“Of course I do.”
Maximus looked at him. “There will be a feast tonight,” he said. “You must publicly call out Bigod, Gal. There is no other alternative. The man has spent weeks planting rumors and lies, trying to turn people against you. The only option is to publicly call the man out and make him look like the idiot he is. Only then will men respect you again. Right now, because you have been absent, they see it as somewhat a confirmation of Bigod’s lies. You must regain their respect in a public forum.”
Gallus was vastly unhappy. “What foolishness,” he spat. “Are we not honorable men? Is that how men behave, spreading lies about other men because they would not marry into their family? I always knew Bigod was a conniving, lowly fool, but I never imagined he would take a grudge this far.”
Maximus nodded, with regret. “Unfortunately, he has,” he replied. “De Montfort is going to tell you not to confront the man, but you have no choice, Gal. Our entire family honor is at stake and you must set Bigod straight for all to see.”
Gallus grunted, disgusted, and drained the contents of his wine cup. “So my choices are to disobey de Montfort or let Bigod slander my family,” he said, shaking his head. “I have no choice. I must confront Bigod or men will lose all respect for me. De Montfort must know that.”
“I believe he wants you to be a bigger man about it,” Tiberius interjected. “He feels that if you ignore Bigod, the man will lose interest in his grudge against you, but if you confront him, the battle is likely to grow.”
Gallus looked at him. “Battle?” he repeated. “It is one I will win, have no doubt.”
Tiberius nodded. “I know,” he assured him. “So does de Montfort. I believe the point is that he does not want his barons fighting each other. It weakens the rebellion as a whole. We must focus on our issues against the king.”
Gallus sighed sharply and poured himself more wine. He was frustrated and upset. It showed in his movements. “Very well,” he said, taking a big swallow. “So now I know what I am facing with Bigod and de Montfort. What about everything else? What else has gone on since I have been in Wales?”
“Not a tremendous amount,” Maximus said. “We are convening a parliament in Oxford next month to discuss our grievances against Henry. That is what we are strategizing about at the moment, or at least trying to. Many barons of note are here but there will be more at Oxford next month. But tell us how it went in Wales? Can we expect a new allegiance with your new Welsh vassals?”
Gallus waved him off. “I will tell you about Wales in a moment,” he said. “What barons are here?”
Maximus scratched his furry cheek thoughtfully. “The usual players,” he said. “De Montfort, of course, Bigod, Fitzgeoffrey, and de Russe.”
“Hughston is here?” Gallus interrupted.
Maximus nodded. “Aye,” he replied. Then, he smirked. “Bigod tried to tell the man of your treachery and Hughston slugged him in the mouth. Loosened three teeth, I heard.”
Gallus grinned for the first time since entering the room. “The man is a loyal friend,” he muttered. “Who else is here?”
Tiberius answered. “De Clare, de Gray,” he said, naming part of the core group that was usually on hand in events such as this. But then Tiberius looked at Scott. “Your father is here, de Wolfe. He came down with the de Gray contingent from the north. De Montfort is thrilled to have The Wolfe in his fold. That is all he can speak of.”
Scott, standing behind Gallus, immediately perked. “My father is here?” he repeated, incredulous and pleased. “I’ve not seen the man in almost two years. Do you know where he is?”
Tiberius held up a finger as if to beg the man’s patience as he left the chamber. Scott, puzzled, looked to Maximus and the other knights, wondering where Tiberius had gone. But Maximus shrugged off his brother’s disappearance and continued the conversation where Tiberius had abruptly left off.
“We have not yet seen the House of de Moray although we know Garran’s father has been invited,” he said. “Garran has been watching for him daily.”
Across the table, Garran shrugged. “I would be surprised if he came,” he said. “My father had enough politics in his early years with Henry. He was the Captain of the Guard early in the king’s reign, you know. He is very fond of Henry and I cannot see him betraying that loyalty. He said the king saved his life, once, so I cannot imagine that he would conspire against the man.”
