De Serreaux mulled over the situation for a moment. “Why not ask the Earl of Canterbury?” he said. “Surely the man would not refuse to tell you.”
Henry shrugged, turning away from the fire that was spitting sparks out into the room. “I do not wish to push the House of de Lohr too much,” he said. “If I push them too hard, it is possible they will side with de Shera as well. They are all related, you know – the House of de Lohr and the House of de Shera. I cannot risk that Canterbury would grow annoyed with my demands and throw his support behind de Shera. If he does, then Curtis de Lohr will, too, and I cannot lose Worcester. It would be devastating.”
It was a surprising position to take; at least, de Serreaux thought so. “And Chad?” he asked. “He is the one who abducted the girl and refused to turn her over. Will you punish him?”
Henry shook his head, thinking on the brilliant young knight who had saved his life at Evesham. “Silversword,” he muttered. Then, he chuckled, an ironic sound. “I will not punish him. In this instance, he is absolved from my wrath for were it not for him, I would have met my death on the field at Evesham. For now, Chad is untouchable. I do not believe the man is disloyal to me for it would be a strange man who would save my life and then overtly disobey my orders. But I do think he believed he was doing what he felt was right in order to be loyal to his family. In that instance, Chad has much the same confusion over loyalty to me that Bose has. These men are both tied up with the House of de Shera.”
“Then what would you have me do, Your Grace?” de Serreaux asked again. “Tell me and I shall do it.”
Henry’s gaze lingered on the man; de Serreaux was one of his finest men, of that there was no doubt. But he didn’t have a massive army behind him like some of Henry’s other supporters did. Right now, Henry needed an army for what he planned to do. He had been planning this move since receiving Canterbury’s missive. He strolled, leisurely, towards de Serreaux.
“I have sent a missive to Davyss de Winter,” he said. “He and his brother are at their castle of Wintercroft, outside of London. I have told him to bring his army to me and once he arrives, his orders will be to march to Isenhall and raze her. I am finished with the Lords of Thunder and their disloyalty. I am finished with the fact that they have turned de Moray into a traitor and de Lohr into a weak-willed man. This entire situation starts, and ends, with them. De Moray will never convince them to swear fealty and, I am quite sure, Chad de Lohr has delivered their cousin to them, safely, to put her under their protection. Therefore, now is the time to strike. They suffered heavy casualties at Evesham and I will not wait for them to regain strength. If I am going to destroy them, then I must do it now. De Winter will have orders to raze Isenhall to the ground.”
De Serreaux had to admit that he wasn’t surprised by the orders. He was, however, wary of them. “De Winter has a connection to the House of de Shera, too, Your Grace,” he reminded the king. “You know that de Montfort was Davyss’ godfather and Davyss and Gallus de Shera are the best of friends. Why would you send de Winter to destroy his dear friend? He could very well turn on you, pull de Lohr and de Moray into the rebellion, and then you would be facing your worst nightmare – the armies of de Moray, de Lohr, de Winter, and de Shera as they move against you. It is a battle you could not win, Your Grace. I beg you to reconsider.”
Henry moved away from de Serreaux, back over to a large oak table in the center of the chamber that was cluttered with the remnants of a meal. Several maps were scattered about as Henry’s courtiers and advisors lingered in the shadows, listening to everything that was being said. They’d learned long ago not to speak unless spoken to, so at this point, the conversation was purely between Henry and de Serreaux, but others were listening, preparing to give their opinion when the king asked.
But Henry would not ask them, at least not yet. Their edgy patience would have to endure. Henry pulled up a chair, sitting heavily at the table.
“My son, Edward, has gone to summon Davyss,” he said as if he hadn’t heard de Serreaux’s plea. “My son agrees with me. We must wipe out de Shera once and for all. Once they are broken, whatever hold they have over de Lohr and de Moray and de Winter will also be broken. Moreover, this is a test for de Winter – I know he has been extremely unhappy about what happened to Simon at Evesham. He has made no secret of it. He even tried to buy de Montfort’s head from Roger Mortimer. Therefore, if Davyss expects my favor at this point, then he is going to have to prove himself.”
