Therefore, there was truly only one solution – she had to return to her father of her own free will. Only then would Kellen consider the matter settled, as he would have no reason to continue his aggression against Maximus. Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of the situation and of her life with Maximus that would never be – no sons in his image, no life of love and joy in the de Shera household. Much like Ellice, Courtly was destined to be a spinster because of Kellen’s unnatural fear of men who would pursue the women in his family. At the moment, all she could do was hate her father for it. God Bones, she hated him so much. She hated him because he did not want to see her happy or in love, with Maximus or with anyone else.
She stifled a sob as her gaze fell upon the new possessions that Maximus has purchased for her that day. She would take none of it, of course, except for the garment she wore. She had nothing else to wear so there was little choice. Dear God, was this really to be her life? Living alone and unloved, without the man she had very quickly fallen in love with? Aye, she loved Maximus. There was so much to love about the man that her heart was full of it. They had shared special moments and a kiss that had spoken of untold passion, quickly ignited between the two of them.
But it would be passion unrealized. It would be love unrealized and un-nurtured, but she knew her love for him would never die. It was a part of her, permanently, as he would be. She wished she could tell him that before she left, but she knew she had to leave without his knowledge. He would never let her go and that would only cause his family great pain. She didn’t want to be the cause of great pain to people who had been quite kind to her.
As she wiped at her eyes, her gaze fell upon a small table that contained pieces of vellum, an inkwell, a quill, sand, and a seal of some kind. She knew that Gallus had been conducting business from the inn so she assumed they were the earl’s possessions. Given that Courtly could both read and write, it occurred to her to borrow a scrap of vellum and leave Maximus a note. She had to. She simply couldn’t leave without telling the man what he meant to her. She couldn’t leave without begging him not to pursue her for the good of all. She hoped he would obey her wishes. There were things in life that simply weren’t meant to be and, because of Kellen de Lara, this was one of those things. Her love for Maximus was over before it began.
Quickly, she pulled forth a small scrap of vellum and dipped the quill into the inkwell. Carefully scripted letters began to appear on the page, a short note for Maximus that would be the only thing left from a marriage that was not to be. She tried not to weep while writing the note, keeping her attention focused on Lady de Shera to make sure the woman remained deep in slumber. Courtly didn’t want to explain what she was doing or why she was leaving. It would have simply been too painful.
She finished the note without sanding the vellum. She was in too much of a hurry, too fearful that her plans would be discovered. As Jeniver snored softly on her rented bed, Courtly opened the shutters to the window that overlooked a livery and alleyway behind the tavern. The ground was uneven here and a portion of the yard backed up to the wall, meaning that the drop between the window and the ground below was eight feet or less. In her new lavender gown of heavy brocade, Courtly climbed from the window and hung from the sill by her fingertips, finally letting herself drop to the ground below.
She landed awkwardly and fell over, but she was able to regain her footing quickly and run to the stable where her borrowed palfrey was stabled. The little gray mare they had acquired at the livery near the Street of the Merchants was in her stall, fat and happy, and Courtly collected the animal, putting a bridle on her but nothing more. She didn’t want to take the time to put a saddle on the little beast, so she quickly mounted the animal bareback and proceeded from the livery, losing herself in the collection of buildings of the town before finally finding the road south.
As the storm finally rolled in and the rain began to pour, Courtly made her way towards Kennington House, praying she was in time to prevent her father from doing something very, very foolish. The rain poured and the thunder rolled as if reminding her of that which she would never have: the Thunder Warrior in the flesh. He would be hers only in memories now.
Farewell, Max… my love….
St. Héver wasn’t sure he was seeing correctly.
Standing at the gates of Kennington House, he had been called forth by a soldier who swore he saw something moving in the darkness along the road, something small and distant. The storm had fully engulfed the land with whipping winds and lightning, and St. Héver stood out in the elements with several other men, watching the road for signs of the mysterious wraith he had been told of. He stood there for several long minutes, waiting, until the lightning flashed again and, for a brief moment, he could see what the soldier had been indicating – there was something approaching.
Whatever it was, it was a solitary figure. St. Héver saw no threat in that, so he continued to stand by the gates, those oddly built, iron slat gates, and waited until the figure drew close. Then, and only then, could he see that it was a small figure astride a sopping palfrey. As it drew closer still, a flash of lightning illuminated it yet again and he realized it was Courtly. In a panic, he ordered the gates opened.
Soldiers threw the bolt and began heaving the gates open, made difficult because of the mud build-up from the rain and further made difficult from the rusting joints on the hinges. But it opened enough so that St. Héver managed to get through, racing to Courtly and realizing she was without a cloak or any protection whatsoever. She was soaked through and through. He pulled her off the palfrey and carried her in his arms back through the gates as another soldier went out to capture the palfrey and bring it in. By the time St. Héver reached the great hall, he was bellowing for food, wine, blankets, and servants. His loud cries woke up the entire house.
St. Héver set Courtly down on a bench near the hearth with only a few burning embers in it. She was half-unconscious and so cold that her skin was nearly blue. St. Héver began to stir up the fire, coaxing forth a blaze, as Courtly sat there and shivered. As the heat from the fire began to reach her, she began to come around a bit.
