The Thunder Lord: The de Shera Brotherhood Book One (Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood 1)
Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
THE THUNDER LORD
Book One – Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood
A Medieval Romance
By Kathryn Le Veque
©Copyright 2014 by Kathryn Le Veque Novels
ISBN ebook
978-1-63443-165-1
Text by Kathryn Le Veque
Cover by Kathryn Le Veque
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
Author’s Note:
This novel begins the story of the de Shera brothers, a trio of siblings that rise to power during the rebellion between Simon de Montfort and Henry III. This particular tale gives the story of Gallus and Jeniver, the parents of Bhrodi de Shera (SERPENT).
Coventry Castle was already in ruins when this story takes place, so I have set the events at the fictional Isenhall Castle, about two miles to the east of the city of Coventry.
There is a good deal of humor in this novel where it pertains to some particular childhood tales of Gallus and his brothers involving an uncle who liked to pass gas.
A lot
. The word “fart” is used because it is, in fact, a word rooted in old English. Before you declare that I’ve had my characters use a modern word, I suggest you read Chaucer’s
Canterbury Tales
. The word is in there quite a bit. Now you know!
Now, read on and I hope you enjoy this action-packed tale of Gallus and Jeniver.
Hugs,
Kathryn
Contents
January
“So came the day when the winds of change became a Tempest,
When the call to arms became a call to Death.
From this storm emerged men who rode the lightning;
The Lords of Thunder tamed the howl of the savage Winds.”
~ 13
th
Century Chronicles
Year of our Lord 1258 A.D.
Reign of Henry III
Bigod was a bully of a man.
Gallus de Shera, Earl of Coventry and Lord Sheriff of Worcester, was well aware of the man with the tactics of a crocodile. He looked like one, too, at least from what Gallus had remembered of the beasts. He’d seen them in The Levant, strange and sorrowful lands filled with strange and sorrowful creatures, so it was an educated observation he turned towards one of the major barons in the political maelstrom between the King of England and Simon de Montfort. Bigod was, in his opinion, a barbaric, powerful, and dangerous fool.
Gallus wasn’t afraid of crocodiles in particular but he had a healthy respect, and sometimes aversion, towards Bigod, mostly because the man had been trying, for six months, to force him into a betrothal with his eldest daughter. If the father looked like a crocodile, then the daughter wasn’t much better.
Lady Matilda Bigod was a round, spoiled woman with the mind of a gnat and a massive dowry, the size of which was usually only reserved for royalty. But all of that money couldn’t entice Gallus because, in the end, he’d still have to look at the woman. Moreover, she would expect him to touch her and he wasn’t sure he could. Crocodile hide gave him a rash.
For six months, he’d been avoiding Bigod’s overtures. But two weeks ago, the overture turned into a full-blown symphony. Knowing that Gallus and his brothers, Maximus and Tiberius, were due in London at the end of the month for a series of meetings with other powerful barons, Hugh had made the calculated move of sending word to Gallus that the entire Bigod clan was planning on being in London, too. Gallus knew the female beasts, Lady Bigod and her relatives, would be set upon him, coercing him into accepting the betrothal. He was in a tight spot because Hugh was one of the more powerful barons opposing Henry III, and Gallus genuinely didn’t want to offend the man and his family. But he didn’t want to risk offending them more than he didn’t want to marry the Bigod female creature. Therefore, he faced this trip with great resignation and resistance.
It was very early on the morning he planned to depart, below freezing on this January day, with a layer of ice on the ground and the sky the color of pewter. Inside the dim bowels of Isenhall Castle, Gallus had risen well before dawn to pack his saddlebags. Maximus and Tiberius, the last two brothers that rounded out the three de Shera siblings, were already up. Gallus could hear them moving around in the chamber next to his.
Maximus always coughed when the weather grew cold and he would spend the mornings hacking up whatever settled in his chest overnight, whereas Tiberius would sing. The man had a booming, baritone voice and, as he dressed, he would sing. It usually annoyed the hell out of Maximus and fights had been known to start that way. Gallus kept an ear out for just such an event, but this morning, everything seemed thankfully calm enough. Maybe they were somber and focused on their trip to London and what await them there, just as Gallus was. As he finished pulling on his boots, his chamber door creaked open and two little girls ran into the room.
