Epic Knights of Legend and Steel

Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T iberius made it as far as he could that night, moving through the dwindling suburbs of London, looking for a decent place to spend the night with his new wife. Contrary to his habits in the past, where he was willing to take a woman any time or any place so long as his sexual urges were satisfied, he wanted his wedding night with Douglass to be as special as he could make it. Already, it meant something to him.

From the White Friars section, he made it up to Holborn Street and headed west, away from the smelly, dark city, traveling through the boroughs with their small homes, all nestled together along the avenue, like berries clinging to a vine. Holborn turned north and he traveled up to the main road of Westway, which took them out of the city.

Soon, the structures thinned out and they continued along a stretch of road, plodding along beneath the full moon, until they came to another group of structures that were situated along a crossroads. There was a two-storied tavern on the northeast corner of the crossroads and the sign that was hung from an iron rod announced The Hummingbird and the Rose.

Tiberius didn’t want to travel any more tonight and he hoped that the tavern had an empty room. If not, he wasn’t beyond throwing someone out so he could take the bed. Wearily dismounting Storm, he led the beast around the side of the tavern, with Douglass still on the horse, until he came to a small yard behind the building with an equally small stable. There was a boy just inside the door, sleeping on the straw, and Tiberius kicked the lad’s foot to awaken him.

The boy, with straw in his hair, leapt up and rubbed his eyes at the sight of the knight and lady. He approached the big, gray charger to take him but the horse snapped its teeth at him and the boy jumped back, eyes wide. With a smirk, Tiberius muzzled the beast before turning him over to the lad.

“Make sure he has a manger of feed in front of him before you unmuzzle him,” he told the boy. “He’ll be distracted by the food and less apt to take your arm off. Do you have any cold porridge?”

The lad blinked his eyes in confusion. “Porridge, m’lord?”

Tiberius pointed at the horse. “He loves it,” he said. “Give him some porridge and he will consider you his friend.”

The lad seemed to think that was a very good idea and, confident his horse would be well tended, Tiberius pulled Douglass off of the saddle and set her on her feet. Collecting his saddlebags, he took his wife by the hand and led her into the tavern by the back door.

The inn was crowded inside, which was odd because it clearly hadn’t looked crowded from the outside. Smoke floated in a thin mist along the ceiling and Tiberius had to duck his head to keep from hitting it as they passed through the narrow doorway that connected the kitchens to the common room.

The common room was full of drunk, loud people; several soldiers near the door at the far end with a few wenches between them, the occasional traveling merchant, and other travelers and visitors. The tavern keeper and his employees were very busy keeping everyone full of food and alcohol but when the man spied Tiberius standing at the edge of the room, he quickly made his way towards him through the rabble.

“M’lord,” he greeted, wiping his hands on his dirty, stained tunic. “What’ll it be?”

Tiberius kept a tight grip on Douglass in this room full of men with little self-control. “A room for my wife and me,” he told the man. “The best room in the place.”

The tavern keeper lifted his eyebrows. “I only have the master’s room available,” he said. “It will cost you.”

“I will take it.”

“Let me see your coin first.”

Under normal circumstances, Tiberius would have been grossly insulted by that comment, but with Douglass at his side he found he couldn’t become too angry about it. He didn’t want to upset her, especially on the night of their wedding. Therefore, he dug into his purse and produced a gold crown, more than enough to pay for a room and meal. The tavern keeper took it gladly.

“Up the stairs and go to the right,” he told them. “It is the last door on the right. I will send food up to you.”

Tiberius didn’t even thank the man, still miffed by a demand to show coin. There was little trust in doing business these days. Grasping Douglass by the hand, he pulled her up the stairs with him, following the tavern keeper’s directions until they reached the master’s room.

Douglass entered first, observing the room they had paid so handsomely for. It was dark, with a cold fire and no illumination anywhere. As Tiberius came in behind her, carrying their possessions, she stumbled into the very big bed, feeling around for a flint on the table next to it. There was a small taper and, as Tiberius bumped into something in the darkness behind her and grunted in pain, Douglass found the flint and lit the taper.

