The Thunder Lord: The de Shera Brotherhood Book One (Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood 1) (16 page)

Seated on the padded chair that Simon had vacated, Maximus clapped a hand over his face and shook his head sadly. “Do not forget that the man knows I hold a title,” he said. “Inheriting the barony of Allesley from our father must make me that much more palatable to Hugh.”

“You are not the only one with a title,” Tiberius pointed out. “He knows that all three of us hold titles and have some individual wealth of our own. I may not have a barony or an earldom, but I have grandfather’s hereditary title of Lord Lockhurst. That makes me as much fair game as you, Max.”

Maximus wasn’t done running his hand all over his face, a weary gesture as well as an annoyed one. He finally dropped his hand and drained his cup, holding it up to Tiberius for more wine.

“It does not matter, truly,” he said. “What matters is that we get out of London, quickly.”

Gallus agreed. “Where are the knights?”

Maximus pointed to the floor above. Westbourne had two and a half stories. The first floor had eight sleeping chambers and several dressing rooms while the third floor was reserved for the servants and knights. It was quite comfortable accommodations in general.

“They were exhausted,” he said. “I told them to retire early. Why? Do you have need of them?”

Gallus shook his head but as he started to reply, a servant stood in the entry to the Red Room and invited his attention.

“Lord Gallus,” the older man said formally. “I have a message for you, my lord. In private, please.”

Since there weren’t any secrets between the brothers, Maximus and Tiberius knew that Gallus would tell them what it was all about afterwards so they continued with their wine as Gallus quit the room. Once out in the entry hall near the staircase that led to the upper floors, the old servant came to a halt.

“Someone has come to see you, my lord,” he said quietly. “He did not want me to announce him.”

Gallus’ brow furrowed. “
Who
has come, Turner?” he asked.

The old servant, who had served three generations of de Sheras, shook his head. “Please,” he murmured. “If you will come with me, my lord, you will know.”

The servant began to move again, swiftly now, scuffling down the long, central hall and into the small service area next to the dining room that opened out onto the kitchen beyond. Slightly annoyed, Gallus followed.

It was dark in the rear of the house, with only a thin taper illuminating a table that had pewter and silver spread out all over it. It was clear that someone had been cleaning it when they had been interrupted. A door to the kitchen yard with the postern gate beyond loomed ahead and as Gallus stepped into the doorway that led into the yard, he caught movement off to his right.

A very big man in armor stepped out of the shadows. Gallus caught sight of the figure, the mail and tunic, and especially the sword strapped to the man’s thigh.
I know that sword
, he thought. Before Gallus even saw the face, he recognized the distinctive sword, perhaps the most distinctive sword in all of England. Gallus immediately stepped out into the darkened yard, extending his hand to the knight.

“Davyss,” he breathed, grasping the enormous gloved hand that was extended at him. “My God, man! What are you doing here?”

Sir Davyss de Winter stepped into the dim light. He was an extremely handsome man with dark, curly hair and a shadowed face, now creased with a weary smile. He took Gallus’ offered hand but it was not enough. He threw his arms around the man he loved like a brother. Gallus and Davyss had grown up together, fostered together, and were the best of friends. But, whereas Gallus had sided with de Montfort in the barons against the king, Davyss and his family were staunch supporters of the crown. Nothing could shake the loyalty, good or bad, so Gallus and Davyss found themselves on different sides. It had been a tragic and heartbreaking thing for the both of them.

“I heard you were in town but I kept missing you,” Davyss said, releasing Gallus from a bear hug. “Now I find you home, finally. Thank God Turner recognized me or I would have never gained entry.”

Gallus turned to the old servant, now seated at the table again cleaning silver. The old man grinned sheepishly as Gallus grinned.

“He remembers us too well as children,” he said. “Running about, making mischief. We were terrible lads, weren’t we?”

He asked the question of the servant, who merely shook his head. “You were clever and brilliant young men, my lord,” he said politely.

