Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T iberius was able to remove his sword in time to ward off d’Vant’s blow, but the pure power behind it sent him reeling.

Douglass screamed in fright, throwing herself out of the way as Tallis nearly bowled over Tiberius. But the de Shera brother was as skilled as he was powerful. As he stumbled away from Tallis, he brought his sword up from the floor in an upwards sweeping motion, immediately catching d’Vant, who was bearing down on top of him, in the midsection. Clad in mail with a heavily padded linen tunic beneath, it wasn’t enough to prevent Tiberius’ sword from gashing him quite significantly from the top of his right thigh to the middle of his chest. As quickly as that, the first blood was spilled.

To his credit, Tallis did nothing more but quickly reverse his momentum, preventing Tiberius from cutting him up to the neck. As it was, his mail coat was damaged and blood was already seeping from the snags in the mail. It had happened so quickly that it was over and bleeding before he even felt the sting of the wound. But it didn’t stop him. Tallis put up his sword as Tiberius, much taller than he was, came down on top of him, all sword and elbows and feet. Tallis found himself kicked in the gut and thrown to the floor.

As Bose, Grayson, Garran, and Davyss watched with horror and great concern, Tiberius went on the offensive. Tallis was already down, and already bleeding, but Tiberius didn’t hold back. He kicked the man when he was down, picking up a chair and smashing it on his head as he tried to rise. Tallis, realizing he was already at a terrible disadvantage, ducked under the feasting table to stop the onslaught. Tiberius’ feet were there in big, leather boots so he lashed out his sword, catching Tiberius in the shin and cutting through the leather. Tiberius grunted with pain but the agony fueled him. He upended the feasting table to get at Tallis.

It was an incredible show of strength as the enormous table rocked onto its side. Tallis, however, was already at the other end of the table, leaping to his feet. Tiberius charged after him, his sword glinting wickedly in the weak firelight, and clashing against Tallis’ raised weapon. Now, the sword fight began in earnest as the two powerful knights went at each other, thrusting and parrying, each trying to outfight the other. The sounds had awoken the entire manse and even Hugh de Winter, who had been on duty out in the bailey, came rushing in to see what all of the noise was about. He could only stand in the entryway alongside his father and brother, mouth agape at the fight he was witnessing. It was truly something to behold.

Douglass, on the other end of the room, standing on a heavy table that was meant to hold big sides of beef or a side of pork, shrieked and gasped as Tiberius and Tallis battled to the death. It was clear that Tiberius was the more skilled of the two but Tallis was not to be discounted in the least. He was clever and, very quickly, learned to use Tiberius’ height against him. Tiberius had a long arm range but he was rather blind down around his knees, so at one point, Tallis lashed out a big boot and caught Tiberius in the kneecap. As the big knight went down to one knee, Tallis tried to decapitate him.

But Tiberius was too fast and too skilled for that maneuver. He ducked low, rolled onto the ground, and came up with a slice that would have cut Tallis in two had the man been any slower at defending himself. On and on the fight went, over tables, breaking chairs, as Bose tried to get Douglass off the table and over with him. She refused, going so far as to throw something at her father when he tried to move towards her. Bose received a small, wooden cup on the forehead for his trouble. He glowered at his daughter.

It wasn’t that Douglass was trying to be difficult. It was the fact that if her father got a hold of her, she was afraid he would carry her away and she would never see Tiberius again. She would never see the end of this horrible and bloody fight. She was terrified that Tiberius was going to be killed but, on the other hand, it was quite a sight to watch the man fight. He was skilled, powerful, and clever, and it all seemed to look quite effortless to him. But the fact remained that Tallis was an excellent fighter as well, so the battle going on was truly a nasty one.

It grew worse when Tallis made a thrust at Tiberius and lost his balance. Tiberius grabbed the man by the throat and, with the hilt of his sword, smashed him across the face. Blood spurted but Tallis didn’t go down. He managed to get a knee into Tiberius’ gut. It turned into a fist fight from that point on even though they were still holding swords. Now, it was turning deeply bloody and brutal as Tiberius and Tallis tried to beat each other into a pulp.