“Did you hurt yourself?” she asked, holding up the taper to illuminate the chamber.

Tiberius set their possessions down on the bed, rubbing his knee. “Not much,” he said. “Usually, I hit my head, not a knee.”

Douglass grinned, setting the taper down. “You are the tallest man I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Our children will probably be giants.”

He gave her a half-grin. “Let us hope the girls are not,” he said. “It would be difficult finding them husbands.”

She gasped in mock outrage. “My daughters have not yet been born and already you are marrying them off,” she said. “Allow me to spend the first few months of their lives with them, at least.”

Tiberius snorted at her, humorously, as he moved to the hearth to start the fire. “What about the boys?” he asked. “Do you want to spend the first few months of their lives with them before I send them off to foster?”

Douglass sat on the bed, which was rather comfortable and surprisingly clean, watching as Tiberius lit the kindling in the hearth. “Of course,” she said. Her gaze lingered on him as she grew serious. “I look at you and I can still hardly believe we are married. After everything that has happened, it does not seem possible.”

Tiberius stacked more peat onto the new blaze, watching it catch fire. “You have me for life, lady,” he said, turning to grin at her. “I will tell you about some things now that it is too late for you to change your mind. I snore, I like to eat and drink to excess, and I forget to bathe. I have gone months without bathing until my brothers force me into water so I will not offend their wives.”

Douglass bit her lip to keep from grinning. “I will do the same,” she said. “Have no fear that I will make sure you bathe once a week whether you want to or not. You will not offend me with your smell, either, or I will kick out of our bed and force you to sleep with the pigs.”

He laughed, standing up and brushing his hands off. “So you think to kick me from our bed, do you?” he said thoughtfully, but it was all a ruse. Suddenly, he flopped onto the bed beside her, pulling her down with him. “Think again, Lady de Shera.”

Douglass shrieked with surprise as Tiberius pushed her to the mattress and partially covered her with his big body. The man was easily twice her size and she found great comfort and great excitement in that knowledge. But she was also quite virginal, having never even been kissed by a man before she met Tiberius, so his intimate closeness, so suddenly, rattled her. She was having trouble forming a coherent thought as Tiberius began to nibble her tender earlobe.

“Ty?” she gasped. “What… what are you doing?”

Tiberius, vastly experienced in lovemaking, could hear the apprehension in her voice. He was very careful with her, his hand on her face as he gently kissed and suckled her neck and ear.

“What does it look like?” he asked. “I am tasting my wife for the first time. You knew I would, did you not?”

“You did not marry me simply to bed me, did you?”

“Nay,” he murmured, his lips on her neck. “I married you because I love you.”

Douglass didn’t know what to say to that. She was staring up at the ceiling, becoming acquainted with the feel of Tiberius next to her, his lips on her flesh. It was rather pleasurable. In fact, it was more than pleasurable. She liked it a great deal. As the fire in the hearth crackled and popped, gaining speed, Tiberius’ hands began to move.

As his lips nibbled on the tender skin of her shoulder, his big hand moved up her arm, to her neck and face, and finally to her hair. He pulled all of that glorious golden-red hair over his face, smelling its delicate scent, acquainting himself with the texture. It was one of the most erotic experiences of his life, already finding great pleasure in even the simplest of things. Her hair was glorious and he ran his fingers through it, rubbing it against his stubbled cheeks and thinking that it felt like silk.

“I can hardly believe you actually belong to me,” he whispered. “When I first met you, marriage to anyone was the furthest thing from my mind. But with both of my brothers married, I knew there would be a time when I would have to prepare for it. That day you smacked me over the head as I tried to save you was the best day of my life.”

Douglass, utterly breathless over his attentions, giggled at the remark. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Tiberius growled suggestively. “I am sure I will,” he said. “There is much that you can do to convince me to forgive and forget.”

Douglass knew he meant something intimate, sexual even, but beyond that she had no idea what he truly meant or how to respond. She started to giggle, nervously. “I am sure you will tell me what you want from me.”

