Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
G allus knew he shouldn’t be out of bed.
One week after his collapse at the gate of Rhydilian, Gallus felt better than he had in weeks. His fever was gone but he was still coughing, enough that it kept him up at night, but it didn’t matter. He was feeling better by the day and would soon be returning to England with his wife.
But he had a mission to accomplish before departing Rhydilian, something that Jeniver had deliberately kept him from completing. She was worried for his health and did not want him to exert himself, so much so that she had taken to spending nearly all of her time with him to keep him in bed. But her pregnancy was exhausting her and now, unable to remain awake and keep vigil with her husband, she was sleeping quite soundly, soundly enough that Gallus was able to rise from bed without disturbing her. Pulling on his breeches and the tunic his wife had cleaned for him, he felt quite devious as he silently left his wife sleeping. Once out in the darkened corridor, he made his way to the upper floor of Rhydilian’s keep.
The stairwells were narrow and spiral, built with dark, grayish-blue Welsh stone that was so common to the area. The entire keep was built out of the sturdy stone and as he made his way to the top of the keep, he noted that there were very small windows on this level, hardly enough to let in light or air. He didn’t like this level much. Looking around, he noted two chambers, both of them with closed doors. Logically deducing the room that was directly over his chamber, the one that Jeniver had told him her father was in, he went to that door.
It was a heavy, squat, oak door and he quietly opened it. The doorway itself wasn’t tall enough for him to move through without ducking his head, so he leaned over and peered into the chamber cautiously. The chamber was actually quite warm as a fire snapped in the hearth, large for the size of the room. It was a small chamber, with a bed and a table and chair taking up most of it, and smelled of smoke and unwashed bodies. Clothing was piled in a cabinet against the wall and even more clothing was hanging on pegs near the door. As Gallus’ eyes adjusted to the dim light, he caught movement near the bed.
The old surgeon, Dwyn, was feeding Gaerwen as the man sat up in bed, leaning heavily against the wall behind him for support. Gallus took a good look at Gaerwen. He seemed quite pale and his hair was entirely gray. Only weeks before, when Gallus had first seen the man, he was sporting a hair of dark curls. Now, the curls were gone, replaced by gray tendrils all around his head. He didn’t look at all like the man Gallus had seen those weeks ago. He looked like a shell of his former self. When Gaerwen happened to look over at the door after slurping up whatever Dwyn was feeding him, a light of recognition ignited in the weary eyes as his gaze beheld Gallus.
“I know you,” Gaerwen said after a moment. He sounded weak and puny. “I saw you once, in a nightmare.”
Gallus smiled faintly as he opened the door wider and emerged into the room. “It was indeed a nightmare, my lord,” he said. “But that nightmare has fortunately ended. I have come to see how you are faring.”
Gaerwen’s smile grew. “I am alive thanks to you,” he said. “Forgive me for not rising from bed to greet you. I do not walk these days.”
Gallus waved him off as he came to the edge of the bed. “It is I who must ask forgiveness for coming uninvited into your chamber,” he said. “But I had to come. My last memory of you is of you bleeding all over my floor. I had to see for myself that you did indeed survive.”
Gaerwen studied Gallus, acquainting himself with a man he only had fleeting memories of. His daughter’s husband was bigger, and more imposing, than he had remembered. But one thing he remembered quite clearly was how the man swung a sword on that day when the outlaws had attacked. There was none finer that Gaerwen had ever seen, Welsh or English.
“I am glad you came,” Gaerwen said. “But I understand you have been very ill. Are you feeling better?”
Gallus nodded. “Much better,” he said. Then, he rubbed at his neck, turning to glance warily at the open chamber door. “However, if your daughter finds me here, that may not last too long. She will be quite unhappy with me.”
Gaerwen laughed softly. “Then hurry and sit,” he said. “Let us become acquainted before the harpy comes and takes you away.”
Gallus chuckled and took the seat that the surgeon vacated. He watched the old man collect his bowls and utensils and quietly leave the room. Gallus threw a thumb in the old surgeon’s direction.
“He will not run downstairs and tell my wife that I have escaped, will he?” he asked.
