“I am sure he will, my lady,” she said quietly. “But why should he want to call upon me? Did he tell you how we met?”
Jeniver nodded. “He said he saved your life when your hostel burned.”
Courtly rolled her eyes, rather miserably. The way she and Maximus had met wasn’t something she ever envisioned herself speaking of, but at this moment, it was on the tip of her tongue. For whatever reason, she felt the need to confide in Lady de Shera, perhaps because she had never really had anyone to confide to in all of her life. This was all very new to her.
“I fell on his head, my lady,” she said, embarrassed and distressed. “I was climbing down a rope I had made of bed linens and the rope gave way, so I crashed down on his head and… and my skirt went over his head, trapping the top-half of him within my skirts when we fell to the ground.”
Jeniver’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps offer her condolences on such an undignified meeting, but she ended up laughing. She slapped a hand over her mouth.
“It is not true!” she hissed, stifling her giggles.
Seeing that Lady de Shera was laughing should have upset Courtly greatly, but it didn’t. She, too, saw the humor of the situation, now a day after it happened. At the time, it was the worst possible thing that could have happened but now, in hindsight, it was rather funny. She struggled not to smile.
“I am afraid that it is,” she said, remembering the entire event with great clarity. “But… but that was not the worst part. He became entangled in my skirts with his head… where it should not have been, my lady, and I swear I thought he was a beast, a fiend at the very least. As his head remained trapped in my skirts, I… I beat his head through the fabric.”
Jeniver couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing, so much so that Courtly started to chuckle whether or not she wanted to. Jeniver’s laugher was contagious and, as Courtly thought on the situation, she realized just how funny it really was. She began to scream with laughter, too. As they rolled along the rocky, hole-prone road towards Oxford, the entire carriage was echoing with laughter.
“God’s Bones,” Jeniver gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “That is the best thing I have heard in weeks. You say you really beat him around the head?”
Courtly was still snorting. “I did, my lady.”
Jeniver was off in gales of laughter again until she was weak with it. Struggling to catch her breath, she was leaning back against the cushioned side of the cab when a very big horse and an armored leg appeared near the cab window. There was a very big hand, too, gloved, and as the horse plodded along, the man astride it bent over so he could look into the cab window.
“What is happening in there?” Maximus asked. “All I hear is screaming.”
Jeniver glanced at Courtly, who had the look of absolute surprise and absolute elation on her face. But Courtly abruptly looked at her, horrified that the woman was going to tell him why they had been laughing and Jeniver subtly shook her head.
“It is not of your affair, Maximus de Shera,” she told the man. “We are speaking of womanly things. You would not be interested.”
Maximus flipped up his three-point visor, of the latest style, and looked between Jeniver and Courtly. Mostly, he was looking at Courtly. His eyes lingered on her, like a gentle caress, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Jeniver. She’d never seen that expression on Maximus’ face, ever.
“I suppose you told her why she is here,” he said to Jeniver.
Jeniver, a sly smile on her face, shook her head. “I have not,” she said. “Now you have ruined the surprise. Go back and ride behind the carriage, Maximus. You are spoiling all of my fun.”
Maximus grinned, flashing those straight white teeth framed by the beard. “Hurry and tell her before we arrive,” he said. “Oxford is up ahead. I can see it now.”
Courtly was looking at Jeniver very curiously at this point. Jeniver, seeing the woman’s expression, sighed dramatically.
“Oh, very well, Maximus,” she said, even though she was looking at Courtly. “It has come to our attention, Lady Courtly, that all of your possessions were burned in the fire yesterday. Is that correct?”
Courtly nodded, although she was somewhat confused by the question. “They were,” she said. “That is why I must apologize for my state of dress. This is all I have to wear and….”
Jeniver cut her off, gently done. “I know,” she said. “Maximus and I discussed your predicament and he would like to take you shopping for a few things to replace what you lost.”
Courtly was hit with a wave of utter delight, of utter shock. “But why?” she asked, to both of them, but ended up looking at Maximus. “Sir Maximus, it was not your fault that my possessions burned. You certainly do not have to replace anything.”
He was bent over his horse, looking at her through the cab window. “I know,” he said. “I want to do it. It would give me great pleasure, my lady. Please do not deny me.”
Courtly stared at him, unsure of what to say to that. She didn’t want to be rude, but she wasn’t sure what her father would say to all of this, either. He might be offended by others paying for what his daughter had lost. Perplexed, she looked at Jeniver.
“I thought we were going to shop for items you needed, my lady,” she said.
Jeniver lifted her slender shoulders. “I am going to shop for items I need,” she said. “If you are agreeable, Maximus will take you shopping for a few items that you need.”
Courtly still wasn’t following her meaning. “Then you and I are not going together?”
Jeniver shook her head. “Maximus will be perfectly behaved, I assure you,” she answered. “It will be quite safe to go with him alone. Unless, of course, you would rather come with me, in which case, Maximus will accompany us. The choice is yours.”
It was a wide-open question, the answer of which could have implications on both Maximus’ life and Courtly’s. The opportunity was presenting itself for a potential suitor to have some time with Courtly, away from her father, and the realization was almost too much to comprehend. In fact, it was too good to comprehend. Courtly could hardly believe it, but it was becoming readily apparent to her that this had been planned all along – Maximus wanted to spend time alone with her, much as he had done in the kitchen the previous night, and Lady Jeniver was helping him accomplish that. Overwhelmed with the scandalous joy of such a thing, all Courtly could do was nod.
