Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
Coventry
I t was late morning by the time the de Shera guard rode into Coventry. The day had warmed up considerably and most of the people who had done their shopping or had conducted business early in the morning were now back at home so the streets were relatively empty. That fact made it far easier for the de Shera contingent to hunt for the de Montfort men that were allegedly closing in on de Moray. Heavily-armed men would stand out in an atmosphere such as this because de Montfort wouldn’t search out the enemy in secret. He would have his men out in the open as if daring the enemy to come forth.
According to the messenger boy that de Moray had sent to Isenhall, de Moray was barricaded in a tavern called the Castle and Chain, which was one of the more popular taverns in the city. Tiberius had visited it many times for drunken debauchery and knew it well. Therefore, as they entered the city, he sent five groups of two men each to search out any sign of de Montfort men while the bulk of the contingent continued on to the tavern.
The tavern sat at the corner of a big intersection, the apex of two major roads leading into town from the north and the east. It was a two-storied structure with exposed exterior beams and wattle and daub construction, and the entire back portion of the building sagged slightly, as it had sunk into the mud that surrounded it. In spite of the warm temperatures, mud encircled the place because of the dozens of horses that had been tethered to the hitching post from various tavern patrons, enough horses so that their urine and feces created fetid mud all around the place. It smelled like a barnyard.
The de Shera group closed in on the tavern, essentially pushing people out of the way in their attempt to get to it. Dogs scattered, as did a few roaming chickens, creating quite a stir as Tiberius and his brothers invaded the yard behind the tavern. Horses crowded into the yard and two wide-eyed stable boys ran out of the livery, being bellowed at by Maximus for their efforts. He told the boys that if any of the horses ran off or were injured, then he would hold them personally responsible, which caused the boys to grab reins in a panic, trying to collect all of the frothy, excited horses from the heavily-armed men.
About half of the contingent, with Maximus at the head, went around to the front of the tavern while Tiberius, Gallus, and the rest of the men entered through the rear. As soon as Tiberius and the men burst into the common room through the kitchens, the startled patrons let out cries of alarm and made haste towards the front entry, where Maximus was standing. He had them effectively corralled. Tiberius grabbed the nearest tavern wench by the arm.
“You have two knights staying here,” he said forcefully. “Where are they?”
The wench, with wildly unkempt, curly, red hair, burst into tears and pointed to the spindly staircase that led to the second floor. Tiberius let go of her and headed for the stairs with Gallus behind him. When they were nearly to the top of the steps, a man with a very big broadsword jumped out at them. Had Tiberius been any slower, the skilled down-parry of the sword would have cut him in half. As it was, he managed to lift his sword just in time. The blow was so forceful, however, that he staggered back into Gallus, who was unable to catch himself on the steps and went tumbling down, all the way to the bottom.
Tiberius couldn’t even take his eyes off his opponent to make sure his brother hadn’t broken his neck because another extremely heavy blow was forthcoming, one that sent him stumbling down a step, mostly because he was at a tremendous disadvantage being that he was standing steps below his attacker. But he managed to bring his sword up and under his opponent, catching the man on the underside of his arms. It was enough to jar him but not enough to knock the massive broadsword loose. As Tiberius went in for the death blow, he managed to catch a glimpse of his foe’s features in the dim light and he stopped himself just in time.
“De Moray!” he gasped. “Cease, man! Do you not recognize me?”
Bose de Moray came to a grinding halt, throwing himself off–balance as he did so. He had to grip the stair rail for support, otherwise he would have pitched over the side. The old knight’s black eyes widened in surprise.
“De Shera!” he grunted, shocked. “Dear God… forgive me, please. It is so dark in here that I could not see who it was. I heard you ask for me so I could only assume….”
It was then that Bose spied Gallus at the bottom of the steps, picking himself up with the help of his men. Tiberius, too, turned to see his brother standing up, holding on to his left arm, and both Tiberius and Bose made haste down the steps.
“Gal?” Tiberius reached out to steady his wounded brother. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Gallus was holding on to his elbow. “I do not believe it is too terrible,” he said, wincing as he tried to move the arm. He eyed de Moray. “You did not need saving, de Moray. We should have instead saved ourselves from you .”
