Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
Braidwood Manor, London
Headquarters of the barons in opposition to Henry III
T he meeting had been going on for hours in the large reception room of Braidwood, London home of the House of de Russe, who were major players in the resistance against the king. Although this was where they usually met, barons opposed to the king and his policies, today’s meeting had been particularly long and particularly edgy.
It was nearing evening now as the sun cast shades of pink and gold across the sky, but the lateness of the hour hadn’t dampened the anger and shouting going on. In truth, the anger and shouting had been going on since Gallus and his brothers had arrived in London two weeks prior. If the barons weren’t angry with the king then they were angry with each other, and Hugh Bigod was particularly furious with Gallus. When the man had shown up and announced his marriage, all pleasantries flew out the window.
Hughston de Russe was a very big man with an unruly crown of dark, curly hair. He had hands the size of a trencher and in battle he used them like a hammer. Hughston had seen nearly forty years and was a close ally with Bigod and de Montfort. He allowed the barons to use his home to confer in because it was a fortified manor, highly protected, and very close to the heart of London. Normally, he was a gracious host and wise moderator but today he found himself breaking up repeated arguments with Hugh Bigod going after Gallus. The entire day had been filled with attacks, retreats, and then more verbal attacks.
Although Hughston was not unsympathetic to Bigod in the sense that Gallus de Shera had married quite suddenly when Hugh, in fact, had been grooming the man to marry his daughter for months, even he was at the end of his patience when, at sundown, Bigod went on the offensive again in the middle of a meeting that had absolutely nothing to do with marriage. They had been discussing a particular Savoyard count in Henry’s court who had been scheming to gain lands in Norfolk, but when Bigod made a snarling comment about Gallus and how he would not ally himself with a man who lacked honor, Hughston slammed down the heavy pewter cup in his hand. Wine splashed out onto the tabletop.
“Hugh,” he boomed. “I have heard the last of your negative comments against Gallus so for here and for all, I will put an end to this. We are here to discuss issues against the king, not your wounded pride. Are you truly attempting to provoke de Shera? He has not committed a crime by marrying another woman. Did you even have a formal contract with him?”
Hugh, a very spoilt nobleman with delusions of grandeur and a great deal of power behind him, frowned at Hughston.
“He knew of my desire for him to wed my daughter,” he said, avoiding the question. “He has deliberately slandered me and the entire House of Bigod by marrying this… this Welsh woman. I cannot believe my ears! A woman from Wales! How can I not feel slandered?”
Gallus was watching the exchange carefully. He had been careful since he’d informed Bigod of his marriage upon his arrival to London two weeks ago. But that had been the last time he’d had a rational conversation with Hugh because the man was furious beyond reason. Gallus had tried to explain for the first couple of days. He’d even sent Tiberius, whom everyone loved, to try and explain it to the man, but Bigod had run Tiberius away on the tip of a sword. After that, Gallus stopped trying to explain anything at all. If Bigod was going to be ridiculous, then Gallus would let him, but it seemed to be coming to a head now. He was curious to know if de Russe would defend him or turn against him.
De Russe, however, had little patience for Bigod’s behavior, too. He rolled his eyes at the man’s complaining.
“Great Bloody Christ,” he hissed. Then, he looked at Gallus. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? If you do not explain your actions, Hugh will not let us continue in peace, so you had better explain to the man why you did not marry his daughter.”
Gallus wasn’t feeling entirely compliant at the moment. In fact, he was bloody well angry for the way he’d been treated over the past two weeks by Bigod. The other barons merely congratulated him on his marriage and little more, so it was clear the only person who was offended by his marriage was, in fact, Bigod. True, he’d never liked the man much but now he liked him even less. He warily eyed Maximus, Tiberius, and his four knights, who had accompanied him to London, before speaking.
“I have tried to explain my reasons to him,” he said, looking at Hughston. “He did not want to listen. He seems only to want to shout to the world that he feels insulted and slandered that I should choose another woman over his daughter.”
Bigod started to bark but Hughston held out a hand to silence him. “He will not speak,” de Russe assured him. “I give you my word. If you would please tell us of your marriage, I would be grateful.”
Gallus shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all. “I have been in London for two bloody weeks,” he said, frustrated. “And now you want to hear all about it? For two weeks I have been berated by a spoilt man and now you want to hear? If anyone has a right to feel insulted in this room, it is me.”
