Chapter Nineteen
Pontefract
The Blood and Barrel Inn
The man went sailing through the open tavern window.
In fact, there were several men sailing around the tavern, through doors, out of windows, or ending up in a heap in the corner. A tempest named Cassius was in full-swing and the fists were flying faster than lightning.
“And that is for your foolish and ineffective lord, who refuses to agree with the king!” he bellowed at the man he’d just thrown out of the window. “Tell him that Cassius de Wolfe has said he is a coward!”
The entire tavern was in disarray and had been for more than a week, ever since Cassius, Rhori, and Bose had shown up and virtually took over the establishment.
They had arrived after a few slow and aimless days wandering northward from Doncaster, but once they reached Pontefract, Cassius refused to go any further.
He was as far away from Dacia as he wanted to be, so like a tick on a dog, he dug in.
Rhori and Bose dug in alongside him. Cassius became drunk the day of their arrival and had not been sober since.
Neither had Bose. An emotional man, he had great sympathy for Cassius.
If Cassius drank, he drank. If Cassius fought, he fought.
With a man of Cassius’ considerable size, those fights could be quick and violent.
Cassius had broken nearly every table in the tavern by either throwing men on them or breaking them with his bare hands, using the legs for clubs.
Sometimes he used two legs, one in each hand, and Bose went right along with him.
It had made for a ferocious and difficult week.
And then, there was Rhori.
The calmer, less-impulsive knight was drunk for the first two days, too, but being a little more sensible and able to control himself better than Bose, he sobered up quickly.
He had been sober ever since and every time Cassius broke a table or a door, Rhori slipped the tavernkeeper a few coins to pay for it.
In fact, it had been Rhori who had kept the tavernkeeper from running to the Pontefract garrison for help by explaining that Cassius had just lost his wife.
He didn’t elaborate, but he led the man to believe that Cassius was grieving a death.
Being sympathetic, and a little frightened, the tavernkeeper simply kept himself and his servants out of Cassius’ way.
They had tried to go about their business as usual, trying to work around a man who was tearing up their world because his had evidently been destroyed.
And that’s where they found themselves today.
Another fight.
Unfortunately, men wearing the black and white standard of William de Ros of Helmsley Castle decided to visit the tavern on that day.
De Ros was a crown supporter, but a finicky one.
Cassius took exception to the men as soon as they entered and in little time, a room-clearing brawl had started.
Even Rhori had to get involved because there were seven de Ros men and only Cassius and Bose.
Not that they couldn’t take care of seven men on their own, but one of them jumped on Bose’s back and tried to strangle him, so Rhori crowned the man with a chair.
The remaining de Ros men tucked their heads down and fled.
“Another victory for the House of de Wolfe!” Cassius crowed, drinking deeply of the cheap ale that had kept him inebriated for days.
“I shall best every man in England at this rate and then they shall have to bring in some Scots for me to pummel. It has been a long time since I pummeled a Scot just for the pleasure it brings me.”
Rhori pulled him down into a chair. “All hail your mighty fists, Cass,” he said, stroking the man’s ego. “You are a magnificent beast.”
Cassius threw his arm around Rhori’s neck and pulled him close, kissing his dark head loudly. “I love you,” he said. “You are my brother and I love you. I have real brothers and I love them madly, but you are my friend and my brother. I love you, du Bois. I truly do.”
When Cassius wasn’t tossing men around, he was being silly and sappy. Rhori was forced to push him away or risk being suffocated by all that love.
“Aye, Cass, we love you, too,” he said, motioning to the tavernkeeper for some food. “Come, now. Let us eat something and discuss your future plans. We’ve been here a week, but your grandmother is waiting. We must go to Castle Questing soon.”
Cassius looked at him, the pale eyes flickering with unchecked emotion. “My grandmother,” he muttered. “Jordan Mary Joseph Scott de Wolfe. She was named for the River Jordan, you know. A stronger woman you will never find. I love her dearly.”
“I am sure she loves you, too.”
“And my father and mother. I love them more than anything.”
“Aye, Cass, I know. And they love you.”
“But I love my grandmother so very much and I must see her soon. I must.”
The tavernkeeper arrived. Bread and meat were being set upon the table in copious amounts as Cassius declared his love for everyone in Northern England.
