Chapter Three
The One-Eyed Raven Inn
Oxford proper
“Kellen de Lara is a man with a formidable reputation. Saving his daughters unquestionably puts you in his debt.”
The words were spoken by Gallus de Shera, the eldest de Shera brother and the current Earl of Coventry.
He was the intelligence behind the trio of brothers, men known as the Lords of Thunder, while Maximus was the muscle and Tiberius was the life force that kept them all bound together.
These men, this tight-knit group, were some of the most powerful men in England.
All three brothers, and the entire House of de Shera, were staunch supporters of Simon de Montfort and his opposition to King Henry, and they were currently in Oxford because de Montfort was convening the greatest group of barons yet, men that would place demands upon a king who seemed more intent on deliberately forgetting all of the pledges he had made over the past several years to his barons, pledges that were extraordinarily complicated during this dark and complicated time.
The gist of the situation was that de Montfort intended that in this place in time, and upon this country, there would be fairness and equality.
He intended that the barons should have a say in how the country was run, among other things, and the de Shera brothers would be a part of that bold, new world, hence their presence in Oxford.
They were here for a purpose, and that purpose was soon to come.
As the afternoon of the most eventful day began to wane towards evening, the three brothers and their four sworn knights sat in the common room of an inn they had taken over upon their arrival to Oxford four days earlier.
There were gourd pitchers of cheap wine on the table before them and the remains of a few loaves of bread.
The men-at-arms they had brought with them, at least most of them, were in various positions around the room, eating and drinking and cavorting with several women that could only be described as easy prey.
In the smoke-hazed tavern, the knights ignored the antics of the men around them and settled in to discuss not only the events of the day, but future plans as well.
Called The One-Eyed Raven, the inn had a cavernous common room but only five sleeping rooms, all of which belonged to the de Shera party for the duration of their stay in Oxford.
The main room was long, with two barkeep areas full of barrels of wine, cups, and other implements, and tables enough to seat up to sixty people at times.
Most of the tables were crudely built and were tables in only the literal sense; whether or not they actually held together under the weight of food or wine was another matter entirely.
A small hearth by the door and then another larger hearth about mid-point in the room kept the big chamber warm and smelling of acrid smoke.
A large pack of dirty, mean dogs congregated near the bigger hearth, waiting for scraps of food to fall upon the uneven dirt floor.
In the midst of the noisy and smelly common room, the de Shera group listened to Gallus.
Maximus sat next to his older brother, having just explained, between big gulps of wine, what had transpired with Kellen de Lara’s daughters earlier that day.
It had barely been a mention from Maximus during the course of a conversation that had been dominated by talk of de Montfort’s parliament but Gallus thought it was a rather important event.
He veered talk away from de Montfort’s gathering for a few minutes to focus on his humble brother’s heroics.
“Truly, Max,” he said. “You saved the man’s daughters. I seem to remember hearing that he only had two daughters and that his wife was long dead. It is a great thing you did.”
Maximus didn’t like praise. He simply shook his head. “Anyone would have done the same thing.”
Gallus fought off a grin. Maximus was far too modest. “Mayhap,” he concurred. “But it was you and Garran. What did de Lara say to you? Does he even know?”
Maximus nodded. “He knows,” he replied. “I waited with the daughters until he returned from his errand. He thanked me profusely and told me that he is in my debt.”
Gallus looked at the others. “You see?” he said. “The great Lord Sheriff of the Southern Marches is now indebted to my brother. That is a great ally to have, Max.”
Maximus merely grunted, drinking of his wine.
He wasn’t thinking of the de Lara debt so much as he was thinking about the eldest de Lara daughter.
He hadn’t been able to get the woman out of his mind since he met her, and with the rose-scented oil tucked safely away in his tunic, the obsession with her was growing.
The dulcet vision of silken blond hair and big, blue eyes was ingrained in his brain, something he could not and would not shake.
But he was terrified to let on his thoughts, even to his brothers and trusted knights.
He glanced around the table, and most especially at the men sworn to his family.
The talent and bloodlines of de Shera knights ran deep.
De Wolfe, de Moray, and du Bois. The eldest sons of the great Wolfe of the North, William de Wolfe, served them.
Scott de Wolfe was a big, brawny man with blond hair, greatly resembling his Scottish heritage and his twin, Troy, was dark and muscular like their father.
Garran, of course, was the son of the mighty Bose de Moray, a former captain of the guard for Henry III, and Stefan du Bois rounded out the powerful group.
Young, but extremely strong, big and intelligent, Stefan was descended from the great House of de Lohr on his mother’s side and the formidable House of du Bois on his father’s.
Aye, ’twas a mighty stable the House of de Shera was privileged to command.
Maximus considered himself extremely lucky.
But aside from the great bloodlines, the knights were also very trustworthy and Maximus considered them all close friends.
Perhaps when he was willing to divulge what he was thinking about the eldest de Lara daughter, he would mention it to them.
Perhaps. But he wasn’t ready to take that step.
Maximus had never been known to show attention to a woman, any woman, because he was more of a warrior than any of them.
He breathed, slept, and ate the knighthood.
He feared the shock of knowing the Thunder Warrior had an eye towards a certain lady might send them all into fits.
“We have been invited to sup with de Lara this eve,” he finally said, watching a host of surprised faces turn to him. “He invited all of us. I told him I did not know of my brothers’ plans but assured him that I would join him.”
Tiberius looked at Gallus. “I have no plans,” he said, already thinking on a fine meal at the de Lara table. It would undoubtedly be better than the meal at the inn. “What about you?”
Gallus shook his head. “I have no such plans, either,” he replied, but instinctively, his attention turned to the rooms above them where his pregnant wife was resting. “However, I am not entirely sure how well Jeni feels. I am not sure if she will want to accompany us.”
Maximus shrugged. “Then you should remain with her,” he said. “Has the licorice root helped?”
Gallus nodded. “Somewhat,” he replied. “The chamomile has helped even more. At least she has been able to eat something.”
Maximus nodded. “I am glad it helped,” he said. “Mayhap it is not my place to say so, but it might have been better for her had she remained at Isenhall.”
Isenhall Castle near Coventry was their home and seat of the mighty Earl of Coventry. Gallus held the title and had since it had been passed down through their mother. In fact, thoughts of home brought about thoughts of their beloved mother, who had been quite ill as of late.
Any mention of Isenhall had their thoughts turning to Lady Honey de Shera, the matriarch of the family.
Her given name was Charlotte, but Gallus’ father had called her “Honey” because he had declared her as fine and as sweet as honey.
Everyone called the woman Honey, including her sons.
Moreover, they were very attached to her and her illness was weighing heavily upon them.
Being away from her during this time did not bode well for any of them.
“Nay,” Gallus finally muttered, his good humor fading as he toyed with his wine cup.
“My wife wanted to come with me and I could not deny her. With her difficult pregnancy, it is my sense that remaining behind with Honey would have been more of a strain upon her. You know that she would want to tend Honey, or aid the physics at the very least, and that is too much for her at this time. And she cannot help Honey no matter how hard she would try. Nay, it is better to let her come with us and get away from the death vigil. But, with God as my witness, even though we are in Oxford for this great gathering, my heart is not here. It is back at Isenhall with our mother.”
Maximus and Tiberius sobered greatly at the thought of their languishing mother; a cancer in her belly, the physics had said, and the woman had lain at death’s door for more than a month.
She was unconscious most of the time but had become vaguely lucid twice, at least enough so that they could communicate with her.
The first time, only Gallus’ wife had been with her but the second time, Maximus had been present.
His mother’s words of wisdom still rattled in his head.