The slugs and kicks grew very heavy. The men shuffled in Douglass’ direction as she saw Tallis land a particularly heavy blow on Tiberius’ jaw. Tiberius stumbled, brought up an elbow, and planted it in Tallis’ neck. Tallis fell back, into the table Douglass was standing on, and she shrieked in fright. But she also saw an opportunity. Hanging on the wall near her right hand was a heavy, iron bar, one used to manipulate large sides of beef. Collecting the bar, she smashed it over the top of Tallis’ head. The man fell like a stone, unconscious.

Breathing heavily and splattered with blood, Tiberius kicked Tallis before he realized the man was out cold. When d’Vant didn’t fight back or try to rise, Tiberius bent over him, noting that, indeed, the man had been knocked unconscious. Looking rather baffled, he peered up at Douglass.

“You knocked him silly,” he said, pointing. “Why did you do that?”

Douglass still had the iron rod in her hand. Tiberius’ question had her nearly screaming in frustration. “Are you mad?” she bellowed. “I did it to save your life!”

Tiberius grinned at her, his lips swollen and bleeding and an eye already showing signs of a bruise. “Although I thank you for your gallantry, I did not need saving,” he said. “I was preparing to deal the man a death blow.”

Douglass rolled her eyes and climbed off the table but she didn’t drop the iron rod. She held it with both hands as she faced off against her father and Grayson, who were starting to come into the room to see if d’Vant was even still alive. Douglass made sure to stay well away from the men.

“Papa,” she said as Bose bent over d’Vant. “Tiberius must go home to Isenhall and I am going with him. He has already had to fight d’Vant this day but I swear I will fight each and every one of you if I have to. You will not prevent us from leaving. Is that clear?”

Bose straight up and faced his daughter. He could see how edgy and frightened she was, while Tiberius appeared very calm. Still, there was a great deal of tension in the air because of Tiberius’ uncertain future within the walls of Wintercroft. The man still knew something he shouldn’t, something important to Henry’s cause. The fight with d’Vant didn’t erase that fact.

“I am willing to let Tiberius flee,” Bose said quietly. “I always have been willing. But you are another matter.”

Both Tiberius and Douglass looked at Bose in various stages of shock. “Is this true?” Douglass gasped, eyes wide. Her gaze moved back and forth between Tiberius and Bose. “You… you are willing to release him from his oath to you and let him go home?”

Bose moved away from d’Vant as Grayson and Davyss looked the man over to make sure there was not something more seriously wrong with him. As the de Winter men rolled d’Vant onto his back, Bose focused on his daughter.

“His oath was never really mine,” he said quietly. “I knew that from the start. He only came with me to be close to you and I knew if I did not permit him to do so, that he would follow me and create more of a problem. It was better to have him with me than to constantly be looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to steal you away.”

Tiberius was no longer grinning. “You have my oath, my lord,” he said seriously. “That has not changed. But I must go and tell my brothers what I know.”

Bose looked at him. “And then what?” he asked. “Will you return to fight with me against your brothers? I think not. Go home, Tiberius. Go home where you belong. Tell Gallus and Maximus what you have heard this day so that they are prepared for it. Your brother told me about Edward’s turn against his father so this is the least I can do.”

Douglass would not be left out. “But what about me?” she asked. “Papa, I love him. There, I’ve said it. I love the man and I want to be his wife. I want to go with him to Isenhall. Will you please let me go?”

Bose looked at his daughter, really looked at her. There was a great deal rolling through his mind, not the least of which was the unconscious knight on the floor and the potential marriage he had discussed with the man. But that was all for naught. He knew it. He always had.

“I think I lost you the moment you met Tiberius in Coventry,” he said pensively. “From that moment on, your focus has been on him. I knew it from the start but I thought it would pass. I thought if you knew all of the terrible things about him that you would push the man aside. But I can see that I was wrong because he is truly not a bad man. Tiberius may have his faults, but we all do. He is a fine, noble knight. I do not suppose I could keep you from him even if I wanted to. See how my attempt to give you a choice of suitors has failed?”

Douglass felt sorry for him. “You did not fail, Papa,” she insisted softly. “It was because of you that I met Tiberius. To me, that is a great victory. May I go with him… please ?”

Bose smiled ironically. As if I have a choice . He then looked at Tiberius, who was looking quite beaten at the moment. He looked the man up and down, studying him. “Are you well enough to ride tonight?” he asked.

Tiberius nodded. “I am.”

