Courtly had never seen such beautiful dresses, coats of the most elegant material. There were greens and yellows, blues and reds, and delicious shades of violet. Maximus didn’t know anything about women’s clothing but he knew when he saw a pale, shimmering green fabric and a silken dress the color of amber that he liked those the best. Courtly liked them, too, and very shortly she had four dresses in a pile and Maximus was examining a fifth.
But Courtly begged him off, assuring him that what she had was quite enough, and he politely surrendered to her wishes even though he would have liked to have purchased more. The intended of Maximus de Shera must be well-dressed. At least, that was what he was thinking – he had yet to voice it. The merchant even had small, embroidered slippers with all the colors of the rainbow that matched the simple gowns and, with that, Maximus made his enormous purchase complete.
Leaving the merchant to count the small pile of gold coins Maximus had paid him in, Maximus and Courtly left the stall with Maximus carrying the enormous bundle all wrapped up in a lavender-colored, linen surcoat. On the next avenue was the Street of the Bakers and Maximus headed in that direction, winding through the crowds of people. Courtly, holding on to his elbow, tried to keep pace.
“Where are we going now?” she asked.
Maximus slowed down so she wasn’t running after him. He usually moved very swiftly and wasn’t used to having to consider someone else’s pace.
“The Street of the Bakers is on the next street,” he said. “I do not recall seeing bathing houses there, but the last time I was there I was not looking for any. Let us see what we can find.”
Looking up at him, Courtly shielded her eyes from the mid-morning sun. “Truly, my lord, you have done quite enough for me today,” she said. “I do not know how I am to explain all of this treasure to my father.”
Maximus cast her a sidelong glance. “I told you to call me Maximus in private,” he said, his voice low. “As far as your father is concerned, I will explain to him why I bought these items for you. And then I shall ask for his permission to court you. So, you see, these will be considered gifts for my intended. Surely he cannot disagree with that.”
Courtly came to an abrupt halt and Maximus with her. When he looked into her face, he could see that her eyes were growing moist with emotion.
“So you have found your courage and now you are plain with your intentions,” she said. “Is this truly your desire, then? To court me?”
“It is.”
“Do you realize that you have only known me less than a day?”
He failed to see what had her so upset. “Of course,” he said. “Why are you so distressed?”
Courtly looked at him, really looked at him. There was so much joy and sorrow in her heart that it was difficult to isolate just one particular feeling out of the maelstrom. Why was she so distressed? If he only knew….
“Are you truly serious about seeking my father’s permission?” she whispered.
“I never say anything I do not mean,” he said. Then, he began to think that something was seriously wrong. “Is there another, my lady? If there is, then….”
Courtly cut him off. “Nay,” she said quickly. “There is no other. But let me be clear. What you have just told me brings me more joy than you can possibly comprehend. Last night, in spite of everything, was the most marvelous night of my life and although I should not be thankful for such a thing, I find myself very thankful that the hostel burned, because if it had not, I more than likely would never have met you. You are a kind, wonderful man, Maximus, and I am deeply honored by your attention.”
Maximus was greatly pleased to hear that she was receptive to his suit. Not that he believed otherwise because, based on the time he had spent with her, he felt very strongly that she was interested in him just as he was interested in her. Once, he’d feared that was not the case but clearly he had been wrong. He was glad, for once, that he had been wrong. But it seemed to him that there was something more that Courtly wasn’t telling him.
“But… what?” he asked, seeing the myriad of emotions in her face. “What is the matter?”
Courtly sighed heavily. “If you are truly serious about asking my father for permission to court me, then know it will not be an easy task,” she said. “I do not want to tell any more than that for fear that you will change your mind, but I find that I cannot withhold such information. You must know that my father has chased off every potential suitor I have ever had. He is fanatical about it. The fact that you and I were so attentive to one another last night, engrossed in conversation as we were, was enough for him to make the decision to send my sister and me back to Trelystan Castle. Before you and Lady de Shera arrived this morning, my father and I were arguing over just that very thing. He wants to send me away from you.”
Maximus’ expression grew serious. “Is this so?”
“It is,” she replied miserably. “I realize that my father is an ally of de Montfort and you more than likely do not want to disrupt that allegiance. If that is the case, then as much as it pains me to say it, I understand.”
He cocked his head. “Understand what?”
“That you will not ask permission to court me and risk disturbing the alliance, of course.”
He frowned. “If your father allows a suit for his daughter to destroy an alliance, then it would be by his choice alone,” he said. “I will still offer for you and he will accept if he knows what is good for him.”
Courtly sensed something ominous in that threat. “What does that mean?”
Maximus could feel himself getting worked up over the fact that his suit for Courtly was evidently going to run into an issue in the form of the lady’s father. It could prove to be a formidable obstacle. He began to prepare his answer with all manner of threat against de Lara but, looking at the lady’s face, he realized that he couldn’t do that. In spite of everything, the man was still her father. Uncertain now, Maximus simply took her by the elbow and continued on their journey through the alley.
