Chapter Two
Coventry
It was late morning by the time the de Shera guard rode into Coventry.
The day had warmed up considerably and most of the people who had done their shopping or had conducted business early in the morning were now back at home so the streets were relatively empty.
That fact made it far easier for the de Shera contingent to hunt for the de Montfort men that were allegedly closing in on de Moray.
Heavily-armed men would stand out in an atmosphere such as this because de Montfort wouldn’t search out the enemy in secret.
He would have his men out in the open as if daring the enemy to come forth.
According to the messenger boy that de Moray had sent to Isenhall, de Moray was barricaded in a tavern called the Castle and Chain, which was one of the more popular taverns in the city.
Tiberius had visited it many times for drunken debauchery and knew it well.
Therefore, as they entered the city, he sent five groups of two men each to search out any sign of de Montfort men while the bulk of the contingent continued on to the tavern.
The tavern sat at the corner of a big intersection, the apex of two major roads leading into town from the north and the east. It was a two-storied structure with exposed exterior beams and wattle and daub construction, and the entire back portion of the building sagged slightly, as it had sunk into the mud that surrounded it.
In spite of the warm temperatures, mud encircled the place because of the dozens of horses that had been tethered to the hitching post from various tavern patrons, enough horses so that their urine and feces created fetid mud all around the place. It smelled like a barnyard.
The de Shera group closed in on the tavern, essentially pushing people out of the way in their attempt to get to it.
Dogs scattered, as did a few roaming chickens, creating quite a stir as Tiberius and his brothers invaded the yard behind the tavern.
Horses crowded into the yard and two wide-eyed stable boys ran out of the livery, being bellowed at by Maximus for their efforts.
He told the boys that if any of the horses ran off or were injured, then he would hold them personally responsible, which caused the boys to grab reins in a panic, trying to collect all of the frothy, excited horses from the heavily-armed men.
About half of the contingent, with Maximus at the head, went around to the front of the tavern while Tiberius, Gallus, and the rest of the men entered through the rear.
As soon as Tiberius and the men burst into the common room through the kitchens, the startled patrons let out cries of alarm and made haste towards the front entry, where Maximus was standing.
He had them effectively corralled. Tiberius grabbed the nearest tavern wench by the arm.
“You have two knights staying here,” he said forcefully. “Where are they?”
The wench, with wildly unkempt, curly, red hair, burst into tears and pointed to the spindly staircase that led to the second floor.
Tiberius let go of her and headed for the stairs with Gallus behind him.
When they were nearly to the top of the steps, a man with a very big broadsword jumped out at them.
Had Tiberius been any slower, the skilled down-parry of the sword would have cut him in half.
As it was, he managed to lift his sword just in time.
The blow was so forceful, however, that he staggered back into Gallus, who was unable to catch himself on the steps and went tumbling down, all the way to the bottom.
Tiberius couldn’t even take his eyes off his opponent to make sure his brother hadn’t broken his neck because another extremely heavy blow was forthcoming, one that sent him stumbling down a step, mostly because he was at a tremendous disadvantage being that he was standing steps below his attacker.
But he managed to bring his sword up and under his opponent, catching the man on the underside of his arms. It was enough to jar him but not enough to knock the massive broadsword loose.
As Tiberius went in for the death blow, he managed to catch a glimpse of his foe’s features in the dim light and he stopped himself just in time.
“De Moray!” he gasped. “Cease, man! Do you not recognize me?”
Bose de Moray came to a grinding halt, throwing himself off–balance as he did so. He had to grip the stair rail for support, otherwise he would have pitched over the side. The old knight’s black eyes widened in surprise.
“De Shera!” he grunted, shocked. “Dear God… forgive me, please. It is so dark in here that I could not see who it was. I heard you ask for me so I could only assume….”
It was then that Bose spied Gallus at the bottom of the steps, picking himself up with the help of his men. Tiberius, too, turned to see his brother standing up, holding on to his left arm, and both Tiberius and Bose made haste down the steps.
“Gal?” Tiberius reached out to steady his wounded brother. “Did you hurt yourself?”