Bose lifted his eyebrows at the finality of that statement. If Tiberius thought he was to be permitted to ride back to Isenhall, he would have done it with two broken legs. He would have crawled if he had to.

“I believe you,” Bose said with a twinge of humor at the knight’s determination. Then, he hesitated. “If I try to keep Douglass here, she will be miserable. But if I let her go with you, I will be miserable. What shall I do?”

Tiberius took the question seriously. “I swear to you that I will show her only chivalry and kindness on our journey to Isenhall,” he said. “When we reach home, I will turn her over to my brothers’ wives for safekeeping. I swear to you upon my oath that I shall not molest her in any way until we are properly wed. This I will do because it is not as Grayson said. I did not swear fealty to you because I wanted to bed your daughter. I swore fealty to you because I love her. Let me have her and I swear that you shall not be sorry.”

Bose could hear the sincerity in his voice. “I have always known you and the Lords of Thunder to be honorable men,” he said quietly. “I do not expect this should be any different. Take her, then, and go swiftly. I suppose she really does belong to you, de Shera. On that first night at Isenhall when you became drunk and said that I should give her to you because you saved her, I suppose you were right all along. There was a magic to the moment you took her from Coventry, something that bonded the two of you. Now, I will give her to you. You have proven to me that you deserve her.”

Tiberius looked at Douglass, who was looking at him with tears in her eyes. There was so much joy and relief in his heart that he could hardly think straight. All he knew was that he had been given permission to marry her. He had been given her. Sword still in his hand, he made his way over to her and pulled her into a crushing embrace with only one arm. It was the best, most satisfying thing he could think to do. Finally, the youngest de Shera brother, the rake with a reputation, had earned something only a true man earned– the love of a good woman. He’d never felt more like a man than at this very moment. He had his love now and he would never let her go.

“Go,” Bose hissed at them. “Before d’Vant wakes up.”

Douglass wiped the tears from her eyes as she turned to her father. Releasing Tiberius, she went to Bose and collapsed in his powerful embrace.

“Thank you, Papa,” she whispered. “For everything, thank you.”

Bose hugged his eldest daughter tightly, fighting back tears. He knew she would be happy with Tiberius but it was very difficult to let her go. “Your mother and I will come to Isenhall when time permits,” he assured her. Then, he pulled back, cupping her lovely face between his two big hands. “Be happy, my sweet. That is the greatest gift you can give me.”

The tears were back as Douglass nodded, biting back a sob as she hugged Bose one last time and kissed his cheek. She then moved to Garran, standing next to their father, and hugged him, too. Embarrassed at the display of affection, Garran hugged his sister tightly before pushing her away.

“Hurry up,” he said gruffly, covering for his emotions. “Get out of here. Hurry before d’Vant wakes up and runs after you.”

Douglass wiped the tears from her cheeks. “But what will you tell him?”

“That Tiberius escaped and took you with him,” Bose said. When Douglass and Tiberius looked at him with some surprise, he simply shrugged. “What would you have me tell him? That a woman knocked him unconscious and I rewarded her with Tiberius because she won the battle? He would never live that down.”

Tiberius grinned. “I could live with that.”

Bose waved him off, fighting off a grin as he looked at d’Vant. The man was starting to stir. “Hurry now,” he waved his hand at Douglass and Tiberius again. “Get out of here.”

Douglass flew at her father one last time, kissing him on the cheek and handing him the iron rod that was still in her grasp. As Tiberius and Douglass said their farewells to Grayson and Davyss before fleeing the hall, d’Vant began to lift his head. Bose took the iron rod that Douglass had given him and smacked the man on the head again, sending him out cold. When Grayson and Davyss looked at him in surprise, he simply lifted his big shoulders.

“They need time to get away,” he said. “Meanwhile, let us eat and drink. D’Vant will come around shortly and he can join us.”

Grayson looked at the young knight sprawled across the floor. “I have a feeling joining us will be the last thing on his mind.”

Bose knew that. God’s Bones, he knew that. But he tried not to think about it. Letting Douglass go with Tiberius complicated the issue greatly, not the least of which was the fact that his daughter would marry a de Shera. For those who saw the black and white of Henry against Simon, that would be a problem.

Dark times were to come, indeed.

*

Traveling at night was never the best option but, in Tiberius and Douglass’ case, they had little choice.

