Chapter Four
The great hall of Isenhall Castle was in full swing this night, with food and wine flowing freely, a massive fire in the pit in the center of the hall, and three minstrels in the corner of the room trying desperately to be heard over the noise of the diners.
Tonight, the great Bose de Moray was an honored guest and the House of de Shera would show him all due respect.
Tiberius sat at the feasting table with his brothers, their wives, Scott and Troy de Wolfe, Garran and Bose, and finally Douglass.
There had been a good deal of eating, drinking, and storytelling going on and, fortunately for Tiberius, Bose hadn’t brought up anything about Douglass and Tiberius’ flight from Coventry nor had he mentioned the kiss to his daughter’s hand from a man she was not betrothed to.
Bose was a man of great wisdom with a calm, even manner, but he also had a legendary temper that was common knowledge.
It took a great deal to push him into anger but when he reached that state, the results were often deadly.
Therefore, Tiberius’ focus had been on his brothers and the knights. He ignored Douglass completely, who was sitting next to her father. He didn’t want to look at her and see Bose by default. He was still afraid of incurring the man’s wrath so he spent his time speaking happily with his brothers.
Course by course of food passed before them, expertly prepared by the de Shera cook who had been helped in her skills by Maximus’ wife, Courtly, who had learned the art of cooking from her patroness, Lady d’Umfraville of Prudhoe Castle.
There was pork in a thick sauce of coriander and caraway, stewed pigeons, cabbage and turnip pottage, and a variety of breads.
There was even a sweet gingerbread with raisins and nuts for Violet and Lily, who sat with their father and step-mother, happily gorging themselves.
There was also a variety of red and pale wines, and even an apple cider that had quite a bite to it.
Tiberius had started in on the cider almost as soon as it appeared.
He was nervous with de Moray in the room and upset that he couldn’t give his full attention to Douglass, as he had wanted to.
Therefore, he hit the cider fairly hard and ate very little, mostly distracted with talk of the last major battle the de Sheras had been a part of at Warborough back in May.
Since then, there had been a few smaller skirmishes but nothing of note.
Since Bose and Garran were at the table, men who were sworn to Henry, politics and loyalties never came up.
No one would discuss them out of respect for the friendship they had that superseded loyalties to kings and rebels. It was a fine balancing act, however.
As the evening wore on and the conversation grew louder, Tiberius was fairly drunk.
He ended up sitting on the table itself while he told a rather exciting story about a battle when he had been newly knighted, one of the few times he had actually fought alongside his father.
The battle had been some skirmish along the Welsh border, but Tiberius had a great twist for every part in the story, mostly making himself out to be a demi-god in battle.
As his brothers shook their heads in amused doubt and the knights laughed uproariously at Tiberius’ antics, Bose spoke from across the table.
“And it is this same Thunder Knight who rescued my daughter from de Montfort’s men today,” he said, his unmistakable bass-toned voice filling the table. “Douglass said you threw her out of a window, Tiberius. Is this true?”
Drunk, without his usual control, Tiberius looked to de Moray in a mixture of fear and defiance.
“I had to in order to get her out of the chamber,” he said frankly.
“There were at least six men at the door, including Lincoln de Beckett, and I had to remove her from the room any way I could. I eased her down in a coverlet sling although I should have tossed her out on her head. Do you know she attacked me when I first entered the chamber? She nearly knocked me senseless. Then, what would have become of her? She would have become fodder for de Beckett and his men. She is lucky I saved her at all!”
The table had quieted down dramatically by that point, listening to Tiberius all but scold de Moray and his daughter. It was clear how drunk and emotional he was. Gallus, quickly seeing that the situation could turn very bad indeed, cleared his throat softly.
“I am sure it was not that bad, Ty,” he said, reaching out to grasp his brother’s arm. “I believe Lord de Moray is thanking you for rushing to her aid.”
Tiberius yanked his arm out of his brother’s grip, disgusted.
“She knocked me right across the back of the head,” he said, shifting on the table and sending Scott de Wolfe’s trencher into the man’s lap.
