Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“D o you have everything, then?” Douglass asked, securing the leather tie on one of his saddlebags. “I have never seen you off to battle before so please tell me if there is anything more you need.”

Tiberius was dressed from head to toe in full armor. He was wearing a padded tunic, a full mail coat, the heavy woolen de Shera tunic over the top of that, heavy leather breeches, boots, and a full regalia of weapons placed strategically around his body. As tall as he was, the addition of full armor made him appear infinitely more imposing. The man was ready for war.

But he wasn’t so focused on what lay ahead that he couldn’t sense his wife’s apprehension. He had made love to her three times during the course of the night simply because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her or, worse yet, not returning to her. He’d never experienced any feeling like that, ever, so he was having a difficult time reconciling it. Douglass’ nerves at his departure only made it worse.

Tiberius was nearly packed and the bailey was jammed with de Shera men, ready to ride to battle, and only a moment ago he heard Maximus bellowing at the men. It was true that the rain was pounding and the thunder rolled, but it was never a good sign when Maximus started to bellow, even if it was to be heard over the elements, so Tiberius knew he had to get moving. It was time to bid his wife farewell.

“I have everything,” he told her, stilling her hands when they continued to fuss with the leather tie. “Come and sit with me a moment, please.”

Clasping Douglass’ hands between his very big ones, he pulled her over to the messy bed and sat down on the end, forcing her to sit next to him. Douglass was looking at her hands, enfolded in his, until Tiberius forced her chin up so he could look her in the eye.

“Sweetheart, I know you are anxious,” he said softly. “I realize this entire circumstance is a bit of a shock, having been quickly married and then your husband departing so swiftly afterwards, but you are in very good hands with Jeniver and Courtly. You needn’t worry.”

Douglass gazed into his eyes, feeling as if her heart was about to burst from her chest with sorrow. She could hardly breathe for it. “I am not worried about life at Isenhall after you depart,” she said, struggling not to weep. “As I said, I have never had to send anyone I love off to battle before. Papa has gone, of course, but this… this is different.”

Tiberius could see how she was struggling with her emotions and he pulled her head to him, his lips against her forehead in a comforting gesture.

“I know,” he murmured, his lips against her flesh. “I have never left anyone behind before that I have cared about. But I know that everything will work out in the end. We will do our duty and I will return to you, I swear it.”

She was silent a moment, resting her head against his. “You still have not told me what it is you are going to do,” she complained. “I know that it is serious and I know that it is something that involves my father. Will… will you at least tell me if you are going to face him in battle?”

He stroked her glorious reddish-gold hair. “I truly do not know,” he said honestly. “There is every chance that I will, but I cannot be sure. If I do, however, I promise you this– I will not raise my sword against him. He saved Maximus’ life and is therefore someone my brothers and I will go out of our way to protect, even on the field of battle.”

That gave Douglass a huge amount of comfort. Her head came up, her dark eyes glittering with emotion. “And you?” she whispered. “Who will protect you?”

Tiberius kissed her, deeply and sweetly. “My brothers and I all watch out for one another,” he told her, kissing her cheek as he released her. “You needn’t worry about me, wife. I can take care of myself.”

Douglass had no choice but to agree. To dispute him would make it look as if she had no confidence in him. Therefore, she did the only thing she could– she nodded and squared her shoulders bravely, determined not to be an emotional mess, at least not until after he had left.

“I know you can,” she said with forced confidence. “Where are you going once you leave Isenhall? Are you going straight to your destination?”

He shook his head. “We are going to Kenilworth to collect de Montfort’s men,” he said. “De Montfort sent missives out last night to our allies, so at some point, we will be converging with them. It should be a mighty army we field.”

A mighty army for battle, she thought to herself but she didn’t comment on it. She kept her thoughts to herself. “I am sure it will be,” she said as evenly as she could. “Please let me help you take your things outside now. I am sure your men will be waiting.”

