Chapter Fourteen #2
Davyss shook his head, his frustration evident.
“My father has objections to attacking Warborough as well,” he admitted, “but he leads the king’s armies so he has no choice.
He hates these French mercenaries under his command.
They are vile, foul men. I feel as if they are the enemy more than de Montfort is. ”
Garran thought the entire circumstance sounded uncertain and dangerous.
“If you will forgive me, your father made the choice to side with Henry,” he said.
“He is bound to do whatever the king wishes and fight whomever he is told to fight, and that also means commanding the men the king chooses for him to command. He has no right to complain.”
Davyss eyed the knight. “The de Winters have served the crown since the days of William the Bastard,” he said. “My father did not make that choice. It was already made for him two hundred years ago. He simply carries on the family tradition.”
“As do you?”
“Gallus has asked that same question, many times.”
Garran wouldn’t argue the subject of free will.
As far as he was concerned, the entire de Winter family had made the choice to serve a king who did not deserve their loyalty.
They were great warriors, and very rich and powerful.
It was nearly the only great power from England that the king could count as a supporter.
“Gallus and his brothers are in Oxford,” Garran said after a moment, given that the subject of Gallus had entered the conversation. “You know when they hear of Warborough, they will be leading her defense. We will meet them in battle.”
Davyss tried not to look sick about it. “I know,” he conceded. “But there is nothing we can do about it. The path is set.”
“Will you lift your sword against them?” Garran wanted to know. “Gallus and Maximus and Tiberius? Because I know for a fact I will not. I cannot. I will go kill French mercenaries instead.”
Davyss smiled faintly. “As I will I,” he confessed. “You know I cannot fight Gallus. My father knows it, too.”
“What will we do, then?”
Davyss sighed heavily. Then, he gestured to the tent. “Go inside and listen to our fathers discuss what you and I will not do,” he said. “Come along before they come looking for us.”
Garran followed Davyss into the tent without another word.
Inside, Grayson and Bose and a few other senior English commanders were bent over a leaning table with a map spread across the surface.
As Garran listened to the talk of taking Warborough, one thing was certain.
He would not fight against the Lords of Thunder.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to pledge fealty to his father in the first place, but his choices, now, were both terrible – either fight against his father or fight against the de Shera brothers.
Either way, the outcome, for him, could only bring him to heartache.
Already, he was aching.
*
Oxford
“It is a very large army, my lord,” the soldier said. “Thousands, at least. Lord de Russe has sent word to de Montfort and de Montfort has sent me to find you to tell you that you must come to Warborough.”
It was late in the afternoon at The One-Eyed Raven.
About an hour before, Maximus had emerged from his chamber to discuss departure plans with Gallus.
The problem was that Maximus had a lazy smile on his face and was having difficulty focusing, which set Tiberius off into a fit of giggles.
Marriage, already, agreed with him. All Gallus could do was look at his middle brother, snort ironically, and shake his head as if to say, I understand completely.
Nonetheless, they had plans to make. With their departure imminent, Gallus had awoken his wife and, even now, Jeniver and Courtly were in Jeniver’s room, packing their possessions in preparation for traveling to Isenhall.
It gave the women something to do while the men finalized the plans for their journey to London.
But those plans came to a grinding halt when an exhausted messenger bearing the colors of de Montfort arrived at the inn.
The sight had been concerning enough since de Montfort was on his way to London, but the news the man bore was even more shocking.
“Clarify this for me,” Gallus asked de Montfort’s soldier after he had listened to the man’s breathless story. “The Lord of Warborough is an ally of the king. He is also the king’s treasurer and constable of the castle. And you are telling me this is no longer true?”
The soldier nodded. “Aye, my lord.”
“He has switched allegiances and is now allied with de Montfort?”
“Aye, my lord.”
Gallus was at a loss for words. He hadn’t heard such a thing. He looked around to his brothers and trusted knights – Maximus, Tiberius, Scott, Troy, and Stefan – but everyone seemed to have the same expression – shock. He turned back to de Montfort’s man.
“When did this happen?” he demanded. “I saw de Montfort yesterday and he made no mention of Christon de Russe.”
