THE THUNDER WARRIOR
Book Two– Lords of Thunder Trilogy
A Medieval Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
PART ONE
WINDS OF FATE
May
“In days of old,
With men so bold,
A storm was brewing brightly.
These men, it was told,
As knights so bold,
Were known to tame the lightning”
~ 13thcentury chronicles
CHAPTER ONE
Year of our Lord 1258 A.D.
Reign of Henry III
Oxford, England
It was aday of days, a mild spring day that was perfect in every fashion. The sun was brilliant against the deep, blue expanse of sky with nary a cloud to hamper the view. Days like this were rare, neither hot nor cold, but in that perfect temperature that seemed to bring out the best in both man and beast. A breeze, as soft and caressing as a child’s whisper, whistled through the busy and proud town of Oxford.
The Street of the Merchants was a bustling road that was lined on both sides by close-quarters buildings, stalls and shops that were manned by aggressive salesmen determined to push their wares upon a spend-happy public. Between St. Clement’s Church and the castle stretched the main thoroughfare through the town, and travelers spilled into the Street of the Merchants, just off the main road. This created a crowded bottleneck at the head of the street.
Four armed knights pushed themselves through the bottleneck and ended up in the crowds shopping along the avenue. The smells from the bakers on the next street wafted heavily in the air, the scent of yeast and of hard, brown crusts making for hungry shoppers at this time in the morning. Near the middle of the avenue near a fabric vendor’s stall, a manplaying what looked like a crudely madeviellestood in the tiny gap between two buildings while his daughter, a round girl with a big mouth, sang quite loudly and somewhat off key. All of it, the sights and smells of the day, contributed to the hurried setting.
“Licorice root, wasn’t it?” one of the knights asked the group. “And spiced wine?”
The knight in the lead, a very large man with massive shoulders and a crown of dark, wavy hair replied. “Wine with marjoram,” he said. “She was specific. It settles her stomach, as does the licorice.”
The knight who asked about the licorice root made a face. “Have you ever tasted licorice?” he asked. “It is most foul and turns your tongue black.”
The knight in the lead turned to look at the licorice-hating knight, who was now sticking his tongue out to demonstrate his aversion. Sir Maximus de Shera, a brawny beast of a man with enormous shoulders and a granite-square jaw, shook his dark brown head at his younger brother’s antics.
“It does not matter what you or I think of it,” he said. “Jeniver is feeling ill from her pregnancy and Gallus asked us to find her some.”
Sir Tiberius de Shera put his tongue back in his mouth but he still wasn’t convinced. The very tall, lean, muscular brother was animated to a fault and opinionated until the very end.
“The spiced wine would do better,” he said. “Moreover, why arewerunning Gallus’ errands for him? His wife is the one feeling ill. He should be the one to come and fish for stinking roots and rotten wine for her.”
Maximus grinned. “Will you tell him that to his face?”
Tiberius shook his head. “Not me,” he said. “Much like you, I do as I am told by our illustrious, older brother. Let us get this over with. I will head down to the end of the avenue and see if Ican find an apothecary. You stay here and see if you can locate the wine with all of the dried weeds in it.”