He shook his head, standing up. “Nay, sweet,” he said. “It is wet and miserable out there. I will go alone. I would rather remember you sitting here, warm and sweet, rather than out in that drench of water. Will you say farewell to me now? I must go before Maximus comes looking for me. He will try to punch me if he is mad enough.”

Douglass stood up next to him, craning her neck back to look at him because he was so tall. She forced a smile, the best one she could produce under the circumstances. All she really wanted was to roll into a ball and sob.

“I will save you from your brother,” she said, teasing. “But I know you must go now. Everyone is waiting for you. I will therefore say something simple by way of a farewell– I will tell you that I love you madly. You have become my heart, Tiberius de Shera, and you will always be my forever. Please remember that.”

Tiberius smiled, touching her soft cheek. “You will always be my forever, too,” he whispered, bending down to kiss her. “I love you very much. I will come back, I promise.”

“I believe you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if she did or not but he didn’t force the issue. He merely smiled again as he collected his saddlebags and sword. His shield and other weapons would already be loaded onto his horse by the squires. Throwing open the door with the intention of heading out, he was hit in the knees by squealing girls as Violet and Lily charged in, giggling and shouting at their favorite uncle. The dogs, Taranis and Henry, were right behind them and Tiberius was nearly knocked over as the girls and the dogs rushed into his chamber.

Douglass, laughing, stood out of the way as the children and animals created instant chaos. They were jumping on the bed now, demanding Tiberius join them and, after a moment’s indecision, he set his possessions down and lay across the bed so the girls could jump on him. They did, gleefully, pretending to conquer him. Tiberius dutifully pretended to weep. It was their usual game and he would take a few moments to play it with them. He had missed it.

“Violet!” Jeniver gasped, abruptly in the doorway. “Lily! Off of your uncle with you! He must leave!”

Tiberius lifted his head, putting a hand up to prevent Lily from kicking him in the face. “It is all right,” he assured his sister-in-law. As he pushed himself off the bed, the girls clung to him, and he found himself carrying them both to the open door. “One game before I leave will not change the fate of a nation.”

Jeniver smiled contritely. “They have been swarming by your closed door for an hour waiting for you to come out,” she said. “I am sorry if they disturbed you.”

Tiberius shook his head. “They did not,” he replied, kissing Lily on the cheek before he set her down but being thwarted from kissing Violet, as she did not like kisses. He simply put the girl to her feet. “But I really must leave now before Max comes looking for me.”

Jeniver nodded firmly, taking the little girls by their hands and pulling them out of the way as Tiberius collected his possessions once more and quit the room. He was almost to the end of the corridor when Courtly emerged from the bedchamber she shared with Maximus.

“There you are!” she said to Tiberius. “I can hear Max raging all the way up here. You’d better hurry!”

Tiberius waved her off as he took the stairs quickly. “I am hurrying,” he assured her. “Take care of my wife!”

“Godspeed, Ty!” Courtly called after him. “We will take great care of Douglass!”

He was gone, out of earshot, and Courtly and Jeniver instinctively turned to Douglass, who was standing in the chamber doorway. Douglass’ expression was taut with longing, with worry, but it was clear she was attempting to be brave. They were all trying to be brave, as all of their husbands were leaving this morning, heading into battle. That was all the women knew. No one knew the details. There was no reason to. All that mattered to them was that the men return safe.

Douglass forced a smile when she realized her two new sisters were watching her, each lady with a good deal of sympathy. Although Jeniver and Courtly knew her bravery was forced, they didn’t comment. They didn’t try to ask her of her feelings or force her to speak of them. They simply went into Jeniver and Gallus’ chamber, the one that faced out over the bailey, to watch their husbands depart. Once the men left the safety of Isenhall’s enclosure, the rest was up to God.

As Douglass watched the de Shera and de Montfort banners pass through the gatehouse in the pouring rain, she found herself praying harder than she had ever prayed in her life. Praying for the husband who had very quickly become her entire life.

Be safe, my love , she prayed. God grant you the strength and skill and luck to return to me.

Hopefully, God was listening.

*

Somewhere south of Erith Castle, Cumbria

Ten Days Later

That lad is Maximus’ son.