Gallus laughed softly as he returned his attention to Davyss. “I clothe and feed him so he must say pleasant things about us,” he said. His gaze moved over Davyss’ face, reacquainting himself with his old friend. “I cannot remember when last I saw you, Davyss. How long has hit been?”

Davyss scratched his head thoughtfully. “The summer months, at least,” he said. “You were in London and we crossed paths. I was with my mother and father.”

Gallus nodded in remembrance. “I recall now,” he said. “How are your parents?”

Davyss gave him a half-grin. “Well enough,” he said. “You know my mother, she will outlive us all. And my father is doing well. His health had been poor a few months ago but he seems to have recovered well enough.”

Gallus thought on the Lady Katherine de Winter and her husband, Grayson de Winter. The House of de Winter was an extremely powerful family, much like the House of de Shera, and most of the time the two houses were on the same side. Gallus’ father and Grayson de Winter had been good friends, and it had been Grayson who had spent a few weeks at Isenhall with Lady Honey after Antoninus’ death to make sure the de Shera family was well enough after the sudden passing of their patriarch. Gallus had never forgotten the man’s kindness during that time. He considered the House of de Winter family, in fact, and he missed Davyss very much.

“That is good to hear,” he said. Then, he tugged on Davyss’ arm. “Come inside. It is only Maximus and Tiberius and I. They will want to see you.”

Davyss shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “This is between you and me for now. Besides, if anyone saw me inside of Westbourne, anyone other than those we trust, it would look very bad for us both.”

The warm expression on Gallus’ features faded. “I suppose so,” he said, sobering. “I do not like this, Davyss. I do not like that we are not on the same side. This is not the natural order of things.”

Davyss nodded slowly. “I know,” he agreed. “But it has been the unfortunate order of things for four years, ever since Simon de Montfort took the stand at Parliament against Henry. My father took the king’s side and Antoninus took Simon’s side. And here we are.”

Gallus shook his head sadly. “Indeed,” he said, his gaze moving over Davyss’ face. There was something in the man’s expression that suggested he was not here merely for a social call and Gallus suspected he knew what it was. “You heard of Honore’s death.”

It wasn’t a question. Davyss nodded faintly. “Aye,” he replied. “Was it you?”

“Aye.”

Davyss drew in a long breath, digesting the information. “I thought so,” he said. “So did my father. It had every mark of the Thunder Lord; concise, brutal, and deadly. Henry knows it, too. That is why I have come to warn you.”

“What about?”

Davyss shifted on his big legs. “The king is talking about sending assassins after you,” he said. “Or, at the very least, laying siege to Isenhall. You are de Montfort’s muscle and he feels that if he destroys you or, at the very least, damages you, then it will weaken the rebellion. Those men you killed? Honore’s men? Their purpose was going to be to reinforce the ranks Henry was planning on sending to Isenhall, so his move against you was in motion well before this. To say he is furious right now is an understatement.”

Gallus wasn’t surprised, by any of it. “Henry didn’t tell you all of this, did he?”

Davyss shook his head. “He told my father and my father told me,” he said. “My father is the one who sent me here tonight. He wants me to tell you to leave London quickly and go home. He is doing his best to stave off the king’s anger, anger directed at you. He wants to give you time to go home and secure Isenhall.”

Gallus leaned back against the doorjamb, crossing his arms thoughtfully as he faced his friend. “De Montfort has been in London daily,” he said. “He has not mentioned any of this.”

Davyss shifted on his big legs again, resting a hand upon the hilt of his magnificent sword. “Henry has kept his focus against you very quiet,” he said. “He has also sent spies to watch my father to see if he has contacted you.”

Gallus grew concerned. “You were not followed here?”

Davyss shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “Hugh is dressed the same way I am and departed when I did. He will lure away any spies.”

Gallus smiled weakly. “And how is your little brother?”

Davyss snorted. “Insufferable,” he said. “I would sell him to the gypsies if I thought I could get away with it.”

Gallus laughed softly. Then his gaze fell upon the sword at Davyss’ side, the splendid work of art that was Davyss’ constant companion. He tilted his head in the direction of the weapon.