“Aye, my lady,” she replied softly, with emotion in her voice. “I will go with him, alone. I would be honored.”
Jeniver smiled. “It could be considered quite unseemly by others,” she warned gently. “Surely you understand that.”
“I understand.”
Jeniver was pleased that the lure of being alone with Maximus was worth the risk of gossips. That showed that Lady Courtly had some bravery in her and it also showed that perhaps her feelings for Maximus were indeed genuine. In any case, the woman was agreeable, as they had hoped. Jeniver turned to Maximus.
“Max?” she said, catching his attention. “Hurry us along to Oxford, now. You and Lady Courtly have shopping to do.”
Maximus didn’t need to be told twice.
Oxford Castle
“Gallus, we must move. We must convene at Westminster.”
The ominous words came from Simon de Montfort. Leader of the baron’s rebellion against Henry III, he had essentially been in control of the country since the end of April when the king had been virtually overthrown by de Montfort and his most powerful barons, Hugh Bigod and Gallus de Shera included.
Hugh Bigod was also in on this meeting along with Peter de Montfort, of no relation to Simon, Hugh’s brother Roger, John Fitzgeoffrey, and Richard de Clare. These were some of the most powerful men in England at this time, men who ruled alongside de Montfort, but Simon’s latest words had Gallus furrowing his brow.
“Why?” Gallus asked, perplexed. “I thought we were meeting here, with all of our supporters, in two days?”
“Our main goal last month when Hugh wrested power from the king was that a council be set up to govern the country so the king does not have absolute rule,” he said. “You know this, Gallus. You were there when Henry agreed to surrender his absolute rule in favor of a council of twenty-four men, chosen equally by him and by us.”
Gallus snorted. “The king did not have much choice with Maximus standing over him,” he said. “He was afraid he was about to be arrested or worse. Maximus has that effect on people.”
Simon’s lips flickered with a smile as he remembered the incident. Henry had been caught off-guard by a mutiny of his barons and, fearful of being thrown in the Tower, had agreed to their terms. That was essentially how de Montfort had come to power, but the struggle wasn’t over, not in the least.
“So he does,” Simon agreed. He took a long swallow of wine and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I have received word that Henry has chosen his representatives for the council and, unfortunately, I agree with none of them. Most of them are damnable Poitevins, Henry’s relatives from France that seem to be infiltrating our country by the hundreds. Those men have no right to rule England.”
It was serious news, indeed. The king’s French relatives were one of the main points of contention between Henry and his barons.
“What do we do?” Gallus asked quietly. “Henry was free to choose his representatives, as we were free to choose ours.”
Simon eyed him. “Henry was free to choose men who belong in England,” he snapped softly, “not mercenary relatives who will only govern for their own good and not for England’s. That is why we must go to London, Gallus. My sources tell me that they are convening at Westminster and we must be there.”
Gallus understood. “Very well,” he said, though there was disappointment in his tone.
Simon caught the inflection. “What is it?”
Gallus hesitated a moment before speaking. “I was hoping we would be finished with our business in Oxford quickly so that I could return home and see to my mother,” he said. “I realize that seems like a trivial thing when the fate of the country hangs in balance, but certainly it is not trivial to me.”
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.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Oxford, City
Oblivious to what had been discussed between this brother and Simon de Montfort at Oxford Castle, the muscle of the Lords of Thunder, surprisingly, had other things on his mind, things that didn’t involve the state of the country or preparation for battle. Maximus’ mind was on a woman.
Leaving Jeniver with Garran de Moray and
Stefan du Bois to do her own shopping, Maximus took Courtly with him as he liveried the carriage and the horses in a small livery near St. Clement’s Church. The day, which had dawned clear but cold, was showing distinct signs of brilliance as the sky overhead bled bright blue from horizon to horizon. A few puffy clouds scattered across the expanse, pushed around by a gentle breeze.
Once the carriage was parked, Maximus dismounted his steed and opened the carriage door, extending a polite hand to Courtly who was still inside. He waited with anticipation until she put her small hand in his big, gloved one and he was able to assist her from the cab. Even though a heavy layer of leather was between them, he swore he could feel the heat from her hand against his flesh. It was enough to set his heart racing, an effect she seemed to have on him with very little effort. When their eyes met, he couldn’t help but smile.
“I do apologize if this all seems rather scandalous and forward, my lady,” he said. “But in speaking with you last night, I felt very sorry for the fact that you had lost everything in the fire. In fact, I feel somewhat responsible – I should have tried to help you save what you could. In any case, since you made no mention of your father replacing any of your possessions, I thought to make the offer.”
Courtly gazed up into the handsome face of the very big de Shera brother, feeling so giddy that she was breathless with it. It was a struggle not to feel faint.
“It is very kind of you, Sir Maximus,” she said sincerely. “But you are clearly not responsible. Please know that when I spoke of losing my possessions, I did not say it to play upon your sympathies. I was simply stating facts.”
He nodded. “I realize that,” he said. “That is why I hope you do not think me too forward for sending my brother’s wife to lure you into a shopping expedition.”
Fearsome Brides Page 76