“Wh-where is my father?” she asked, teeth chattering.
St. Héver was working furiously to build up the blaze, which was growing fairly large the more he stirred it. Sparks flew into the air, drifting out into the great hall. “In his chamber, my lady,” he replied. “The last I saw of him, he was sleeping off too much drink.”
Courtly pushed the wet hair out of her eyes, focusing on the fire that St. Héver was so vigorously stoking. She slid off the bench and crawled on her hands and knees to the hearth, closer to the warmth. She held her shaking hands out against the heat of the blaze. She’d never been so cold in her entire life.
“What about his army?” she wanted to know. “Why is his army still here?”
St. Héver looked at her in confusion. “What do you mean, my lady?”
Courtly looked at the young knight. “Is he not going after the de Sheras?” she asked. “I know what happened tonight. I assumed he would be amassing his army to attack them.”
St. Héver was trying to piece together what she was talking about and began to understand. “Your father was very drunk, my lady,” he said. “What happen with the de Sheras… your father will indulge in a fight at the slightest provocation, you know that. After they left, he wanted to pursue them but I convinced him it would not be wise, especially with the storm coming. We would be trying to battle them in their own element and we would surely lose.”
Courtly was trying to stop her chattering teeth. “What do you mean?”
St. Héver smiled thinly. “The storm, my lady,” he said quietly. “Have you not heard of the Lords of Thunder? They use the storm to their advantage in battle. It is their preferred medium. Some say the lightning does their bidding. I have heard from more than one man that it is true.”
Courtly was warming up, becoming more lucid, and her mind began to mull over St. Hév
er’s words: the Lords of Thunder. Aye, she knew that was what the de Sheras were called, everyone knew. But now she understood why. Thoughts of Maximus filled her brain and the tears that had flowed since nearly the moment she left The One-Eyed Raven returned with a vengeance. She turned her face to the fire, unwilling to let St. Héver see her tears of utter sorrow.
“Courtly!”
A cry caused her to turn away from the flames, wiping tears from her face, as Isadora burst into the hall and ran to her sister. The little girl nearly pitched herself into the fire in her haste, prevented from doing so by St. Héver’s quick actions. Courtly and Isadora hugged fiercely.
“You have come back!” Isadora gasped, holding tightly to her sister. But she soon recoiled, wiping off her damp hands. “But you are so wet. You must put on something dry!”
Courtly shook her head, kissing her little sister on the cheek. “I have nothing else,” she said. “Remember that all of our possessions burned. I must dry out what I am wearing.”
Isadora’s attention moved to the garment her sister was wearing, a dress she had never seen before. “Where did you get this?” she asked, fingering the lavender material. “It is so beautiful.”
Courtly wasn’t sure what to tell her sister. My love purchased this for me and it is the last thing I shall ever have to remember him by. But she didn’t voice her thoughts. Isadora didn’t need to know such things. As she prepared a generic reply, Ellice entered the hall.
Courtly’s guard went up, watching her aunt as the woman shook off the wet cloak she was wearing and left it by the entry. As Ellice approached, their gazes locked and something odd filled the air between them. There was understanding and remorse and sorrow there, intangible sensations at best. But, clearly, Courtly felt no hostility from her aunt whatsoever, a rare condition, indeed. Ellice didn’t come any closer than the feasting table and she made no move to embrace her niece as she planted her wide bottom on the bench near Courtly and Isadora. Her dark gaze was on Courtly.
“Why did you come back?” she asked. “You had no call to.”
Courtly wasn’t sure how to answer, unsure how much to say in front of Isadora. “I had to,” she said simply.
“Why?”
Ellice was pushing her. Not wanting to speak of such things in front of her little sister, Courtly put her hand under Isadora’s chin and looked her in the eye.
“Will you go into the kitchen and see if there is warm wine for me?” she asked. “I am in need of something warming.”
St. Héver stood up. “I ordered wine,” he said. “I shall see what is keeping it.”
He walked away, taking with him Courtly’s excuse to remove her sister. Even so, she patted the little girl on the shoulder.
“Go with him,” she said. “You can help him.”
Isadora trailed after St. Héver without an argument. When she and the knight disappeared through the door that led to the kitchen yard, Courtly spoke to her aunt.
“Because I heard what happened her,” she hissed. “I heard that Papa denied Sir Maximus’ marriage proposal and I heard about the fight. I came back to prevent my father from attacking Maximus and his brother. If I am home, there is no reason to attack them. They were very kind to me, Auntie. It would be appalling if Papa attacked them because of me.”
Not strangely, Ellice could see her point. She sighed heavily. “You should not have returned,” she said. “You were with the man who wanted to marry you. What must he think now? That you are a silly fool who has run off?”
Courtly shook her head. “I left him a note,” she said. “He will know that I did this to protect him and his family. Auntie, Papa is a ridiculous fool for behaving the way he does. He has no cause to deny Maximus’ marriage offer and certainly no cause to attack the man.”
“You should not have come back.”
“I am protecting the man I love!”