Gaerwen shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “He is loyal, at least until my daughter grows angry with him. As I said, our time may be short, so let us speak on important things quickly. I would like to thank you for marrying my daughter. You realize that when I made that request of you, I was quite sure that I was dying. I wanted her to be taken care of. You not only kept your word but you have made her happy for the most part. I can never express my gratitude adequately enough.”
Gallus’ smile faded somewhat. “Surely she told you that I left for London without bidding her farewell,” he said. “It was wrong of me. I had business to attend there and used it as an excuse to… well, I suppose that does not mean anything to you. Suffice it to say that I shall never behave so poorly again. I came to Rhydilian to seek her forgiveness and she has given it. I hope that you will forgive me, too.”
Gaerwen listened intently. “In truth, she only told me the entire story a day or two ago,” he said. “Before that time, she never said a word about it, not once. For all I knew, she had brought me back to Wales with your permission and all was well in the world.”
Gallus nodded sadly, understanding and respecting the fact that Jeniver hadn’t cried her sorrows out over her father. Either she hadn’t wanted to burden her father or she simply wanted to deal with her trouble in her own way. In either case, it made him feel all the more guilty for what he’d done, knowing she’d suffered in silence. But he saw no need to linger on it. Things were well between them now and that was all he cared about.
“All is well now,” he said, shifting the subject somewhat. “I must say that I was quite surprised to hear that you had survived your wounds. I was so positive you were going to die that I had a coffin built for you and even made space for your burial at Isenhall’s chapel. I am pleased we did not have to use the coffin or the crypt.”
Gaerwen smiled weakly. “As am I,” he said. “I am not entirely sure what the future holds for me, but I feel stronger. I hope to return to administering my castle again someday, with my daughter’s help. Right now, she is doing everything and that is a great responsibility.”
Gallus agreed, thinking on his raven-haired wife burdened by an ailing father, a sick husband, and a pregnancy. She was a strong woman, indeed.
“I understand about burdens,” he finally said. “I cannot remember when I have not had burdens of my own. If I can help Jeniver, I will. If she will allow me.”
Gaerwen shifted in his bed, his expression growing serious. “You would think of helping her even though you have your own duties?” he asked, as if impressed by Gallus’ statement. “You are the Earl of Coventry and, from what I have heard, the right hand of Simon de Montfort in his opposition to the English king. Aye, even in Wales we have heard of such things. Is that why you went to London? To deal with the king?”
Gallus scratched his head casually. “Among other things,” he said vaguely. “There is much turmoil and strife these days with the king’s Savoyard relatives invading England like a plague of locusts. That is common knowledge.”
Gaerwen nodded grimly. “There is much turmoil everywhere.”
“Indeed.”
They fell silent a moment, each man contemplating his particular turmoil. After a moment, Gaerwen spoke again.
“Wales is in need of independence from Henry,” he said. “My cousin has declared himself the Prince of Wales. Surely you know this.”
Gallus lifted his eyebrows. “Llywelyn?” he said. “I know.”
“Do you think we will be on opposite sides of a battle, you and me?”
Gallus shook his head. “I hope not,” he said. “In fact, I’d hoped to come to Rhydilian to see if I could entice my new Welsh relatives to side with me and with de Montfort against Henry. It would seem that we both have a grievance against the king. Mayhap it is something we should discuss.”
Gaerwen didn’t reply for a moment. In fact, he averted his gaze, lost in thought. It was clear that he was contemplating the situation and, as Gallus watched, the man seemed to grow older right before his eyes. There were unknown burdens to bear in Gaerwen’s eyes as he pondered his relationships, both past and future.
“There was a time when I would have taken up a sword with you,” he murmured. “There was a time when I would ride the countryside, rallying my vassals to war. But those days have been gone for some time. I have not taken up a sword in years. I do not want to fight other men’s wars, de Shera. I want to live in peace in my own corner of the world. What happens in England does not affect me. What Llywelyn does will not affect me. Men cannot live their lives to the fullest if they are constantly taking up arms against each other.”
Gallus remembered what Jeniver had said once, about her father and how he had become a peaceful man in his later years. It was a difficult concept for him to digest considering he had been at war most of his life.
“You will most certainly not live in peace if Henry and his son Edward conquer Wales,” he said. “You will be subjugated and your lands taken from you. Isn’t that worth fighting for?”