Before collecting Storm from the stables at Wintercroft, Tiberius had allowed his future bride a few stolen moments to collect what she could of her possessions, things that would be easy to carry for the rough ride ahead. Douglass collected two gowns, a shift, toiletries and combs, and tossed a heavy cloak over her shoulders. With her possessions wrapped up in a green woolen surcoat, she and Tiberius had fled for the stables.

The big, gray warhorse was happy to see Tiberius, as he was usually quite restless when housed in unfamiliar stables. Tiberius pulled the giddy, nipping horse from his stall and had the groom quickly saddle him, and soon they were riding from Wintercroft’s gates. Quickly, very quickly, they moved down the road that took them into thickets of forests where moonbeams pierced the darkness, streaming to the ground like fingers of silver.

The horse had an easy traveling gait, one that was quite comfortable, so Douglass tucked in behind Tiberius and held on tightly as they cantered down the road. Even though there was a bright half-moon in the sky, the landscape surrounding them was still very dark, full of phantoms. Douglass didn’t like the darkness so she squeezed her eyes shut, laying her cheek against Tiberius’ broad back as they thundered down the road.

The traveling became monotonous very quickly. Once the fear of d’Vant following them died away, the apprehension for their undertaking took hold followed shortly by the tedium of the trip. There were a great many emotions Douglass was feeling as the big, gray horse charged down the road. She wasn’t entirely sure what Tiberius was feeling, but she was most definitely feeling a slurry of emotions. Surprise, fear, realization, and above all, the hope that they make it safely to Isenhall. It was still a few days away and a great deal could happen in a few days.

But Douglass kept her mouth shut, holding tightly to Tiberius as the man directed his horse south. At some point, Douglass must have fallen asleep with the rhythmic rocking of the horse because when next she realized it, she was inhaling the stench of smoke and human habitation. She wrinkled up her nose, lifting it from Tiberius’ back as she became aware that she had smelled that stench before when they had traveled on the outskirts of London. They were back in the mix of one of the greatest cities in the world and she looked around, seeing dark and vacant streets.

“Will we stop for the night or do you intend to ride all night?” she asked Tiberius as he slowed the horse to an easy trot.

Tiberius shook his head. He was riding in full armor, a state that was both an invitation and a deterrent to those would see a knight, alone in his travels. Some men would try their hand at defeating a fully armed knight while some would turn tail and run.

“We will stop,” he said. “We will go to the Carmelite Monastery in White Friars for the night. They will marry us and give us shelter. After that, I hope you can stand riding hard for Isenhall because that is what I intend to do.”

Douglass was rather surprised by his intentions. “We will be married tonight ?”

He directed the horse off to the right when they came upon a fork in the road. “Indeed,” he said. “Did you truly think I would wait any longer than necessary?”

A smile crossed Douglass’ lips. “I had not thought on it, to be honest,” she said. “I assumed we would at some point very soon, after you have had a chance to deal with the crisis.”

“What crisis?”

“The crisis you are going to tell your brothers about, of course.”

He shrugged. “That is secondary to our marriage,” he said. “But I will say that I am impressed that you have not pressed me to tell you what it is.”

She didn’t seem distressed about it. “I assume if you want me to know, you will tell me.”

He smiled faintly. “That is wise,” he said softly. “You are wise, my lady, so very wise. And I am so very fortunate. That is why I must find a priest at this very moment to marry us, so that I may once and for all claim all of that wisdom and beauty for my very own… so that I may claim you for my very own.”

Douglass thought on the implication of marriage and all of those things it would make her part of and privilege to. Certainly, she would support Tiberius, as his wife, and keep their home if they ever had one of their own. He had a small castle but she had no idea if he’d ever lived there.

“I am pleased that you are being sensible,” she said after a moment. “Pleased that I do not have to go through the next several days trying to discourage you from molesting me before marriage, as you promised my father you would not.”

Tiberius snorted. “Why do you think we are finding a priest tonight?” he said. “My willpower will only hold out so long. It is best not to tempt fate.”

Douglass giggled. “So it is all about molesting me,” she said. “And I thought you were a chivalrous man.”

“I am,” he insisted. “Chivalrous enough that I will keep my promise to your father. But in order to do it, I must marry you quickly.”

