Epilogue
Isenhall Castle
“Grab him!” Maximus shouted. “Grab him or he will get away!”
Tiberius threw himself forward, grabbing at Cassius, but Cassius was stronger than a bull.
He pulled his uncle along with him as he struggled across the hall but he was sent to his knees when his Uncle Gallus and his father leapt on top of him as well.
Even though Cassius was pinned on the floor by three very big men, he was still struggling to break free.
He was clawing at the floor of Isenhall’s great hall, trying to pull himself out from under the pile of men.
“You made this… this d-deal,” Cassius grunted. “I d-did not agree to it!”
Maximus was trying very hard not to laugh. Tiberius, who had Cassius around the shoulders, was losing the battle against the giggles, and they couldn’t see Gallus’ face because he was lying on Cassius’ legs.
“Great Bleeding Christ,” Gallus groaned. “He is cutting off the circulation in my arm. He has me pinned!”
Tiberius started to giggle and he lost his hold.
Sensing his uncle’s weakness, Cassius tried to break free but the three de Shera brothers tightened their grip.
Maximus reached over his son’s head and hooked his fingers in the man’s nostrils, pulling his head up. With his arms pinned, Cassius howled.
“Let me go!” he demanded. “Cease your torture!”
Maximus wasn’t pulling hard enough to hurt but hard enough so that it must have been uncomfortable. “Swear to me you will not run if we let you go,” he said calmly.
Cassius squeezed his eyes shut, defiant and in pain. “I will not!”
“Then we are going to be here a very long time, Cassius,” Maximus said. “You are making an arse out of yourself. Turn around and see your brothers and sisters and cousins laughing at you.”
Maximus looked over his shoulder to see a gaggle of children standing in the entry to the great hall. When they saw Maximus looking at them, grinning, they started to giggle and squeal. Maximus laughed at his sons, daughter, nieces, and nephews.
“Come in, everyone,” he said. “Come and sit on Cassius. He is being quite foolish, you know. He deserves to be sat upon.”
The dam burst and children rushed in. The first to pounce on Cassius were his younger brothers – Augustus, who had seen twelve years, and Kellen, who had seen ten years.
They were both back from fostering at Kenilworth Castle, big and strong boys for their age.
They were followed by their younger cousins, Magnus and Bose, sons of their uncle, Tiberius, and after those four, the very young children piled on after them – three and four-year old Lucius and Justus, who looked just like their father, Maximus, and then the girls came – eight-year-old Elizabetha, daughter of Maximus, and twins Thomasina and Josephine, three-year-old daughters of Tiberius.
All of the children piled on to Cassius, who was by now simply laying there and trying to cover his head because Thomasina and Josephine seemed to think it was a very good idea to sit on it.
He wasn’t fighting back in the least now.
The only child left was not really a child at all, but a lad bordering on manhood.
Bhrodi de Shera, the oldest of the children at thirteen years of age, stood in the entry to the great hall and watched the frolicking with distaste in his expression.
His father, who had since pushed himself off Cassius to allow the children to pile on, went to his son.
“Why do you not jump on Cassius like the rest of them?” Gallus wanted to know. “He deserves the punishment.”
Bhrodi frowned. He was a very serious young man recently returned from spending a couple of years in Wales with his grandfather, Gaerwen, who was old and feeble these days and did not travel.
Bhrodi had been spending time with the old man, learning the ways of his Welsh heritage because his mother wished it.
He had also been training with Welsh fighters and had learned the Welsh way of battle, something his father had been trying to work out of him.
Bhrodi would one day hold the lands of Coventry and it was important he understand his English heritage as well.
But the result, at this age, was a lad who was torn between two cultures and didn’t really fit in either of them.
He watched his cousins and uncles roll about on the ground.
“It all seems rather silly to me,” Bhrodi finally said. “The man does not want to be married, Father. Why must he be forced?”
Gallus smiled faintly at his only child, his beloved son. “This marriage was brokered many years ago by your Uncle Maximus,” he said. “Cassius is to wed the daughter of a great de Shera ally. He is simply nervous because has had not yet met her.”
Bhrodi looked at his father. “Who is the ally?”
Gallus glanced over at the pile on the floor, noting that Maximus and Tiberius were now standing by, watching as their children beat up on Cassius.