Hughston sighed faintly. “You have every right to be upset,” he agreed. “For the love of God, please tell us of your marriage so we can get on with more important business.”
Gallus eyed Hughston before fixing his gaze on Bigod, who was gazing back at him with an angry red face. To see the man so infuriated riled Gallus. He could feel his dander go up, struggling to remain on an even keel. He made Hugh wait, and he made everyone in the room wait, until he was ready to speak on the subject. His silence conveyed his extreme displeasure in the behavior he’d been subjected to.
“Last month, Gaerwen ap Gaerwen, the hereditary King of Anglesey, was traveling through my lands,” he began, his voice loud and firm. “He and his daughter were traveling home from a trip to France. Whilst traversing my lands, they were set upon by bandits and Gaerwen was badly wounded. As he lie injured and presumably dying, he begged me to marry his daughter so she would be taken care of. My mother, the dowager countess of Coventry, accepted on my behalf without my permission. Not wanting to shame my mother, I married Gaerwen’s daughter, the Lady Jeniver. She is a hereditary princess of Anglesey and a member of the House of Gwynedd. No offense to Hugh Bigod, but I am sure even he can see the wisdom of such a union. She brings Anglesey with her, which will be a great ally for our cause.”
By that point, every man in the room was looking at him with varied degrees of surprise and approval. Hughston, who was one of those with an approving expression, nodded his head in agreement.
“Excellent,” he said with satisfaction. “With the Welsh allying themselves with Scotland, we now have a foothold into the ruling house. Did ap Gaerwen die of his wounds?”
Gallus shrugged. “I do not know for certain,” he said. “When I left Isenhall two weeks ago, the surgeon did not give hope that he would recover. I can only assume that Anglesey now belongs to me and even if ap Gaerwen survives by some miracle, he will be in no condition to command. We will therefore go on the assumption that Anglesey and her resources are mine to do with as I please.”
It was logical enough. Hughston fixed on Gallus. “Do you believe, then, that you can summon ap Gaerwen’s men to our cause?”
Gallus lifted his hands in a gesture that indicated possibilities. “I am now their liege,” he said. “If they do not comply, I will remove all support and wealth from Anglesey and leave the island destitute. If they want their families to survive, then they will swear allegiance to me.”
Hughston grinned, one of those devious gestures that indicated satisfaction more than humor. After a moment, he turned to Bigod.
“There,” he said. “Did you hear that? He married Anglesey. No slander was intended against your homely daughter, so kindly shut up!”
The entire room burst into laughter and Hugh was left red-faced and shocked. Gallus, however, didn’t crack a smile. He was still too angry about the way he had been treated. He remained focused on Hughston.
“So far, all I have heard since I returned to London is fighting among the barons,” he said. “There has been no resolution, no call to action. We have discussed Henry’s Savoyard relations and those who are exerting their influence over the king in court. We all agree that the man is more concerned for his private issues than he is for England as a whole. The man has sent a crusade to the Holy Land and has collected tithing for it but evidence suggests that he has kept the money while our soldiers and commanders in The Levant starve. This is only a small taste of our grievances against Henry, not to mention what the Church has against him. And all we can discuss is my marriage to a Welsh princess? If that is the most important thing to this group of barons, then this country is going to the dogs and I am going home.”
He finished with such disgust in his tone that even Bigod took notice. The man had gone from wildly inflamed to appearing rather contrite. Hugh was a fool, and dangerous, but he was also an intelligent man who had moments of reason. This was one of those rare moments. The fury had passed, leaving cold reason in its wake. With a sigh, he looked at Hughston and simply shook his head.
“Get on with it, then,” he muttered. “I will not trouble you again.”
Hughston cocked an eyebrow. Although he didn’t believe him, he did not openly dispute him. He knew Bigod and knew this wasn’t the end of it no matter what the man said. He would, at some point, demand satisfaction and Hughston suspected that Maximus or Tiberius de Shera would be his next target for his blobbish daughter. Hugh wanted a de Shera relation in the worst way. Clearing his throat, Hughston continued with the business at hand.
From that point on, however, Gallus stopped listening. He was exhausted from two weeks of discord, of meetings, and of activities that involved the barons and moving money and men where the king couldn’t get to them. The king had a lot of debt and was searching for more revenue streams, something he usually demanded from his barons, so it was imperative to hide wealth and material these days. It made a complicated situation that much more complicated, and Gallus had been at the head of concealing such things from the king. Men trusted him, even men like Bigod, even if they were angry.
