Chapter Nineteen #2
Grayson’s gaze fell upon the big de Shera knight and his features seemed to relax a bit.
“I am glad you are here,” he muttered. Then he groaned a bit, shifting, as if something greatly pained him.
“I took a mercenary sword to the back. The wound itself was not terribly bad but a day later, my chest began to hurt terribly. Now, I can hardly draw a breath and it feels as if my entire chest is in a vise. I have had pains in my chest since I was a young man but never like this. This time, it is different and I fear I shall not survive long. I asked de Moray to find you and that is why we are here. I would not let him leave me behind with the rest of the wounded because this is too important. We are here to support de Montfort in the hopes he can give England back to the English but we are also here because I need to speak with all of you. Particularly, I need to speak with you, Maximus.”
Maximus’ brow furrowed. “Why?” he asked. “What may I do for you? Whatever it is, I shall do it.”
Grayson reached out a hand to Maximus and the man took it, holding it tightly. “You can listen to me,” Grayson said, his words soft and nearly slurred. “All I ask is that you listen.”
Maximus nodded, glancing at Davyss as he did. The eldest de Winter son was pale with sorrow. Davyss idolized his father and was undoubtedly crushed by what had happened. When he met Maximus’ gaze, the man could feel the impact of sorrow. He had to look away or be caught up in it.
“I am listening,” Maximus said softly.
Grayson tried to draw in a deep breath but it was nearly impossible. He ended up coughing and causing himself tremendous pain. When the coughing spasms died down, he spoke in raspy tones.
“You are aware that your father, Antoninus, and I were the best of friends,” he said.
“We grew up together and we fostered together. Antoninus met your mother, Honey, at a banquet. I was at the same banquet but I did not meet her until hours later and by that time, she was already smitten with your father. Unfortunately, I was smitten with her.”
Maximus glanced at Gallus. They both knew this story. They had heard it before. They had discovered right after Honey’s death that Grayson had always been in love with the woman. He’d said as much. This information was nothing new and they did not want him to distress himself.
“We know,” Maximus said, squeezing Grayson’s hand. “It does not matter to us. You are still Uncle Grayson, a treasured member of our family.”
Grayson looked at Maximus, his old eyes glimmering dully.
“Mayhap that his true,” he murmured. “But there is something more you should know, something only your mother and I knew. Maximus, your father was a good man. The best. But, much like Tiberius, he had a wandering eye. In his younger years, there were rumors about him and other women, rumors that your mother chose to ignore. I do not believe she ever told you that about Antoninus. She wanted his sons to view him with the worship of a son. She did not want to taint your view of him with the humiliation of a wife. I am sorry to tell you this, but the rumors of him were true. I saw evidence of it with my own eyes.”
Maximus glanced at Gallus again before looking over his shoulder at Tiberius to see what their reactions were and, as he had suspected, they had none. He returned his attention to Grayson.
“I will not dispute you if you say it is true,” he said, “but I fail to see why you are telling us this now. Our father has been dead for nearly ten years.”
Grayson nodded faintly, closing his eyes because his chest hurt terribly and talking made it worse.
But he had to finish what he was about to say.
If he died, then the truth died with him.
He did not want that to happen. It was selfish of him and he knew it, but he had to speak.
The truth had to be known to those it would affect.
“Right after Gallus was born, your father fancied a woman from London, the daughter of a wealthy merchant,” he muttered.
“Although he loved Honey a great deal and was very proud of his first son, he could not resist this woman’s charms. He swore that she would be the last mistress in a long line of them, but as time passed and he spent more time in London, Honey became quite distressed about it, enough so that she wrote to her father.
Christopher de Lohr, as you know, is not a warlord one would want as an enemy.
Christopher told Honey that he would go to London and settle the situation with Antoninus once and for all and while he was in London, I went to Isenhall to comfort Honey.
I will admit that it was purely for my own selfish reasons.
I was also quite bitter that Antoninus had married the woman I loved yet he treated her very poorly.
Your mother was distraught and I comforted her.
I also seduced her. She was weak and I took advantage of it.
I bedded her and I am not sorry I did it, not in the least. I loved her, Maximus. I loved her very much.”
By this time, Maximus was looking at the man with a mixture of loathing and shock. He was still holding Grayson’s hand and he dropped it, struggling not to become enraged.
“Why do you tell us this?” he demanded. “Is it a death bed confession you give? Do you seek our absolution for your sins against our mother? I will tell you now that I will not forgive you for that, not in the least.”
Gallus wasn’t in control of himself much more than Maximus was but he put his hands on his brother to settle the man down.
Maximus tended to get violent when angered and now was not the time.
Gallus, too, was looking at Grayson with a good deal of shock and loathing, but he also sensed there was something more to this.
He didn’t imagine the man was telling them simply to clear his conscience.
There was something more to this confession and that suspicion had him on edge.
“Quiet, Max,” he hissed, settling his brother down. He returned his attention to Grayson. “Why are you telling us this, Grayson? What is your purpose?”
Grayson could see that Gallus and Maximus were outraged by what they’d been told.
Behind them, Tiberius simply hung his head and it was difficult to see what his reaction was other than deep sorrow.
Saddened to burden these men he loved with such knowledge but spurred onward by an innate need to spill the truth, Grayson continued.
“Hate me if you will,” he said. “I do not blame you. But my purpose in telling you is this. Maximus, you were born nine months after I bedded your mother. Although she is not sure I am your father because she and Antoninus reconciled shortly after my time with her, she long suspected that you are a de Winter and not a de Shera. Look around you, boy. Look at Davyss and Hugh. See how you favor them? Gallus and Tiberius are fair whilst you are darker and meatier. You also carry the supreme de Winter trait of a temper. Davyss has it, as does Hugh. It is entirely possible that you are my son, Maximus, and I wanted you to know that. Before I die, I had to tell you that I have loved you since the moment you were born as my son. Antoninus loved you as his own and he never knew what had happened between Honey and me. You were a de Shera in his eyes and he was proud of you as such, but I was proud of you for another reason. I believe you are my first born son, Maximus. I am sorry to tell you this now, but I must. I pray you do not hate me overly for it.”
Maximus rocked back onto his heels as if he’d been struck.
His mouth popped open and he slapped a hand over it as if to keep the scream that was rising in his throat from bursting forth.
He was utterly overcome with emotion; shock, dismay, disbelief, sorrow, and grief.
Everything he could possibly feel was raining down over him and he bolted up, rushing blindly from the tent before anyone could stop him.
Maximus staggered out into the storm but he didn’t get far.
Gallus and Tiberius were behind him, grabbing hold of him, preventing him from running off.
Maximus tried to pull away from them but he was unable to.
He hadn’t the strength. The shock running through his veins had sapped all of his energy.
He could only stand there and hang his head and quiver.
“Max, listen to me,” Gallus said urgently. “He is not sure it is the truth. Even if it is the truth and you are his son, it does not matter. Do you hear? It does not matter in the least!”
Maximus was nearly in tears. “It does matter,” he bellowed.
“Did you hear him? I am not a de Shera. I am a de Winter. God, so many things make sense now. I never looked like either of you. I never acted like either of you. It never occurred to me that there was a reason behind the fact that I am different from you and Tiberius. I am and you know it.”
Gallus shook him, gently, but Tiberius pushed Gallus out of the way and grabbed hold of his middle brother.
There was so much grief swirling around them, grief mixed up with the wind and the storm, and they were all trying to make sense out of it.
Too much had happened on this night, too much to process.
But they were trying. God help them, they were trying.