Chapter Six #3
Courtly stared at him, unsure of what to say to that. She didn’t want to be rude, but she wasn’t sure what her father would say to all of this, either. He might be offended by others paying for what his daughter had lost. Perplexed, she looked at Jeniver.
“I thought we were going to shop for items you needed, my lady,” she said.
Jeniver lifted her slender shoulders. “I am going to shop for items I need,” she said. “If you are agreeable, Maximus will take you shopping for a few items that you need.”
Courtly still wasn’t following her meaning. “Then you and I are not going together?”
Jeniver shook her head. “Maximus will be perfectly behaved, I assure you,” she answered. “It will be quite safe to go with him alone. Unless, of course, you would rather come with me, in which case, Maximus will accompany us. The choice is yours.”
It was a wide-open question, the answer of which could have implications on both Maximus’ life and Courtly’s.
The opportunity was presenting itself for a potential suitor to have some time with Courtly, away from her father, and the realization was almost too much to comprehend.
In fact, it was too good to comprehend. Courtly could hardly believe it, but it was becoming readily apparent to her that this had been planned all along – Maximus wanted to spend time alone with her, much as he had done in the kitchen the previous night, and Lady Jeniver was helping him accomplish that.
Overwhelmed with the scandalous joy of such a thing, all Courtly could do was nod.
“Aye, my lady,” she replied softly, with emotion in her voice. “I will go with him, alone. I would be honored.”
Jeniver smiled. “It could be considered quite unseemly by others,” she warned gently. “Surely you understand that.”
“I understand.”
Jeniver was pleased that the lure of being alone with Maximus was worth the risk of gossips.
That showed that Lady Courtly had some bravery in her and it also showed that perhaps her feelings for Maximus were indeed genuine.
In any case, the woman was agreeable, as they had hoped. Jeniver turned to Maximus.
“Max?” she said, catching his attention. “Hurry us along to Oxford, now. You and Lady Courtly have shopping to do.”
Maximus didn’t need to be told twice.
*
Oxford Castle
“Gallus, we must move. We must convene at Westminster.”
The ominous words came from Simon de Montfort.
Leader of the baron’s rebellion against Henry III, he had essentially been in control of the country since the end of April when the king had been virtually overthrown by de Montfort and his most powerful barons, Hugh Bigod and Gallus de Shera included.
Hugh Bigod was also in on this meeting along with Peter de Montfort, of no relation to Simon, Hugh’s brother Roger, John Fitzgeoffrey, and Richard de Clare.
These were some of the most powerful men in England at this time, men who ruled alongside de Montfort, but Simon’s latest words had Gallus furrowing his brow.
“Why?” Gallus asked, perplexed. “I thought we were meeting here, with all of our supporters, in two days?”
De Montfort shook his head. A big man, he was older but he was still quite strong and healthy.
He sat heavily in the nearest chair, one of oak with a silk pillow on the seat, and one that happened to be the closest to the pewter decanter of wine that de Montfort was so fond of.
As the man poured himself a draught of wine, he spoke.
“Our main goal last month when Hugh wrested power from the king was that a council be set up to govern the country so the king does not have absolute rule,” he said.
“You know this, Gallus. You were there when Henry agreed to surrender his absolute rule in favor of a council of twenty-four men, chosen equally by him and by us.”
Gallus snorted. “The king did not have much choice with Maximus standing over him,” he said. “He was afraid he was about to be arrested or worse. Maximus has that effect on people.”
Simon’s lips flickered with a smile as he remembered the incident. Henry had been caught off-guard by a mutiny of his barons and, fearful of being thrown in the Tower, had agreed to their terms. That was essentially how de Montfort had come to power, but the struggle wasn’t over, not in the least.
“So he does,” Simon agreed. He took a long swallow of wine and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.
“I have received word that Henry has chosen his representatives for the council and, unfortunately, I agree with none of them. Most of them are damnable Poitevins, Henry’s relatives from France that seem to be infiltrating our country by the hundreds.
Those men have no right to rule England. ”
It was serious news, indeed. The king’s French relatives were one of the main points of contention between Henry and his barons.
“What do we do?” Gallus asked quietly. “Henry was free to choose his representatives, as we were free to choose ours.”
Simon eyed him. “Henry was free to choose men who belong in England,” he snapped softly, “not mercenary relatives who will only govern for their own good and not for England’s. That is why we must go to London, Gallus. My sources tell me that they are convening at Westminster and we must be there.”
Gallus understood. “Very well,” he said, though there was disappointment in his tone.
Simon caught the inflection. “What is it?”
Gallus hesitated a moment before speaking.
