“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.”
Courtly grinned. “I think it was a very generous thing to do.”
He smiled because she was smiling All he wanted to do was smile when he looked into that lovely face. “Shall we continue, then?” he asked, holding out his elbow to her. “I was on the Street of the Merchants yesterday and found a stall with all manner of goods. We shall go there first.”
Courtly nodded, eagerly took his arm, and promptly stepped straight on into a massive puddle of urine. It splashed up and got on her already dingy dress, causing her to gasp with horror. But the damage was done. Her right foot, right lower leg, and the hem of her dress were soiled. Maximus, seeing what had happened, pulled her even further back, away from the puddle.
“I beg your forgiveness,” he said, genuinely concerned. “I did not even look to see where you were stepping. This is my fault.”
Courtly was looking at her soaked foot and dirty skirt. She sighed heavily. “Nay, it is not,” she said, resigned. “It is my fault. I should have looked where I was walking. Honestly, Sir Maximus, I cannot possibly see how you would want to pay even the slightest attention to me. When we first met, not only did I fall on your head, but I beat you, too. Last night when you came to sup, you found me cooking the meal, looking like a common servant in the only dress I have. Now, I make a mess of myself again. I should apologize for all of this and tell you that I am not normally this slovenly or this clumsy, but so far, that is all you have seen from me. I will admit that I am ashamed.”
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Maximus was watching her closely as she spoke. She seemed so dejected and sorrowful, but her words of apology only made him smile. Reaching out, he took her left hand and brought it to his lips for a warm, gentle, and thoroughly wicked kiss.
“And do you know what I have seen from you since we met?” he said, holding her hand against his bearded chin. “I have seen an exceptionally resourceful, intelligent, and determined woman who makes the best of whatever situation she is in. Instead of waiting for someone to save you from the hostel fire, you found a way to escape it. Instead of allowing your father to be embarrassed in front of his guests last eve, you cooked the meal yourself regardless of how it would make you appear. You sacrificed your dignity and reputation to ensure your father was not shamed. You may feel as if you have presented nothing but the worst you have to offer, but I assure you, I see the exact opposite. You are like no woman I have ever met.”
By the time he was finished, Courtly was looking at him with some astonishment. More than that, his bearded lips to her hand were making her heart race wildly. She’d never known such excitement in her life.
“I… I do not know what to say,” she breathed, watching his lips move over her fingers, “except that you are a very strange man if a foolish, dirty woman appeals to you.”
Maximus broke down into laughter. He kissed her hand again, wishing he could do much more but knowing this was not the time nor place for it. Besides, he’d already been bold enough and a move like that might scare her off. So he dropped her hand, bent over, and swept her up into his big arms to carry her through the puddled livery yard.
“Then I accept the fact that I am a strange man,” he said, “because a certain foolish, dirty woman does appeal to me. I am sorry if that shocks you, but you may as well know of my intentions now rather than later.”
Aloft in his arms, Courtly’s hands were around Maximus’ shoulders for support as he carried her through the yard. It was the safest, strongest place she could have ever imagined. The only man who had ever touched her had been her father, so to be in the arms of another man, a man she was wildly attracted to, was a new and thrilling experience. More thrilling still were his words.
“Intentions?” she repeated. “Will you explain your intentions?”
They had reached the street at this point and Maximus set Courtly carefully to her feet. “Is it not obvious?” he asked. “I just said that a dirty and foolish woman appeals to me, and you have called yourself those things.”
Courtly had indeed realized what he meant when he had first spoke the words, but she needed confirmation even if he didn’t want to give her a straight answer. It was nearly beyond her comprehension to realize that this man, this man she had dreamed about since the moment she had met him, was actually interested in her.
“Be plain, Sir Maximus,” she said. “Tell me plainly what you are declaring.”
He looked at her, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Reaching out, he grasped her gently by the elbow.
“I just did,” he said. “And I give you permission to call me, simply, Maximus. Or Max. I will answer to whatever you choose to call me. Now, have you eaten yet this morning? Are you hungry?”
He was pulling her along, out into the street, but Courtly was still reeling from their conversation and unprepared for a change of subject.
“I… I suppose that I am,” she said, now thinking on the fact that he had not only declared his interest but that he had given her permission to address him informally. Perhaps even affectionately. “I have not yet eaten this morning. Have you?”
Maximus shook his head. “I have not,” he replied. “But we will find a seamstress first because you need something clean to wear. Then, we will find a baker and a bagnio, or bath house, which is undoubtedly attached to it so that you may eat, bathe, and dress at the same time.”
Courtly looked at him, both hesitant and intrigued. “When I fostered at Prudhoe, Lady d’Umfraville said that bath houses were almost always located next to bakers because they used the big ovens to warm the water,” she said. “I have never visited a bath house, however. Do you truly intend to take me to one?”
Maximus pointed to her soiled right foot and the bottom of her skirt. “Unless you intend to walk about smelling like a livery, I do,” he said. “And you cannot wear this soiled garment any longer, so we must find you a clean one.”