Douglass simply grinned. “He was a young man, once,” she said. “I am sure he remembers those days of unbridled passion. He is still very affectionate with my mother, although he tries to keep his actions discreet. The truth is that he cannot. It is obvious in everything about them that they adore one another.”

Tiberius smiled when he thought of Bose de Moray being frisky with his wife. “I will confess,” he said, “that I intend to follow your father’s lead. I intend to be quite affectionate with my lovely wife, forever.”

Douglass’ cheeks grew warm, even under the moonlight. The thought of Tiberius touching her as only a husband should made her heart race with apprehension and excitement. She could hardly believe that after all of the struggles and denials that they were finally about to be married. It seemed surreal. But thoughts of the marriage also brought about thoughts of children, as she would now bear Tiberius’, producing a proud de Shera son who would have a mix of de Moray and de Shera bloodlines. What a mighty son he would be, indeed.

“Tell me,” she said softly. “Now that I am to marry you, I must ask, for my own sake. Is it true what my brother said about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“That your behavior towards women has been less than… chivalrous.”

Tiberius thought on the question a moment. It was one of those questions that he suspected had no easy answer. “Would it change your mind about me if it were true?”

“Nay,” Douglass said without hesitation. “The Tiberius de Shera I have known has always been very kind and polite. Never have you displayed anything lascivious towards me. But I have come to understand that restraint with a woman is not common behavior with you.”

Tiberius pondered his answer. He wanted to marry the woman so badly that he could taste it and he didn’t want to chase her away with terrible tales of his past exploits. It would crush him. The only time he had ever regretted his lustful ways was when he had met Douglass. Now, he was coming to regret his behavior a great deal. She deserved far better.

“Garran was not wrong,” he finally said. “I have paid more attention to women than I should have, but I am young and unattached… or, at least I was. But everything changed the moment I met you, Douglass. You make me want to be a better man.”

Douglass smiled with appreciation, at both his sweet words and honest answer. “Do you really have a bastard?”

“I do not honestly know,” he said. “I have heard rumor of one but I have never seen proof.”

“Then some day we may see a de Shera offspring showing up at our doorstep?”

“It is possible,” he replied, cringing inside. “I will apologize in advance for the shame you will suffer. Please know I would never intentionally do anything to embarrass you.”

Douglass knew that he was quite regretful. She could hear it in his voice. “It does not affect me because it happened before I met you,” she said. “Whatever you did before I met you is your affair, Ty, but what you do after our marriage is my affair, indeed. But I will say this, you will not have to worry about my father and brother if you shame me after our marriage. You will have to worry about me, and I am far more formidable than they could ever hope to be. Do I make myself clear?”

Tiberius started to laugh but he fought it, mostly because he remembered the woman who had nearly brained him with a piece of wood when he was trying to save her from de Montfort’s assassins. He knew she was brave and fearless, a woman to be most proud of. He believed her implicitly.

“You do, my lady,” he said sincerely. “I seem to remember you swearing upon me great bodily harm once before in the solar at Isenhall should infidelity tarnish our marriage. I believed your threats then as I believe them now, but not as threats. As a promise. I can only swear that I shall not fail you.”

“See that you do not,” she said firmly, although she was grinning. He couldn’t see because she was behind him, yet she could feel his body heaving as he laughed at her. “You would be a very unhappy man.”

“I have no doubt.”

Douglass’ grip on him tightened, a silent gesture indicating that she believed him. She felt more settled now that the mention of Tiberius’ past had been brought into the light. Now, there was truth between them. As the darkened surroundings passed by them, she spoke again.

“Speaking of sons, bastard or otherwise,” she said, “you and your brothers have great Roman names. Are we expected to name our son after a dead Roman, too?”

Tiberius laughed, happy that the subject of his lustful past has been pushed aside. He was eager to speak on other things. “Absolutely,” he said. “Do you not know the story behind the de Shera name?”

“Nay.”

“Then I shall tell you,” he said, spurring his horse into an easy canter to make better time. “My family descends from a lost Roman legion that was stationed at Chester. Family legend states that we descend from the House of Shericus, an ancient and noble Roman family. When my ancestor came with his legion many centuries ago, the name was shortened to Shera. My father remembers his grandfather speaking of the days before the conquest when our family was still known as Shera. It was the Normans who changed it to de Shera, or ‘of Shera’, in order to make it more fitting with their own customs and surnames. Having an ancestor who sought to work with the Normans rather than oppose them, he agreed to the change and the House of de Shera was born.”