He was also exhausted from the emotional upheaval he’d been suffering from for the better part of two weeks, ever since he left his wife in the wee hours of the morning without a word. He couldn’t stop thinking about her and of the fact that she made him feel emotions he was afraid to acknowledge. He had come to the unalterable conclusion that he was afraid to feel again, to love again, although that hadn’t been something on his mind until he realized that Jeniver awakened something in him, something he thought had been killed when Catheryn had died. Running off and focusing on his business in London seemed like the best idea at the time, but two weeks later, he wasn’t so sure. Now, he simply felt cowardly. He could only imagine what Jeniver thought of him.
Standing by the entry to the big reception room, lost to his thoughts, he was close enough to the front door of the manse to hear it open. Maximus and Tiberius, standing next to him, heard it, too, and their hands went to their swords, sheathed against their thighs, as they fanned out near the door. Boots were approaching and they were preparing to converge on whoever entered the room until a familiar face came into view from the shadows of the entry.
Simon de Montfort appeared, his focus on Gallus. He smiled faintly at the man, noting that he had his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Are you going to use that, Gal?” he asked, amusement in his tone.
Gallus smiled weakly and let go of his sword. “I’ve thought about it once or twice where you were concerned.”
Simon laughed softly. A big man in the prime of his life, he was driven, intelligent, and passionate. He was also a handsome man, related to the king through marriage to the king’s sister, so it wasn’t possible to find a man with more to lose in all of England than Simon. He resisted Henry for many reasons, complex issues that went beyond an apathetic king and a country run by the king’s French relations. If the de Shera brothers were the muscle of the revolution, Simon was surely the heart. Everything hinged on the man. The future itself hinged on him.
Moving past Gallus and his brothers, Simon entered the reception room as most of the barons rose to greet him. Like a conquering hero, he was warmly welcomed but when Hughston offered him a seat and drink, Simon refused. He held up his hands to silence the men that were peppering him with questions.
“I have just come from Henry,” he said, his expression serious. “As you are aware, he has been demanding to know why so many of his barons are in London at this time and I fear his wife’s uncles are feeding his sense of disquiet. While I was attending what was supposed to be a family gathering, it turned into a standoff. Eleanor’s uncle, Boniface, is close to convincing the king to send troops to arrest the barons for unlawful assembly so I took my leave to come and tell you all to disburse. We will meet later at Kenilworth and lay the foundation for what we must do in order to shake England of the Savoyard we have so long discussed and despised. England is for the English and not for the French who seek to rule her through the king’s wife. Therefore, quickly disassemble and return home. I will send word for the date of our next convention.”
Some of the barons were already leaving. Gallus and his brothers stood at the door as men began to stream past them. No one wanted to end up in the Tower of London for treason and they’d had two weeks of essentially uninterrupted movement and assemblies. But, as was often the case, they usually parted when the king got wind of what they were doing. The man wasn’t a fool and he had eyes everywhere, suspicious French eyes from his wife’s unlimited supply of family members who had infiltrated the nobility of England. As Bigod quit the chamber with some of his advisors in tow, another powerful baron, Fitzgeoffrey, joined de Russe in discussion with de Montfort. The three of them congregated, speaking quietly, and as the room emptied, Gallus turned to his brothers and motioned his knights over.
“Then mayhap we should leave as well,” he muttered as both de Wolfe brothers, Garran, and Stefan crowded around. “We will return to Isenhall on the morrow. In fact, returning at this time will give me the opportunity to evaluate my new acquisitions in Wales. I hope all of you like it there because you will accompany me.”
As the knights cast each other curious glances, Maximus lifted an eyebrow. “I am not sure we should leave now,” he said, tipping his head in the direction of de Montfort’s huddle. “There is much happening, Gal. We do not want to be tucked in the recesses of Wales if de Montfort has need of us.”
Gallus nodded his head, reluctantly. “That is a distinct possibility,” he said. “But I need to inventory what assets I have. I must establish my presence as ap Gaerwen’s successor for I intend to use whatever manpower he has to bolster our ranks.”
Maximus opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted by de Montfort, who was calling across the room to Gallus.
“Gal?” Simon said. “What’s this I hear about your marriage into the House of Gwynedd?”
