Chapter One #3
Hearing his family name, Rhun nodded when the attention turned to him.
“Our houses are friends and allies,” he said.
“If Henry moves against William de Wolfe, my cousins on the Marches will not hesitate to support him. The Houses of de Titouan and de Llion are very tight with de Wolfe and de Lohr. Besides… they have never liked Henry, anyway.”
It was a very complex issue with friendship and family bonds overriding the loyalty to the king.
In these trying and dark times, there was no line between loyalties, mostly because de Montfort had many supporters.
Henry had been an insufferable king at best but the fact remained that he was, indeed, king. Davyss poured himself more ale.
“I must go home to my family,” he repeated. “I want to see my wife and I must consider my loyalties and options. I may be the first de Winter in the history of our family not to fight for the crown after this.”
It was a shocking thought to consider that de Winter might have wavering loyalties towards the king. Chad had his hand on Davyss’ broad shoulder.
“You have every right to think that way, my friend,” he said quietly. “But what do you intend to do after this? About… de Montfort, I mean. What will you do, Davyss? Whatever it is, you know you can count on us for support.”
Davyss looked to his friend; Chadwick de Lohr had every good quality that his grandsire and granduncle had ever possessed.
He was blindingly brilliant and an infallible commander.
Silversword, they called him. It was because of the spectacular sword his grandfather had given him when he’d been awarded his spurs, a weapon that was the perfect blend of gleaming art and powerful functionality.
The nickname had meant to be an insult when Chad was young and brash and aggressive, but as the years went on, it became more of a distinction from the rest of the de Lohr brood.
More than that, Chad had wisdom beyond his years, something both friends and family trusted, including Davyss.
He could see that Chad was trying to be kind to him, given what had gone on. He smiled weakly.
“I will go home and discuss the situation with my wife,” he said. “She will know what to do.”
Chad simply nodded, eyeing Hugh, who was into his third cup of ale already. “What about Hugh?”
Davyss turned to look at his younger brother, passionate and rash and foolish at times. But he was a good fighter and loyal to the bone. He sighed.
“He worries me,” he said. “Hugh would be the one to run out and get himself killed over this. I must get him home as soon as possible, to his wife, so that she can maintain some control over him.”
Chad lifted his eyebrows with regret. “Is that even possible?” he asked. “His wife is a daughter of Roger Mortimer. After what her father has done….”
Davyss held up a hand in both a gesture of understanding and a gesture of silence.
“We are allies of Mortimer, are we not?” he said wryly.
“What the man did was for the good of England, so I was told. In any case, it is my hope that Hugh’s marriage to Isolde will enable me to get back that part of de Montfort which I seek.
I have already spoken with the canons at Evesham Abbey and they are determined to collect what is left of Simon and bury it.
Once I have his head, I will give it over to them.
The man deserves a proper burial at the very least.”
Chad clapped him on the shoulder one last time before dropping his hand. “Agreed,” he said, feeling the angst in Davyss’ words as he spoke of Simon. “But for now, we shall go home and regroup. If you need me, however, all you need do is send word. I, and the Canterbury army, will respond.”
Davyss smiled faintly. “You are a true friend, Chad,” he said. “Thank you for everything.”
Chad simply smiled in return; words weren’t needed to reaffirm their bonds.
They were strong and true. As Davyss returned to his ale and Chad resumed his drinking, the front door to the tavern opened again, ushering forth more men in armor.
The wind blew in behind them, scattering leaves across the hard-packed floor of the tavern.
Chad was just bringing his cup to his lips when Stefan grabbed his arm.
“Chad,” he hissed. “It’s de Moray!”
Chad nearly spilled his drink as Stefan jerked him about, pointing him towards the entry.
Chad could clearly see the big, hulking frames of Bose de Moray and his son, Garran, as they entered the establishment.
The elder de Moray, Sir Bose, was a legend in the annals of England, a man with a long history with the king.
Years ago, he had been the captain of the king’s personal guard but the ensuing years saw him leave his post, marry, and become a great warlord with a sizable army.