Douglass was listening with interest. “Then it is true,” she said, feigning resignation. “All of our sons really must be named after dead Romans.”

“I am afraid so.”

She sighed, pretending to be disappointed about it, but the truth was that she thought it was all rather prestigious. “Do you already have these dead Roman names we must use?”

Tiberius shrugged. “I’ve not thought much about it, truthfully,” he said. “But legend says that the original de Shera was named Magnus Flavius Shericus and I often thought I would like to name a son Magnus unless my brothers have sons before I do.”

“Lady de Shera is with child,” Douglass pointed out. “Mayhap the earl will name his son Magnus.”

Tiberius shook his head. “His son’s name is already Bhrodi, after Jeniver’s grandfather,” he said. “Jeniver is the hereditary princess of Anglesey, you know. She has almost a greater family lineage than we do. She wants her son to bear a Welsh name and Gallus agreed.”

“That is gracious of him.”

Tiberius tried to turn around and look at her but his helm made that difficult. “I will tell you a secret.”

“What?”

“If you wanted to name our son something else, I would agree, too. I would not want you to be unhappy.”

Touched, Douglass grinned and laid her head on his back in a sweet gesture. “I like Magnus,” she said. “May I name all of our children, then?”

Tiberius was relishing the feel of her against his back, her warmth against his. “That depends,” he said. “If they are foolish names, you may not.”

“It is all a matter of taste.”

“Let us hope we have the same taste.”

Douglass laughed softly but fell silent after that, watching the bulk of the city pass to the south of her. The walls of London were tall this night, illuminated by the half-moon in the dark sky above, and they were on a slightly raised angle so that they could see the moon glimmering on the waters of the Thames in the distance. It was a very clear night with few clouds in the sky, as the day had been warm and breezy. Now, the night was cool and gentle. As they crested a hill on the road and the river came into full view, Douglass could see ships along the shore of the river, moored deep. Thoughts of ships brought back thoughts of Tallis and his cog.

“Have you ever sailed anywhere, Ty?” she asked softly.

Tiberius shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “I have been to France, of course, and took a ship across the sea to reach her, but I’ve not been on a long voyage. I did not like being caged up on a ship with miles of sea all around me.”

Douglass imagined what a trip on a boat might be like. “I should like to go to Rome someday,” she said. “The city has always fascinated me. When I saw Lady de Winter’s artwork at Wintercroft, it reminded me of Rome and of the wonderful sights I have heard of.”

Tiberius’ eyes narrowed. He could see their destination in the distance, nestled along the old, city wall. He could just see the tops of the roofline and he directed the horse down a smaller road, heading for the distant cluster of buildings.

“If it is your wish to visit, then we shall go,” he told her, encouraging the horse to go faster. “But we must wait until this madness with Henry has at least settled down. It would do no good to leave and then be summoned home weeks later.”

Douglass was forced to agree. She didn’t want to be traveling with her husband only to turn back because the wars in England were surging again. She did not have to remind herself that she was marrying one of the greatest warlords of all, someone whom Simon de Montfort depended upon. She knew very well that a knight was married to his vocation more than his wife, although her father had been an exception to that rule. He would have chosen his wife, Lady Summer, many times over any conflicts that had to do with the king. Douglass wondered if she and Tiberius would ever reach that point, where he would easily choose her over any conflict. She wondered if, from a Lord of Thunder, such a thing was even possible.

Lost to her thoughts, the remaining travel until they reached the monastery in the White Friars area of London passed quickly. The next thing she realized, Tiberius was drawing his steed to a halt in front of a square, block-like building that was rather oddly shaped. It had more than four walls, it seemed, and a thatched roof. Tiberius pulled the horse to the side door and secured the animal, knowing that the beast had a bad enough temper that no one would be able to get close to it to steal his belongings. He dismounted and reached up to pull Douglass off as well, setting her carefully to her feet. Holding Douglass with one hand, he pounded on the door.

It took several more knocks before a small window in the door slid open and a pair of eyes appeared.

“Who comes?” a thin voice demanded.

Tiberius didn’t hesitate. “I am Tiberius de Shera, Lord Lockhurst,” he said. “My brother is the Earl of Coventry. My lady and I wish to be married and I shall pay handsomely for the service. Will you admit us?”