“Then let us go to her,” Rhori said, pulling the wine away from Cassius and hoping he didn’t notice. “Let us leave this place and not look back. Look at all of this glorious food! Eat and tell us of Berwick Castle, where you were born. I’ve never been there.”
He was trying to distract Cassius and get some food in him, hopefully to help ease his drunken state somewhat and bring him back to his senses. Thankfully, Cassius complied and shoved meat in his mouth, sloppily.
“It is by the sea,” he said, chewing. “A massive place by the sea. When my brothers and I were young, we used to run like wild colts on the sand. My father would take us there when we became too much for my mother to handle and he would make us run from him. Whoever got caught was thrown into the icy waves. I was never caught and neither was my oldest brother, Markus, but my two younger brothers, Magnus and Titus, were caught often. My father would throw them in the waves and they would run home to my mother, weeping and shivering. She would yell at my father for it and he would blame it on Markus and me.”
He laughed at the memory of his beloved father casting blame for his actions.
The tavernkeeper brought around boiled cider, putting it in front of Cassius instead of the ale he’d been drinking.
Rhori and the tavernkeeper had been trying to replace the ale for three days, but Cassius always caught on and always went to find his own drink. But again, they would try.
Rhori tried to distract him, keeping up a running stream of conversation. “Your father had many brothers,” he said. “He learned to deflect the blame.”
Cassius snorted, drinking the cider and realizing it wasn’t his ale. He hurled the cup across the room and yelled for his favored drink. “Ale!” he bellowed. “Who keeps putting that putrid juice in front of me? I will kill the next man who forces me to drink that stuff.”
Rhori couldn’t even look at Bose because he, too, was sotted with drink. In fact, Bose agreed with Cassius, giving the man his cup, and Rhori grunted in exasperation.
“Cass,” he said, trying to sound casual. “How do you expect to ride the rest of the way to Castle Questing if you are drunk? It will not work well in your favor.”
Cassius was still chewing on his meat. “I will make it,” he said. “When I decide we should leave.”
“Edward is going to expect you back in London next month. We cannot remain here forever.”
Cassius looked at him as if he wanted to say something angry in response, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He simply drained the cup in his hand.
“I do not want to talk about that right now,” he said. “Bose, find me more drink.”
Bose was on his feet, staggering away, as Rhori watched Cassius’ profile.
The man was as drunk and out of control as he’d ever seen him, but it wasn’t as if he didn’t have his reasons.
Frankly, no one blamed him. It had been a tragic happening with Dacia, but they simply never realized Cassius would take it so hard.
Yet, he had.
He was bleeding grief out of every pore in his body.
“Is it helping?” Rhori finally asked softly.
Cassius was staring, half-lidded, out into the room. “Is what helping?”
“The drink. Is it helping you to forget?”
Cassius turned to him, so swiftly that he nearly lost his balance. He had to grip the table. “I told you that I do not want to talk about it,” he said. “You’ll not bring her up.”
“I didn’t say a word about her.”
“I know what you meant!”
Rhori held up a hand to ease him. “I simply asked if drinking was helping you forget about her,” he said. “Is the drinking and fighting helping you heal? Is it doing you any good?”
Cassius’ lip flickered in a snarl. “Shut your mouth, du Bois,” he said. “You have no idea what you are asking.”
Rhori lifted his eyebrows. “Aye, I do,” he said. “I’ve been through this, Cass, only worse. There was no chance of reconciliation when it happened to me. At least you are not mourning her death.”
Cassius was geared up to throw a punch at a man he had been professing his love for only moment’s early when he suddenly came to a halt. His expression morphed from furious to remorseful in a quick moment.
“God,” he groaned, putting a hand on Rhori’s arm. “Forgive me. I had forgotten about Lucy. Forgive me for not being more sensitive to that.”
Rhori brushed him off. “Four years later, it is not as painful as it used to be,” he said.
“Though I will admit that I think about her almost every day. Watching you fall in love with Dacia has brought back the memories of when I was courting Lucy. Those were good days. I remember them when I feel particularly sad sometimes. It helps.”
Cassius sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and nearly tipping over because his balance was so bad. “Lucy was such a pretty girl,” he said. “Her death was very sad for us all, Rhori.”