Tiberius couldn’t help but watch the very big youth as the lad rode a big, brown rouncey on the battle march north. Tiberius had only been informed about the boy the day they left Isenhall for Kenilworth and now, ten days into their march northward, Tiberius was still having difficulty accepting the fact that Maximus had a bastard. For years, the rumors of such things had always been about Tiberius, so for the grandson of a smithy to have been declared Maximus’ bastard was still something of a shock. Tiberius always imagined he would be the one meeting his bastard child someday, not Maximus.

Not strangely, however, he took to the awkward, young man right away and for the past several days, Cassius had been following Tiberius around and Tiberius had been imparting his knowledge on the boy. Tiberius had a wonderful way of communicating, a skill that was not lost on Cassius. Additionally, Cassius seemed very attached to Stefan, and the son of Maximus with the skip in his speech was finding acceptance among the greatest knights that England had to offer. For a young man who had known little acceptance or even friendship in his life because of his speech impediment, it was a wonderful, new world for him. Finally, he felt as if he belonged.

“Have you ever been this far north, Cassius?” Tiberius asked the lad.

Cassius shook his head. “N-Nay, m’lord,” he replied. “I-I have spent all of my t-time with my grandfather at Ogmore. We d-did not travel much at all.”

Tiberius slanted the boy a long look. “You do not have to address me formally,” he told him patiently. “Did I not tell you that before?”

Embarrassed, the boy shrugged. “I c-cannot help it,” he said. “I f-feel as if I must.”

Tiberius gave him a wry expression. “Every time you address me formally, I am going to throw something at you,” he said. “It may be a tiny pebble or it may be a giant rock. You will not know so the fear of not knowing will cause you to think twice before addressing me as ‘my lord’. Is that understood?”

Cassius laughed although he was trying not to, not entirely convinced that Tiberius was serious about the threat. “I will try,” he said. “P-Please do not throw rocks at me.”

“Then do not address me as ‘my lord’.”

“W-What should I call you?”

Tiberius puffed up proudly. “I am your Uncle Tiberius,” he said. “Does that not sound grand? Not many people can claim to have an Uncle Tiberius.”

Cassius nodded and chuckled. But he soon sobered up, his dark green gaze looking north. “A-Are we soon to reach our d-destination?”

Tiberius nodded. “Soon,” he said, looking around at the green, rolling hills of the north. The scenery at times was quite dramatic. “Possibly tomorrow. But if we happen to see any action before that time, I will tell you what I have told you before. You will go back with the provisions wagons and remain. I do not want you anywhere near any fighting. Is that clear.”

“A-Aye.”

“Good.”

Cassius felt rather scolded but he knew it was for a purpose. No one wanted to see him hurt and, since he had not yet mastered the skill of a sword, he understood. His gaze traveled to the front of the column they were riding in, to the multiple banners they were flying. It looked quite crowded, and quite impressive, up there. He pointed up to the front.

“Where is Hugh B-Bigod’s seat?” he asked.

Tiberius could see the blue and yellow Bigod banner up ahead. “He is from Norfolk.”

“A-And de Clare?”

“He is a marcher lord, so he stays to the Welsh borders.”

“These are very g-great men.”

“Indeed they are.”

“D-De Montfort has gathered a mighty army, then.”

Tiberius shrugged. “As great as he could gather at such short notice,” he replied. “We were lucky that Bigod and his men were still gathered at Kenilworth and we were able to join with de Clare as we marched north. It takes time to assemble a great army and since we are moving so quickly, there has not been much time.”

Cassius looked around him. “S-Sir S-Scott said that his f-father had returned home,” he said. “S-Stefan said that as well. Do you think their f-fathers will be joining us?”

Tiberius shrugged. “It is possible,” he said. “De Wolfe is much closer to Cumbria than du Bois is, so it is possible you will be able to experience battle with the mighty William de Wolfe. It would be something to tell your grandchildren.”