Gaerwen looked at him. “My lands will belong to you through your marriage to my daughter,” he said softly. “If Henry and Edward want Rhydilian, then they will have to go through you to get it. Already, you protect my lands and you do not even know it. Even though I will not take up arms with you, nor will I ask my vassals to take up arms with you, I will provide you with money and materials for your wars. I will support you the only way I can.”
Gallus wouldn’t argue with the man. He had his point of view and had made his choice. Still, he was offering to support a war he didn’t believe in or want to participate in. Gallus would have to accept that.
“Then I will thank you for whatever support you can provide,” he said. “You can be assured that I will do what is needed to protect Rhydilian, and you, if and when the time comes.”
Gaerwen nodded, sensing that he and his son-in-law had come to an understanding even if they weren’t in complete agreement. He could tell that Gallus was disappointed with the lack of military support but the man had enough respect not to argue about it. Gaerwen, with what little he knew about the man who had married his daughter, was already coming to like him. Mutual respect was established.
“And I am grateful,” he said. He realized he was anxious to move to another topic, one that didn’t involve the politics he so hated. “Now, tell me, are you any good at playing backgammon?”
Gallus wriggled his eyebrows at the change of subject. “I can beat my brothers.”
“But can you beat me?”
Gallus grinned. “Tell me where your board is and we shall find out.”
“It is over in the wardrobe. We shall have to hurry before the harpy comes!”
Gallus chuckled as he went to the indicated cabinet and hunted down the board. After that, the hereditary king of Anglesey and the Earl of Coventry settled down to a nice, friendly game of competition until Gaerwen realized that Gallus was beating him quite badly and tried to distract the man with talk of a serpent who lived in a marsh upon his lands.
Since it was winter, Gaerwen said, the serpent slept, but come summer, he would look to feed. Gallus didn’t believe the man for one minute, even when Gaerwen threatened to throw him to the serpent if he didn’t stop winning. Serpents, and other mythical creatures, did not exist, Gallus countered. It was foolish to believe in such things.
Of that, Gaerwen would only grin. Someday, he planned to make a believer out of his smug Saesneg son-in-law.
*
Isenhall Castle
“The last message we had from him was that he was entering Anglesey,” Maximus said. “That was almost three weeks ago. I can only assume he found his wife, and Rhydilian, and is on his way home.”
In the great hall of Isenhall, it was Maximus, Tiberius, Scott, Troy, Garran, Stefan, and Honey facing Hugh Bigod and several of the man’s retainers across the feasting table. Hugh had come to Isenhall earlier in the day, after a rather bad storm had rolled through, soaking everything with a heavy dose of very cold rain. The snow was virtually gone but the bad weather wasn’t. Hugh and his party were on their way to Kenilworth for de Montfort’s coming assembly but they stopped at Isenhall to bring the de Shera brothers along with them. Now, Hugh was coming to realize that Gallus wasn’t there at all, and his sense of displeasure was growing.
“How do you know he is coming home?” Hugh wanted to know. “If you have not received word from the man for almost three weeks, how do you know?”
Maximus was in command of Isenhall. He didn’t have Gallus’ tact and tended to be blunt, especially in the face of stupidity. In his opinion, Hugh Bigod was definitely stupid. Stupid and dangerous.
“Because Gallus’ intention was to reach Rhydilian, collect his wife, and come home,” Maximus said, folding his big arms across his chest. “He had no reason to remain there and he knows that de Montfort will soon be calling an assembly. Given those facts, I can only assume he is on his way home but with the weather as it has been, you must give him time to travel, especially with a woman.”
That was not what Hugh wanted to hear. He set down his pewter cup of fine wine, glancing back at the men who had accompanied him. They were men who knew and respected Gallus, knights of the highest order. Hugh knew the men would give Gallus the benefit of the doubt even if Hugh would not. With a frustrated sigh, he faced Maximus again.
“He went alone?” he asked, looking to the de Wolfe brothers and Garran and Stefan. He pointed at them. “He did not take any of his men with him? I find that difficult to believe. The de Wolfe brothers alone are thick as thieves with Gallus. He does not go anywhere without them.”