They were beautiful children, fair-haired and green-eyed, and they squealed in delight as they went to jump on the big, messy bed that was the centerpiece of the chamber. Gallus grinned as he watched the girls leap about, pulling the covers over their heads and then giggling louder as they tickled and teased one another. The lure of fun was too much to resist. Gallus set aside the heavy, leather saddlebag he had been packing and moved over to the bed. Swooping down on the girls, he growled like an old bear, nibbling little hands when he could catch them. The girls screamed with delight.
“What are you two doing up so early?” he demanded softly, pulling the covers back to reveal the two sweetest faces he had ever known. Violet and Lily de Shera grinned happily at their father and Gallus kissed Violet on the nose. “Good morning to you both, ladies. Have you risen early so that you may have some porridge with your Papa before he leaves?”
Violet sat up, nearly smacking him in the nose. Gallus had to sit back quickly to avoid being struck by both of the girls as they leapt out from underneath the coverlet.
“We are going with you,” Violet, who had just turned five years of age, announced. “Leelee and I are going to ride with you all the way to London.”
Violet was unable to say “Lily” properly – therefore, it came out as “Leelee”. Gallus had started calling his younger daughter that, too, as had everyone else. He grinned at his determined children.
“That would be very kind of you, of course, but if you go with me, who will stay with Honey?” he asked. “If you go with me, she will be very lonely.”
“Honey” was Gallus’ mother, the Lady Charlotte, dowager countess of Coventry. Gallus’ father, Antoninus de Shera, had given her the nickname “Honey” when they first met because, as he declared, she was “as sweet and as fair as honey”. Therefore, everyone in the family had called the woman Honey, including her sons and grandchildren. The Lady Honey was in her fifty-fourth year and had been experiencing poor health as of late. A cancer, the doctor had told them, but Gallus and his brothers refused to accept it. They couldn’t quite imagine the death of Honey, especially after the death of Gallus’ wife the year before. The mere thought of another female death scared them to pieces.
Gallus especially. He had loved his wife and her accidental death was something he still wasn’t over. He probably never would be. As he gazed at his two daughters, girls in Catheryn’s image, he fought off the familiar melancholy those little faces provoked. His thoughts inevitably drifted towards Catheryn, visions of the woman fluid and warm in his mind.
Can you see them, Catie? Can you see how big and beautiful they have become? Violet has your lisp. When I hear her speak, I hear you. God… Catie, why did you have to leave me so soon? Sometimes I feel as if this pain in my heart will crush me. Already, it has crushed me.
“Honey will come with us,” Violet told him, distracting him. “She can ride in her wagon. She will want to go.”
Gallus tore his thoughts away from misty images of Catheryn’s lovely face and stood up from the bed. “Is that so?” he asked, turning back to his saddlebags. “Why would she want to go? She is much more comfortable here with her cats.”
Violet opened her mouth to tell her father that the cats could come, too, when his chamber door opened and Maximus and Tiberius came in.
Dressed in armor and mail, the brothers were both an imposing and terrifying sight. Given their height – Maximus at five inches over six feet and Tiberius at seven inches over six feet – they were quite a sight to behold to a fearful enemy. But the imposing beast that was Tiberius took one look at the girls on the bed and, as the one most likely to make mischief, roared and jumped onto the mattress, causing the girls to scream in delight.
The room was in an uproar as Tiberius lay his big body across the bed and let the girls jump all over him. He pretended to cry in defeat, which only fed their blood lust. Violet sat on his head while Lily lay on his back to crush him, and through it all, Tiberius pretended to weep like a woman.
Gallus and Maximus stood a moment, watching the defeat of their youngest brother, and shook their heads, mostly in resignation of Tiberius’ antics. He was the lively one out of the group.
“Mayhap we should take Violet and Leelee into London with us,” Maximus grunted. A big, bear-like man with enormous shoulders, he could be the most disgruntled of the three. “We could set them loose onto the Bigod clan and chase them all the way back to Norfolk.”
All three brothers knew the situation with Hugh and his belligerent proposal, but Gallus simply shook his head. “If the Bigod women see them, it will only show them that I am capable of producing beautiful and intelligent children,” he said, sighing heavily. “I do not want to feed their imagination. They already have too many ideas about me.”
On the bed, Tiberius rolled onto his back, grabbing Violet when she tried to jump onto his face. “You are a delicious and desirable beast,” he teased his brother, knowing the man wouldn’t clobber him as long as the girls were orbiting around him. “Think of it, Gal, all of that lumpy, Bigod lady-flesh at your fingertips.”
Gallus winced. “You are making me ill.”
