The Thunder Lord: The de Shera Brotherhood Book One (Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood 1) (14 page)

“Then mayhap we should leave as well,” he muttered as both de Wolfe brothers, Garran, and Stefan crowded around. “We will return to Isenhall on the morrow. In fact, returning at this time will give me the opportunity to evaluate my new acquisitions in Wales. I hope all of you like it there because you will accompany me.”

As the knights cast each other curious glances, Maximus lifted an eyebrow. “I am not sure we should leave now,” he said, tipping his head in the direction of de Montfort’s huddle. “There is much happening, Gal. We do not want to be tucked in the recesses of Wales if de Montfort has need of us.”

Gallus nodded his head, reluctantly. “That is a distinct possibility,” he said. “But I need to inventory what assets I have. I must establish my presence as ap Gaerwen’s successor for I intend to use whatever manpower he has to bolster our ranks.”

Maximus opened his mouth to reply but he was interrupted by de Montfort, who was calling across the room to Gallus.

“Gal?” Simon said. “What’s this I hear about your marriage into the House of Gwynedd?”

Gallus turned to de Montfort, closing the distance between them as Maximus and Tiberius followed.

“Indeed, my lord,” he said. “I married the hereditary princess of Anglesey. She is an only child so her father’s titles and possessions now belong to me. In fact, I was just discussing that very fact with my men. I must see just how many men I now command, Welshmen, to strengthen my ranks.”

Simon cocked an eyebrow. “That will not be easy, lad,” he said. “The Welsh are in full revolt along with their Scottish brethren. I am not entirely sure they will swear fealty to you because you married into their brood. More than likely, they will try to skin you alive.”

Gallus nodded patiently. “I am aware, my lord,” he said. “Nevertheless, if I can convince them to swear fealty to me and join us, it would be a tremendous alliance.”

Simon thought on that, the thoughts flickering behind his dark eyes. Then, he smiled ruefully. “I do not think you have a chance, but I understand your position,” he said. “Do what you can and send me word. I will be returning to Kenilworth. I will be very interested to know if you can use your wife’s Welsh connections.”

Gallus smiled weakly. “As am I,” he replied. “I will send word, my lord.”

Simon dismissed him and Gallus headed out of Braidwood with his brothers and knights in tow, out into the night with its brilliant blanket of stars across the crisp, dark sky. Several barons were milling out in the giant, U-shaped courtyard, waiting for their horses to be brought around from the stables. Gallus sent Stefan and Garran to the stables to collect their mounts but as he paused to speak with his brothers, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Bigod, having spied him, was heading in his direction.

“Christ,” Gallus muttered, turning his back to Bigod as the man approached. “Please tell me that I am not going to have to kill the man where he stands. If things get out of hand, please chase him away from me.”

Maximus was quite serious and nodded his head but Tiberius was fighting off a grin. His gaze was fixed on Bigod as the man came near.

“I am still deeply hurt that you had your knight pull a sword on me,” he told Hugh as the man drew close. “That was not a very nice thing to do.”

Hugh frowned at Tiberius. “Had I not had a deep and abiding affection for you, he would have run you through. Be thankful for small mercies.” Hugh then waved his hands at Tiberius and Maximus. “Be gone. I have need to speak with Gallus.”

“I will
not
,” Maximus said, planting his legs apart and crossing his muscular arms stubbornly. “Anything you have to say to Gallus you can say in front of me.”

Hugh’s frown deepened. “You stubborn ox,” he grumbled. “Go away before I take a sword to you.”

Gallus chuckled, shaking his head with regret. “That is not the way to force Max to do what you want him to do,” he said. “He will take a sword to you. Now, what did you want to speak about?”

Distinctly unhappy that he was being disobeyed, Hugh struggled to focus on Gallus. “I heard something interesting today,” he said, lowering his voice. “You know of the queen’s cousin Jacques Honore?”

Gallus nodded, distaste on his features. “I do,” he said. “He is a knight, and a powerful one. What about him?”

Hugh cocked an eyebrow. “He has a home east of the Tower, one given to him by Henry,” he said. “
Maison de l’Or
, it is called. It is on the south shore of the river. I was informed two days ago that Honore is expecting a few hundred soldiers from France, men that are to be stationed at or near the Tower. That puts a few hundred Frenchmen in the heart of England’s defenses. This we cannot allow to happen.”