Tiberius growled again, this time more gently. “Better still,” he murmured. “Let me show you.”

With that, his mouth slanted over hers, hungrily. Off-guard, Douglass simply lay there, having no idea what more she should do. His lips were hot, insistent, and delicious, and before long, she was responding to him, kissing him as he was kissing her. It was easy to mimic and she soon realized that she liked kissing him very much. Her hands came up, timidly, and held his face, her heated flesh against his. It was all Tiberius needed to drive him mad.

Swiftly, he pulled away from her, lifting himself off the bed and pulling off his mail coat. It came off quickly, landing in a heap, and the padded tunic came off next. Once his tunic came off, he pulled Douglass into a sitting position and deftly released the fastens on the back of her dress. Once they were loose enough, he pulled the garment off of her, sliding it off of her body and pulling it free of her legs. As Douglass sat on the bed clad only in her shift and hose, looking rather uncomfortable, Tiberius proceeded to strip off the rest of his clothing.

He kicked his clothes aside, as naked as the day he was born as he leaned over the bed and pulled back the coverlet. He had absolutely no problem with parading around naked but Douglass was immediately embarrassed by it. As he pulled back the coverlet and made sure the fire was stoked, all of this with a semi-arousal, she turned her head away and tried not to look. She’d never seen a naked man in her life so this was all rather sudden and rather shocking.

“Douglass?” Tiberius said. “Are you not going to finish undressing?”

Douglass pushed herself to the end of the bed so she could unfasten the ties on her hose. “I will,” she said, uneasy as she pulled off the hose and carefully folded them. “Did… didn’t the tavern keeper say he was sending a meal to us?”

Tiberius nodded, coming to realize now that she wouldn’t look at him. Her modesty made him grin. “He did,” he replied. “The door is unlocked. They can simply let themselves in to leave the food. They will not bother us.”

Douglass gasped, looking at him in horror before realizing he was teasing her. He stood next to the bed, silently laughing at her and she quickly turned her head away.

“You are a devil,” she muttered.

Still grinning, Tiberius went over to the door to make sure it was bolted. Then, he turned back to his wife, who had already yanked her shift off and was now under the coverlet. It happened that fast. She was laying there, coverlet pulled up to her neck, staring at the ceiling, and he could no longer hold back the laughter.

“Douglass,” he said softly, in that sweet purring voice he was so capable of. “Look at me, sweetheart. There is nothing to be ashamed over.”

Douglass didn’t move. She remained focused on the ceiling. “I know,” she said, forcing her bravery. “It is just that I have never seen a… a nude man before.”

“And you will not ever see one if you do not turn to look at me,” he said. “If you do not look at me, it will severely damage my confidence. Aren’t I worth looking at?”

She turned to him, then, although it was slowly. She kept her eyes fixed on his face. “You are handsome and charming and lovely,” she said. “I am sure I will come to like seeing you in the nude.”

He shrugged and moved to the bed, tossing back the coverlet and climbing onto the mattress beside her. “You had better,” he said, snuggling his naked body up against her naked body. “Because I go without clothes every chance I get. I will do it more if I realize it embarrasses you so the sooner you get used to it, the better.”

Douglass looked at him, laughing softly. “You really are a devil, Ty,” she said. “But you are my devil.”

Lust such as he had never known filled Tiberius’ veins as he looked at her. “Aye,” he whispered, cupping her face in one big hand and kissing her cheek gently. “I am your devil and yours alone. You will always be my forever, Douglass. Remember that.”

Douglass couldn’t even speak. His mouth claimed hers once again and this time, she gave herself over to him completely. His big, warm body covered her, his weight bearing down on her, but she hardly cared. He was with her, on her, the way it was always meant to be. She was eager to know all of it.