Gallus turned to de Montfort, closing the distance between them as Maximus and Tiberius followed.
“Indeed, my lord,” he said. “I married the hereditary princess of Anglesey. She is an only child so her father’s titles and possessions now belong to me. In fact, I was just discussing that very fact with my men. I must see just how many men I now command, Welshmen, to strengthen my ranks.”
Simon cocked an eyebrow. “That will not be easy, lad,” he said. “The Welsh are in full revolt along with their Scottish brethren. I am not entirely sure they will swear fealty to you because you married into their brood. More than likely, they will try to skin you alive.”
Gallus nodded patiently. “I am aware, my lord,” he said. “Nevertheless, if I can convince them to swear fealty to me and join us, it would be a tremendous alliance.”
Simon thought on that, the thoughts flickering behind his dark eyes. Then, he smiled ruefully. “I do not think you have a chance, but I understand your position,” he said. “Do what you can and send me word. I will be returning to Kenilworth. I will be very interested to know if you can use your wife’s Welsh connections.”
Gallus smiled weakly. “As am I,” he replied. “I will send word, my lord.”
Simon dismissed him and Gallus headed out of Braidwood with his brothers and knights in tow, out into the night with its brilliant blanket of stars across the crisp, dark sky. Several barons were milling out in the giant, U-shaped courtyard, waiting for their horses to be brought around from the stables. Gallus sent Stefan and Garran to the stables to collect their mounts but as he paused to speak with his brothers, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Bigod, having spied him, was heading in his direction.
“Christ,” Gallus muttered, turning his back to Bigod as the man approached. “Please tell me that I am not going to have to kill the man where he stands. If things get out of hand, please chase him away from me.”
Maximus was quite serious and nodded his head but Tiberius was fighting off a grin. His gaze was fixed on Bigod as the man came near.
“I am still deeply hurt that you had your knight pull a sword on me,” he told Hugh as the man drew close. “That was not a very nice thing to do.”
Hugh frowned at Tiberius. “Had I not had a deep and abiding affection for you, he would have run you through. Be thankful for small mercies.” Hugh then waved his hands at Tiberius and Maximus. “Be gone. I have need to speak with Gallus.”
“I will not ,” Maximus said, planting his legs apart and crossing his muscular arms stubbornly. “Anything you have to say to Gallus you can say in front of me.”
Hugh’s frown deepened. “You stubborn ox,” he grumbled. “Go away before I take a sword to you.”
Gallus chuckled, shaking his head with regret. “That is not the way to force Max to do what you want him to do,” he said. “He will take a sword to you. Now, what did you want to speak about?”
Distinctly unhappy that he was being disobeyed, Hugh struggled to focus on Gallus. “I heard something interesting today,” he said, lowering his voice. “You know of the queen’s cousin Jacques Honore?”
Gallus nodded, distaste on his features. “I do,” he said. “He is a knight, and a powerful one. What about him?”
Hugh cocked an eyebrow. “He has a home east of the Tower, one given to him by Henry,” he said. “ Maison de l’Or , it is called. It is on the south shore of the river. I was informed two days ago that Honore is expecting a few hundred soldiers from France, men that are to be stationed at or near the Tower. That puts a few hundred Frenchmen in the heart of England’s defenses. This we cannot allow to happen.”
It was a serious allegation, indeed, and Gallus was concerned. “Do you trust the man who gave you this information?”
Hugh nodded. “I do,” he said. “He thought the boats might be coming before dawn, landing at Honore’s home so he can move the men swiftly to the Tower before daybreak.”
“Tonight?”
Hugh shook his head. “We are not sure,” he said. Then, a rather scheming expression crossed his face. “If we were to pay a visit to Honore and find out what he has planned, we would know everything for certain.”
“And you want me to call upon him?”
Hugh nodded. “Exactly.”
“And you’re just telling me this now?”
Hugh shrugged, trying not to appear too contrite. “I am not angry at you now.”
Gallus sighed heavily, shaking his head in resignation. “Luckily you are not,” he answered. “If you were still angry at me, those French soldiers would arrive and I would then be doing damage control.”
“I would have told you sooner than that.”
Gallus wouldn’t argue the point because it was sincerely debatable. “Does de Montfort know of this?”
“Where do you think I received my information?”