De Serreaux knew Davyss; he liked the man and considered him a friend. He’d fought with him many times. Now, he was starting to feel the torn sense of loyalties that Henry had been speaking about all along. He was feeling it about Davyss. Hearing Henry speak of Davyss in such an ominous fashion was disheartening as well as frightening.
“So that is what the situation has come down to, Your Grace?” he asked. “A test of de Winter’s loyalty?”
“Mayhap.”
“But what about de Lohr and de Moray. Will you test their loyalty, also?”
Henry looked at de Serreaux, a glimmer in his dark eyes. “This will be a test for all of them,” he said. “I intend to be with de Winter when he marches on Isenhall. It will be much more difficult to disobey me if I am present, watching his every move. But once we reach Isenhall, who will de Lohr and de Moray stand with? Will they side with de Winter to raze Isenhall or will they stand against their dear friend? Either way, I break their bond and destroy what loyalties they have to each other. This is not only a battle against the Lords of Thunder, Torran – this is a battle to break their love for each other.”
It was a sad and pathetic goal, one de Serreaux didn’t agree with in the least. He didn’t agree with what de Lohr had done as far as disobeying Henry’s order about the de Shera girl, but what Henry was planning for those four Houses was astonishingly wicked. It was also dishonorable as far as he was concerned. It was something that caused his respect for his king to waver.
“What happens if de Lohr and de Moray refuse to side with de Winter, Your Grace?” he asked, feeling sick even as he asked it. “Worse yet, what if de Winter refuses to raze Isenhall? What then?”
Henry’s dark eyes took on something deep and evil, something that suggested the vengeance he had felt since Evesham had somehow poisoned everything about him. Now, it was a matter of weeding out those who weren’t completely loyal to him and to hell with the bonds of brothers-in-arms, or even the strength of families. In this instance, the only loyalty Henry wanted to see was loyalty to the crown.
Loyal to him and him alone.
“If de Winter refuses to raze Isenhall and de Lohr and de Moray are with him, then I will raise such an army as England has never seen,” Henry hissed. “I will march on Canterbury and Isenhall, Lioncross Abbey and Ravendark, and finally to Norwich and Thetford where the de Winters have their seat. I will confiscate everything and destroy those who oppose me. Is this in any way unclear, Torran?”
Torran could only see death and destruction on a vast scale, a horribly demoralizing thing. But his answer was the only answer he could give. He had little choice.
“It is clear, Your Grace.”
Henry smiled thinly. “Do not worry about your incompetence, Torran,” he said, turning back to the table and the myriad of things strewn across it. It was obvious that he was dismissing the knight. “Mayhap your ineptness at gaining the de Shera girl will have a greater good. Mayhap it will finally be the catalyst to the destruction of the Lords of Thunder.”
By that time, Henry had turned away from him completely and Torran knew he was dismissed. He’d been through countless audiences with the king and knew when their time was finished.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and quit the chamber, which was a massive meeting room in the maze that constituted Westminster Palace. He could smell the stench from the River Thames as he walked, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the man who was out to destroy the lives of countless people. There
didn’t even seem to be any logic to it; it was, pure and simple, vengeance.
All Henry cared about was punishment.
The man is mad, Torran thought. Perhaps that’s what captivity had done to him. Perhaps it had made him mad. Even as Torran headed out of the palace, to the stables where his horse was tethered, he could only think of one thing – this situation was far bigger than simply abducting the de Shera girl. That was a very tiny part of the larger picture. It was a massive honeycomb of vengeance versus anger, of good versus evil, and all of it was bleeding out from Henry’s warped mind. That such a man had power over men of honor like de Lohr and de Moray and de Winter simply wasn’t right.
None of it was right.