Tiberius didn’t keep her waiting. As his lips feasted on hers, a big hand closed gently over a breast, feeling the silken texture against his palm. The action startled Douglass but she didn’t pull away from him. She even came to like it when he began tugging at her nipple, toying with the hard, little pellet, and when his mouth left hers and began nursing against that nipple, she gasped in both surprise and ecstasy. Every suckle sent bolts of excitement shooting through her body and between her legs, a flame ignited that she’d never known before. It was something that sent her pelvis rocking, thrusting and twisting slowly, seeking a satisfaction that she had never experienced.

Tiberius could feel her squirming and he knew exactly what she needed. As he worked her breasts hungrily, his fingers sought out the red curls between her legs. She was already wet and swollen down there, her body preparing itself for his entry, and he pushed a finger into her tight, wet passage, slowly moving in and out of her, mimicking the thrusting that would soon be taking place. Douglass groaned and opened her legs to him, instinctively, and Tiberius could wait no longer.

Carefully, he positioned his heavy phallus at her threshold, pushing into her slick and waiting body. He was so big that Douglass gasped with the shock of his sensual intrusion, wriggling her hips as she tried to fight him off, tried to ease the sting of possession. But a sting was all it was as he thrust again, breaking her maiden’s barrier, claiming this woman for his wife as he’d never claimed another. She was his now, body and soul, and he would die before relinquishing her.

She belonged to him, forever.

Carefully, he began to thrust, his arms going around her as he gathered her up tightly against him, her chest to his, the feel of her soft breasts against his flesh feeding his lust. Beneath him, Douglass groaned and gasped at the new sensations, her legs opening wider for him, begging him to plunge deeper, as her nails dug crescent-shaped wounds into his shoulders. Whether or not she consciously realized it, her body was responding to his, the primal mating ritual taking hold between them.

Tiberius had never experienced anything so sweet in his entire life. His body pounded into hers and she accepted him, all of him, and began moving with him, her pelvis thrusting up against his. It was purely magical, his manhood burying itself in her wet folds as her body tried to coax forth his seed. The de Shera seed that would grow within her, producing a proud de Shera son. She wanted it. She wanted all of it. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his buttocks as if to force him to give up his seed. She squeezed his smooth buttocks and Tiberius surrendered without a fight.

His hot, thick seed exploded into her womb and Douglass felt him shudder as he released. He kept moving within her, however, his hand moving to the junction between her legs, stroking her until she, too, experienced her release. Gasping as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her, Douglass had little idea what had just happened. All she knew was that Tiberius had worked magic on her.

As the ripples of pleasure died down, Tiberius remained buried in her, kissing her gently, showing her without words of his love for her. A woman he had fought for, and won, was now his wife and come what may, he would never leave her side. He adored her more than words could express and the power of this moment, where the two became one, had overwhelmed him. He’d never been overwhelmed like this before.

The food came later and the servant knocked and knocked but received no answer. Finally, he was forced to go away as Tiberius and Douglass slept deeply in each other’s arms, the moment of a love finally achieved having enveloped and sated them both. There was no need for food at the moment. They were content where they were, sleeping with the one who loved them best, each with the other.

For the first time in his life, The Thunder Knight finally knew what it was like to finally be a man.

*

Isenhall

The sun was fairly warm this day as Maximus and Gallus stood in the bailey, watching a scene they never thought they’d see. To the side of the gatehouse where the knights and soldiers often trained in the soft, dark earth, Stefan was mock sword fighting Cassius as Scott and Troy stood by, offering instruction and encouragement to Cassius.

The lad was uncertain with the feel of a sword in his hand. He much preferred a smithy’s hammer, but Scott and Troy were being very patient with him as Stefan pretended to fight him. It’s all about the weight of the weapon, young de Shera, Scott would say. Use the weight to your advantage. Be one with the sword, boy. Well, Cassius was surely trying to be one with the sword but almost three weeks after his arrival at Isenhall and only a few days after meeting his father, he still wasn’t sure he was cut out to be a knight. It all seemed rather complicated to him.

At one point, Stefan clipped Cassius on the arm, drawing blood. Cassius wasn’t quick to temper, which was quite different from his father. He had patience that Maximus didn’t. That had been evident all morning. He was also a very hard worker. Even though it was clear that he was uncertain about what he was doing, he tried to do everything that Scott and Troy told him. He listened well.

