Chapter Eleven
Wintercroft Manor
It was just before sunset when Tiberius, Douglass, Bose, and Garran reached Wintercroft Manor.
The manor was set north of the river, back in a massive forest of trees that stretched as far as the eye could see.
The four of them traveled for some time down the forested road as the sun lowered in the sky, creating phantoms and shadows in the canopy overhead, until the heavily foliaged trees parted and a gray stoned wall came into view.
The wall was inordinately high and there was a massive wood and iron gate cut into the middle of it.
As they drew near, Bose called to the sentries and announced himself and the gate began to crank open, allowing them to enter.
As they made their way into the bailey, the structure of Wintercroft loomed before them.
Although it was a fortified manor, it looked more like a small castle.
It was pale-stoned, bulky and gloomy. The yard was littered with small outbuildings and a fairly large stable block off to the south.
The house itself was odd. There was a heavy, iron door on the first floor but no windows anywhere on the floor.
All of the windows were on the second floor but there was also a strange addition that projected off the north side of the house, creating a third and fourth floor.
It was like an enormous tower had been added to half of the house.
All of this oddness made it very peculiar in appearance and as the four of them drew close to the manor, the door opened and a big knight with shaggy, brown hair appeared.
“De Moray!” the man called, followed shortly by an older man emerging from the door behind him. The young knight that was dressed in mail and sloppy, leather breeches lifted a hand to Garran. “You’re an ugly ape of a man, Garran, but I am happy to see you.”
Garran waved off Davyss de Winter, who stood there laughing at Garran as the man balled a fist at him. But that laughter faded when Davyss saw Douglass tucked in behind her brother’s charger. Gallantly, he bowed.
“Ah,” he said. “Lady Douglass de Moray. I would recognize that beautiful hair anywhere. Welcome back to Wintercroft, my lady.”
Davyss was a flatterer of women and, much like Tiberius, had something of a scandalous reputation that followed him around.
Douglass could tell just by the man’s manner that the rumors were true.
He had a bright smile, was very handsome, and he knew it.
She fought off a grin, trying to appear stern.
“I was hoping you would not be here, Davyss,” she said as she reined her palfrey to a halt and he came out to help her from her horse. “I told my father that the last time I saw you, you pinched me.”
Davyss appeared shocked. “I did no such thing.”
“You did.”
He pretended to be very contrite. “It was an accident, I am sure, my lady,” he assured her. “I would never have knowingly done such a thing.”
“And you had better not do it again or you will have to answer to me.”
The threat came from Tiberius, the last rider in their party, as he came up behind Douglass’ palfrey.
Davyss had been so fixed on the glorious Douglass that he hadn’t noticed Tiberius riding in with Bose and Garran.
Tiberius was not wearing his de Shera tunic and, quite frankly, Tiberius was the last person Davyss would have expected to see with de Moray.
He stared at Tiberius as if he were seeing a ghost.
“Ty?” he finally gasped. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
Tiberius smiled faintly at one of his oldest and dearest friends.
“An explanation for another time,” he said, indicating quite clearly that he didn’t wish to discuss his presence in the open for all to hear.
“Suffice it to say that I am here and I am not a prisoner of de Moray. I am here of my own free will. Greetings, Uncle Grayson.”
He was speaking to the older man who was standing behind Davyss. Grayson de Winter had graying temples and a muscular, compact body that suggested he’d spent many years being active as a knight. He simply had that look about him. Grayson gazed steadily up at Tiberius with his dark hazel eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Grayson asked.
Tiberius glanced at Douglass, then at Bose, as the man was climbing of his steed. “I told you,” he said, lowering his voice. “I am here of my own free will.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“That is the only answer I will give you at the moment.”
That wasn’t good enough for Grayson, not in the least. After instructing Davyss to escort Bose, Garran, and Douglass into the house, he returned his focus to Tiberius.
“Get off the horse,” he told him in a tone that suggested he dare not be disobeyed. “Come with me.”
Much as Tiberius had feared, he was about to face some manner of fatherly interrogation with Grayson.
It was inevitable that Grayson involve himself in his business.