Bose cracked a smile, an unnatural gesture on his angular, scarred face. “I am ashamed that I did not identify you sooner than I did,” he said. “You have my deepest apologies, my lord. I hope you are not hurt too terribly.”
Gallus shook his head, shaking off the pain in his left arm. “It is my clumsy brother’s fault,” he said, eying Tiberius irritably. “If there is any blame to be had, it should be directed at him. All that aside, however, we obviously received your missive. Where are these men who have pursued you?”
Bose was rather relieved that the young earl wasn’t going to berate him for being too old and too blind to identify him right away. He had asked for the man’s help and then he had turned on him when he’d shown up, so he was somewhat embarrassed by his bad manners.
“I am not entirely sure at this point,” he said, looking around and noticing more than a dozen de Shera men in the tavern entrance. “Last I saw, they were about four streets over, near the cathedral. Garran has gone out to scout for them, in fact. I….”
He was cut off by the sudden clash of swords outside of the tavern entrance. Startled, Bose, Tiberius, Gallus, and Maximus turned to see a massive fight on the street in front of the tavern. There were bodies clashing and the de Shera soldiers were getting sucked into it. Bose was the first to notice his son, Garran in the middle of it.
“God’s Bones,” he hissed. “Garran is out there in the fight. I must save my son.”
At the mention of Garran’s name, all three de Shera brothers prepared to charge outside. Gallus grabbed a soldier near the door as he moved.
“What goes on out there?” he demanded.
The soldier seemed both concerned and perplexed. “Sir Garran had men running after him,” he said, pointing to the chaos outside. “He’s fighting with them and our men have joined in.”
Gallus bolted outside without another word with Maximus close on his heels. Tiberius went to follow his brothers but Bose grabbed him.
“My daughter,” he said, pointing up the stairs. “Douglass is in the last room on the left. Guard her with your life, young de Shera. I will help my son but you protect her. She is more important than any of us.”
With that, he was gone, a mountain of a man plowing through armed men, swinging his sword with expert precision. It was an impressive sight to see. In fact, Tiberius found himself watching the legendary Bose de Moray as the man fought off men half his age. The man is truly ageless, Tiberius thought. But then it began to occur to him that de Shera men were fighting off de Montfort men. Tiberius recognized the tunics of the men who had been chasing Garran. It would seem that Garran found the men who had been following him and his father, and those men had chased him right back to the tavern. There were more de Montfort men than Tiberius would have liked to have seen and that concerned him.
Turning on his heels, Tiberius hadn’t taken three steps when someone grabbed him from behind. He turned to see one of de Montfort’s men, who glared back at him quite angrily.
“What in the name of all that is Holy are you doing, de Shera?” the man demanded. “Do you have the de Moray party or don’t you?”
Tiberius frowned and knocked the man’s hand off his arm. The man was a lesser knight, a son of one of de Montfort’s favored barons, and Tiberius didn’t like him one bit. Sir Lincoln de Beckett was arrogant and dangerous, now in the middle of the fight to capture de Moray.
“You listen to me and listen well, de Beckett,” Tiberius snarled. “Take your men and get out of here. De Moray is under de Shera control.”
De Beckett, a big man who truly believed himself an equal peer to the Lords of Thunder, didn’t back down.
“I have been instructed by de Montfort to bring de Moray to him,” he said. “That is exactly what I intend to do.”
Tiberius grabbed the man by the neck, towering over him. Tiberius wasn’t as bulky as his brothers, but he was seven inches over six feet in height, with a sinewy, muscular body. He was solid and powerful, and by his sheer height he was intimidating. He used all of that intimidation as he hovered over de Beckett.
“De Moray belongs to me,” he growled. “Get your men out of here or you will have a real fight on your hands. How will you explain that to de Montfort? You know he will believe Gallus over an arrogant ass like you.”
With that, Tiberius kicked out a massive boot and hit de Beckett directly in the chest, sending the man flying backwards. De Beckett hadn’t yet hit the ground by the time Tiberius was already halfway up the stairs, running for the last door on the left. He could hear de Beckett yelling behind him and he knew, instinctively, that the man would follow. He had to get to de Moray’s daughter before de Beckett did.
The small corridor on the second floor leaned slightly to the left and smelled like a sewer. Tiberius raced to the last door on the left, a rather thin panel, and beat on it.