“Already, I see skill in him,” Gallus said confidently as he watched Cassius take a rather strong swing at Stefan. “He will make a fine knight.”

Maximus, arms crossed as he observed the scene, shrugged. “If it is something he wants to do,” he said. “Unfortunately, the boy has not grown up around knights. It is not something he has been privy to his entire life. He is very uncomfortable swinging a sword.”

Gallus could see that, too. He grunted in agreement. “He will improve,” he said. “Already, he has a very good grip and a good deal of strength. He is most definitely your son.”

Maximus watched as Stefan clipped the boy again with the sharp edge of the sword and he could tell that Cassius was trying not to become upset about it. Already, he had several little bloodied nicks on his arms, adding to the humiliation of the session.

“He is much calmer than I am,” Maximus finally said. “By now, I would have clobbered Stefan with my fist.”

Gallus chuckled. “Stefan is trying to get him to fight back.”

Maximus nodded. “I know he is,” he said. “But having never used a weapon before, Cassius does not yet know how to. However, maybe if….”

He trailed off and Gallus looked at him curiously. Maximus appeared very thoughtful before emitting a sharp whistle between his teeth. Everyone came to a halt, turning to look at him. Maximus pointed to the men with swords.

“Drop the weapons,” he commanded. When Stefan and Cassius immediately set the swords on the ground, Maximus continued. “Cassius, Stefan has cut you quite a bit this morning. I cannot imagine that pleases you.”

Cassius was trying not to appear disgruntled, wiping at his bloodied arms. “N-Nay, m’lord.”

“He is doing it to help you.”

Cassius simply nodded, although he had no idea what Maximus meant. Help him do what? Bleed to death? As he looked at his scratched arms, Maximus continued.

“Cassius,” he said. “Since Stefan is no longer holding a sword, what would you do to a man who repeatedly hurt you?”

Cassius wasn’t sure what Maximus meant. He looked at Stefan, who was a very large man, but Cassius was also a very large man. He didn’t have the muscle structure yet that Stefan did, but pound for pound, they were nearly equal in mass.

“I… I-I would not let him d-do it again,” he finally said.

Maximus was driving at something. He was trying to bring out the boy’s inner beast, the one who would fight for his very life. So far, Cassius had never had cause to do that. It was time for him to learn.

“How?” Maximus asked.

Cassius was eyeing Stefan, who was gazing back at him quite unemotionally. “I-I would fight him.”

“With what?”

“My f-fists.”

Maximus took a few steps in Cassius and Stefan’s direction. “He’s trying to kill you, boy,” he suddenly boomed, causing Cassius to jump at the sheer volume of the man’s voice. “He’s trying to kill you and you just stand there and let him. Kill him before he kills you! Kill him !”

He was yelling quite aggressively and Cassius, spurred on by his voice and the sight of all those bloody nicks on his arms, realized he had been made a fool of and he launched himself at Stefan, ramming his head right into the knight’s midsection and wrapping his arms around his torso. Before Stefan realized what had hit him, he was lying on his back with the wind knocked out of him as Cassius came down on top of him, fists flying. It was all Stefan could do to get his arms up so he could protect his head.

Gallus grinned as Scott and Troy rushed to break up the fight. Maximus, however, yelled to his knights.

“Nay,” he bellowed. “Better to let the boy work through it. Stefan, if you can hear me, you are permitted to fight back!”

Stefan did indeed hear him and soon, Stefan and Cassius were rolling around on the ground, throwing serious punches at each other, while Gallus stood back and laughed at the whole thing. It was attracting quite a crowd as soldiers began to gather, watching the two men go at one another. Scott and Troy simply kept the crowd back, watching Cassius land a fairly serious blow on Stefan’s mouth. Maximus, however, couldn’t have been prouder of the boy. Finally, the de Shera compulsion was coming forth.

“Max,” Gallus said from behind him. “He has that killer instinct you do. All you needed to do was bring it out in him. If I were you, I’d stop him before he hurts Stefan or even himself.”