“Bose de Moray,” he said. “Cassius is to marry your Aunt Douglass’ youngest sister, Lady Sable. She should be here very soon. In fact, that is why we are all here, to witness the marriage of Cassius to Sable. It is a joyous occasion.”
Bhrodi doubted that by the way his older cousin was resisting the union. “If it is, then someone forgot to tell Cassius,” he said. “He wants to leave.”
Gallus shook his head. “He cannot leave,” he said flatly. “There will be more guests arriving, including your Aunt Courtly’s sister and her husband.”
Bhrodi thought on the aunt he’d seen fairly frequently while he had been in Wales because she didn’t live far from his grandfather’s castle.
“Aunt Isadora is coming?” he asked, watching his father nod.
“I… I do like her husband, Kirk. He has come to Rhydilian Castle to sup with Grandfather and me. He has also taught me some skill with a sword. He is very good.”
Gallus smiled. “St. Héver is quite talented with a blade,” he agreed. “They are bringing their son, Keenan, whom your Aunt Courtly has not yet seen. She is most anxious to see her nephew.”
Bhrodi didn’t much care about his new cousin. He was still looking at Cassius, who was now trying to sit up but the toddlers wouldn’t let him. As Cassius finally gave up his struggles to escape his family and began tickling little ribs, a de Shera soldier entered the hall looking for Gallus.
“My lord,” the soldier addressed the earl when he finally spied him. “We have spotted two incoming parties, one from the north and one from the south.”
Gallus nodded in acknowledgement, looking to his son. “What should you ask the soldier, Bhrodi?”
The question was all part of the training Gallus had been trying to give the boy since his return from Wales.
He was trying to force the boy to think, to assume some of the authority that the earldom he would inherit someday would require.
Bhrodi, knowing he was being tested, gave his question serious thought.
“Do you see any standards?” he asked the soldier.
The soldier fought off a grin at the young lad, trying very hard to be cool and in command.
“Black and red de Moray colors from the south, my lord,” he said.
“They should be here very shortly. As for the group coming in from the north, we cannot say yet but we believe it to be de Winter. I am sending out scouts to make sure.”
Bhrodi nodded and thanked the soldier, looking at his father to make sure he should not have asked more questions. Gallus smiled proudly and Bhrodi let out a sigh of relief. As the soldier headed out of the hall, Cassius, who had heard the man’s report, climbed to his feet.
“So she is here,” he said even as children were hanging on him. “I suppose I c-cannot escape now even if I tried. They will see me and they will pursue.”
Maximus came to stand next to his disgruntled son, now twenty-eight years of age and a very big and very powerful knight in his own right.
Cassius de Shera rode with the de Shera armies, with his father and uncles, and he was well-respected and well-liked by the men.
He had Maximus’ fighting ability, Gallus’ cunning, and Tiberius’ intelligence all rolled into one.
The stammer he had been born with was now hardly mentionable and he could bellow clear and determined orders better than his father could.
More than that, he was quite pursued by women demanding their fathers make marital contracts with him but de Moray had been smart enough those years ago to lay his claim first for his youngest daughter.
Now, Lady Sable de Moray was of age and the wedding mass was planned for the morrow if the groom didn’t escape.
“If I were you, I would not try to run from Bose de Moray,” Maximus said to his son. “If he catches you, I will not be able to help or defend you. You are on your own.”
Cassius frowned at his father, noting that his Uncle Tiberius was now standing next to him. Knowing he was cornered, defeated, he put his hands on his head and groaned.
“No offense to Aunt Douglass, for she is a lovely woman,” Cassius said, “but I have not even seen her sister. What if the female beauty in the family is not consistent? No one has even seen Lady Sable for years because she has been fostering. What if she is a horror? Must I still marry her?”
Maximus was sincerely trying not to grin at his desperate son. “Look at your Aunt Douglass,” he admonished. “Can you truly believe a full-blooded sister would be a horror?”
Cassius couldn’t, in truth, but he still wasn’t excited about this marriage. Therefore, he avoided the question.
“I am simply too young to be m-married,” he said, frowning. “I still want to travel the world.”
Tiberius, standing next to him, cocked a wry eyebrow. “So take your wife with you.”
“I want to go places where women are not welcome!”
Tiberius burst into laughter while Maximus spoke, incredulous. “Where in God’s Good Name would that be?” he demanded. “A harem of a great sheik? A Roman bath meant entirely for men?”