Chapter Six #4
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.