“I told her who I was but she would not believe me. I was wearing a de Shera tunic, for Christ’s sake.
Who did she think I was? Who else but a de Shera would have risked his neck to save such an ungrateful wench? ”
Gallus cast a sidelong glance at Maximus, who took the hint and immediately stood up. “Come along, Ty,” Maximus said to his brother, reaching out to grasp the man by both arms and pulling him off the table. “You have had a trying day. I think you need to retire.”
Tiberius struggled against his brother but Scott stood up and helped Maximus pull the man off the tabletop.
“I will not be chased away like a naughty child,” Tiberius said, unhappy.
Then, he turned back to Bose and the wide-eyed Douglass with drunken flare and pointed at the lady.
“Look at her. Look at that beautiful woman. She is simply beautiful. Beautiful, beautiful. And already you have a husband selected for her? Why not give someone else the opportunity to offer for the woman? I saved her! She should be offered to me as a reward for risking my life to save her!”
Maximus threw his big arm around his brother and began pulling him away from the table. “Shut up,” he hissed. “You are making an ass of yourself.”
Tiberius frowned at his brother. “But she belongs to me,” he said, slurring his words as he thumped his own chest. “I saved her. She belongs to me. I want her, do you hear? Tell de Moray to give her to me.”
Stoically, Maximus didn’t reply as he pulled his very drunk brother away from the table, leaving those left behind appearing rather awkward, especially in light of Tiberius’ last few words. As Maximus and Scott escorted Tiberius from the hall, Gallus turned to de Moray.
“I do apologize, my lord,” he said. “Tiberius is a passionate man and drink sometimes brings out more passion in him than he can control.”
De Moray took a drink of the fine, red wine. “He is young and brilliant and brave,” he replied. “I am most fortunate that he was the one to rescue my daughter.”
Seated next to her father, Douglass was both mortified and thrilled by Tiberius’ words. Was it possible that he actually meant them? Or was it the drink talking? She couldn’t dare to hope that it was the truth.
“I did strike him, Papa,” she said, putting her hand on Bose’s arm. “I thought he was one of de Montfort’s men.”
Bose looked down his shoulder at his lovely daughter, his heart, his love.
“He is,” he replied quietly. “Did you not know that the House of de Shera serves de Montfort? Tiberius fought off one of his own men to take you to safety. He is a man loyal to friendship and family over all. Is that not correct, Lord Gallus?”
Gallus nodded faintly, thinking the situation, overall, was much more complex than that. “Aye,” he replied simply. “It is. The House of de Moray and the House of de Shera may have different loyalties at this time, but ultimately, our loyalties are to each other over all.”
Bose eyed Gallus. “Is that how you are going to explain this situation to de Montfort?”
Gallus cocked a thoughtful eyebrow. “The man is the godfather of Davyss de Winter,” he muttered.
“Davyss serves the king. If de Montfort was given a choice between Henry or Davyss, he would choose Davyss every time. The man, therefore, understands the complexities of loyalty. Blood and bond are often stronger than king and crown.”
Douglass was listening carefully to what the men were speaking of, loyalties and crown and the blurred lines of fealty. It was all quite confusing. “I do not understand,” she whispered to her father. “If they are loyal to de Montfort, why did you ask them for help?”
Bose patted her soft hand. “Because they would give it,” he said simply. “Do not trouble yourself over the loyalties of the House of de Shera. As we have said, friendship and blood sometimes supersede fealty to the king or de Montfort.”
Douglass digested the statement, still baffled but trusting her father’s judgment.
Moreover, the de Shera brothers had already proven that they were loyal to the House of de Moray by their actions of the day.
Was it possible, then, that her father might consider a betrothal between her and Tiberius even if the de Shera brothers were siding with de Montfort?
But only if Tiberius truly meant what he said, of course.
People often said things they did not mean when they’d had too much to drink.
It was a perplexing situation, indeed, but one that she felt some excitement with.
Having the tall, handsome Tiberius de Shera as a husband did not distress her in the least. But she said nothing; at least, not at the moment.
Later in private, she would broach the subject with her father.