Maximus, smiling, glanced at his brother. “I will,” he said. “I just wanted to see if he had the de Shera fighting instinct. I am proud to see that he does. Mayhap it is not with a sword yet, but it is definitely with his fists.”

Gallus chuckled as Maximus caught Scott and Troy’s attention, directing them to stop the fight. Troy reached in to grasp Cassius but Cassius, infuriated and in fighting mode, threw a punch that sent Troy onto his arse. Shaking the bells off, Troy pushed himself up and tried again while Scott took hold of Stefan and dragged the man out from under Cassius. But in doing so, he bumped into a soldier, who in turn fell into a group of men standing there watching the fight. Someone shoved, another man threw a punch, and soon there was a full-scale brawl going on, now amongst the de Shera soldiers.

Gallus stopped laughing long enough to move towards the roiling mass of fighting men, yelling for them to stand down. Out-of-control fighting was never a good thing. Maximus was already there, tossing men aside, concentrating on stopping the brawl until he realized that Cassius was right in the middle of it, dropping men with a powerful right-handed blow. Maximus couldn’t help but chuckle at his son, who was indeed at home in the middle of a fight whether or not he realized it. It was in his blood. He was, indeed, a de Shera.

“Max!”

Maximus could hear Courtly screaming at him and he immediately scrambled away from the mass of men, spying his wife standing on the stairs of the keep. He made his way towards her, seeing from her expression that she was quite distressed. She pointed to the fight as he made his way up the steps.

“What on earth is happening there?” she demanded. “We could see it from the top of the keep!”

Maximus gave her a lazy grin, turning to look at the fight, which was mostly breaking up now with Scott, Troy, Gallus and even Stefan pushing men apart and attempting to calm the situation.

“It all started with Cassius and Stefan engaging in some sword play,” he said. “Cassius is very timid and Stefan kept trying to draw the lad out. Finally, I had them drop the swords and provoked Cassius to the point where he attacked Stefan with his fists. I am very proud to say that he took on a much more skilled knight and held his own in a fist fight.”

Courtly looked at her husband, an expression of exasperation on her face. “God’s Bones,” she exclaimed softly, shaking her head. She pointed to Cassius, now standing on the outskirts of the battle zone, watching what was going on. “Look at him. He is a mess!”

Maximus was as puffed up as a prideful peacock. “He is a de Shera.”

Courtly couldn’t hold her exasperation for long. The inevitable smile crept onto her lips at her husband’s prideful boasting. Resigned, she shook her head.

“Aye, he is,” she said. “I knew that without having to watch him in a fist fight. Look at him, Max. He’s a bloodied mess. Send him to me and I will clean him up.”

Maximus shook his head. “He will clean himself up,” he said. “Let the boy become a man.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “If you get in a fight, I clean you up,” she said. “Does that make you any less of a man to have your wife help you?”

He reached out, pulling her to him, lifting her off the stairs and nuzzling her cheek. “I am all man,” he growled in her ear, “as you well know. Now, go back inside. I will come in shortly. It should be close to the nooning meal by now.”

Courtly squealed weakly in protest as Maximus nibbled on her sensitive earlobes before setting her to her feet.

“What about Cassius?” she asked, flushed at her husband’s attentions. “Will you bring him with you or will you leave him with the knights?”

Maximus’ gaze trailed out to Cassius once again, watching as Stefan approached the boy and affectionately slapped him on the side of the head. Cassius grinned and all was right in the world again between him and Stefan, who had quickly grown close in the past few days. Being that they were only a few years apart, Cassius seemed to identify with the silent, young knight, and Stefan didn’t mind having Maximus’ son tagging along after him. In all, the past few days had seen Cassius quickly assimilate into life at Isenhall. But one thing he hadn’t taken swiftly to were the women.

“I am not certain yet,” he said, turning to look at Courtly. “He seems so uncomfortable around you and Jeniver. It may be best simply to let him be with Stefan and Scott and Troy right now. A great deal has happened in his young life in the past few weeks. Better to let him settle down first.”

