Chapter Eight
CHAPTER EIGHT
G arran de Moray had accompanied Lady de Shera on her shopping trip into Oxford but she had quickly become exhausted, and ill, so he’d quickly returned her to the inn where they had been staying. He hoped Gallus was already returned from his meeting with de Montfort but the man was not yet back by the time they returned, so Lady de Shera went up to her rented bedchamber to lay down for a while as the knights settled down in the main room to eat the nooning meal.
No one seemed to find it odd that Tiberius wasn’t there. He’d been banned from accompanying either of his brothers on their various plans that morning, so the last anyone saw of him, he had been in his bedchamber on the second floor, mending a piece of armor that had pulled loose. Garran, who was close to Tiberius, as well as to Maximus, didn’t give his absence much thought as he delved into a meal of boiled mutton, carrots, beans, and vast quantities of bread. They were halfway through their meal when Tiberius made an appearance.
Entering the inn from the main door, Tiberius kicked the roving dogs out of the way as he made his way deeper into the room that smelled of smoke, dirt, and unwashed bodies. When he saw the de Shera knights hunched over a table, sharing a meal, he headed in their direction. More specifically, he headed for Garran.
“De Moray,” he said, sounding surprisingly serious. “How long have you been here?”
Garran had a mouth full of carrots. “Not long,” he said. “Lady de Shera was not feeling well so she wanted to rest. Maximus is still on the Street of the Merchant’s with de Lara’s daughter and we plan to collect them shortly and then return the lady to her father so it looks as if they have not been alone all afternoon. Quite a plan, is it not?”
He was grinning, as was Stefan. Only the two of them had gone with Maximus and Jeniver, as the de Wolfe brothers had gone with Gallus. But Tiberius wasn’t interested in what Maximus was or was not doing. He was preoccupied with something else. He leaned down to Garran.
“I must speak with you,” he said, his voice low. “Come with me.”
Garran swallowed the carrots in his mouth as he stood up, pausing only to down a swallow of wine to wash the vegetables down. He proceeded to follow Tiberius until they were near the entrance to the inn. There was no one around there. Only then did Tiberius stop and turn to him.
“After you left this morning, you received a visitor,” he said quietly. “Your father is in town. Did you know this?”
Garran’s eyes widened. “I did not,” he said, immediately fearing the worst. “What is wrong? Where is he?”
Tiberius held up a hand to quiet him. “He came specifically to find you,” he said. “Evidently, he arrived in town yesterday and began asking for the de Shera party. He was able to find someone who had seen us and he was directed to this inn. Garran, I know your father is a supporter of the king. We have never truly discussed it with you because your father’s loyalty is his own business and your loyalty is to us and, consequently, de Montfort. But your father needs to speak with you now and I will take you to him.”
Garran was trying not to panic. “Is he well?”
“He is well.”
“And my mother– is she well?”
“He did not speak of her so I can only assume so.”
Garran felt some relief at that but not much. There was a sense of urgency in the air, something he did not understand. In fact, the entire situation was puzzling and Tiberius’ words were only making it worse. Still, he was on the move, as he’d been asked. Already, he was returning to the table to collect his possessions before riding out with Tiberius. As he moved, Tiberius followed.
“Have you just come from him?” Garran asked Tiberius. “Where is he staying?”
Tiberius shoved another dog out of the way when it came too close. Dogs tended to flock to him for some reason. “He is towards the south side of town at an inn called The Bruised Thistle,” he replied. “When he first came to The One-Eyed Raven, we spoke here for some time before moving to his hostel. We have actually been speaking quite a bit.”
Garran eyed Tiberius curiously as he collected his sword. “What about?”
Tiberius simply shook his head, unwilling to elaborate with the other knights and a few soldiers eating around the table. He waited until he and Garran were outside in the bright sunshine and heading for the livery before speaking.