Later that night, de Serreaux, leader of Henry’s Guard of Six, had a flash of conscience and sent a missive of his own back to the very man who had caused him to fail at his mission with the de Shera girl. He knew where Chad de Lohr had gone; there was no great mystery as far as he was concerned, but the situation was so much more complex than Torran had believed it to be. He and Chad were friends; at least, they had been before the incident at Canterbury. But even that slugfest wasn’t enough to turn Torran sour against Chad. He had done what he had to do, and so had Chad. It was purely duty.
Now, the situation was no longer a matter of holding the de Shera girl hostage. It was a matter of vengeance against the entire de Shera family and all those associated with them, including men who had proven themselves loyal to Henry time and time again.
Now, Henry’s desire to punish everyone associated with Simon was taking on shape and form that went well beyond the scope of something as simple as revenge. There was a hint of madness there but if not madness, surely, there was something wicked behind it. It wouldn’t be right not to warn Chad of what was happening.
The missive was heading to Isenhall before dawn.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Isenhall Castle
Coventry
Isenhall Castle was a circle, literally, circular walls surrounded by a moat with the only access in or out being a heavy drawbridge of iron and oak. The dark-stoned walls were very tall, and somewhat foreboding. As Chad and Alessandria crossed the drawbridge and passed through a narrow tunnel, the bailey opened up on the other side to expose the underbelly of the castle.
It was a tight fit, all of it. The keep, at least three stories, was attached to a one-storied hall, and other buildings crowded up around them. There were tunnels leading between buildings to a courtyard on the other side where the stables were kept. One could smell the stench of animals when the wind shifted.
Everything was closed in and boxed up, with the tall keep and walls towering over everything. As Chad and Alessandria came to a halt in the middle of the bailey, soldiers were rushing up to collect their horses. As Chad dismounted and moved to Alessandria’s horse to help her down, he could see people emerging from the keep. Upon close inspection, he could see all three of the Lords of Thunder heading out to greet them and Bose de Moray was with them.
Lifting up his arms for Alessandria, she slid easily, and gratefully, into his arms. He smiled at her, warmly, as he set her to her feet.
“Welcome to Isenhall,” he said, eyeing the collection of knights heading in her direction. “We are about to be set upon by your cousins. I may not see you very much after this.”
Her smile vanished as she looked at him with fear. “Why not?”
He kept his eyes on Gallus and the others as they drew near. “I told you yesterday,” he said patiently. “If Gallus knows I wish to marry you, he will keep us separated for propriety’s sake until a betrothal agreement can be reached. Do not be discouraged, however. I will find a way to see you.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
Alessandria had heard this before, as he’d indicated, but that didn’t mean she liked or accepted it. The past seven days traveling with Chad had been utter heaven. They’d come to know each other in ways she never imagined possible to know someone. After their drunken encounter at Bexley Manor, Chad made sure not to drink in excess again so other than a kiss now and again, he’d not touched her. They had stayed at inns along the way and he always paid for two rooms, one for her and one for him, but on more than one occasion, she’d discovered him stationed outside of her door, making sure she was safe as she slept.
As a result, Chad had been rather weary on their ride north but he’d never let it affect his mood. He’d remained warm and charming, and if she hadn’t been completely certain of her love for him before, she was completely certain of it now. She had fallen in love with the bright, witty man who happened to be the heir to a powerful legacy. Truth be told, she really didn’t care about the legacy part; all she cared about was him. He could have been a pauper and she couldn’t have loved him anymore than she did now.
“I hope so,” she finally said, eyeing the men that were coming close. “When do you plan to speak to Gallus about our marriage?”
He looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. “Sweetheart, we discussed this already,” he said. “Several times. I will wait until we have greeted one another and our business regarding Henry is settled before introducing the subject of our betrothal.”
She was nodding her head even as he spoke. “I know we have discussed this,” she said quickly. “I am sorry. I am just nervous.”
“Why?”
She looked at him with her big, sea-colored eyes. “What if Gallus denies us?”
Chad shook his head. “He has no reason to,” he said, but was prevented from saying anything more because Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius were upon him. He grinned broadly at the brothers. “I have not had enough of your ugly faces as of late so here I am. Embrace me!”