Courtly’s gaze lingered on the big lad standing in the bailey. “It seems that he has not been around women very much,” she said. “It has only been Cassius and his grandfather all of these years. Given time, he will become accustomed to us but not if you keep him away. He must become accustomed to women sooner or later.”

Maximus shrugged. “That is true,” he said. “But give him a few days still. Then we shall see if he can stand in front of you and not break into a cold sweat.”

Courtly grinned, thinking of the first time she had been introduced to Cassius on the evening that Maximus had first met the boy. He’d hardly been able to speak a word to her or to Jeniver, his face flushed and his hands shaking. It was clear that he had been very nervous, so since that night, Maximus had kept the lad with the men because that was where he seemed most comfortable. Still, he would have to become accustomed to his step-mother and aunt at some point.

“Mayhap I shall make him something special to eat,” she finally said. “Mayhap I can win his confidence through his stomach. In that respect, he is not much different than Tiberius. Both Tiberius and Cassius seemed to be easily won over with food.”

Maximus gave her a half-grin. “That is true,” he agreed, his focus lingering on Cassius. “I am anxious for Tiberius to meet him. If anyone can bring Cassius out of his shell, Tiberius can.”

The focus shifted from Cassius to Tiberius and Courtly eyed her husband. The subject of Tiberius had come up and that wasn’t something they had spoken of much since Gallus and Maximus returned from London. Any mention of Tiberius was quickly diverted. Both Courtly and Jeniver had noticed. But now, Maximus was speaking of his younger brother and Courtly followed his lead.

“Max,” she said hesitantly. “The last I saw of Tiberius, he was riding with you and Gallus to escort Sir Bose and Lady Douglass to London and when you returned, it was without him. When the subject of Tiberius has come up, you have told me that he is remaining in London but you will not tell me why. We have hardly spoken of him, which is very unlike you and Gallus. You speak of Tiberius constantly. Has… has something happened to him and you are afraid to tell us?”

Maximus shook his head. “Nothing has happened to him,” he said. “He is of good health.”

“Then why did he remain in London?” she pressed. “Is it because of Lady Douglass? She told Jeniver and me that she was traveling to London because the king had selected a potential husband for her. Did Tiberius remain in London to vie for her hand also?”

Maximus’ good mood fled. The day Gallus had told him about Tiberius swearing fealty to de Moray was the same day that Maximus had received word about his son. It had been a very difficult day, indeed, with thoughts of Cassius and Rose at the forefront, but now that the days had passed and he was coming to know Cassius, thoughts of Tiberius were weighing heavily upon him. He still could hardly believe what Gallus had told him… Tiberius is sworn to de Moray now because of Lady Douglass . God, it just didn’t seem real. Every day that passed saw him feel worse and worse about it.

But they hadn’t told the women yet. It just wasn’t something they wanted to discuss, even among themselves. None of the knights knew, either. Maximus was simply hoping that Tiberius’ behavior was just a phase he would grow out of, something he would get over and then return to Isenhall to beg forgiveness, but Gallus seemed to think that it wasn’t a phase at all. He thought that Tiberius was quite serious. Therefore, no one said a word about it. It was still too fresh and painful and confusing to think on.

“Aye,” he said simply. “He is vying for Douglass’ hand.”

Courtly thought his answer sounded odd. “Then I am happy for him,” she said, watching the expression on her husband’s face. “He seems to like her a great deal.”

Maximus sighed heavily. “Ty likes every woman a great deal,” he muttered, but he didn’t want to speak of Tiberius any longer so he changed the subject. “Return to the keep and prepare something you believe a growing young lad would like. What will you cook?”

Courtly could see that, once again, he didn’t wish to discuss Tiberius, which concerned her a great deal. But Maximus had said that Tiberius was well, so she didn’t worry over his health. Still, something was amiss. She could sense it, but she graciously allowed her husband to change the subject. He would speak on his brother when he was ready.

