Chapter Fourteen
The evening meal was an hour or so away.
Tiberius could tell because the servants were busily working in the hall, sweeping away old and rotted food, stoking the hearth, and chasing the dogs away who would simply regroup and return to the room.
Pitchers of wine were being placed on the table, heavy pewter pitchers that were indicative of the de Winter wealth.
Moreover, there were pewter chalices as well and not wooden cups.
The de Winter wealth was much like the de Shera wealth in that they made sure to display it at important events to important people.
With wealth came strength and these were two of the strongest houses in England.
But Tiberius wasn’t thinking much about strength or pewter chalices.
He was thinking about Douglass. He’d been thinking about her all afternoon and more seriously since she gave him her pledge that she would indeed run away with him to be married provided he speak with Bose one last time to try and obtain the man’s consent.
Even though Tiberius had spent a good amount of time with de Moray earlier that afternoon, it had been with Grayson and Davyss in their company also and he didn’t want to have that particular conversation with an audience.
When he spoke to Bose about marriage, one last time, it would be man to man and knight to knight.
He had to convince de Moray that he was a suitable candidate because d’Vant, unfortunately, was a very fine candidate indeed. It was Tiberius’ worst nightmare.
As Tiberius strolled across the bailey, just having come from the stables to ensure his charger was fed and didn’t bite someone’s hand off in the process, he looked around the darkening bailey of Wintercroft, up to the walls where the sentries were.
There was a walk platform that extended from the gatehouse but it didn’t go all the way around the walls.
It only went part way. The complex had four towers, not including the gatehouse, and the towers functioned as their own fortified battlements.
Men patrolled out from these towers, meeting in the middle somewhere along the walls, before patrolling back the other way.
It was excellent coverage for walls that weren’t built with the ability to mount them all the way around.
There was, however, a postern gate, built into the thick of the wall back by the kitchen yard.
Tiberius had walked by it earlier in the afternoon to see how easy it would be to escape through it.
It was heavily fortified, and guarded, but it would be a simple thing for Douglass to walk from it as long as the guards either let her pass or, better still, were distracted and she was allowed to slip through.
He would have to think of a way to distract them so Douglass could escape while he himself passed through the gatehouse under the guise of returning home.
He would then pick up Douglass and make haste for London and for a priest to marry them.
Much like Douglass, he was reluctant to ruin the relationship between the House of de Shera and the House of de Moray, but he was resigned by this time.
He had to do what was best for him and for Douglass. He was determined to have no regrets.
But the fact remained that he had promised Douglass he would approach de Moray one more time about a marriage contract so on this evening, as the torches were being lit on the walls against the darkness, he made his way from the stable yard to the house, hoping to find de Moray alone so he could speak with the man.
As he entered the house, he asked the nearest servant where de Moray was and the servant pointed up the stairs.
It was a big, wide, spiral staircase that led to the upper floor.
A long corridor ran nearly the length of the building and there were three doorways off of it that he could see in the darkness, all three of them arched in the Norman design fashion with heavy, oak doors.
Not entirely sure which room he would find de Moray in, Tiberius went to the first door and lifted his hand to rap softly but before he could lay his knuckles against the wood, he heard voices coming from inside.
It was Davyss and the man sounded quite serious.
Tiberius wasn’t sure who he was talking to but he didn’t want to interrupt.
Laying his head against the wood, he could hear voices but not words.
He could make out at least three voices, possibly four.
They seemed to be speaking quite agitatedly at one another.
Perhaps they were even speaking of him and his desire to marry Douglass, since it was a subject they all seemed to be quite willing to give their opinions on.
If they were speaking of him and Douglass, then he wanted to know what was being said.
Concerned, Tiberius noted that the door next to this one, down the hall, was slightly ajar.
Curiosity drove him down to that door where he could hear much better because, evidently, that room was connected to the one Davyss was in.
Voices were much clearer. Carefully, he leaned into the door to see if he could hear what was being said.
Davyss had stopped speaking but another voice he suspected to be d’Vant was now spilling his worth, speaking passionately on a subject he believed in.
“… and that is why Henry sent me,” d’Vant was saying.
“Henry understands that the House of de Winter and the House of de Montfort are close. He told me to tell you that, Sir Grayson. He told me to tell you that he is very sorry that he must give this command, but it is essential to his strategy. Henry has made the decision not to honor the provisions given to him by de Montfort and his followers back in May. He is the king and his rule is absolutely without the interference of de Montfort and men like the de Shera brothers or Hugh Bigod or Richard de Clare. He is therefore amassing a massive army to march northward and confiscate Erith Castle, one of de Montfort’s most prized holdings.
Once Erith is secure, he will move northward and continue securing the north, but Erith Castle is essential for that plan.
It is well situated and well supplied. The king has asked that the House of de Winter and the House of de Moray summon their allies and move north, converging in the village of Ingleton, whereupon Henry will join his armies and march on Erith. ”
Davyss looked at his father, exasperation on his face. “I have no problem meeting de Montfort on the battlefield, but taking one of his properties is another matter,” he said. “How would we feel if de Montfort came to Wintercroft and laid siege?”
Grayson had listened to d’Vant’s message from Henry with growing distress.
When young d’Vant said he had come bearing information from the king, he suspected it might be something like this.
Tensions had been growing all summer since the Oxford council meeting back in May when men selected by de Montfort and men selected by Henry had met.
De Montfort’s council had made demands of Henry and had levied provisions against him, provisions Henry had sworn to follow.
Now, the king was no longer willing to fulfill what he considered an affront to his absolute rule.
Grayson knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. He sighed heavily.
“Henry is well aware that Simon de Montfort is my closest and oldest friend,” he muttered, looking to Tallis. “He knows that Simon is Davyss’ godfather. Regardless of that fact, Henry is asking me to march on the man’s castle. I want to be clear about this.”
Tallis nodded. “He is asking for your support, my lord,” he said. “The king has chosen to take the offensive with ten thousand French mercenaries and yeomen behind him. They are coming to England’s shores as we speak.”
Davyss rolled his eyes and hung his head. “French mercenaries,” he grumbled. “The King of England must rely on his Poitevin and Savoyard supporters to bring French mercenaries to England so he can fight against his own English barons. Am I the only one that sees anything wrong with this?”
Bose, standing over near the door, cleared his throat softly.
“He is the king,” he said quietly. “He can do as he wishes, for this is his country and it is his right to rule it as he sees fit. Even if you do not respect the man, young Davyss, respect his position in life. It is a great burden that I am sure no one in this room should like to bear in his stead.”
Next to his father, Garran, who they all knew to be a de Montfort supporter, was shaking his head with great remorse.
“But he is allowing the French to take over,” Garran said.
He could keep silent no longer. “Father, you know I support you, as my presence here proves, but do not spout off divine rule as being Henry’s right.
He is obligated to protect England from the French that want it, and by bringing in French mercenaries…
God’s Bones, do you know what they’ll do?
They’ll descend upon the countryside like locusts, raping and burning and pillaging…
and we are supposed to let them because we support Henry’s right to divine rule? That is madness.”
Bose looked at his son. “We are English,” he said frankly. “We will not allow them to ravage our country. We will watch them and we will police them if necessary. Did you truly think I would stand by and watch Frenchman tear up my country? A country meant for my children and grandchildren?”
Garran simply shook his head and turned away. He was sickened by this news and he was truly starting to question his decision to support his father. Although he would not go back on his word, he was clearly unhappy with what was happening.