my friend. Henry can raise a bigger army than you can and he will come to Isenhall and he will destroy her. He will then take you and your wife and children to London where he will more than likely send you to the ax and keep your family locked up for the remainder of his reign. You will not see your children grow up; you will not see your son attain his rightful title of Earl of Coventry. Is that what you wish, Gallus? Is your stubborn stance worth everything you have?”
Gallus was listening to Bose carefully. After a moment, he scratched his chin in a pensive gesture. “Do you truly believe it will come to that?”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
Gallus glanced at Maximus and Tiberius, who met his gaze without emotion. Gallus held his brothers’ gazes for a moment longer before looking away. “Then we will send the women and children away,” he said. “I will send them to Lioncross Abbey where they will be safe until this blows over. Bose, I know you mean well and I appreciate that you have come to Isenhall to discuss this, but I cannot and will not surrender to Henry. I do not like the man and I do not like his politics. I must continue to stand for what I believe in, in what Simon believed in.”
Bose sighed faintly, fearful that he truly wasn’t getting through to Gallus. “What purpose will your stance serve when you are dead?” he asked quietly. “Henry has that power and I do not want to see you or your brothers die, Gallus. I know that Ty’s death would destroy my daughter. England needs the three of you and your patriotic, progressive ideals. Please do not let that end now. Swear fealty to Henry yet keep your ideals. There is a time and place for every fight and, for now, you have lost this fight with Simon’s death. Do not lose your life, too.”
Gallus could see that Bose was distressed. He felt badly for the old man, put in such a position as he was. Bose was loyal to Henry and always had been, ever since his days as captain of the guard for the young king. Rumor had it that Henry even saved Bose’s life once, so there was a very strong bond there that Gallus would never diminish. He admired such loyalty. But the fact remained that Bose was in a precarious, and emotional, position trying to negotiate for the king with the Lords of Thunder.
The immovable object had met the mountain. No one was budging.
Slowly, Gallus stood up, making his way around the table to where Bose was sitting. He didn’t want the table between them for what he had to say. Sitting beside the old knight, he looked into the man’s black eyes.
“Simon de Montf
ort the Younger has asked us to continue his father’s rebellion at his side,” he said quietly. “At Evesham, when we saw the turn the battle was taking, the young Simon came to me and begged me not to let his father’s ideals die with him. He is mounting a counterattack to Henry and has asked me to lead it.”
Bose stared at him for a moment before closing his eyes and shaking his head in a painful gesture of disbelief. “Nay, Gallus,” he hissed, opening his eyes to look at the man. “You must not do this. Simon the Younger doesn’t have the command capability that his father had. He is not the leader his father was.”
Gallus grasped the old man on the arm. “Nay, he is not,” he said quietly. “But I am. It is my intention to assume Simon’s mantle now that he is gone. Bose, I do not want my children growing up, commanded by a king who is inept at best. I want them to have a say in their country and in their world, in the things that affect them, and I want their voices heard when it comes to the governing good of England. It is every man’s right to have a say in the world that he lives in. We do not follow the king blindly, like sheep. It is my intention to provide my children with the opportunity to help the king rule his kingdom in a fair and just manner.”
Bose could only stare at the man, feeling sick to his stomach. “You… you cannot be serious, Gallus,” he finally said. “Henry will do to you what he did to Simon – he will kill you. He is the king, for Christ’s sake… do you not understand that his resources and armies are greater than yours? He will crush you if you rebel.”
Gallus didn’t seem particularly worried. “I could not live with myself if I did not do what my heart tells me to do,” he said. “It is something I must do.”
Bose’s gaze lingered on Gallus before turning to Maximus and Tiberius, across the table from him. He could see the brothers were united in this and it scared him to death; especially Tiberius. His daughter’s husband was a great and noble man, and he didn’t want to see his head on the top of a pike, cut off by Henry in his vengeance. The mere thought made him feel ill. He couldn’t even look at them anymore.
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