“Let me think,” she said thoughtfully. “We have a good deal of cherries left from the summer harvest. I could make cherry pudding.”

Maximus frowned. “Cherries are my favorite,” he said. “I eat them every day with cream. You will not use all of them.”

He sounded like a petulant child and Courtly fought off a grin. “God’s Bones, Max,” she scolded softly. “We have baskets and baskets of those things. Making Cassius a cherry pudding will not take away from your private store of cherries. You are going to have to learn to share.”

Maximus scowled at her but it was without force. Then, he pulled her into his arms again and kissed her. Down below in the bailey, men were resuming their posts, nursing swollen lips and scratches from the impromptu fight. As Courtly kissed her husband one last time and turned for the keep, the sentries on the wall let out a cry of approaching horses.

Gallus, who was still in the bailey making sure the fight was, indeed, finished, was the closest to the gatehouse when the call went up. He called up to the sentries.

“Who is it?”

The sentries were trying to gain a better view. Even though it was a clear day, the riders were still fairly far out. Time passed. No one was completely sure until one man finally waved down to Gallus.

“De Montfort, my lord,” he called. “I see the white and blue banners!”

Gallus immediately turned to Maximus, who was coming down off the keep steps, approaching him. “Did you hear?” he said to his brother, loudly, as the man came near. “De Montfort approaches. God’s Bones, we are in for a scolding for not having gone to Kenilworth when we were summoned. We did not go to him and, therefore, he has come to us.”

Maximus wasn’t particularly thrilled to hear any of this. “Damnation,” he muttered. “I have not thought of Simon in several days. In fact, I’d forgotten about our summons to Kenilworth.”

Gallus ordered the twin portcullises open before answering his brother. “I have not but, frankly, I did not want to deal with the man at this time,” he said, sighing. “When we explain to him about Cassius, he will understand. He will want to meet the boy, of course.”

Maximus nodded. “And he shall.”

“He will also wonder where Tiberius is,” Gallus said, a sense of dread in his tone. “Inevitably, he will ask.”

Maximus was feeling sickened and saddened all over again. He had successfully dodged the subject of Tiberius whilst speaking with Courtly but now, the subject was back again. He emitted a heavy sigh.

“What will you tell him?” he asked quietly.

Gallus pondered the question seriously. “I have been thinking on that question since leaving Tiberius back in London,” he said. “I will be honest when I tell you that I do not wish to tell de Montfort the truth. I feel as if somehow… somehow that will taint Tiberius. I am not sure I can explain it any better than that, but suffice it to say that our baby brother is prone to whims. If Lady Douglass was another whim, Tiberius will soon realize that, as I hope he does, then I do not want de Montfort or any of the other barons to know that Tiberius has momentarily defected to the enemy because of a woman. It makes him look so very foolish.”

Maximus thought on that for a moment. “Do you think it is a whim?” he asked. “Do you truly believe it is only a passing fancy?”

Gallus looked at him and, for the first time, Maximus saw a flash of pain for Tiberius’ absence. “I pray it is,” he muttered. “I hope it is but I am not entirely sure. You know I cannot face him in battle.”

“Nor I.”

“Then we tell de Montfort that Tiberius is in London securing a betrothal and nothing more.”

“Agreed,” Maximus said. “As it is, de Montfort is going to be angry with us for not answering his summons to Kenilworth. Any news of Tiberius defecting is likely to send the man into madness.”

Gallus couldn’t disagree. When the riders bearing de Montfort’s white and blue standards began to fill the bailey of Isenhall, Gallus and Maximus were there to greet them. It was loud and chaotic, with dust flying from the horses’ hooves, as the de Shera soldiers coordinated the traffic.

Eventually, de Montfort himself entered the bailey in the middle of the escort and his focus went directly on the Lords of Thunder. He did not look pleased. But Gallus and Maximus didn’t notice, at least not right away. They found themselves looking at the man who had ridden in beside Simon. It was a historic day when the bloodlines of the king entered the fortified walls of Isenhall.

Prince Edward, in the flesh, had arrived.