“You are certain of this?” he asked softly.
Garran nodded with remorse. “I am, my lord.”
Gallus thought on his reply a moment. “Your father is a legend,” he said. “He is a fine and honorable knight. Although I am deeply saddened to lose your sword, I understand completely. I could not fight against my father, either.”
It was a sorrowful moment for them all, especially for Tiberius. Garran was his good friend.
“When will you go?” Tiberius asked softly.
Garran looked at his friend, his liege, with great sadness. “I will go to him as soon as you return from intercepting de Lara’s escort,” he said. “I will not leave Lady de Shera unattended. Please… please know this was not an easy decision for me. It is mayhap the hardest choice I have ever had to make, but in this instance, understand that my choice is not in favor of Henry– it is in favor of my father. It will always be my father.”
Gallus patted him on the shoulder again. “I know,” he comforted. “As it should be. Godspeed and fair winds, Garran. May we never meet up in battle, my friend, but if we do, then I pray we both survive it.”
There wasn’t much more to say, from any of them. Garran forced a smile, silently thanking Gallus and his brothers for their friendship and trust, before turning away and heading back over to the table where Ellice was still sitting, now on her second cup of warmed wine. The knight sat down at the end of the table and simply hung his head.
It was a desolate moment. Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius watched Garran as he slumped at the table, shocked and saddened by the turn of events. But they couldn’t linger over them. They had a more pressing engagement looming and they would need all of their focus for what was to come. They couldfully worry about the loss of a knight, and good friend, at another time. But now was not the time.
Eventually, Gallus turned away to prepare himself, followed by Maximus. As they went about their business, Tiberius remained where they had left him, his gaze lingering on Garran and feeling a distinct sense of loss. He wasn’t entirely sure he could face the man in battle, either. He knew he couldn’t strike him down. But family loyalty superseded friendship. He understood that well.
With a heavy heart, he followed his brothers as they prepared to intercept de Lara’s escort and regain Lady Courtly.
*
Just before noonon the following day, outside of the sleepy village of Begbroke, north of Oxford, the de Shera army was waiting.
The rain had stopped for the most part, revealing clear skies above, but the ground was still soaked and muddy, making traveling difficult. Roads were impassable in some spots and farmers with wagons, trying to get to town, had been thwarted by the holes and puddles.
The de Lara party was heavily armed as they moved along the sludge-filled road. Courtly and Isadora were both astride the small gray palfrey, bundled up with a coverlet stolen off of a bed from Kennington, as they made their way very slowly along the muddy road. St. Héver was at point, leading the party along beneath cold, blue skies and as they passed on the outskirts of Begbroke they eventually entered a wooded area where the road was surprisingly better. The canopy of trees had protected the road from the driving rains somewhat. As the exhausted women plodded along the dark-mudded road, the trees around them suddenly came alive.
Men were pouring out of the woods, men with weapons, from both sides of the road. There were dozens of them, certainly more than the twenty men that surrounded Courtly and Isadora, and when the harrowing cry of men went up as they burst from the trees, the little, gray palfrey bolted, dumping both Courtly and Isadora onto the wet, soft earth.
As Courtly leapt to her feet and pulled Isadora up beside her, St. Héver bellowed commands for his men to surround the women and made his way back to them to protect them. But he was a lone knight with only twenty men-at-arms as six very big knights on very big horses came bursting out of the trees, heading directly for them. St. Héver was no fool. He saw the fine weaponry and the seasoned horses, especially a distinctive black and white jennet. He’d seen that horse before, most recently at Kennington House, so he knew who the men were. He ordered his soldiers to drop their weapons and surrender on the spot because there was no use in fighting the Lords of Thunder. He gave up without a struggle.
Without a fight to be had, the de Shera men came to an uncertain halt, surrounding the de Lara party as the six massive knights rode up. Maximus, leading the charge, flipped up his visor and fixed on St. Héver.
This was not the situation Maximus had planned on. He had expected fighting and killing, and in spite of what he told Gallus, he intended to do most of the killing, unwilling to leave witnesses to his abduction of Courtly. What he didn’t expect was for St. Héver to surrender before the fight even began. It was a brilliant move on St. Héver’s part, knowing that the de Shera war machine wouldn’t murder men who had surrendered. It simply wasn’t done. Now, the situation Maximus had hoped for was already going awry. Now, he would have to out-fox St. Héver.
“I do not wish to kill you, St. Héver,” he said, his voice loud and steady. “I simply want Lady Courtly and I will be along my way.”
St. Héver was a young knight, that was true, but he was exceedingly clever. He moved to Courtly in a gesture that suggested to Maximus that he could easily do what he wanted to with the woman before Maximus could stop him, up to and including killing her. It wasn’t what he intended to do but he knew he was at a distinct disadvantage. He had to show that the de Sheras didn’t have him completely defeated. There was still fight in him and, consequently, room for negotiation.
“I am deeply regretful that I cannot comply, my lord,” he said to Maximus. “I have been instructed to take Lady Courtly and her sister back to Trelystan. Those are my orders.”
Maximus looked at Gallus, who was focused on the young and strong knight. Gallus knew that Maximus had been hoping for a fight. He wasn’t a fool. He knew how his brother thought, and he also knew that St. Héver’s surrender had upset Maximus’ plans for a murder spree. Not to say that he wasn’t impressed by St. Héver’s move, but now he had some quick thinking to do before Maximus began swinging his sword like a madman. Gallus flipped up his visor to better see St. Héver.
“I understand your orders, St. Héver,” Gallus said. “But we intend to make it so you do not carry them out. We can do this peacefully or we can do it violently. The choice is yours.”
St. Héver was in a bind and he knew it. “You know that I simply cannot turn her over to you, my lord.”
“I know.”
“Then I suppose you are going to have to take her by force.”
Gallus looked at Maximus, who immediately dismounted his steed and unsheathed his broadsword, a wicked looking thing with a serrated edge on one side. It was designed to slice and cut, and surely there was no more feared weapon in the arsenalof Simon de Montfort. Everyone knew of the Thunder Warrior’s horrific sword that was known to cut men in half. But Maximus paused a moment, looking at St. Héver.
“Are you sure you will not surrender her peacefully?” he asked.
St. Héver knew what was coming. God help him, he knew and he was calm. “I cannot, my lord.”