The eyes in the door peered at Douglass, who frowned because the man seemed to be studying her longer than he should have. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. He was making her vastly uncomfortable.

“Stop staring at me as if you have never seen a woman before,” she said, disturbed. “Open the door and summon your superior. We wish to be married.”

The eyes in the door blinked rapidly and the little door panel slid shut. Tiberius looked at Douglass and shrugged. “I have no idea if they will open the door,” he muttered, looking at their surroundings, formulating a back-up plan. “If they do not, then we shall move on until we find a church that will marry us this night.”

Douglass held his hand tightly, looking around because he was. “It seems very foreboding here,” she said. “Where are we, exactly?”

Tiberius looked east, to the massive wall that encompassed most of the city. “We are on the west side of London,” he said. “Westminster is south of us, along the river. That big wall to the east is the ancient wall, one meant to protect the entire city from invaders. Some say the Romans built it. Mayhap my ancestors even built it.”

Douglass was looking at the big, dark wall with interest. “I would not be surprised,” she said. “The men of the House of de Shera seem to be quite accomplished.”

Tiberius was looking at her, digesting her delicate profile as she studied the city wall. “Have I told you recently how fortunate I am?” he asked softly.

Douglass looked up at him, a smile on her face. “You have, but you may tell me again.”

“I feel like the most fortunate man in all of England right now,” he confessed. “Never did I imagine that you would be with me this night. I thought… I truly thought that I would have to bide my time in order to take you away with me.”

Douglass’ smile faded and she reached up, gently touching his swollen lip, injured in his fight with d’Vant. “But you wanted to run away tonight,” she reminded him. “Did you think we would not be able to?”

He shook his head, an uncertain gesture. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “I was making plans, of course, but I had to go through five very fine knights in order to see my plan through. I truly thought I was going to have to fight your father or, at the very least, Garran.”

Douglass was watching his expression, sensing his distress. “Would you have really fought them?”

He sighed faintly. “I would have,” he said. “You are worth that and more to me. But I do not believe injuring your father or brother in my attempt to abduct you would have started our relationship off very well. We would always have that shadow over us.”

Sensing his depression and perhaps confusion, Douglass leaned against him, wrapping her arms around his tight torso. Tiberius put his arms around her, holding her close and savoring her warmth, when the door next to them suddenly jerked open. Standing in the darkened doorway was a priest in brown robes. The man was smoothing at his thin, brown hair.

“What ’tis thee wish?” he asked.

He had a very strange accent. Tiberius peered at the little man. “We wish to be married,” he said. “I will pay for the service.”

The little man frowned. “Who are you?”

Tiberius had enough of questions. He wanted to marry Douglass so that even if d’Vant was pursuing them, he couldn’t legally take Douglass away. Tiberius didn’t want to leave anything to chance but the more time this was taking, the more frustrated he was becoming. Reaching out a big, long arm, he shoved the door back and pushed his way into the church.

“My name is Tiberius de Shera and my brother is the Earl of Coventry,” he repeated. “I am a premier knight for Simon de Montfort and unless you want de Montfort, Bigod, and the de Shera brothers down around your ears, I suggest you do as I ask. Bring a priest now to marry the lady and me.”

The church was so dark inside that Douglass literally had a hand out in front of her to prevent her from banging into any walls. It smelled very strongly of burnt fat and smoke, odd smells from the Carmelite order of priests who burned such things. She had a good hold on Tiberius, who was following the priest, so she essentially clung to him in the darkness as they made their way to a large, circular-shaped sanctuary.

There was a small bank of pasty-white, tallow candles burning, dripping fat onto the floor, and this room was better lit. Douglass could see much more; the uneven dirt floor, the pillars that held up the ceiling, and the rather ornate ceiling itself. The altar, conversely, was without adornment other than a red, silk covering over the wooden altar itself, and there were acolytes, young boys, scurrying around. As Douglass watched, the priest who had brought them into the room issued commands to the boys and they fled. Once the acolytes vanished, the priest turned to them.

“Now,” he said, looking mostly at Douglass. “Who gives permission for this woman to be wed? I do not see her father present.”

“My father is dead,” Douglass said quickly, realizing they would have a very big problem if her living father did not personally give his consent. “My parents are both dead. I was fostering at Codnor Castle and have pledged my troth to Lord Lockhurst. Will you marry us, please?”