Gallus was holding on to his elbow. “I do not believe it is too terrible,” he said, wincing as he tried to move the arm. He eyed de Moray. “You did not need saving, de Moray. We should have instead saved ourselves from you.”
Bose cracked a smile, an unnatural gesture on his angular, scarred face. “I am ashamed that I did not identify you sooner than I did,” he said. “You have my deepest apologies, my lord. I hope you are not hurt too terribly.”
Gallus shook his head, shaking off the pain in his left arm. “It is my clumsy brother’s fault,” he said, eying Tiberius irritably. “If there is any blame to be had, it should be directed at him. All that aside, however, we obviously received your missive. Where are these men who have pursued you?”
Bose was rather relieved that the young earl wasn’t going to berate him for being too old and too blind to identify him right away. He had asked for the man’s help and then he had turned on him when he’d shown up, so he was somewhat embarrassed by his bad manners.
“I am not entirely sure at this point,” he said, looking around and noticing more than a dozen de Shera men in the tavern entrance. “Last I saw, they were about four streets over, near the cathedral. Garran has gone out to scout for them, in fact. I….”
He was cut off by the sudden clash of swords outside of the tavern entrance.
Startled, Bose, Tiberius, Gallus, and Maximus turned to see a massive fight on the street in front of the tavern.
There were bodies clashing and the de Shera soldiers were getting sucked into it.
Bose was the first to notice his son, Garran in the middle of it.
“God’s Bones,” he hissed. “Garran is out there in the fight. I must save my son.”
At the mention of Garran’s name, all three de Shera brothers prepared to charge outside. Gallus grabbed a soldier near the door as he moved.
“What goes on out there?” he demanded.
The soldier seemed both concerned and perplexed. “Sir Garran had men running after him,” he said, pointing to the chaos outside. “He’s fighting with them and our men have joined in.”
Gallus bolted outside without another word with Maximus close on his heels. Tiberius went to follow his brothers but Bose grabbed him.
“My daughter,” he said, pointing up the stairs. “Douglass is in the last room on the left. Guard her with your life, young de Shera. I will help my son but you protect her. She is more important than any of us.”
With that, he was gone, a mountain of a man plowing through armed men, swinging his sword with expert precision.
It was an impressive sight to see. In fact, Tiberius found himself watching the legendary Bose de Moray as the man fought off men half his age.
The man is truly ageless, Tiberius thought.
But then it began to occur to him that de Shera men were fighting off de Montfort men.
Tiberius recognized the tunics of the men who had been chasing Garran.
It would seem that Garran found the men who had been following him and his father, and those men had chased him right back to the tavern.
There were more de Montfort men than Tiberius would have liked to have seen and that concerned him.
Turning on his heels, Tiberius hadn’t taken three steps when someone grabbed him from behind. He turned to see one of de Montfort’s men, who glared back at him quite angrily.
“What in the name of all that is Holy are you doing, de Shera?” the man demanded. “Do you have the de Moray party or don’t you?”
Tiberius frowned and knocked the man’s hand off his arm. The man was a lesser knight, a son of one of de Montfort’s favored barons, and Tiberius didn’t like him one bit. Sir Lincoln de Beckett was arrogant and dangerous, now in the middle of the fight to capture de Moray.
“You listen to me and listen well, de Beckett,” Tiberius snarled. “Take your men and get out of here. De Moray is under de Shera control.”
De Beckett, a big man who truly believed himself an equal peer to the Lords of Thunder, didn’t back down.
“I have been instructed by de Montfort to bring de Moray to him,” he said. “That is exactly what I intend to do.”
Tiberius grabbed the man by the neck, towering over him.
Tiberius wasn’t as bulky as his brothers, but he was seven inches over six feet in height, with a sinewy, muscular body.
He was solid and powerful, and by his sheer height he was intimidating.
He used all of that intimidation as he hovered over de Beckett.
“De Moray belongs to me,” he growled. “Get your men out of here or you will have a real fight on your hands. How will you explain that to de Montfort? You know he will believe Gallus over an arrogant ass like you.”