It was a serious allegation, indeed, and Gallus was concerned. “Do you trust the man who gave you this information?”

Hugh nodded. “I do,” he said. “He thought the boats might be coming before dawn, landing at Honore’s home so he can move the men swiftly to the Tower before daybreak.”

“Tonight?”

Hugh shook his head. “We are not sure,” he said. Then, a rather scheming expression crossed his face. “If we were to pay a visit to Honore and find out what he has planned, we would know everything for certain.”

“And you want me to call upon him?”

Hugh nodded. “Exactly.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

Hugh shrugged, trying not to appear too contrite. “I am not angry at you now.”

Gallus sighed heavily, shaking his head in resignation. “Luckily you are not,” he answered. “If you were still angry at me, those French soldiers would arrive and I would then be doing damage control.”

“I would have told you sooner than that.”

Gallus wouldn’t argue the point because it was sincerely debatable. “Does de Montfort know of this?”

“Where do you think I received my information?”

Gallus was an immediate believer. “Very well,” he said. “I will take a company with me to Honore’s home. If he is bringing French soldiers to our shores, I will discover it and we will do something about it.”

Hugh slapped him on the arm. “I knew you would,” he said. “I will expect word as soon as you know something.”

Gallus nodded firmly. “Indeed, my lord.”

Hugh turned away but paused, returning his attention to Gallus. “This will be a serious undertaking and not without peril,” he said. “You will be rewarded.”

Gallus shook his head. “We are allies,” he said. “There is no need for reward.”

Hugh looked at Maximus. “Not even a Bigod bride with more money than you could spend in a lifetime?”

Maximus realize that Hugh meant him. He rolled his eyes and turned away. “Nay,” he said flatly. “I do not need a bride or her money. I do not need or want anything at all. Not a thing!”

Hugh, undeterred, shrugged and turned towards his steed, now being brought about by a groom. “Think on it, Maximus,” he said as he headed for his animal. “You would be richer than your brother.”

He was out of range by this point and Maximus turned to Gallus. “That would be the only appealing factor of it,” he said. “I might like to be richer than you.”

Gallus grunted in disapproval. “But you would have to touch the lumpy Bigod lady-flesh in order to achieve it,” he said. “Ask yourself if it is truly worth it.”

Gallus started to walk away, heading for the horses that Garran and Stefan had brought out of the stables. Scott and Troy followed him closely while Tiberius and Maximus trailed after him.

“I will take her money and leave her just like you left your wife,” Maximus said, loud enough so Gallus could hear him. “I would not have to see her again, ever.
Ever!
”

Gallus waved him off, unwilling to engage him in a conversation of leaving a wife behind. He felt too guilty for what he’d done already without Maximus making it worse. As Gallus moved for the horses, Tiberius came up beside Maximus. The youngest de Shera brother slapped his hands together.

“Fat flesh smacking against your body,” he muttered into Maximus’ ear. “It will be like bedding a sow.”

Maximus tried not to laugh. “If she was beautiful, I would not care if she was round or thin,” he said, defending himself against his brother’s taunts. “But the woman isn’t even palatable to look at. She looks like… God’s Bones, I cannot even think what she looks like.”

Tiberius grinned. “I can,” he said. “She looks like her father.”

Maximus looked at him with an expression that suggested he’d just had an epiphany. “You are absolutely correct,” he said. “I’ve not thought on it until now, but you are correct. Indeed, she looks like Hugh in a dress.”

Tiberius snorted. “Have you ever seen the two of them in the same room?” he asked. “Maybe Hugh and his daughter are the same person. That being the case, it is really Hugh who wants to marry you.”

“You are making me ill.”

They had reached the horses by this time and Maximus took hold of the reins of his bay rouncey. Gallus was already mounted, already collecting his knights around him to explain their mission for the night. As Gallus began to talk, Maximus mounted his steed, trying not to look at his grinning younger brother as Gallus explained a trip to their London townhome, Westbourne, to collect some of their men before making a trip to Jacques Honore’s home along the Thames. The situation was markedly serious and thoughts of Hugh Bigod in a dress were forgotten as the gravity of their mission was revealed.