“Love him, do you?”
Ellice and Courtly turned to see Kellen standing in the entry, dripping from the rain. He didn’t seem drunk in the least. In fact he seemed furious and lucid. He yanked the door shut behind him and stomped into the room, glaring at Courtly as if she were his worst enemy.
“Answer me,” he boomed. “Do you love him?”
Courtly had never heard her father speak to her like that and she had to admit that he was frightening her. He didn’t look like the same father she had known all of these years. He looked different, edgy, like a man possessed. It was a struggle to maintain her courage.
“Aye,” she replied steadily. “I do. He is a kind, generous man and you had no reason to deny him his marriage proposal. Why did you do it?”
Kellen’s teeth were clenched with rage as he faced off against his daughter. “You will not question me,” he snarled. “I will do what is best for you, even if you are too stupid to realize it.”
His fury had Courtly’s dander up. “I am not stupid,” she fired back at him. “You have no earthly reason to deny Maximus’ suit. He is a good man from a good family. What would possess you so? Why would you want to make me lonely and bitter for the rest of my life?”
Kellen’s jaw flexed, indicative of his level of emotion. “You are too stupid to realize when your father is protecting you,” he said. “You have no sense at all, girl. Maximus de Shera has bewitched you somehow. What else has he done to you? What personal favors have you granted him?”
Courtly wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking but she knew that she didn’t like what he was possibly implying. “What do you mean?”
Kellen took a step towards her, his dark eyes blazing. “Whore favors, girl,” he growled. “What whore favors have you granted him?”
Courtly lashed out and slapped her father across the face, so hard that the man’s head snapped back. He staggered back a step as well, startled that his beloved Courtly should actually strike him. For a brief moment, it occurred to him just what he had accused her of and he was remorseful, but only for a moment. Immediately, his anger and suspicions swamped him, stronger than before, because he was sure that he was correct. She had granted the man favors. He looked at his daughter, his eyes wide with shock and outrage, as Ellice moved to stand between the two.
It was a surprising move by the woman who usually kept well away from her brother and nieces when it came to family business, but in this case, she was taking a stand. She had to. She pointed a finger at Kellen.
“You will not touch her,” she threatened. “Get out of here, Kellen. Go back to your room and leave Courtly alone. You have no reason to accuse her of such things. You are a foul man with a foul mind.”
Kellen’s venom focused on his sister. “This is none of your affair, Ellice. I would advise you to move out of the way.”
Ellice refused to move. “I am not moving,” she said. “If you want your daughter, you will have to go through me to get to her and I promise you that I will not make an easy victim.”
Kellen stood there looking at his sister and his daughter, his expression wrought with turmoil. He was beyond furious at this point. He was flirting with the edge of madness. Courtly was rebelling and Ellice, of all people, was siding with her. There was only one thing to do. He had to remove his daughters from Kennington. He had to get them away from Ellice and away from Oxford in general. They had to leave.
“You are a wicked, bitter woman,” he muttered to his sister, backing away towards the entry door. “I should never have brought my children here. I knew you were a bad influence on them but I am only coming to realize just how bad. I am sending my daughters back to Trelystan tonight and if you stand in my way, I will kill you. Is that clear?”
Courtly let out a shocked gasp. “Papa!” she cried. “You would send us home in this weather? How can you do that?”
Kellen roared at her. “Silence!” he said. “St. Héver will return you home this very night. God damn de Montfort, I must remain here because of his foolish gathering, but I will trust St. Héver to take you home. You will obey the man, Courtly, or I
will give him permission to beat you. Is that clear? I will have him beat Maximus de Shera right out of your head!”
Courtly didn’t say a word, she was afraid to. She looked to Ellice, however, who was rooted to the spot, between Kellen and Courtly, watching her brother as he staggered out of the hall and back out into the rain. When the heavy door of the hall slammed shut, she turned to Courtly.
“I can hide you,” she said to Courtly. “Come with me.”
Courtly was still reeling from her father’s words. In his current mental state, she couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t carry out his threat against Ellice. She went to her aunt, grasping the woman by the arm gently. She’d never done that before. She’d never even really touched her aunt before, but at the moment, she felt closer to the woman than she ever had. In this moment of darkness, there was a ray of light.
“Nay, Auntie,” she said softly. “If you do, he will punish you. I cannot let that happen.”
Ellice was softened by Courtly’s tender touch although she would not admit it, not even to herself. She liked to think of herself as hardened to any emotion, but she really wasn’t. Like anyone else, she craved a human touch.
“You heard him,” Ellice said. “He is going to send you and Isadora back to Trelystan tonight.”
Courtly sighed. She loathed the mere idea. “I have no choice,” she murmured. “If he sends me and my sister back home, then mayhap he will cease this madness that he has suffered over the past day. Mayhap he will calm down and become himself again. The situation with Maximus has seemed to drive him right to the brink of madness.”
Ellice began to feel a sense of desperation on behalf of her niece. “If you return to Trelystan,” she said softly, “chances are that you will never see Sir Maximus again. Are you willing to risk that?”
England's Greatest Knights: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 19