Cassius grinned at the impressive thought. Even he had heard the legends surrounding the Wolfe of the North, William de Wolfe. He looked over his shoulder at all of the infantry following them.

“H-How many men do you t-think there are?” he asked.

Tiberius looked around, too, at the variety of different factions gathered under the de Montfort battle march, all moving northward.

“I would say well over two thousand men,” he said. “Mayhap even more than that.”

That was a lot of men having gathered for de Montfort’s cause. “Are more c-coming?” Cassius asked.

Tiberius cocked his head thoughtfully, thinking on what he had heard from d’Vant– ten thousand French mercenaries . If that was really the case, then two thousand men would not stand much of a chance, but he didn’t voice his concerns.

“Mayhap they are,” he said steadily. “Word has gone out to most of the major barons so it is possible that more of them are moving for Erith as we speak. We will not know until they actually arrive.”

It was an overwhelming thought for a young man who had hardly seen such things. It seemed to him that all of England was moving and his father and uncles were right in the middle of it. Now, he was right in the middle of it. For a lad who had only been introduced to the knighthood recently, he was coming to think that he might indeed like to have it as his profession. As difficult as it was sparring with Stefan, and working from dawn until dusk with the de Wolfe brothers hanging over him, he still found it something worth doing. In spite of everything, he was coming to like it. He wanted to fight, too.

To the west, dark clouds were forming and as the de Montfort army traveled norward, they could hear the thunder rolling in the distance. A storm would soon be upon them. As most men were looking to the west, Cassius was looking to the east. He was seeing something dark as well, only it wasn’t clouds. It looked like a dark line on the horizon, on the crest of a distant hill. He stared at it awhile before pointing it out to Tiberius.

“L-Look over there,” he said. “W-What do you suppose that is?”

Tiberius looked to where the lad was pointing and it didn’t take him long to realize exactly what it was. He was suddenly furious that the scouts and sentries, men who were supposed to be on watch, hadn’t seen it sooner.

“Get back to the provisions wagon,” he told Cassius. “Go now and do not argue.”

Startled, and also fearful, Cassius did as he was told as Tiberius spurred Storm through the ranks of men, charging to the front of the column where the great barons were riding, including de Montfort and Prince Edward. Tiberius charged right up in front of them, nearly cutting off the entire group.

“Look!” he shouted, pointing.

All heads turned to the east, seeing the thin dark line that was moving, shifting, and undulating. Like a line of ants, the dark mass was moving and everyone who saw it knew what it was, just as Tiberius had. The cry began to go up and men began to move.

“We form lines here!” de Montfort bellowed. “Move the men off the road and form lines! Form them now!”

Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius were moving with the de Shera men, eight hundred of the best men England had ever seen. They had around two hundred archers with them, men skilled at the long bow, and then every infantry man was armed with a crossbow. The de Shera contingent usually went to the front of any fighting line and this battle line was no exception. As the storm rolled in from the west and big, fat droplets of rain began to fall, the de Montfort army positioned itself against an army of men approaching from the southeast.

“We are hours away from Erith Castle,” Gallus said to de Montfort as the two of them watched the incoming black tide of men take form. “If we take a stand now, then mayhap we can prevent them from reaching Erith altogether.”

Simon was watching the incoming army with great concern. “I have already sent messengers ahead to Erith announcing our arrival and telling my garrison commander, my son Richard, to be vigilant,” he said, agitated. “I want to know why none of our scouts returned to tell us that the army was coming at us from the southeast.”

Gallus adjusted the straps on his helm. “I want to know that as well,” he muttered. “The only reason I can think of is that they were spotted by Henry’s army and killed before they could reach us. That is the only explanation.”

As the two of them pondered that scenario, Hugh Bigod, a powerful blob of a man, rode up on his great, white charger. Gallus and Hugh had a good deal of history together, most of it bad. Months ago, before Gallus had married Jeniver, Hugh had wanted Gallus for his own daughter and Gallus’ marriage to Jeniver had caused a great rift between them. These days, the peace between them was very brittle but they were able to work together when necessary. As Hugh came to a halt, he looked directly at Gallus.