“Lady Douglass?” he called. “Your father has sent me, my lady. Please open the door!”
There was no response. Frustrated, Tiberius beat on it again, rattling the latch this time, but before he could yell again, de Beckett appeared in the corridor and Tiberius turned to the man, running at him as hard and as fast as he could. De Beckett tried to brace himself but Tiberius hit him like a runaway bull and the knight flipped over the railing and fell to the common room below, crashing onto a table before hitting the hard-packed earth of the floor. The table was enough to break his fall but Tiberius didn’t stick around to see if the knight had been seriously injured or not. He had to get to de Moray’s daughter.
He raced back to the panel, pounding on it and calling the lady’s name. He lifted the latch, positive it would be locked, and was shocked to realize that it wasn’t. Giving the door a good shove, he stepped into the room and was greeted by a sharp pain to his head and a burst of stars in his vision.
Something heavy had hit him and Tiberius fell to his knees as another blow cracked him across the back of the head. Pitching face-first onto the floor, he grunted in pain and shock as someone jumped on top of him and began beating him around the head and shoulders.
“You brute!” a female voice seethed. “You’ll not take me, do you hear? I will mash you into a pulp!”
Dazed, Tiberius put up his hands, grabbing at the weapon the woman was using. “Lady,” he tried to get the words out before she smacked him in the mouth and knocked out his teeth. “I am Tiberius de Shera. Your father sent me, I swear it!”
The beating slowed to a halt but she was still standing on top of him. He could feel a foot against the back of his neck.
“How do I know this is true?” she demanded. “De Montfort’s men have been following us since last night. Prove to me that you are not the bastards who have been following us!”
Tiberius grunted. “Look at my tunic, you silly wench,” he groaned. “It has the de Shera emblem. How much more proof do you need?”
The woman removed her foot from his neck. “I do not know the de Shera emblem on sight,” she said. “Quickly, what is my brother’s name?”
Tiberius didn’t roll over, afraid she would start whacking him again. “His name is Garran,” he replied. “Your mother’s name is Summer and your father’s name is Bose. You have two younger sisters, as I recall, Lizbeth and Sable.”
The woman seemed to stew in confusion. “That is true,” she finally said. “But that proves nothing. You could have heard that anywhere.”
He sighed drolly. “Then if that is your logic, why did you ask me your brother’s name?”
That threw her into deeper confusion and Tiberius took advantage of it. He didn’t have any more time to waste. Quick as a flash, he rolled onto his back and used his big legs to knock her off her feet, sweeping her right to the floor. The woman fell heavily and the piece of wood she had been using to assault him flew from her hands and rolled under the bed. Sitting up swiftly, Tiberius reached out and grabbed both of her arms before she could rise, effectively trapping her on the floor. Now he was the one with the advantage, looming over her.
“My name is Tiberius de Shera, Lord Lockhurst,” he said, his green eyes drilling into her. “My brother is the Earl of Coventry and your brother, Garran, is one of my very best friends. I am here to save you from de Montfort’s assassins and I do not have any more time for your foolery. Behave yourself or I will take you over my knee. Is that clear?”
Lady Douglass Lora de Moray gazed up at Tiberius with a mixture of fear and resentment. She was a striking woman with cascades of golden-red curls, a mass of shockingly beautiful, red hair and her father’s black eyes. Her skin was perfect and pale, without the freckles that redheads usually had, and she had a face that was better suited to that of an angel; smooth and porcelain and sweet in every way. But the expression on her face was anything but sweet as she faced off against Tiberius. She was a daughter of de Moray, after all, and she had strength in her. Lifting a booted foot, she kicked Tiberius in the gut. Grunting, he fell off of her.
“You will not threaten me,” she scolded, frantically searching for her wooden club that had rolled under the bed. “We have been chased since last night by men intent to do us great harm and I have no idea if you are really Tiberius de Shera. I have never met him!”
Tiberius was on his knees, rubbing his belly with a furious expression on his face. “You are meeting him now,” he said. Then, a hand shot out and grabbed her again, pulling her face-first onto the floor. “Now, meet the palm of my hand as it blisters your backside!”