The man, even at his age, continued to fight for the king even though his daughter had married one of the de Shera brothers, the same brothers who had retreated from Evesham after de Montfort’s defeat.
The de Moray/de Shera relationship was another one of those alliances where blood ran deeper than loyalty to any one side, and de Moray was greatly respected by Henry and de Montfort allies alike.
Chad was too far away to effectively get the man’s attention so he had Perrin and Rhun, who were closer to the door, call out to him.
“De Moray was with Henry last I heard,” Chad said through clenched teeth, watching as his knights captured Bose’s attention. “He left the battlefield with him. What in the hell is he doing here?”
Davyss watched the big knights lumber over in their direction. “I do not know,” he muttered. “But I do not think I like it.”
“We told him we would be here and invited him to join us, but I did not think he would show himself. He never has before.”
Davyss turned back to his drink. “As I said, I do not like that he is here,” he said. “Mayhap he has come to take me to Henry so the king himself can punish me for my ties to de Montfort. ’Tis not as if I have ever made them a secret.”
Chad didn’t say anything. He was more interested in watching Bose and Garran as they approached the table.
Both men appeared particularly weary. Truth be told, he was as wary as Davyss was about their appearance and something told him to be on his guard.
He wasn’t even able to open his mouth to greet de Moray before Bose was on him, his black eyes intense.
“Praise God that you are still here, Chad,” Bose said, relief in his expression. “I was not sure I would still find you here.”
Chad didn’t like the tone of his voice. There was much seriousness there. “And so you have,” he said, trying to remain casual. “Will you drink with us, Sir Bose?”
Bose shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “It is not for hospitality that I have come. I have just come from Henry and there are dealings afoot that you should be aware of. In fact, all of you should be aware of it.”
He was looking at the collection of knights, all of them loyal to Henry.
The de Lohrs closed rank, as did de Russe and du Bois and de Winter, all of them curious about what news de Moray had brought them.
Already, the mood was quite grim and sobering, and they didn’t even know the why.
Any alcohol happiness they had been experiencing was summarily quashed.
“What is it?” Chad asked seriously, although it was difficult considering his head was still swimming with drink. “What has happened?”
Bose looked directly at Chad. He wasn’t the oldest knight of the group but he was the most respected. He was always the leader, in any situation, and men listened when he spoke. Bose knew this, which is why he directed his words to the man.
“Henry is going after de Shera,” Bose said, lowering his voice. “They were the most outspoken in their support of de Montfort and Henry’s first order of business is to force Gallus and Maximus and Tiberius into submission. He will threaten to take their lands and titles if they do not support him.”
Chad struggled to think clearly at the news, which wasn’t all that surprising, considering. “But… Tiberius is married to your daughter,” he said. “Will you rally to his defense?”
Bose lifted his dark eyebrows, tinged with gray.
“Henry has asked me to ride to Isenhall Castle and present a proposal to the Lords of Thunder that they surely cannot refuse,” he said, sounding disgusted.
“I have agreed to mediate. But that is not the problem, Chad. The problem lies with Aurelius de Shera, their cousin. I assume you know the man.”
Chad nodded. In fact, all of the knights were nodding. “I know him,” he said. “He is a cousin to the Lords of Thunder; their fathers, Antoninus and Julius, were brothers.”
Bose nodded. “Although Antoninus died years ago, Julius de Shera was still alive until he fell at Evesham.”
Chad’s grim mood sobered further. “He should have never been there,” he said. “My God, the man was in his seventh decade. He should have never ridden to battle.”
They all knew that the elderly de Shera had ridden to de Montfort’s aid because he felt strongly, as the oldest living de Shera male, that he should be the one to lead the family, even over his very powerful nephews: Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius.
It had been a mistake, for Henry’s archers took him out very early in the battle.
“Julius fell and left it up to Aurelius to lead his troops,” Bose said, frustrated.
“When the battle concluded and the Lords of Thunder retreated to Isenhall, Aurelius fled north with the de Wolfe army. He retreated back to The Paladin and left his father’s body on the battlefield.
There wasn’t the opportunity to retrieve it. ”