“Why was Henry’s army able to come up behind us?” he demanded. “Your men were scouting, were they not?”

Gallus’ eyes narrowed dangerously at the man as de Montfort spoke. “We were just discussing that issue,” he said steadily. “We believe that Henry might have killed them in order to prevent them from warning us. That is, in fact, the only explanation. Gallus’ scouts are beyond reproach. Go back to your men, Hugh. You are covering my left flank. I suggest you get back there.”

Rebuked and infuriated, Hugh slapped his visor down and charged back to where his men were gathering. He only had a few hundred with him, a far cry from the thousands he commanded. He’d sent word to his properties in Norfolk but reinforcements would take time, and time was something they did not have. Therefore, the barons that usually remained to the back of any battle, watching it rather than participating, now had to actively fight. This included Bigod.

As Hugh rode away in a huff, Tiberius took his place. The knight had his crossbow in hand, something he usually did at the commencement of a battle. He would join the infantry in launching arrows at the opposing infantry.

“The men are positioned, Gallus,” he told his brother, struggling to contain his excited horse. “We will await your signal.”

Gallus lifted a hand, indicating he understood him, and Tiberius thundered off to resume his post, which was traditionally directly behind the archers. As Tiberius assumed his position, he kept one eye on the incoming army and the other eye on Maximus, who would generally deliver the command to release the arrows. Now that everyone was in position, it was time to fight and the anticipation grew.

In tense silence they waited, watching the army in the distance as it grew steadily closer. They were flying standards but as the clouds gathered and the rain began to fall more steadily, it was difficult to see the colors. In fact, de Montfort’s army began to notice that the incoming army was no longer advancing. They were forming loose blocks but certainly nothing that seemed threatening. It was confusing. Tiberius broke ranks and made his way over to Maximus.

“They are slowing down,” he said to his brother. “In fact, it looks to me that they have stopped altogether. Moreover, that does not look to me like ten thousand men. Does it look like that to you?”

Maximus was fixed on the enemy in the distance, wiping the rain out of his eyes so he could see more clearly. “It does not,” he said. “It looks like a few thousand men at the very most. But why have they stopped?”

Tiberius shook his head. “That is a very good question,” he said. “Mayhap we should take advantage of it and rush them while we can. Catch them off-guard, as it were. Mayhap if we can break them and scatter them, we can make our way to Erith and reinforce her ranks before they regroup and charge.”

Maximus nodded. “It sounds like a reasonable idea,” he said. “I will relay it to de Montfort. If he wishes to charge, I will give you the signal. Resume your post and wait for me.”

Tiberius returned to his position, struggling with his frenzied horse, who sensed the approaching battle. The truth was that he was excited, too. Excited to charge into battle and excited to scatter Henry’s gathered forces. He was both relieved and confused to realize it wasn’t the ten thousand men d’Vant had spoken of. He wanted to scatter this army, to crush it, and to send them back where they came from. It was what Tiberius was born to do, something he’d done a dozens of times in his service as a knight, and the rush of battle was something he fed off of. Therefore he waited, impatiently, for Maximus to give the signal.

The thunder rolled and the rain began to pound in earnest as the red standards that de Montfort used to signal an attack were raised. The red standards indicated the infantry and knights while the yellow standards indicated the archers. The yellow standards weren’t raised at all, leading Tiberius to believed that they were to keep the archers out of it and conserve their arrows for possible use at Erith when, and if, they moved on to the castle. As the lightning flashed, the red standards were waved, and the rush of horses and infantry began in earnest as they charged towards the distant army.

Tiberius was at the head of the charge. He was leading hundreds of men, setting an example for them, and the crossbow was secured to his saddle in favor of his sword. With his weapon in hand and shield slung over his left knee, he drew closer and closer to the opposing army who, so far, was simply standing there. They weren’t moving at all. But that didn’t matter to Tiberius. He plunged into their lines, swinging his sword, cutting down a standard bearer and trampling on the standard.

He realized too late that it was a de Winter standard.