This was normal for the de Shera brothers. If there was muscle needed for the cause, they provided it. They did the dangerous work because they were the best at it. All levity, thoughts of women and marriages, were cast aside as Gallus and his men rode from Braidwood, heading for Westbourne, the de Shera manor home in London that was almost bigger than Isenhall.

North of the Tower of London, the home spread out over several acres and was manned by hundreds of soldiers. Oddly enough, it was surrounded by neighborhoods of the working poor, homes and dirty streets concealing beautiful, spacious grounds behind massive iron gates, but that was fairly common in London. Great townhomes of noblemen were concealed by the rabble that had built around them.

The roads to Westbourne were dark as Gallus and his party rode swiftly, passing peasant homes that were faintly lit, traveling the heart of London that was crowded and smelly and cold. By the time they reached the compound, the gates opened wide to receive them before closing up again, shutting out the dregs of society just beyond the walls.

As Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius went about rounding up men for their foray to Jacques Honore’s home, there was no denying the tension that was mounting. They were about to make a move against a relation to the Queen of England, but that knowledge only served to feed their courage. The man in question was one of the greediest, unsavory characters in the Savoyard stable.

Tonight, Gallus intended to savor a measure of domination and vengeance in the name of England.

Maison de l’Or

1.4 miles east of the Tower of London

South bank of the Thames

A storm had rolled in from the east, bringing with it massive displays of lightning and a continuous chorus of thunder. By the time Gallus and his men arrived from the west, across the churning Thames by ferry, and made it to the outskirts of Maison de l’Or, the weather had deteriorated badly. The tempest had arrived.

But that was the de Shera brothers’ preferred weather. They fed off the storm, off of the lightning and thunder, using the chaos as an ally rather than an enemy. For that very reason, they had been called the Lords of Thunder early in their fighting years. They would charge off in bad weather where others would falter. The wind whipped and the thunder rolled, but Gallus, Maximus, and Tiberius welcomed it. As far as they were concerned, their reinforcements had arrived.

Maison de l’Or was fortified but not unbreachable. It was an older home so rather than stone walls, it had wooden walls, old trees sunk deep into the soil, with spiked ends. This was meant to deter invasion, but for the de Shera brothers, it made their task easier. It meant they could get a rope over the sharp end to gain a foothold. Tiberius, who was the most wily and silent of the three brothers, took Scott and Stefan with him and a long section of rope. The plan was for Tiberius to mount the walls, gain entry, and then open the gates for the rest of the force. As Gallus, Maximus, Troy, Garran, and about fifty men-at-arms lay in wait in the shadows, Tiberius and the two knights skirted the dark and shadowed walls.

Rain lashed against the old wooden walls and the thunder rolled as Tiberius and the knights waited for the men on the wall walk to move out of range before throwing the rope up in the hopes of catching the spiked end. It worked on the first try and Tiberius was the first one to pull himself up. Because it was so dark with the wind and rain, he went unseen as he heaved himself over the top of the wall and landed on the wooden platform built into it that served as a wall walk. Scott was the next knight up. As son of the legendary William de Wolfe, he had his father’s cunning. The man was the perfect assassin.

Scott immediately took off along the wall walk, heading for the sentries who guarded the gates, as Stefan came up the rope and vaulted over the top of the wall. Tiberius pulled up the rope as the two knights crouched down on the wall walk, trying to stay out of sight as much as they could. But they quickly followed Scott’s path towards the main gate.

Lightning crashed overhead, revealing the complex around them for a brief moment before it went dark again. Thunder rolled once again, rattling the very walls, as Tiberius and Stefan caught up to Scott. The man had already slain two soldiers manning the gates but there were several more they could see down below in a small hut built next to the gates meant to shield the guards from the elements such as this. They could see a warm glow emitting from within, evidence of a lovely fire. They could also see that the room was crowded with soldiers anxious to get out of the weather. Tiberius pointed to the room below.

“Are those the only soldiers guarding the gates?” he hissed to Scott.

The big, brawny, blond knight nodded. “Only these two were out in the elements,” he whispered back, loudly, over the noise of the storm as he threw a thumb back at the two men he had killed. “The rest of the soldiers are in there to escape this rain.”