Tiberius grinned, that gleeful and mischievous grin that could be so infectious. “I hear that fat women are quite uninhibited in bed,” he said. “They will do anything you ask them to do because they are so starved for sex.”
Maximus replied gruffly. “And you must know this for a fact,” he said. “God only knows you’ll take into your bed whatever you can get your hands on.”
Tiberius snorted. “I like my women with some meat on their body, but not an entire side of beef,” he said. “Leave the fat women for Gallus. He can have an entire harem of them and whenever he calls for one, instead of walking to his chamber, she can roll like a barrel through his door.”
Gallus eyed his daughters as Tiberius and Maximus snorted. Lily would have no idea what her uncle meant, but Violet was becoming more astute about the world in general. He put a finger to his lips, silently shushing his brother as he pointed to the girls.
“It is not open for discussion,” he said quietly. “You will kindly stifle the diarrhea pouring from your mouth.”
Tiberius wasn’t finished with his brother, not in the least. He put Violet down on the bed and stood up, making his way over to his brothers. Handsome, young, and blindingly brilliant, Tiberius was much pursued by the women at court and he had quite taken advantage of that admiration. Rumor had it that there was at least one de Shera bastard in London, though none of the brothers had seen evidence of it. Still, given Tiberius’ reputation, they would not have been surprised if the rumors turned out to be true.
“Admit it,” Tiberius said, his voice low and seductive. “The thought of all of that fat flesh slapping against your body excites you beyond tolerance.”
Gallus sighed heavily and looked at Maximus. “I do not like our youngest brother much,” he said. “If someone would give me a stick, I will gladly take him outside and beat him to death.”
Tiberius laughed, putting a big arm around Gallus’ neck and kissing his brother loudly on the cheek. “I would haunt you to the grave and beyond,” he said as Gallus put a hand on his face and pushed him away. Tiberius looked wounded. “Why would you do that when all I was attempting to do was cheer you up?”
Gallus shook his head, annoyed with Tiberius’ behavior. “The best thing you can do for me is to leave me alone,” he said, turning back to his bags. “Are the men prepared to depart?”
He was changing the subject and Tiberius didn’t push. Gallus had been known to throw a punch when particularly irritated and, out of the three of them, had the most devastating blow. No one provoked Gallus de Shera and lived to tell the tale. Therefore, Tiberius backed off and patted his brother on the shoulder.
“They should be prepared,” he said, turning for the chamber door and already pondering what the day may hold in store for them. “The knights had orders to be ready to depart before dawn with an assemblage of fifty men to escort us to London.”
Maximus frowned. “Only fifty?”
Tiberius nodded. “We already have three hundred men waiting for us at Westbourne in London,” he reminded his middle brother as he spoke of the de Shera London townhome. “We left the bulk of our army behind to await us because it was less expensive than trying to house and feed them on the road home. Remember? Therefore, I did not see the need to take any more men back with us to London. Even if we only take fifty with us, we still leave behind over three hundred.”
Maximus lifted a disapproving eyebrow. He didn’t like to travel with so light an escort but he refrained from arguing. They still had four big knights to take with them, knights from the finest families in England.
De Wolfe, de Moray, and du Bois.
Aye, the House of de Shera had a hell of an arsenal in those knights. But Maximus was anxious to get to London and the mess that await them there. He turned to Gallus.
“Any further orders?” he asked him.
Gallus shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Be prepared to leave within the hour. I plan to break the night’s fast with my children before we depart. If you would like to join us, I will not stop you.”
Maximus merely grunted, turning for the chamber door as Tiberius became swept up in the girls again. The children had climbed off the bed and run to the door, hungry for the porridge they knew to be waiting for them in the hall below. Their Uncle Tiberius picked them up, both of them, and was heading out of the door with the rest of the family when a house servant suddenly appeared, blocking their path.
The old man, the majordomo of Isenhall who had served their father, was solid and strong for his elderly age. In the darkened landing just outside the door, his expression as he faced the brothers was grim.
“My lords,” he said. “We have just received word of a battle near the river crossing. Your assistance has been requested.”
From doting uncles and doting fathers one second to serious warriors the next, there was something in all three expressions that suggested deadly focus and intense curiosity. Gallus spoke first.
“Who has requested it?” he demanded.
The majordomo pointed to the stairs, indicating someone in the hall on the floor below. “I am not sure, my lord,” he replied. “A man came, begging for assistance. I think… I
believe
… that he is Welsh.”