“Your father mostly spoke of the old days,” he finally said. “He knew my mother as a young woman, you know. He never courted Honey but he knew her. He also knows Davyss and Grayson de Winter, which I’m sure you already know. The de Winters are close friends of the de Sheras and have always championed the king, much as your father does.”
Garran already knew all of this. “None of this tells me why he has come to Oxford to seek me,” he said. “He has traveled all the way from Dorset, which took him weeks at the very least. Did he come alone?”
Tiberius nodded. “He had four men-at-arms with him,” he replied. They entered the livery, sending a pair of servant boys running for their horses. As they paused to wait for the animals to be brought out, Tiberius spoke again. “Garran, from the conversation your father and I had, it seems to me as if he has come to Oxford before heading on to London. You know that the king has summoned the council he intends to represent his interests in de Montfort’s parliament. Although your father did not tell me directly, it is my suspicion that your father intends to sit upon the king’s council.”
Garran’s brow furrowed as he looked at Tiberius. “What makes you think so?”
Tiberius shrugged. “Simply the way he was speaking about the king and his advisors,” he said. “He mentioned bringing balance to London. Mayhap that is what he intends to tell you, that he is sitting on the king’s council. That means he will be sitting opposite Gallus and Maximus and me. We will be on opposite sides.”
Garran thought on the greater implications of that. He loved his father dearly but he did not like the king nor supported the man’s ideals. He was much more supportive of the government that de Montfort was trying to establish. Still, he loved his father in spite of his politics. And there was a reason why Bose de Moray was so supportive of the king. After a moment, he sighed heavily.
“My father is an old and wise man,” he said. “He is the most rational and unselfish supporter the king has.”
“I know. God would be on our side if de Moray would pledge allegiance to de Montfort.”
Garran shook his head, as if such a thing would never happen. “There is a very good reason why he supports the king so stringently,” he said. “But his reason is not my reason. I do not support Henry and probably never will.”
Tiberius was listening carefully. “What is the reason?” he asked. “Will you tell me?”
Garran nodded faintly. “When my father first met my mother, he wanted very much to marry her but my grandfather would not have it,” he said, his voice softening as he spoke of his beloved father. “In fact, my grandfather somehow managed to cast my father in a very negative light and he was actually slated for execution. The only thing that saved him was King Henry and ever since then, my father has unwaveringly supported him. The man saved his life and he would never side against him.”
Tiberius registered mild surprise. “I never knew that.”
Garran shrugged his big shoulders, glancing at the horses as they were brought out to be saddled. “As you said, we have never spoken of my father’s allegiance to the king, but that is why the man is so supportive of him,” he said. “My father was Captain of the King’s Guard in his younger years, when Henry was also quite young. They became friends and they share a special bond, even to this day.”
Tiberius didn’t have much to say to that, although the elder de Moray’s loyalty to the king now made much more sense. He fell silent as the horses were saddled and then moved to help the stable boys secure his gear to his saddle. He and Garran left the livery and headed south, towards the inn where Bose de Moray was staying. There wasn’t much chatter between them as they moved through the city streets, some crowded and some not, until they reached the southern tip of the town.
This portion of the town was seedier, dirtier, with several brothels and bath houses posing as brothels. Crime was rampant. Tiberius and Garran pulled their horses to a halt in front of The Bruised Thistle, a very big building of waddle and daub amongst small and run-down wooden structures. There were several young boys standing around and Tiberius paid two of the boys well to have them tend the horses. Taking their saddlebags with them, the knights proceeded into the inn.
The common room of the tavern was, literally, a big pit in the floor. And it was very crowded, mostly with people drinking or gambling or fornicating in the shadows. As the knights passed through the room, women approached them, offering to service their needs for a few pences. Tiberius ignored them, as did Garran, and they headed to an old, unsteady staircase that led to the second floor of the structure.