Courtly wasn’t sure what to say to all of that. It was generosity beyond measure. “You seem to have everything planned,” she said. “I do not suppose there is one thing you have left out.”
Maximus shook his head. “There usually isn’t,” he replied, watching her grin. Her smile struck him, like an arrow straight to the heart, making him feel warm and giddy. “For a lady who has fought so hard to survive and thrive over the past day, I would not dare disappoint her on her trip to town.”
Courtly laughed soft at him. She very much like the feeling of his hand on her elbow. “I do not suppose you could ever disappoint me,” she said. “Except when you do not give me a straight answer.”
His brow furrowed. “When did I do this disgraceful thing?”
She looked up at him, eyes twinkling. “I asked you to explain your intentions,” she said. “You did not.”
“I did.”
“Nay, you did not.”
He sighed heavily, feigning annoyance. “Can a man not work up his courage to discuss such a thing?” he asked. “Suffice it to say that I have pulled my sister-in-law into my scheme of having you all to myself on a shopping trip. Shouldn’t that tell you my intensions?”
“It tells me that you are going to buy me bread, some manner of garment, and take me to a bath house.”
He pursed his lips wryly. “Does it not tell you that I wish to be alone with you, as we were briefly last night?”
Courtly picked up her skirt as she hopped over a water puddle, although she didn’t know why she bothered to try and keep her dress out of it. The garment was already ruined.
“It does,” she said. “But let us be clear. Simply because you offer to buy me things, does not mean that I will be less than proper with you, in any fashion.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that if you expect some manner of physical demonstration of my gratitude, then I will not do it.”
He fought off a grin. “A simple word of gratitude will suffice,” he said, eyeing her. “I do not want anything else. In fact, I would refuse it.”
Her expression washed with insult. “You would?”
He could see that he had her miffed and it amused him. “Aye, I would.”
She paused, frowning at him. “That is a terrible thing to say,” she said. “If you do not want a physical demonstration of my gratitude, then why are you taking me on a shopping trip?”
His grin broke through and he took her hand, bringing it to his bearded lips once again. He kissed her fingers tenderly.
“Well,” he said softly, hesitantly. “Mayhap I do want a physical demonstration of your gratitude. Just a little.”
Courtly could see that he was teasing her, quite flirtatiously. The man could be very charming when he wanted to be. She fought off a grin.
“I may or may not give you one,” she said, turning her nose up at him and pretending she wasn’t interested in the least. “I have not yet decided.”
Maximus laughed softly and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow again. He resumed their walk down the street.
“Then I may have to steal such a thing,” he said, eyeing her to see how she was reacting.
But Courtly kept her serious demeanor. “If you do, you may not like my reaction.”
“We shall see.”
“Aye, we shall.”
They turned a corner on the avenue and entered the Street of the Merchants. It was bustling at this hour, with people going about their business, children and dogs running up and down the avenue and contributing to a busy sense of purposeful chaos. Already, he had his eye on the merchant where he
had purchased the rose oil yesterday because the man had many wonderful things in his treasure trove. It was their very first stop.
The old, white-bearded merchant was thrilled to see Maximus again and even more thrilled to see the lady. Women usually meant that copious amounts of money would be spent and he wasn’t wrong. Maximus and Courtly inspected nearly every item he had in his stall. Maximus would pick out a soap or a comb, show it to Courtly and, depending on her reaction, turn it over to the merchant for purchase.
Using this method, Maximus picked out two bars of hard, white soap, one bar of lumpy white soap that smelled of lemons, and another bar of lumpy yellowish-colored soap that smelled of roses. He also came across an oil, meant to soften the skin, that smelled fresh, like dewy grass, so he passed that to the merchant, too. He found a tray of combs, both to brush the hair with or use as an adornment, and from the tray he selected a large, bone comb for Courtly along with two big, butterfly combs meant to both affix the hair and decorate it.
All the while, Courtly simply followed along behind him, either nodding to approve an item or shaking her head at it. Shifts, scarves, and hair adornments became part of her growing booty. She was coming to see that whenever she thought something was pretty, he would buy it, and she was becoming very concerned with the amount of money he was already spending, so she began rejecting nearly everything he found after that.
Maximus caught on to what she was doing and began making arbitrary decisions with some fairly gaudy choices, which forced Courtly to speak up. He was very clever about eliciting an answer from her, something Courtly was also coming to see. But it was part of his charm so she truly didn’t mind. Maximus was, if nothing else, manipulative in the best sort of way.
But there was more to come. The real money was spent when the merchant indicated that his wife had loosely basted together several garments, selling them to fine ladies who then had their maids make the final touches on them, and that was exactly what Maximus had been looking for. The old merchant had called forth his wife from the rear, dank depths of the stall and the woman began producing all manner of simply constructed dresses made with some of the spectacular, exotic fabrics that the merchant imported.
England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 12