“Come along,” he said, somewhat quietly. “We will speak on it later.”
“Please do not think me forward, but there may not be a later once you return me to Kennington.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Courtly didn’t question him further. He said it with such finality, as if he had no doubt that he would emerge the victor in whatever tussle there might be for her hand against Kellen de Lara. Therefore, she simply followed the man through the narrow passage and out onto the road beyond.
The Street of the Bakers wasn’t quite as crowded as the Street of the Merchants but it was still fairly busy. Maximus paused before taking a direction of travel, inspecting the buildings surrounding them to see if he could spot a bath house. He finally poked his head into the nearest bakery and asked the proprietor, who directed him to the next street, a smaller avenue, where a bath house was indeed attached to a neighboring bakery. There was no name on the bath house but there was a piece of wood hanging over the door with a crude flower painted on it. Opening the heavy, awkward door, having swelled from the heat and moisture inside the bath house, Maximus ushered Courtly inside.
It was very dark inside the structure and the ceiling was low, causing Maximus to have to duck his head. When the proprietress was summoned by a hovering servant, Maximus explained that his lady needed to be bathed and dressed, which the proprietress was more than happy to do. But rather than simply leave Courtly off and allow her to be tended by strangers, Maximus insisted on inspecting the bath house to make sure there were no hidden threats like lascivious men or any other danger to threaten a lady. As the proprietress stood by, rather shocked, Maximus carefully handed Courtly her bundle of possessions, unsheathed his broadsword, and went on the offensive.
He quickly learned that there were only five rooms to the entire structure; a small greeting room at the door with an attendant and three big dogs, then a room for men and a room for women. Off of each of these rooms were smaller rooms used to
dress in. Maximus marched right into the men’s bathing room where two fat merchants were lingering in one of four big, barrel-shaped tubs of lukewarm water. The tubs could each hold two to four men, and serving women attended the bathers by rubbing oil into their skin and then scraping it off with a pewter instrument meant for such a thing. In the corner, a young man played a mandolin very badly, meant to be an entertainment while one bathed. But Maximus didn’t like the fact that it was a bathing house for both sexes if Courtly was going to be in the other room, so he ordered the merchants to put their clothes on and leave.
Of course, the men didn’t take well to this in the least, so Maximus reached into the bathing vessel and pulled one man out by his neck. Seeing his companion being roughly handled by the enormous knight, the second merchant fled the tub and, with both men dressing hastily, Maximus chased them from the bath house without them as much as having time to put on their shoes. Courtly, in the reception room, watched the barefooted men flee with great curiosity until she saw that Maximus was pursuing them with his enormous broadsword in hand. It made for a very comical situation but she dare not laugh. In fact, she rather appreciated Maximus’ sense of propriety. He didn’t want naked men in the same building with her, and she was deeply flattered.
With the merchants having been chased out, Maximus then went into the women’s bathing room and was greeted by three women in various stages of undress. They screamed when they saw the knight with the broadsword and it was enough to chase Maximus out of the chamber as abruptly as he had entered. He was fine in a room full of naked men, but a room full of half-dressed women had him somewhat unsettled. He stood at the door and tried not to look too embarrassed.
“There are already three women in there,” he said to her. “Are you comfortable bathing with other women?”
Courtly grinned at him. She couldn’t help it. She knew that if she told him that she wasn’t, then he would chase the women from the chamber just as he’d chased the men. Therefore, she nodded.
“Perfectly comfortable,” she said. “What will you do while I am bathing?”
He shrugged those wide shoulders. “Wait here until you are finished.”
“You have nothing else that you could be doing?”
He shook his head. “I will not leave you unattended.”
Courtly didn’t have an argument for that. “I see,” she said thoughtfully. “I feel rather guilty that you will be waiting for me to bathe. It will take an hour at the very least.”
“I will wait.”
“Why not go and find us something to eat? By the time you return, I should be finished. I will hurry.”
“Are you famished, then?”
“I am.”
It gave Maximus something to do other than hang around a bath house, so he agreed, but not before he explained to the proprietress that Lady Courtly must never be unattended and must be given the best of everything. The woman agreed, especially when Maximus paid her handsomely for her troubles. With a wink to Courtly, he quit the bath house in search of a feast fit for a queen.
His queen. And he would dare her father to deny him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Garran de Moray had accompanied Lady de Shera on her shopping trip into Oxford but she had quickly become exhausted, and ill, so he’d quickly returned her to the inn where they had been staying. He hoped Gallus was already returned from his meeting with de Montfort but the man was not yet back by the time they returned, so Lady de Shera went up to her rented bedchamber to lay down for a while as the knights settled down in the main room to eat the nooning meal.
No one seemed to find it odd that Tiberius wasn’t there. He’d been banned from accompanying either of his brothers on their various plans that morning, so the last anyone saw of him, he had been in his bedchamber on the second floor, mending a piece of armor that had pulled loose. Garran, who was close to Tiberius, as well as to Maximus, didn’t give his absence much thought as he delved into a meal of boiled mutton, carrots, beans, and vast quantities of bread. They were halfway through their meal when Tiberius made an appearance.