Maximus was starting to lose patience. “I fail to see why you are so upset about this,” he said. “You knew Gallus was going to Wales when he left London. De Montfort knew it, too. Everyone knew he was going to Wales to size up what support he had from his ap Gaerwen holdings. The only difference now is that we know ap Gaerwen survived, so I am sure that he and the old man have a great deal to discuss. It will more than likely work in Gallus’ favor to have ap Gaerwen alive so the man can agree upon an allegiance with Coventry. Now, suddenly, you are upset and suspicious that he has gone to Wales? I fail to understand why.”
Hugh frowned, growing agitated at Maximus’ impatient statement. “Gallus also knew that de Montfort would be calling an assembly soon,” he fired back. “The man left in February, Maximus. It is almost April, and you are telling me that you assume he is making his way back home? What if he is not? What if he is being held in Wales against his will or, worse yet, has decided to remain there? The Welsh are in open rebellion as it is with Llywelyn ap Gruffydd declaring himself the Prince of Wales now. Mayhap that means something to his wife since she is from the House of Gwynedd. What if she has convinced him to remain and fight her wars for her?”
Maximus didn’t like the implication at all. “Are you suggesting that my brother would abandon his loyalty to England?”
There was hazard in his tone, deadly hazard, and Tiberius spoke quickly. “My lord, I understand that you are concerned for my brother’s safety,” he said to Hugh, soothingly, before Maximus pulled out a sword and went after Bigod with it. “You know Gallus enough to know that he would never abandon his loyalty to England, no matter what. He told us he was going to Wales to retrieve his wife and that he would return as soon as he could. I believe him and to suggest you do not slanders the entire House of de Shera. Surely you realize that.”
Hugh could see, between the remaining de Shera brothers and their powerful retainers, that he was walking on thin ice. He was all but calling out their honor so he took a deep breath, trying to calm his aggressive manner. He didn’t want Maximus to come after him with a sword, either.
“That is not my intention,” he said, sighing faintly. “I am simply concerned for Gallus. He is one of the most important cogs in the wheel of this rebellion and it will not do us any good to have an assembly without his input.”
“You are placing an extreme amount of importance on just one man,” Maximus said. He wasn’t about to forgive Bigod easily. “Could it be the fact that he is paying attention to the woman he married, a woman who is not your daughter? It sounds to me as if you are allowing your personal feelings to enter this equation.”
Hugh cast Maximus a long, unhappy glare. “My personal feelings have nothing to do with this.”
Maximus wouldn’t back down. “You challenged our honor so mayhap I should challenge yours,” he countered. “I will say that it is bitterness and jealousy that is causing you to question Gallus’ motives. If he had gone to Wales chasing after your daughter, you would not say a bloody word about it.”
Hugh bolted up from the table but his knights kept him in check, putting their hands on his shoulders to keep him from charging Maximus. Across the table, Scott and Tiberius put themselves between Maximus and Hugh, with Tiberius pushing his brother away in the hopes of cooling his rage. As the men shoved and postured, Honey, wrapped tightly in a woolen shawl, spoke above the grumbling.
“Bigod,” she said shortly, eyeing the man. “Sit down. Maximus is only speaking from love for his brother. It does seem rather odd that you are so concerned over why Gallus has not yet returned from Wales, however. He said he will return and he will.”
Because Lady Honey de Shera told him to, Hugh regained his seat, and for no other reason than that. Lady Honey was well respected by the nobility, as her husband had been, and her requests were not meant to be disobeyed. But Hugh was frustrated and angry, and that made a very bad combination indeed.
“Of course you will defend him,” Hugh said to her. “You are his mother and in your eyes he can do no wrong. Do you not think it strange that it has been close to two months and the man has not yet returned? What am I to tell de Montfort? He will want to know where his muscle is and I must tell him that the man is still in Wales!”
Honey had no patience for the man. She was feeling very poorly as of late and was in no mood for pleasantries. Moreover, Bigod had insulted her eldest, her Gallus, and he would pay the price.
“De Montfort trusts Gallus, as you should,” she said, her voice steely. “Maximus is correct. You would trust him well enough had he married your unattractive daughter, a woman you have been trying to pawn off on every young nobleman of rank for the past two years. Do not look so shocked. Did you think I did not know this? Gallus was your latest target and even had he not married Lady Jeniver, I would not have permitted him to marry a young lady that not even her father wants. Do not contest my statement because it is the truth and you know it. Now, let us move on to other subjects before your offense to my family causes me to make more unsavory accusations against yours. Gallus will return and when he does, I will send him on to Kenilworth. Did you have something more to say on the subject?”