He managed to get the first lick in and Douglass howled angrily, trying to move away from him, but as he brought his hand up again, he realized that de Beckett was standing in the doorway, watching everything. In an instant, his focus shifted and he leapt to his feet, slamming the door in de Beckett’s face and throwing the bolt. He pressed himself back against the door as de Beckett and his men tried to kick it down.
“You… you fiend !” Douglass hurled insults at him. “How dare you strike me!”
Tiberius couldn’t believe the situation he found himself in, fighting with a woman he was supposed to be saving. Had he not been so concerned that she might truly be captured by de Montfort’s forces, he would have found the entire thing comical. But he didn’t have time to laugh. For once in his life, there was no time for laughter. The carefree brother was now the serious knight. They had to flee through the only other portal in the room if they were going to save their skins.
Grabbing the only chair in the room, he jammed it under the iron bolt to give it more support as men on the other side tried to kick the door down. Grabbing Douglass by the wrist, he pulled her over to the window and threw open the shutters. The stable yard was more than a dozen feet below, crowded with de Shera horses.
Still holding on to Douglass with one hand, Tiberius yanked the coverlet from the bed and spun the startled woman around so that she was facing away from him. Then, he looped the coverlet around her torso like a sling. Holding both ends behind her, he shoved her towards the windowsill.
“If you value your life, you will jump,” he told her. “I will hold the coverlet so it will ease you to the ground somewhat, but you had better jump, lady. That door will not hold much longer and once de Montfort’s men enter, it will be me against a dozen. I cannot promise that I can save you then.”
Douglass could hear the urgency in his tone. In truth, he was trying to help her, so perhaps he really was who he said he was. She’d heard her brother speak of Tiberius de Shera and tell of the great and sometimes wild adventures they had. Garran had also spoken of Tiberius’ arrogance and how the man believed himself to be the greatest knight of all. The Thunder Knight , Tiberius would claim. He was part of the Lords of Thunder, after all. He wielded his sword as the storms wield their thunder. With that in mind, she eyed him critically.
“According to my brother, you would consider a fight against a dozen men nearly even odds,” she said even as she struggled to climb onto the windowsill. “The odds would be against the dozen men, of course.”
Tiberius scowled. “God’s Bones,” he spat. “Garran did not tell me how disagreeable you were. The man has a harpy for a sister.”
Douglass’ dark eyes narrowed at him. “I am a perfectly sound and agreeable individual around the right sort,” she declared. “A man who would take his hand to my backside is not the right sort!”
Tiberius shook his head, appalled at the woman’s manners. “You are lucky I was interrupted,” he said. “I would have beaten you all the way through the floor and you would have ended up lying on the bread oven below. Now, get out of that window, you foolish wench. I am trying to save your life and all you can do is argue with me!”
Douglass opened her mouth but Tiberius put a big boot on her backside, shoving her from the window. As Douglass shrieked with surprise, and a little fear, Tiberius held both ends of the coverlet and lowered her down as far as he could to the livery yard below. Douglass ended up falling the last two feet on her own when he released the coverlet, landing right on her feet. By the time she looked up, Tiberius was climbing from the window, hanging with his long body extended before finally letting go of the sill. He, too, fell the last foot or so, landing awkwardly and stumbling.
“Now what?” Douglass asked as Tiberius picked himself up. “Do we just hang out here with the horses or did you have more of your brilliant plan in mind?”
With a growl, Tiberius grabbed her hand and pulled her through the collection of horses until he came across Storm, his big, gray stallion. He lifted Douglass up onto the saddle, or perhaps he actually threw her, because she nearly pitched off the other side. He wasn’t exactly sure how he did it, only that he did. The woman was as fine and beautiful as he had ever seen but her personality had him furious.
Mounting swiftly behind Douglass, he gathered the reins and spurred his charger out of the stable yard and onto the road beyond, heading for Isenhall at breakneck speed but wondering if he should just as well dump the lady onto the side of the road and pretend he didn’t see her fall. Nay, de Moray would figure it out sooner or later that it was no accident. Worse yet, the running mouth of Lady Douglass would be sure to tell her father what he’d done. If he hoped to keep peace with de Moray, then he’d better keep the woman safe. But one more negative word out of her mouth and he couldn’t guarantee that his hand wouldn’t become acquainted with her backside again.
With bunches of wild, red hair blowing annoyingly in his face and blinding him, Tiberius made his way back to Isenhall Castle.