The soldier wasn’t sure what to tell the Thunder Lord.
He was a man to be both respected and feared, and the soldier didn’t particularly like upsetting him.
Even worse, the man’s brother, Maximus, was looking less than pleased at the information and the soldier knew that Maximus de Shera was a man to placate in all situations.
He’d been known to rip men’s heads from their bodies in battle.
Or, at least that was what he had been told.
It was, therefore, a struggle not to show any fear.
“Lord de Russe is now allied with his cousin, Lord Hughston de Russe,” the soldier said.
“Lord Christon kept Warborough Castle and also has some of the king’s treasury in his possession.
The king is sending an army to confiscate the castle and take back the money, but Lord Christon would keep it for de Montfort’s cause.
Lord de Montfort has sent me to ask you to join him at Warborough Castle to defend it from Henry’s forces. ”
It was all quite puzzling and, if genuinely true, quite astonishing.
Gallus couldn’t quite grasp what he was being told.
Christon de Russe was thick with the king, or at least he used to be, much to his cousin, Hughston’s, dismay.
The de Russe clan had always been the rather democratic type that fell in with de Montfort’s ideals, but Christon had been with the king for many years and enjoyed the status of his job.
Now, evidently, the tides were turning. Had Gallus not known the soldier, or at least had seen him with de Montfort, he might have thought it was a trap because the information was truly surprising. Even so, he was wary. He simply couldn’t help it.
“How soon does de Montfort want us to mobilize?” he asked the soldier.
The man wiped at the sweat on his brow. “Henry’s army has been sighted to the east of Warborough, my lord,” he replied. “De Montfort is coming up from the south. He will meet you in Wallingford.”
Gallus scratched his head, looking at his brothers, who seemed equally astonished by the information. “I know where Wallingford is,” he told the soldier, “but de Montfort was already on the road to London. Now he is turning around to fight this battle? It must be important to him.”
The soldier nodded. “It is, my lord,” he said. “De Montfort wants Warborough and he wants the coinage that de Russe has stolen from Henry.”
Gallus could understand that; money, and property, was power. “How far out is he?”
“He should arrive by tomorrow morning.”
Gallus’ mind began working furiously. He only had fifty men with him.
The bulk of his army had been called down from Isenhall to meet him in London, but it would be days before they reached the city.
Therefore, he had no choice but to go with only the fifty men he had.
Combined with the other armies, they would comprise an acceptable amount of soldiers and archers, but he was less confident than he would have been had his four hundred seasoned troops been at his command.
If they were to defend Warborough against a thousand troops, the odds were considerably stacked against them.
“Who else has been summoned to Warborough?” Gallus wanted to know. “There were many barons in Oxford because of de Montfort’s gathering but I do not have the latest information as to who has already left for London and who remains.”
The soldier was thoughtful. “Bigod and Fitzgeoffrey moved out with de Montfort,” he said.
“There are several barons still in Oxford according to de Montfort’s intelligence and there are several messengers, much like me, sent to seek them out and summon them – de Ferrers, de Burgh, de Lara, Fitzalan…
when they are all gathered, de Montfort expects twice Henry’s numbers. We should easily defeat them.”
Gallus eyed Maximus at the mention of de Lara. “Kellen de Lara?” he clarified with the soldier.
The man nodded. “Aye, my lord,” he replied. “Viscount Trelystan.”
This is going to be interesting, Gallus thought.
He was sure Maximus had the very same thought, fighting alongside a man whose daughter they had so recently stolen.
That is what it would boil down to. Regardless, he wasn’t so sure about having the numbers to overwhelm Henry’s forces but he would never publicly express a negative opinion regarding battle odds.
Something like that would get around and demoralize the troops. Therefore, he simply nodded.
“You will ride with me to Wallingford,” he told de Montfort’s man before turning to his men.
“Ty, spread the word among the men of our orders. Scott and Troy, make sure the horses are sound and ready for battle. Stefan, you will stock the provisions wagon with items for the wounded and Max, we must discuss the de Shera women. They are going to have to remain here for the time being. I cannot spare the men to return them to Isenhall. All we can do is leave a small contingent here to guard them.”