She said it with finality. Hugh was red-faced with embarrassment and anger by the time she finished but, even so, he knew better than to lash out at the woman because it would result in a massive fight that he would probably lose. As good as his knights were, and they were very good, de Shera knights were better. Some of the finest houses in England served Gallus and his brothers… de Wolfe, de Moray, and du Bois. They were very young knights, but the skills and talents they possessed were renowned. Their family strengths were without question. Taking a deep breath to calm his rage, Hugh shook his head stiffly to Honey’s question.
“Nay, Lady Honey, I do not,” he replied, turning his attention to the de Shera knights because he didn’t want to engage the woman and any more of her venom. “What about you, de Wolfe? Your father has been summoned to the assembly also, as well as de Moray and du Bois. So has the entire family of de Lohr, which I believe you are related to, Stefan.”
Stefan was young but he also had his father and grandfather’s legendary cool demeanor. Maddoc du Bois and Rhys du Bois had been in the service of the king, and of the de Lohrs, for many years. Stefan faced Bigod with the respect that the position dictated. He did not face him because he liked him, because he did not. No one in that room did.
“I am, my lord,” Stefan replied. “My great-grandfather is David de Lohr, who is the brother to Lady Honey’s father, Christopher.”
Hugh looked between Honey and Stefan. “Then you are related to each other.”
Honey nodded, not particularly interested in discussing her family ties with Hugh. “We are indeed,” she said. “How do you think he came into the de Shera service? Now, if you are quite finished with your business here, I will offer you shelter and food until you depart for Kenilworth, which I hope will be no later than tomorrow.”
It was a sincere insult, projected in the nicest way, and Hugh had no choice but to accept it. Pursing his lips irritably, he nodded.
“Aye, Lady Honey,” he sighed. “We will be gone tomorrow.”
Honey stood up. “Excellent,” she said, holding out her hand so Maximus and Tiberius could assist her away from the table. “I will not see you before you leave so I wish you a safe journey. If you need supplies before you go, I will make sure you are provided with what you need.”
With that, she turned away from the table as Tiberius handed her over to Stefan, who carefully escorted the woman from the room. Lady Honey required a good deal of help these days and there was always a knight around to assist her. They were, in a sense, extensions of her sons and she treated them that way. As Honey and Stefan left the hall, out into the cold, muddy bailey beyond, Maximus and Tiberius faced Hugh and his retainers.
“Your men can sleep in the hall,” Maximus told Hugh. “I will provide you with a room in the keep if you wish.”
Hugh looked at Maximus, an almost baleful look. There was so much more he wanted to say but he knew it would not be prudent of him to do so. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut.
“My thanks,” he said, although he didn’t sound as if he meant it. “Will you and your brother be traveling to Kenilworth with us on the morrow?”
Maximus considered the question. Given the circumstances, and Hugh’s attitude towards Gallus’ absence, he thought it wise if he or Tiberius went with the man, if only to fend off the rumors that Bigod would undoubtedly circulate about Gallus. Someone had to be there to defend the absence of Gallus to de Montfort. Even though the man knew Gallus was going to Wales, as it was common knowledge between all of them, still, Bigod could put a twist on it that didn’t exist. A bitter man could do many things, including ruin reputations, and that was what Maximus was worried about.
“Aye,” Maximus said. “I think we should.”
Hugh fought off a smirk, as if he had won some sort of victory by forcing the de Shera brothers to accompany him to Kenilworth. “Excellent,” he said. “De Montfort will be pleased to see at least two out of the three de Shera brothers. As your mother said, she will send Gallus along as soon as he returns home.”
There was doubt in that statement simply by the tone, but Maximus didn’t flare. He simply cast Bigod a very long, very hateful glare before turning away, heading from the warm, musty hall. Tiberius, the de Wolfe brothers, and Garran followed, although Garran was sent back into the hall under the guise of being available to fulfill Bigod’s requests when he had really been sent back to watch the man.
Politics were tricky and an ally one moment could be an enemy the next. Maximus didn’t like the way Hugh was speaking of Gallus so, in his opinion, the man warranted watching. He didn’t trust him.
He had good reason not to.