It was quieter up here but smelled badly of urine, from men relieving themselves against walls and in corners, with no one bothering to clean it up. Tiberius headed for the last door on the left, rapping softly when they reached it. He was preparing to rap again when the door jerked open and a mountain of a man stood in the doorway. Garran barely had time to recognize his father before the man was pulling him into his enormous embrace.
“My son,” Bose de Moray breathed. “You cannot know how pleased I am to see you.”
Garran hugged his father tightly. “Papa,” he said with satisfaction. “It has been a long time.”
Bose let his son go long enough to cup his face between his two big hands, gazing into features that looked very much like his own.
“Garran,” he murmured. “Are you well, my son?”
Garran nodded, smiling at his father. The man didn’t change much from year to year. With black hair and black eyes and the big scar on his left cheek, Bose de Moray was a legendary knight who had dominated the tournament circuit for many years. Now, he lived a quieter life, but he was still dangerous and formidable when the occasion called for it.
“Well, Papa,” he said. “I am well. And you? Have you been well? And how is Mother?”
Bose kissed his boy on the cheek and dropped his hands. “Your mother is very well,” he said. “She sends her love. I have been well also.”
Bose was moving back into his room and Garran and Tiberius followed. As Tiberius closed the chamber door and bolted it, Garran spoke.
“I am very glad to hear that,” he said. “What a surprise to find you in Oxford, Papa. Why are you here?”
Garran had been given several minutes to think on his father’s unexpected appearance on the ride over from The One-Eyed Raven so he would not waste any time getting to the point. Bose didn’t reply right away. He sank into a stiff chair positioned next to the hearth and held out his hands to the blaze, warming them.
“Many reasons, my son,” he said. Then, he glanced at Tiberius. “I had a long and pleasant conversation with Tiberius. Did he not tell you?”
Garran nodded. “He said you came to The One-Eyed Raven looking for me,” he replied. “He did not say why. What is the matter, Papa? What makes you hunt me down in Oxford?”
Bose scratched his head, looking at Garran as the man sat down on the floor next to him. In the tight and cramped room, there was nowhere else to sit. Bose reached out a big, calloused hand and patted his son’s cheek.
“Many reasons,” he repeated softly. “I had heard that de Montfort was convening in Oxford and assumed you would be with the de Shera brothers. I am pleased to see that I was correct.”
Garran nodded. He couldn’t help notice that his father, so far, had not directly answered any of his questions. “Aye, you were,” he said. “But why do you need to speak with me?”
Bose glanced over at Tiberius, who was sitting on the small cot in the room. “My lord,” he said. “Would you mind giving me a few moments alone with my son? If it would not be too much trouble?”
Tiberius was already on his feet, moving for the chamber door. “Of course not,” he said. “I will be right outside should you need me.”
Bose watched the tall, dark-haired de Shera brother as the man opened the door. “Thank you,” he said.
Tiberius quit the room, shutting the old, oak panel softly behind him. When he was gone and they were alone, Garran returned his attention to his father.
“Why did you ask him to leave?” he asked quietly. “Papa, what is happening? Why do you need to speak with me alone?”
Bose gazed down at his son, his only son. He and his wife, Lady Summer, had four children. Garran was the eldest and the man had three younger sisters. It had been very hard for Bose to allow Garran to leave his home and swear fealty to the House of de Shera, but Bose understood that Garran was his own man and needed to do what he felt best. Now, as he gazed down into his son’s eyes, he began to feel very possessive of him. He wanted him back.
“Henry is convening a council in London next week,” he said quietly. “Surely you know of all of this, Garran. Your lords were instrumental in nearly wresting the country from Henry. The man was only able to save himself by agreeing to share power with de Montfort and the barons. I do not think it was right of the barons to do this. The king is the monarch and his rule should be absolute, not shared with a group of power-hungry barons. That is all this is, Garran; a grab for power.”
Garran pondered his father’s words. He knew the man was passionate about supporting Henry but he didn’t particularly want to get into an argument with him about it. They had differing philosophies.