Gallus nodded in understanding. “We must all make our choices on who to support,” he said. “Bose de Moray is a legendary knight. I am sure de Montfort will support the man’s decision, whatever it is.”
Everyone around the table agreed. Then, Maximus put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Will you please tell us what happened in Wales?” he asked. “Can we expect thousands of Welshmen riding to our aid?”
Gallus grinned, reaching out for a hunk of cream-colored bread with a thick, hard crust. He broke it into pieces, putting one of those pieces in his mouth.
“It was very cold,” he repeated what he’d said earlier. “My wife is well, her father is recovering, and I brought her back to Isenhall. As for Welsh support, all Gaerwen will provide us is money and material. He will not take up arms with us, but he is at least willing to provide us with monetary support.”
Maximus took a long drink of his wine. “I will be honest when I say that I did not expect any support from the Welsh,” he said. “They have their own struggles right now.”
Gallus agreed, somewhat. “True, but I thought that because we shared the same enemy, we might receive a measure of their support,” he said. “Mayhap we still will. I am not done with Gaerwen ap Gaerwen yet. Mayhap I can eventually convince him to provide men and arms.”
Maximus opened his mouth to reply when the door to the chamber opened again and Tiberius entered, followed by a very big man in mail and a woolen cloak, protection against the cold weather outside. The chamber was somewhat dark and it was difficult to see the man’s face but Scott was already moving in their direction, his arms opening to the incoming stranger. He went right up to the man and threw his arms around him.
“Papa,” he murmured in that deeply satisfied tone from a child to a parent. “You have come. I am so glad to see you.”
Sir William de Wolfe, Baron Kilham, was as big as his brawny son. An older man in his middle years, he was enormously built, strong and powerful still, and sporting an eye patch over his left eye. The man was legendary. Everyone knew of the Wolfe of the North, William de Wolfe, and when the knights, including Gallus, realized who was in their midst, they all rose from the table as a clear sign of respect. Greatness was among them.
But de Wolfe wasn’t looking at the men at the table. He was looking at his firstborn son. When William was finished squeezing his son to death, he held the man at arm’s length to look him over.
“Your mother will be pleased to know you were here,” he said, gratitude in his voice. “She worries about you daily. Have you taken a wife yet? She will want to know, so if you haven’t, you’d better have a very good reason. And where is your brother?”
Scott grinned at his father. “Troy is at Isenhall Castle, I would assume,” he said, turning to look at Gallus. “My lord, you remember my father, of course?”
Gallus nodded, coming away from the table to properly greet a living legend. “Without question,” he said, inspecting the handsome, weathered face of the Wolfe. “It is an honor to see you again, my lord. I trust you have known good health.”
William nodded. “Indeed I have,” he said. “I must thank you for bringing Scott with you to Kenilworth. It has been a long time to spend away from my sons, these past two years. And Troy has not come with you?”
Gallus shook his head. “Nay, my lord,” he said, addressing William with a title of respect even though he, as an earl, outranked the man. “I have left Troy in charge of Isenhall Castle, but it is a mere hour’s ride from here. I am sure he would be pleased with a visit should you be so inclined.”
William n
odded. “I will have to,” he said. “My wife would give me an earful if I did not visit him while the opportunity was provided.”
Gallus smiled at the rather humorous way William had said it. Men’s fear of their wives was an ageless story. Holding out his hand, Gallus indicated the table scattered with remnants of their meal. “Would you please sit with us? I was just catching up on what has gone on at Kenilworth in my absence.”
William cocked an eyebrow. “You mean Bigod?” he said. Then, he shook his head with some loathing in his manner. “The man has no control whatsoever. What on earth did you do to make him hate you so?”
Gallus rolled his eyes. “I refused to marry his ugly daughter,” he said. “I married a woman of my choice, not his.”
William snorted. “Tiberius told me,” he said. “I wanted to see if there was possibly something else you’d done. Burned his homes and raided his riches, mayhap? The way the man is carrying on, one would think you had gravely wronged him.”