The brothers laughed. Gallus was the first one to embrace him, followed by Maximus, the gruff brother, who squeezed so hard he nearly broke Chad’s ribs. Then Tiberius got a hold of him and joyfully embraced him as one would a long-lost brother.
“We thought you might come to pay us a visit,” Tiberius said, throwing a thumb back in de Moray’s direction. “Bose told us what happened with Henry and Aurelius’ sister. I see you were able to keep her from Henry. Well done, Chad.”
All attention turned to Alessandria, still standing where Chad had left her. She was dressed in a woolen garment the color of wine, durable and made for travel. When she saw all eyes upon her, she smiled timidly and dipped into a polite curtsy.
“My lords,” she greeted the general group.
Gallus made his way over to her with Chad by his side. “Lady Alessandria,” Gallus greeted, inspecting her closely. “The last I saw you was about ten or twelve years ago. You were quite young at the time. Praise God that you have not grown up to resemble your brother.”
He meant it as a joke and Alessandria’s smile turned genuine. “I would not know, my lord,” she said. “I have not seen him in years.”
Gallus shook his head with some disgust in his manner. “He is as ugly and foolish as ever,” he said. “And you need not address me so formally. You may call me Gallus.”
Alessandria nodded, grateful that he was making her feel welcome. He took her elbow and pulled her in the direction of his brothers. “You remember Max, of course,” he said, indicating the dark middle brother, “and Ty. We are very glad to see that you are safe.”
Alessandria politely acknowledged the other two brothers just as they politely acknowledged her. She had no idea who the big older knight was standing behind them, a man with black hair, black eyes, and scars on his face, but when their eyes met, the man introduced himself.
“Bose de Moray, my lady,” he said. “I am pleased to see that Chad was able to get to you before Henry’s men did. Was it a bad fight?”
His attention turned to Chad, who was standing on Alessandria’s other side. Gallus still had hold of her and Chad had been thinking that he didn’t much like seeing another man touch her, even if it was her cousin. He was stewing about it when de Moray’s question caught his atte
ntion.
“That depends on how you look at it,” Chad said, throwing a hand in the direction of the keep. “We have been traveling long days so take us inside, feed us, and I will tell you all about Henry’s men and Newington Priory. I swear to you that I haven’t stopped moving since before Evesham. I will admit my exhaustion has the better of me.”
Gallus was already leading the way. “I know the feeling,” he said, politely escorting Alessandria up the stairs that led into the keep. “I have been home for nearly two weeks and I still do not feel as if I have the ability to relax, especially with de Moray’s presence. He makes me nervous.”
Maximus and Tiberius snorted. “My wife’s father has that effect on people,” Tiberius said, eyeing the big knight as he followed behind the group. “I have known him for years and he still makes me nervous.”
De Moray cocked a black eyebrow. “That is because you bear watching,” he said. “I have no idea what my daughter ever saw in you.”
Tiberius flashed an impish grin. “Shall I tell you?”
“Nay!”
They had just entered the cool confines of the keep and everyone laughed at Bose’s sharp reply. The small feasting chamber was immediately to the right, low-ceilinged and smoky as usual, and Gallus took Alessandria and Chad into the room.
Already, servants were scurrying about, bringing forth wine and bread and cheese. One servant produced a big bowl of strawberries, setting them next to the cheese, and Alessandria zeroed in on the fruit. It was the tail end of the summer berry harvest and she was quite fond of strawberries. As Gallus helped her to sit, and Chad claimed a seat beside her, she plucked a strawberry from the bowl and bit into it. She simply couldn’t wait.
Wine was poured and small talk bounced around the table. Gallus sent a servant for his wife as everyone began to partake of the fruit and bread and cheese. It was early afternoon and not having eaten since dawn, Alessandria was quite hungry. Gallus was near the end of the table, the last man to pour himself some wine.
The de Lohr Dynasty: Medieval Legends: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 210