Tiberius nodded, straining to catch a closer look at the guardhouse. “It’s made of stone,” he said. “How very odd. Everything else is made of wood.”

“The door is made of wood,” Stefan said, shaking water out of his eyes. “I can hold the door shut while you open the gates.”

Tiberius and Scott looked at Stefan. He was a very big and muscular lad with the strength of Samson. After a moment, Tiberius nodded.

“That is a sound enough plan as any,” he said. “We must get those gates open quickly. The longer my brothers are left out there to hide, the most chance of them being discovered. Let’s move.”

Stefan went first this time, sliding down a wooden ladder, freezing in place when lightning lit up the sky. When the flickering died away, he began to move again, this time with Tiberius and Scott behind him as they came down the ladder. Stefan didn’t waste any time. He ran right for the guardhouse where several men were inside, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Running up to the door, he grabbed the open wooden panel and yanked it shut before anyone inside the guardhouse could react.

“Go!” he roared.

Tiberius and Scott raced to the gate, which was simply bolted. Those of Maison de l’Or didn’t expect an assault from the inside, so it was fairly easy to throw the bolt and slide it through the guides. As Stefan strained to hold the door closed from those inside who were determined to open it, Tiberius and Scott pulled open the massive oak gates of Maison de l’Or to the host of unwelcome guests on the outside. Gallus and his men poured in through the breach.

As the main group of invaders, led by Gallus and Maximus, headed for the house, several of their mean ran to assist Stefan, who was fighting a losing battle of keeping the guardhouse door closed. Troy and several soldiers, along with Scott and Tiberius, were standing at the ready when Stefan finally let go of the door and about eight soldiers burst out, looking for a fight. They quickly saw that they were badly outnumbered, but they had no choice but to take up arms, and a nasty fight ensued at the guardhouse as the house beyond was invaded.

Lightning lit up the sky and the thunder rolled as Gallus, Maximus, and Troy used a battering ram with an iron, ram-shaped head to break down the entry door. The manor house wasn’t particularly sprawling or large, but it was tall – three stories of rooms and alcoves with hidden dangers await them, but they charged in searching for Honore.

Servants, having been woken out of a dead sleep, screamed and ran as Gallus broke his men up into three groups; the first group was to secure the ground floor while the second and third groups were to secure the second and third floors respectively. As Maximus broke off to work with those searching the ground floor, Gallus headed up with the group to the second floor where he suspected Honore would be sleeping. Since that floor only had four big rooms, it wasn’t long before they discovered Honore in bed with two naked women.

Jacques Honore was an older knight with a bald head and a thin, black mustache. When Gallus and his men burst into Honore’s room, the Frenchman didn’t move a muscle. He simply lay in bed with one cowering woman on each side of him. He was too seasoned to panic at a group of armed men in his room. In fact, he was impressively casual about it.

“
Je vous connais
,” he said to Gallus.
I know you
. “You are a de Shera, are you not?”

Gallus was the only one of his men who didn’t have a broadsword drawn. The room was fairly dark except for the occasional burst of lightning and a faintly glowing hearth. He walked into the room, rather boldly, and looked around.

“Where are your candles?” he asked.

Honore pointed casually to a table next to the bed. “Here,” he said. “There is a flint beside it. Do you need more light in order to kill me?”

Gallus silently lit two tapers and the room began to glow with warm light. Standing next to the bed, his gaze missed nothing. He saw the hilt of a dagger peeking out from beneath the pillows and he saw the broadsword propped against the wall next to the bed.

“I am not going to kill you provided you give me the answers I seek,” he said, not at all in a threatening manner. He didn’t need to threaten with fifteen armed men at the door. “I will tell you why I am here and then you will tell me what I wish to know. A fair exchange, I think.”

Honore was very calm. He even smiled. “Mayhap,” he said. “May I at least allow my women to leave the bed and get dressed? It seems rather cruel to keep them here when I am the one you want.”

Gallus shook his head. “The whores remain,” he said. “What I have to say will not take long. It has been brought to my attention that you are bringing French troops to station at the Tower. Is there truth in this?”

Honore shrugged lazily. “The queen has requested such protection,” he said. “It is my honor to provide her with it.”