“Is that why you came, Papa?” he asked softly. “To scold me for siding with the de Sheras?”
Bose shook his head. “Nay, my son,” he said. “I did not come to scold you. I have come for a reason more powerful than that. I have come to tell you that I will be sitting upon Henry’s council. The king has asked this of me and I have agreed. That being said, I have now come to ask you where your true loyalties lie. Do they lie with your family or with the House of de Shera?”
The gentle expression faded from Garran’s expression. “What do you mean?”
Bose lifted his black eyebrows. “Exactly that,” he said. “You know that I have tried to stay out of whatever was happening between Henry and de Montfort. I do not like power struggles but I also do not like to see a gang of sword-heavy barons threaten the king.”
“We are not threatening him.”
“Then what do you call it?” Bose wanted to know. “Your beloved de Shera brothers are inciting another Anarchy, just like the one that nearly destroyed this country when Stephen and Matilda were fighting, and if the de Sheras are fighting against Henry, that means you are fighting against Henry. If Henry pulls me into this war, which he has done, then it means you are fighting against me. Will you raise your sword against me, son?”
Garran looked horrified. “Of course not.”
Bose could see how upset Garran was becoming. He put his hand on the man’s cheek again to both comfort and calm him.
“I am afraid it will come to that,” he admitted. “Henry has asked for my sword and I have sworn to give it.”
Garran’s horror was growing. “No offense intended, but you are an old man, Papa,” he said. “You do not need to be fighting the king’s wars.”
“Yet, I am,” Bose countered quietly. “He has asked and I have agreed. Now, I have come to tell you this personally. I have also come to ask you to side with your family and return with me to London. If you do not, then at some point, you and I will face each other in battle. I do not want this, Garran. It will surely kill me.”
Garran’s onyx-colored eyes were filled with sorrow. He could hardly believe what he was hearing, yet upon reflection, he wasn’t surprised in the least. He was only surprised with the fact that it had taken his father this long to ask for his loyalty. Family or de Shera. Those were his choices. He was a man torn. With great effort, he stood up and moved away from the hearth, lost in thought.
“I do not agree with the king’s politics, Papa,” he finally said. “How can I side with a man I do not agree with?”
Bose watched his son carefully, the movements of a distraught man. “You are siding with me, ” he insisted quietly. “I must support the king. You will support me and the de Moray name.”
Garran shook his head. “It is not that easy and you know it,” he insisted. “I believe in what de Montfort is doing.”
“Enough to side against your own father?”
Garran sighed heavily, putting his hands to his face in a gesture of utter confusion and defeat. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was his father gazing back at him, with hope in his eyes, and he couldn’t stomach that look. He knew what he had to do, yet he also knew what he wanted to do, and they were two different things. Greatly torn, and greatly grieved, he went to his father and put his arms around the man’s shoulders.
“Papa,” he whispered. “I would not raise a sword against you, but you must give me time to think about this. What you ask… it would be the greatest decision of my life.”
Bose patted the arms that were around him. “I know,” he said. “It is not an easy choice, but you must decide what is more important to you– your family or your convictions. As much as I would convince you to come with me, ultimately, you must make the decision that is right for you. I understand that.”
Garran lay his cheek on the top of his father’s head. “And if I choose to remain with the de Shera brothers? What then? Will you disown me?”
Bose squeezed Garran’s arm. “I will not,” he confessed. “But my heart would be broken. Imagine if you were in my position, Garran. Would you not want for your son to be at your side in all things? That is what I want– I want my son back. I want you supporting me and supporting your family. I do not believe that is too much to ask.”
Garran thought on the words. Nay, it was not too much to ask, but it was a decision that would change Garran’s life one way or the other. All he knew was that he could not lift his sword in battle against his father, yet he could not support a king he did not like. With a sigh, he kissed his father’s head and let him go.
“I must think on it,” he said, moving away from the older man. “I cannot give you an answer right away. I must think on what you have said and reason it out in my own mind.”