“I was hoping we would be finished with our business in Oxford quickly so that I could return home and see to my mother,” he said.
“I realize that seems like a trivial thing when the fate of the country hangs in balance, but certainly it is not trivial to me.”
Simon sobered, eyeing Hugh Bigod, who was standing several feet away.
Hugh and Gallus had shared a contentious relationship for the past several months, culminating last month in what could have been a rather violent circumstance.
The truth was that Hugh had not forgiven Gallus for refusing to marry his daughter and the situation, and Hugh’s pride, had veered out of control.
It was only redeemed when Gallus saved the man’s army from an attack from the king’s forces, although Simon was still unclear as to how, exactly, Gallus had known the king was moving against Bigod.
It was still a mystery but one Simon couldn’t spare any thought to.
At the moment, he had quite enough to deal with and he worried that Hugh might press Gallus on the very touchy subject of his dying mother, so it was a situation between the men that continued to bear watching.
“Lady Honey has not improved, Gallus?” Hugh asked politely.
Gallus knew that Hugh did not approve of him, arguably the rebellion’s greatest warlord, being so inordinately attached to his mother.
It was one of many points of disagreement between them.
Lady Honey de Shera was a daughter of England’s greatest champion, Christopher de Lohr, and by sheer association she was greatly respected among fighting men.
Still, Hugh had always seemed to disapprove of the fact that all of the de Shera brothers were very attached to her.
He’d even spread gossip about boys being curtailed by their mother’s apron strings.
That being the case, it wasn’t a subject that Gallus was willing to be pressed on by Bigod and he could feel his temper rise.
“She has not,” he turned to look at Hugh as if daring the man to say more. “If we are moving to London, then my brothers and I will go, but I would like to take time to see my mother first.”
Simon tried to be tactful. “Gallus, Coventry is three days north of Oxford,” he said.
“Even if you ride like the wind, it will still take you almost two weeks to ride north to Coventry and then south to London. Henry is gathering his council representatives next week. We cannot wait so long for you to see your mother. I am dreadfully sorry to say so, but it is true. If you go to Coventry, then we go to London without you.”
Gallus sighed sharply and turned away from de Montfort, wandering over to the hearth in the great solar of Oxford Castle, a solar that had seen more than its share of war conferences.
It had seen more than its share of strife.
As Gallus leaned up against the hearth, debating on his course of action, Peter de Montfort made his way over to him.
Peter was an older man, wise and calm, and he and Gallus had an excellent bond. He put his hand on Gallus’ shoulder.
“Your mother has been ill for quite some time,” he said quietly. “Will she know you if you go to her?”
Gallus was reluctant to answer. “She has been mostly unconscious for the past month,” he said. “I am sure that when we return, her condition will be the same. The cancer is claiming her one day at a time.”
Peter squeezed his shoulder. “Then you go to satisfy yourself,” he said as Gallus looked at him curiously.
“You go to say your farewells to a woman you have already bid farewell to. It is not your mother lying in that bed, Gallus. Your mother has already gone. It is simply her body that lingers. But that, too, shall pass, whether or not you go to see her while she yet still breathes.”
Peter made sense even though Gallus didn’t want to agree with him.
He forced a weak smile at the man. “I will discuss it with my brothers and my wife,” he said.
“If we return to Coventry, it will be briefly. Even though you say that my mother is already gone, there is still life there. I want her to know… I must see her one last time.”
Peter merely squeezed his shoulder again and moved away, passing by Simon as he went and lifting his eyebrows at the man as if to beg patience on behalf of Gallus. It was a difficult time for him, indeed. Simon, however, was exhibiting more patience than he felt.
“Go and speak with your brothers, Gallus,” he instructed.
“Tell them what I have told you. It is imperative that we leave for London on the morrow in order to make it in time for Henry’s council meeting.
I want you to ride at the head of the armies, Gallus, but I will allow you to make that choice. I will not force you to do it.”
Gallus simply nodded his head as he turned back to the group. “I am grateful,” he said. “Meanwhile, let us discuss what to expect in London. Surely your spies have intelligence for us, Simon. What do we know about the situation we are about to face?”
He was changing the subject away from his mother and on to the focus at hand, which pleased Simon.
He needed Gallus. He needed the man’s political wisdom as well as his military might.
As Richard de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, began to speak of the Lusignan relatives that the king had selected for his representatives on the governing council, Simon watched Gallus lose himself in what he did best – strategizing.
This was the Gallus he loved and the Gallus he needed if they were going to establish a new government and a new England.
He needed all of the de Shera brothers if they were going to accomplish what they intended.
Men that fought for England, men who controlled the reins of power and might. The de Sheras were all that and more.
The Lords of Thunder were England.