Grayson turned his attention to Garran, a mirror image of his father, and the smile on his face faded somewhat. “Garran,” he murmured, as if remembering things about the young knight. “You are a de Shera knight.”
Garran shook his head. “I have pledged to my father, my lord,” he said. “I have been released from my de Shera bond.”
Grayson lifted his eyebrows. “That could not have been an easy thing,” he said. “Once a de Shera, always a de Shera. You know the saying.”
Garran looked at his father. “De Moray blood supersedes de Shera friendship.”
Bose detected some bitterness there and he could imagine why. His son wasn’t happy about committing to the king’s cause. But he would get over it. He returned his attention to de Winter.
“You have quite an army assembled,” he said. “How many men?”
Grayson looked out over his military empire. “Almost two thousand,” he said. “Henry has provided French mercenary troops. I have told the English troops to keep watch on them because they like to raid and steal from the countryside. I will not permit the French to run amuck even if Henrydidsend them. But now that de Moray has arrived, they will be forced to behave themselves.”
He said it in jest and Bose smiled thinly. He didn’t like the thought of French mercenaries on English soil, either, but he had to go along with what the king dictated. He would never admit to anyone that supporting the king these days had him the slightest bit disgruntled. He gestured to the tent.
“Let us retreat inside and discuss strategy,” he said. “Warborough cannot be more than a few miles away. What are the plans?”
Grayson began to lead Bose into the tent. “Warborough is approximately seven miles away,” he said. “Now that you have arrived, we have orders to move swiftly. De Montfort is distracted with the rumors of Henry’s council convening in London so the time to move is now.”
Bose looked at him, a light of understanding coming to his eye. “Are those rumors, then?” he asked. “Henry is not convening his council?”
Grayson nodded. “Not so soon, at any rate,” he said. “We spread those rumors that the meeting was imminent because we knew de Montfort was in Oxford. It is a ruse to turn his focus away from Warborough, at least for now. There are many barons in Oxford and if they gather to defend Warborough, it could be very bad indeed. These French mercenaries would like nothing better than to kill English barons.”
Bose sighed heavily. He couldn’t help but look at his son now, realizing that he had not realized the full scope of the move against Warborough. But Garran was emotionless as he gazed at his father and Bose turned back to Grayson, realizing he might have some damage control to do with his son after all of this was over. Garran did not appear happy in the least in spite of his impassive stance. The man was heading straight into a battle against men he considered brothers. Nay, Garran didn’t like it in the least.
As Bose and Grayson moved into the big de Winter tent, Davyss put out a hand and stopped Garran before the man could follow. In fact, he pulled him away from the tent flap so their fathers could not overhear their conversation. When they were a safe distance away, Davyss turned to Garran.
“What are you doing here?” Davyss hissed at him. “I thought you were with Gallus.”
Garran cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I was until my father came to town and begged for my fealty,” he said. “He told me he did not want to lift a sword against me in battle and that was what this entire situation was coming down to. What he didnottell me was that there was already a battle on the horizon that he knew about.”
Davyss shook his head, his frustration evident. “My father has objections to attacking Warborough as well,” he admitted, “but he leads the king’s armies so he has no choice. He hates these French mercenaries under his command. They are vile, foul men. I feel as if they are the enemy more than de Montfort is.”
Garran thought the entire circumstance sounded uncertain and dangerous. “If you will forgive me, your father made the choice to side with Henry,” he said. “He is bound to do whatever the king wishes and fight whomever he is told to fight, and thatalso means commanding the men the king chooses for him to command. He has no right to complain.”
Davyss eyed the knight. “The de Winters have served the crown since the days of William the Bastard,” he said. “My father did not make that choice. It was already made for him two hundred years ago. He simply carries on the family tradition.”
“As do you?”
“Gallus has asked that same question, many times.”
Garran wouldn’t argue the subject of free will. As far as he was concerned, the entire de Winter family had made the choice to serve a king who did not deserve their loyalty. They were great warriors, and very rich and powerful. It was nearly the only great power from England that the king could count as a supporter.
“Gallus and his brothers are in Oxford,” Garran said after a moment, given that the subject of Gallus had entered the conversation. “You know when they hear of Warborough, they will be leading her defense. We will meet them in battle.”
Davyss tried not to look sick about it. “I know,” he conceded. “But there is nothing we can do about it. The path is set.”
“Willyoulift your sword against them?” Garran wanted to know. “Gallus and Maximus and Tiberius? Because I know for a fact I will not. I cannot. I will go kill French mercenaries instead.”
Davyss smiled faintly. “As I will I,” he confessed. “You know I cannot fight Gallus. My father knows it, too.”
“What will we do, then?”
Davyss sighed heavily. Then, he gestured to the tent. “Go inside and listen to our fathers discuss what you and I willnotdo,” he said. “Come along before they come looking for us.”
Garran followed Davyss into the tent without another word. Inside, Grayson and Bose and a few other senior English commanders were bent over a leaning table with a map spread across the surface. As Garran listened to the talk of takingWarborough, one thing was certain. He would not fight against the Lords of Thunder. Perhaps it had been a mistake to pledge fealty to his father in the first place, but his choices, now, were both terrible– either fight against his father or fight against the de Shera brothers. Either way, the outcome, for him, could only bring him to heartache.
Already, he was aching.