Bose watched his son as the man sat heavily on the small cot. “I am leaving Oxford tomorrow morning,” he said quietly. “I would like you to leave with me, so do not wait too long to give me your answer.”
Garran felt dull inside, dull and torn. His mind was in turmoil as he glanced up at his father. “Why so soon?” he said. “You can make it to London in plenty of time if you wait a day or two to leave Oxford.”
Bose shook his head. “I am meeting up with Grayson de Winter and his sons,” he replied. “You know Grayson and Davyss and Hugh, of course.”
“I do.”
“Grayson has asked that I join with them in two days just outside of London. I have agreed.”
It was more stunning news. The de Winters were the muscle for the crown, much as the de Sheras were the muscle for de Montfort. Now, Garran’s father was going to be part of the king’s muscle, too. Garran simply shook his head, astonished.
“You know that Grayson and Davyss are very close to the de Sheras,” he said. “Grayson de Winter is Gallus’ godfather and Davyss is Gallus’ best friend. And now you join them?”
Bose nodded faintly. “I do,” he said. “My son, as I said before, you do not have to agree with Henry’s philosophies. I am not even sure I do. But the crown must be kept intact from these men who are attempting to destroy it. To destroy Henry will destroy England. Is that what you want? More anarchy and a fractured country?”
Garran wasn’t sure what he wanted. It was too much information, too much to think about, and his mind was reeling. He lifted his hands, shaking his head as if to ward off what his father was telling him.
“You must give me time to think,” he begged softly. “Can we not put this aside for a few hours and share a meal? I would like to hear of my mother and sisters. I miss them. Can we not speak on more pleasant things, at least for the next few hours?”
Bose relented, mostly because he didn’t want to force Garran into making a quick decision that they would both regret. He had said all he wanted to say and there was nothing more he could do. Garran would either side with him or he wouldn’t. So he nodded, smiling weakly.
“This place has terrible food and even worse company,” he said. “We should go somewhere with better food and less whores.”
Garran burst out chuckling. “Why did you pick this place to stay, anyway?” he wanted to know. “This is the worst tavern in the city.”
Bose shrugged. “I was tired when we arrived in town and this was available,” he said. “But if I receive another proposition by a woman who wants to kiss me where I pee, then I will collect all of my possessions and flee the city entirely. But please do not ever tell your mother I stayed here. She would then kick me where I pee and I should be a very sad man.”
Garran was laughing so hard that he could barely breathe. His father was usually such a stately, austere man that to hear him speak so crudely, and so humorously, was one of the best things he had ever experienced. He put his hands to his face as he howled with laughter.
“You are becoming very funny in your old age, Papa,” he snorted, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Very well, then. We shall find a better place to eat with less whores. I do not want Mother to go on a rampage against you. Shall we invite Tiberius to go with us?”
Bose was standing up, laboriously, as his old muscles tended to tighten up on him. “Of course,” he replied. “I rather like young Tiberius. He is a wise and witty man.”
Garran sobered as he helped his father gain his cloak. “Aye, he is,” he replied, thinking on the de Shera brothers, men he was very attached to. “He is a good friend.”
They were heading for the door when Bose stopped, putting a hand on Garran’s arm. His expression was sincere in its sorrow and resolve.
“Please know that I am sorry I had to come to Oxford with all of this,” he said quietly. “I would not have come had I not felt strongly about it.”
Garran gazed into the face of the man he loved very, very much. “I know,” he muttered. “But let us not speak on it, at least for the afternoon. I want to become reacquainted with my papa again without the threat of war hanging over our heads.”
“Agreed.”
With that, Garran and Bose headed out into the corridor, finding Tiberius standing over near the old staircase. Tiberius went along with the de Morays as they went in search of a better place to feast, having no idea what had transpired between father in son. It was better that way. Had he known, he would have been just as unhappy as Garran was.
This was a situation that no one could win.