The priest’s gaze lingered on her a moment before fixing on Tiberius. “Your intentions are honorable, my lord?”

“Of course they are.”

He sounded snappish and Douglass gently squeezed his hand, easing the man’s manner. Tiberius realized, very quickly, that a soft touch from Douglass doused any fire of rage or frustration he might be feeling. It was quite surprising, actually. He never realized a woman could have such power over him.

“My intentions are quite honorable,” he said, more calmly. “We are traveling to my home and rather than travel in sin, as two unmarried people, we will do the honorable thing and be married. Will you do this for us?”

The priest didn’t appear convinced. “So you want to marry the woman only so you will not be traveling in sin?”

“I want to marry the woman because I love her.”

That gave the priest pause. “Can this not wait until morning for a proper mass?”

“It must be done now. I am expected home on an urgent matter.”

The priest eyed them both, trying to determine if there was any duress going on with the lady. Was she being forced? He didn’t get that sense. In fact, they both seemed quite comfortable with one another. The Carmelites, a contemplative order, emphasized prayer and service over all else. There was no vow of poverty as there was with some orders. His focus returned to Tiberius.

“Show me your coin,” he said. “You will make a sizable donation for this service in the dead of night, which is most irregular.”

Tiberius produced several gold coins and gave them to the priest, who seemed satisfied. The acolytes he had sent away a few moments earlier now returned with a white prayer mantle for the priest, a cup full of wine, and a few other items including sacramental oil. All of these things were very carefully laid upon the altar except for the mantle, which went over the priest’s shoulders. After kissing the mantle, the priest pointed to the floor.

“Kneel,” he commanded.

Tiberius and Douglass went to their knees, listening earnestly as the priest began to intone the wedding mass. It was done rather quickly, and almost routinely, as if there were no true feelings to it, but they nonetheless paid strict attention to what the priest was saying. Is this really happening? Tiberius thought to himself. Am I truly marrying her? It seemed unbelievable to him, finally marrying this woman that he’d fought so hard for. True, he’d only known her a short time but it felt as if he’d known her for years. Years of fighting for something he very much wanted. Can you see me, Honey? He offered up prayers to his beloved mother, having been dead these past few months. I wish with all my heart you were here. Douglass is much like you and I know you would love her. I will make you proud, I swear it.

Thoughts of Honey de Shera faded as the priest offered him the cup of wine to drink from. He took a heavy drink of the tart, cheap wine and passed it to Douglass, who also took a deep drink. She smiled at him after she swallowed it and he handed the cup back to the priest. The man took the cup, made the sign of the cross over them, and intoned the final prayers, sealing the marriage.

It was done. Tiberius could hardly believe it. He helped Douglass to stand and held her hand tightly as the priest signed the book that documented births, deaths, and marriages. Tiberius knew he was expected to sign also and he felt some trepidation at that, given that his name was nearly the only thing he could sign. Anything else ended up just a jumble of words in whatever order his brain told him to put them. The priest eventually handed him the quill and he was able to write his name in the correct order, to his relief.

Now, she truly belonged to him. Tiberius turned to Douglass, smiling at her with all of the joy in his heart. He couldn’t help but wrap his arms around her and squeeze her tightly, feeling her heated response against him, listening to her giggles of happiness.

“Let me be the first to address you as Lady Tiberius de Shera,” he murmured. Pulling back, he kissed her sweetly, feeling his blood instantly flame. The woman had that effect on him. “Now, we should find a place to rest for a few hours before continuing on. I would assume you are weary.”

Douglass put her hands on his face, gazing into his eyes. “I am hungry more than anything,” she said, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Mayhap we can find a place to eat?”

He kissed her thumbs as they came close to his mouth. “Anything for you, Lady de Shera,” he said. “I shall find the finest inn in all of London and feed you a meal fit for a queen.”

Douglass laughed softly. “I would settle for bread and cheese and wine at the moment,” she said. “Any meal is the finest in all of London as long as you are sharing it with me, my husband.”

My husband. Tiberius had never heard such sweet words. He never imagined he would even like them, but he found that he did. He loved them. Kissing her yet again, he led her out of the dark, smelly church and into the moonlit night beyond, in search of a meal fit for newlyweds.