“When you came out of the shadows just now, I saw the sword before I saw your face,” he said. “Lespada.
L'épée de champions.”

The sword of champions
. Davyss looked down at the broadsword at his side. “Six generations of my family have carried this sword,” he said. “Do you remember when my father gave it over to me when I received my spurs? He wept. One would have thought he had just handed over his favorite child.”

Gallus remembered those days when he and Davyss had fostered together. “Those were good days,” he reminisced, “fostering at Kenilworth.”

“They were, indeed.”

Gallus reflected on those days of his youth a moment longer before sighing heavily. “I never thought you and I would be on opposing sides,” he said with regret. “My greatest fear is that we will be called to battle and I will be facing against you. If that happens… know that I will not fight you and I will not kill you, not even in the name of England. Some things are stronger than loyalty to one’s country. If it ever comes to that, I will lay down my sword before I will raise it against you.”

Davyss’ expression was equally sad. “As will I,” he said. “I could not do it, no matter if Henry himself ordered me to. Tiberius is another matter altogether, but I could not raise a weapon against you and Max.”

Gallus chuckled. “Are you sure you will not come inside to see them?”

Davyss shook his head. “I have stayed overlong already,” he said. “I must leave before I am discovered.”

Gallus understood. He reached out and grasped Davyss’ hand, squeezing it, reaffirming the bonds of brotherhood.

“Thank you for coming,” he said softly. “You are my brother, Davyss. I miss you every day.”

Davyss squeezed back. “As do I,” he said. “I am looking forward to the day when I can speak openly of you and visit your mother so I can eat her honey and cheese pie. I have missed it.”

Gallus grinned. “It is still as delicious as ever,” he said. “And I am anxious for you to meet my wife.”

Davyss’ expression washed with shock. “Wife?” he repeated. “I did not hear of this. God’s Bones, man, when did you take a wife?”

Gallus grinned. “Last month,” he said. “It was quite unexpected, but that is a story for another time. She is a hereditary princess of Anglesey and when her father passes away, all of his titles and possessions will pass to me. I will be Anglesey. Would you have ever guessed such a thing?”

Davyss was astonished. “Never,” he breathed. “I do not know whether to congratulate you or give you my condolences.”

Gallus laughed softly. “Congratulate me,” he said. “My wife is a beauty. I… I think I can be happy with her.”

Davyss studied the man’s features, looking for any signs that he was fooling himself into believing that his second marriage would be as pleasant as his first. “Are you certain?” he asked. “I know that Catheryn’s passing was… difficult.”

Gallus sobered, thinking on the wife he lost, the wife he had gained. “It was,” he agreed quietly. “But Jeniver has helped me to heal, I think. She does not know that, but she has.”

Davyss gave his hand one last squeeze and released it. “Then I wish you the best,” he said. “I look forward to meeting her.”

“You shall, very soon.”

Davyss smiled, gazing up at his friend in the darkness. It was difficult to leave his friend. “I must be going,” he said, glancing around the yard to make sure there was no one watching. “Remember what I said, Gal. Get out of London and go home. My father is doing what he can to deflect Henry’s anger off of you, but you must go home and stay there. Let things blow over.”

Gallus nodded. “I will,” he replied. “Thank you for coming, my friend.”

Davyss reached out and slapped him affectionately on the arm before fleeing across the darkened kitchen yard and out to the postern gate. Gallus watched as the man disappeared through the gate, but well after Davyss was gone, Gallus continued to stand there, reflecting upon their conversation. There was something ominous in his tidings.

Go home
, Davyss had said. Gallus would, but not before he sent word to de Montfort on Davyss’ visit. De Montfort and the de Winter family were very old friends as well. Simon was, in fact, Davyss’ godfather. Much as Davyss and Gallus remained friendly in spite of being on opposite sides, Gallus suspected that Simon and Davyss had remained friendly as well, although they’d never spoken openly of it. Subjects such as that were better left unspoken lest someone overhear, but he knew de Montfort would not betray Davyss, no matter what.