Gallus was an immediate believer. “Very well,” he said. “I will take a company with me to Honore’s home. If he is bringing French soldiers to our shores, I will discover it and we will do something about it.”
Hugh slapped him on the arm. “I knew you would,” he said. “I will expect word as soon as you know something.”
Gallus nodded firmly. “Indeed, my lord.”
Hugh turned away but paused, returning his attention to Gallus. “This will be a serious undertaking and not without peril,” he said. “You will be rewarded.”
Gallus shook his head. “We are allies,” he said. “There is no need for reward.”
Hugh looked at Maximus. “Not even a Bigod bride with more money than you could spend in a lifetime?”
Maximus realize that Hugh meant him. He rolled his eyes and turned away. “Nay,” he said flatly. “I do not need a bride or her money. I do not need or want anything at all. Not a thing!”
Hugh, undeterred, shrugged and turned towards his steed, now being brought about by a groom. “Think on it, Maximus,” he said as he headed for his animal. “You would be richer than your brother.”
He was out of range by this point and Maximus turned to Gallus. “That would be the only appealing factor of it,” he said. “I might like to be richer than you.”
Gallus grunted in disapproval. “But you would have to touch the lumpy Bigod lady-flesh in order to achieve it,” he said. “Ask yourself if it is truly worth it.”
Gallus started to walk away, heading for the horses that Garran and Stefan had brought out of the stables. Scott and Troy followed him closely while Tiberius and Maximus trailed after him.
“I will take her money and leave her just like you left your wife,” Maximus said, loud enough so Gallus could hear him. “I would not have to see her again, ever. Ever! ”
Gallus waved him off, unwilling to engage him in a conversation of leaving a wife behind. He felt too guilty for what he’d done already without Maximus making it worse. As Gallus moved for the horses, Tiberius came up beside Maximus. The youngest de Shera brother slapped his hands together.
“Fat flesh smacking against your body,” he muttered into Maximus’ ear. “It will be like bedding a sow.”
Maximus tried not to laugh. “If she was beautiful, I would not care if she was round or thin,” he said, defending himself against his brother’s taunts. “But the woman isn’t even palatable to look at. She looks like… God’s Bones, I cannot even think what she looks like.”
Tiberius grinned. “I can,” he said. “She looks like her father.”
Maximus looked at him with an expression that suggested he’d just had an epiphany. “You are absolutely correct,” he said. “I’ve not thought on it until now, but you are correct. Indeed, she looks like Hugh in a dress.”
Tiberius snorted. “Have you ever seen the two of them in the same room?” he asked. “Maybe Hugh and his daughter are the same person. That being the case, it is really Hugh who wants to marry you.”
“You are making me ill.”
They had reached the horses by this time and Maximus took hold of the reins of his bay rouncey. Gallus was already mounted, already collecting his knights around him to explain their mission for the night. As Gallus began to talk, Maximus mounted his steed, trying not to look at his grinning younger brother as Gallus explained a trip to their London townhome, Westbourne, to collect some of their men before making a trip to Jacques Honore’s home along the Thames. The situation was markedly serious and thoughts of Hugh Bigod in a dress were forgotten as the gravity of their mission was revealed.
This was normal for the de Shera brothers. If there was muscle needed for the cause, they provided it. They did the dangerous work because they were the best at it. All levity, thoughts of women and marriages, were cast aside as Gallus and his men rode from Braidwood, heading for Westbourne, the de Shera manor home in London that was almost bigger than Isenhall.
North of the Tower of London, the home spread out over several acres and was manned by hundreds of soldiers. Oddly enough, it was surrounded by neighborhoods of the working poor, homes and dirty streets concealing beautiful, spacious grounds behind massive iron gates, but that was fairly common in London. Great townhomes of noblemen were concealed by the rabble that had built around them.
The roads to Westbourne were dark as Gallus and his party rode swiftly, passing peasant homes that were faintly lit, traveling the heart of London that was crowded and smelly and cold. By the time they reached the compound, the gates opened wide to receive them before closing up again, shutting out the dregs of society just beyond the walls.
As Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius went about rounding up men for their foray to Jacques Honore’s home, there was no denying the tension that was mounting. They were about to make a move against a relation to the Queen of England, but that knowledge only served to feed their courage. The man in question was one of the greediest, unsavory characters in the Savoyard stable.
Tonight, Gallus intended to savor a measure of domination and vengeance in the name of England.