“We were just discussing it, Papa,” Scott said, his tone grim. “We believe de Montfort will ask Gallus not to confront Bigod over it in the hope that the situation will simply wear itself out.”
William looked horrified. “Is the man mad?” he asked the group in general. “Men like Bigod understand one thing – brute strength or brute force of will. If you do not confront the man in the behavior he has not only displayed but is also accustomed to, then he will not understand that he has been bested or defeated. You must show your domination, de Shera, or there will be no end to this. Dominate him and make him understand what will happen if he does not apologize for his actions and cease this slander – you will ensure that very bad things happen to him and to his family. Although I am not one to condone brutal attacks or aggressive violence against my peers, I understand a man like Bigod. He is small-minded and war-minded. You must address him accordingly.”
Gallus absorbed the advice from the all-mighty Wolfe. “Is that what you would do if you were in my position?”
William grunted. “If I were in your position, I would make sure he understands how displeased I am with his behavior,” he said. “I might even take him outside the walls of Kenilworth and beat him where no one could hear his screams.”
Gallus laughed softly at the mental image of William taking a switch, or a club, to Bigod. “I will take it under advisement,” he said, sobering. “Rest assured that I am under the same mindset as you – Bigod will not get away with this and I intend to make sure the man, and everyone else, knows it.”
William nodded. He knew of Gallus de Shera mostly by reputation even though his eldest sons, Scott and Troy, had served the man for a few years. From everything his sons had told him, Gallus and his brothers were powerful, reasonable, ethical, and wise men. William felt rather sorry for the young earl to be caught up in Bigod’s treachery.
“Well,” William said as he moved for the table to sit and join them. “If you require my assistance, I shall be happy to help.”
“Take a stick to him?”
“Or a rock.”
Gallus laughed as he sat down beside William. “As much as I appreciate your offer, I would not risk Bigod’s anger directed at you,” he said, shaking his head. “I would not do that to you, my lord. I respect you too much.”
William took the cup of wine that Tiberius offered him. “Please,” he said. “I would be honored. Besides, men like Bigod infuriate me. Someone needs to poke holes in that massive burden of pride he bears.”
Gallus chuckled. “Then if I need assistance, I would be grateful for your support,” he said, pouring himself more wine. “Hugh would not dare tangle with the Wolfe.”
“Or the Thunder Lord,” William said, grinning when Gallus looked up at him. “I heard from de Montfort what you did to Jacques Honore. Most impressive, my lord. Mayhap you will have to do the same thing to Bigod.”
Everyone at the table chuckled to varying degrees as Gallus nodded in agreement. “If all else fails, mayhap I shall,” he said, lifting his cup to William in a gesture of respect. “To a new alliance of humiliating and crushing Bigod.”
Everyone around the table banged their cups against the tabletop or, in Garran’s case, the wall next to him. It was agreement and support for what needed to be done and, although Gallus had not been serious about destroying Bigod, the message was clear. The man would pay. As the men muttered and joked between them on Bigod’s fate, William focused his attention on Gallus.
“Your brothers told me that your mother has been ill,” he said, pouring himself more wine. “How is she feeling these days? Better, I hope? I knew your mother once, long ago. She is a daughter of Christopher de Lohr and, of course, my father was Christopher’s best friend. I remember Charlotte de Lohr when she was a young girl, before she married Antoninus de Shera and then everyone began calling her Honey. God’s Bones, I feel old saying that.”
Gallus knew this subject would come up but he had hoped to discuss it with his brothers privately first. Maximus and Tiberius were listening anxiously to Gallus’ reply as the man sought a way to tactfully relay his mother’s health woes.
“Unfortunately, my lord, she is not feeling particularly well these days,” he said, watching the concern ripple across his brothers’ faces. “I left her this morning and although she is alert and eating, she is no longer able to walk. Her health continues to decline.”
Before William could reply, Tiberius grasped his brother’s arm. “She is worse?” he asked apprehensively.