Entering the inn from the main door, Tiberius kicked the roving dogs out of the way as he made his way deeper into the room that smelled of smoke, dirt, and unwashed bodies. When he saw the de Shera knights hunched over a table, sharing a meal, he headed in their direction. More specifically, he headed for Garran.
“De Moray,” he said, sounding surprisingly serious. “How long have you been here?”
Garran had a mouth full of carrots. “Not long,” he said. “Lady de Shera was not feeling well so she wanted to rest. Maximus is still on the Street of the Merchant’s with de Lara’s daughter and we plan to collect them shortly and then return the lady to her father so it looks as if they have not been alone all afternoon. Quite a plan, is it not?”
He was grinning, as was Stefan. Only the two of them had gone with Maximus and Jeniver, as the de Wolfe brothers had gone with Gallus. But Tiberius wasn’t interested in what Maximus was or was not doing. He was preoccupied with something else. He leaned down to Garran.
“I must speak with you,” he said, his voice low. “Come with me.”
Garran swallowed the carrots in his mouth as he stood up, pausing only to down a swallow of wine to wash the vegetables down. He proceeded to follow Tiberius until they were near the entrance to the inn. There was no one around there. Only then did Tiberius stop and turn to him.
“After you left this morning, you received a visitor,” he said quietly. “Your father is in town. Did you know this?”
Garran’s eyes widened. “I did not,” he said, immediately fearing the worst. “What is wrong? Where is he?”
Tiberius held up a hand to quiet him. “He came specifically to find you,” he said. “Evidently, he arrived in town yesterday and began asking for the de Shera party. He was able to find someone who had seen us and he was directed to this inn. Garran, I know your father is a supporter of the king. We have never truly discussed it with you because your father’s loyalty is his own business and your loyalty is to us and, consequently, de Montfort. But your father needs to speak with you now and I will take you to him.”
Garran was trying not to panic. “Is he well?”
“He is well.”
“And my mother – is she well?”
“He did not speak of her so I can only assume so.”
Garran felt some relief at that but not much. There was a sense of urgency in the air, something he did not understand. In fact, the entire situation was puzzling and Tiberius’ words were only making it worse. Still, he was on the move, as he’d been asked. Already, he was returning to the table to collect his possessions before riding out with Tiberius. As he moved, Tiberius followed.
“Have you just come from him?” Garran asked Tiberius. “Where is he staying?”
Tiberius shoved another dog out of the way when it came too close. Dogs tended to flock to him for some reason. “He is towards the south side of town at an inn called The Bruised Thistle,” he replied. “When he first came to The One-Eyed Raven, we spoke here for some time before moving to his hostel. We have actually been speaking quite a bit.”
Garran eyed Tiberius curiously as he collected his sword. “What about?”
Tiberius simply shook his head, unwilling to elaborate with the other knights and a few soldiers eating around the table. He waited until he and Garran were outside in the bright sunshine and heading for the livery before speaking.
“Your father mostly spoke of the old days,” he finally said. “He knew my mother as a young woman, you know. He never courted Honey but he knew her. He also knows Davyss and Grayson de Winter, which I’m sure you already know. The de Winters are close friends of the de Sheras and have always championed the king, much as your father does.”
Garran already knew all of this. “None of this tells me why he has come to Oxford to seek me,” he said. “He has traveled all the way from Dorset, which took him weeks at the very least. Did he come alone?”
Tiberius nodded. “He had four men-at-arms with him,” he replied. They entered the livery, sending a pair of servant boys running for their horses. As they paused to wait for the animals to be brought out, Tiberius spoke again. “Garran, from the conversation your father and I had, it seems to me as if he has come to Oxford before heading on to London. You know that the king has summoned the council he intends to represent his interests in de Montfort’s parliament. Although your father did not tell me directly, it is my suspicion that your father intends to sit upon the king’s council.”
Garran’s brow furrowed as he looked at Tiberius. “What makes you think so?”
Tiberius shrugged. “Simply the way he was speaking about the king and his advisors,” he said. “He mentioned bringing balance to London. Mayhap that is what he intends to tell you, that he is sitting on the king’s council. That means he will be sitting opposite Gallus and Maximus and me. We will be on opposite sides.”
Garran thought on the greater implications of that. He loved his father dearly but he did not like the king nor supported the man’s ideals. He was much more supportive of the government that de Montfort was trying to establish. Still, he loved his father in spite of his politics. And there was a reason why Bose de Moray was so supportive of the king. After a moment, he sighed heavily.
“My father is an old and wise man,” he said. “He is the most rational and unselfish supporter the king has.”
“I know. God would be on our side if de Moray would pledge allegiance to de Montfort.”
Garran shook his head, as if such a thing would never happen. “There is a very good reason why he supports the king so stringently,” he said. “But his reason is not my reason. I do not support Henry and probably never will.”
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