Obediently, he dismounted his animal, muzzling the beast before handing it off to a hovering stable boy.
Like a guilty child, he followed Grayson to the north side of Wintercroft where there was a heavy door that led inside.
It was dark and musty in the structure, with low ceilings and close walls.
Tiberius, with his extreme height, had to duck his head as they moved down a corridor so that he would not smack his forehead.
He was positive that the de Winter family built this place for midgets.
Grayson led him into a small room that faced the north side of the bailey and the heavy copse of trees on the other side of the wall.
“Now,” Grayson came to a halt in the small but comfortable solar and faced Tiberius. “What are you doing with Bose de Moray? Where are your brothers?”
Tiberius drew in a thoughtful breath, collecting his thoughts before he explained. “I want to marry Douglass de Moray,” he said simply. “Her father is not entirely certain I am a desirable husband for his daughter so I have sworn fealty to him in order that I may prove myself.”
Grayson was not pleased by that explanation. It was clear by his expression. “You cannot simply swear fealty to a man because you want his daughter,” he said, verging on anger. “You are a Lord of Thunder. Your heart is with de Montfort and everybody knows it.”
“My heart is with Douglass.”
That seemed to bring on more anger. “Just because you are thinking with your manhood and not your brain, that does not mean you can switch allegiances so easily,” he snapped.
“Your father would have your head for this. What in the hell are you thinking, Tiberius? This is a foolish and dishonorable move.”
Tiberius struggled not to feel guilty. “I told you,” he said evenly. “I want to marry Douglass and the only way to prove to Bose that I am worthy is to serve him. Actions speak louder than words, Uncle Grayson.”
Grayson scowled. “That is ridiculous,” he said.
“I want you to go back to Isenhall where you belong. God help us if Henry gets wind of this. If he knows de Moray has you, he will demand you be brought to him and do you know what will happen then? You will be lucky if throwing you in the vault is all he has in mind. He knows that you are privy to the inner workings of de Montfort’s rebellion.
He may try to torture every last detail out of you! ”
Tiberius’ jaw ticked faintly. “I am not going back to Isenhall.”
Grayson nodded his head firmly, quickly.
“Aye, you are,” he said. “You are putting everyone who knows you in danger, Tiberius de Shera. Do you think I would stand by and watch Henry take you to sport? Of course I would not. You would ruin everything I work for just so you can fuck another man’s daughter? I am ashamed of you.”
Tiberius felt as if he’d been struck. He suddenly felt very foolish and very weary. He sighed heavily, searching for the nearest chair to plant his body on. Plopping onto the nearest bench, he tried not to feel too confused or devastated.
“I do not want to bed her,” he muttered. “I want to marry her.”
Grayson could see that he had successfully beat Tiberius down and there was a natural guilt with that, being stern to someone he loved. He softened slightly, but not too much. He had a point to make and he could not do it if he crumbled because Tiberius’ feelings were hurt.
“Ty,” he said, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I am not trying to be cruel, but you have put yourself in great danger by doing this. Trust me when I tell you that we cannot always have the women we want. That does not mean there is not another fine woman waiting for you, somewhere.”
Tiberius looked up at him. It had only recently become common knowledge that Grayson had been very fond of Honey de Shera.
That had been established during Honey’s very lengthy illness when Grayson had come to Isenhall to pay a visit.
That had been back in April. As Honey lay dying, Grayson had said a few things to her that he probably shouldn’t have, intimating that Honey was the woman he had always loved.
Strangely enough, it hadn’t mattered much to Honey’s sons, as they had always looked to Grayson as an uncle and as part of their family.
Even now, as Tiberius looked at Grayson, he could see the sorrow of a lost love in his eyes.
“You are speaking of my mother,” he murmured quietly. “Don’t you regret not marrying her?”
Grayson hesitated a moment before shaking his head. “I have a fine wife and fine sons,” he said. “I have no regrets and neither will you. Go home, Tiberius. Forget about Douglass de Moray. There will be other women for you.”
Tiberius shook his head. “I do not want another woman,” he said. “I want Douglass. I intend to have her and I am sorry if that causes you to be ashamed of me. I would think that you of all people would understand my heart.”