Gallus turned slightly so that he was facing his brothers. “I’ve not had the opportunity to tell you,” he said, lowering his voice because the rest of the table was caught up in their own conversations. “She did not look well at all. The physic says her life is now measured in days. I wanted to remain with her and send word to you both to come back to Isenhall, but she would not hear of it. Between her and Jeniver, I was very nearly forced to come here to deal with Bigod, so do not think to return home at this juncture. It will only make Mother very angry. She wants us to deal with Bigod’s slander before we ever think of returning home.”
“That is because her family means everything to her,” William said softly. He had been listening to Gallus. When the de Shera brothers looked at him, William’s face had a distant expression upon it. “You must remember that your mother comes from one of the greatest houses in England. The House of de Lohr is legendary and, to them, family honor and family bonds are everything. I am assuming that your mother knew of Bigod’s slander?”
Gallus nodded. “Evidently, he came to Isenhall and spouted off in front of her,” he said. “I suspect had she felt any better, she might have gone after him with a dagger. I know she believes family honor above all and for that very reason, I have come. But it does not ease the ache in my heart, knowing my mother is now living her last days.”
William could see the sadness in all three brothers and he was sympathetic. “Then, mayhap you should do what you need to do with Bigod and then beg your leave from de Montfort,” he said. “The man will understand that you wish to attend your dying mother. Do you suppose your mother would like a visit from an old friend as well? Mayhap it will lift her spirits.”
He meant a visit from himself and Gallus smiled faintly. “She would love it,” he said. “But in speaking of de Montfort, the man wishes to see me. I should go to him now before he sends soldiers up to drag me to him. Will you please excuse me, my lord, while I attend de Montfort?”
William nodded. “Of course,” he said. “But remember my advice – do not let the man talk you out of what you must do to retain your honor. I would think of all people that de Montfort would understand that.”
Gallus nodded, rising from his seat. As his men, brothers, and de Wolfe lost themselves in a rather loud conversation, Gallus headed to the chamber door, exiting into the dark, narrow corridor with the steep, spiral stairs that led to the ground floor below.
Asking directions to de Montfort’s whereabouts of a soldier he found in
the inner ward just outside of the building, he headed in the direction of de Montfort’s new block, all the while thinking what he was going to say to the man. If he was asked to acquiesce, he could not comply. He hoped de Montfort understood why before clapping him in irons and leaving him to rot down in the vault. His honor was at stake and there would be no submission to Bigod’s tantrums.
The Lords of Thunder would suffer degradation from no man, and woe betide to those who would try.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
There were soldiers in de Montfort’s block, not only outside of the building but inside as well. In fact, when Gallus entered the two-storied structure, he was immediately set upon by several men bearing de Montfort tunics but one of the soldiers recognized Gallus right away so all hands were removed.
It was cool and dark in the keep, reflective of the cold and dreary weather outside that had moved in overnight. Clouds had rolled in from the east and it was threatening to rain. The soldiers directed Gallus towards the southern end of the building when the Earl of Coventry asked for directions to de Montfort, and Gallus followed the pointing fingers and headed down a corridor that was fairly elaborate in construction. Although the ceiling was flat, all of the doorways lining the corridor were arched, with great detail on the doors themselves. It smelled of old smoke and wood shavings, this corridor, and Gallus kept walking, heading for the door at the end that was half-open. He assumed he’d find de Montfort waiting for him. It was just a feeling he had.
A feeling that wasn’t wrong but as soon as Gallus entered the room, he felt as if he’d been ambushed. De Montfort was in the room, seated behind a massive table that was cluttered with inkwells and vellum scrolls, but there was a second man in the room as well. Gallus found himself looking at Bigod.
De Montfort looked up when he saw movement in the doorway, immediately setting his quill aside and rising from his desk.
“Gallus,” he said, satisfaction in his voice as he moved around the desk and headed for Gallus. “You have finally arrived. Praise God for your safe travels from Wales.”