Gallus cocked an eyebrow. “The queen has enough protection,” he said. “Surely you know that England will not permit foreign soldiers to be stationed at the Tower. Surely the queen knows it.”

Honore hadn’t lost any of his thin, almost smirking, smile. He began to pet the dark head of the whore pressed against his right side.

“The queen has a right to feel safe,” he said. “She does not feel safe with English soldiers all around her.”

Gallus sighed heavily and pulled up a chair next to the bed. As the storm outside lashed against the windowsills in the room, sending dark stains of water down along the walls, he faced the Gascon knight with the nasty reputation.

“Let me explain something to you, Honore,” he said. “The united English barons will not permit French troops to be stationed at the Tower of London. Therefore, we can do this one of two ways – either I meet the cogs that are bringing those troops to England and kill everyone on board, or you send a messenger telling them to turn back. It is your choice.”

Honore wasn’t intimidated, although he believed every word. “The House of de Shera,” he murmured, almost affectionately. “They call you and your brothers the Lords of Thunder. I should have known you would use a night like this to break into my home. The darkness is your cover, the thunder your friend. De Montfort is fortunate to have a man like you in his command.”

Gallus leaned back against the chair. “I serve England,” he said simply. “France does not like English soldiers on her soil and we do not like French soldiers on ours. Will you send a message to your men to turn back or will I have to kill them when they arrive?”

Honore laughed softly. “They may not make easy targets.”

“When are they coming?”

Honore was not a fool. He wasn’t about to divulge such information. “That is for me to know and you to find out,” he said, his dark eyes glimmering with mirth. “I must protect my men, after all.”

Gallus nodded. “I know,” he said. “But I had hoped you would make this easy for me.”

Honore laughed softly. “Why should I?”

Gallus scratched his head casually. “Because I am about to kick you out of Maison de l’Or and confiscate it in the name of de Montfort. If you do not tell me what I wish to know, I will claim it. If you tell me, I will leave it, and you, in peace.”

For the first time, Honore’s humor faltered a bit. “Alas, I cannot tell you,” he said. “My men could arrive tonight or they could arrive next week. This weather will slow them considerably.”

He was lying and Gallus knew it. “When did they leave France?”

“I am not certain.”

Another lie. Gallus pondered his options at that moment before standing up and making his way back to the chamber door. Troy was standing there, waiting for the word, and Gallus leaned in to the man so Honore would not hear him.

“Send about ten men down to the river’s edge to watch for the incoming cogs,” he ordered. “Honore will not tell me what I need to know no matter what I do, so we will have to take matters into our own hands. Chase the servants out and barricade all ground floor windows and doors with whatever you can find. Torch the house from the inside.”

Troy nodded smartly, his dark, hazel eyes glimmering. He liked that order because he had a particular dislike for the haughty Frenchman.

“With Honore inside?”

“If he refuses to cooperate, then he will seal his fate.”

Troy took a few men with him and left to carry out the order of clearing the house. Gallus, still standing in the doorway with five or six soldiers, returned his attention to Honore.

“I suppose I will go and wait for your boats,” he said. “I will give you one last opportunity to tell me all I wish to know. Otherwise, I cannot vouch for your safety.”

Honore was back to grinning. “Let me clear the women from my bed and I will give you a fair fight.”

Gallus shook his head. “Why would I want to give you any benefit whatsoever?” he asked. “You, by your very presence, sully my country. You are the worst sort of parasite, bleeding England dry with your greed. And now you think I will stand by while you bring more parasites to England’s shores, into the very halls that I hold dear? I will not stand for it and neither will many of my fellow Englishmen. Therefore, you will tell me what I want to know or I will destroy you.”

Honore was struggling to maintain his casual attitude. “Much as you protect your country, I will not betray mine.”

Gallus’ eyes glittered, dangerously. The lightning flashed and the thunder rolled one last time, giving credence to family known as the Lords of Thunder. Bolts of lightning seemed to come from Gallus’ very eyes.

“Then enjoy the last few moments of your life,” he said. “You are a threat against my country and my life, and I will eliminate all threats. You will never see France again.”

With that, he slammed the door and took a bench that was in the corridor outside and wedged it up under the door latch so it could not be easily opened. He had his men then move down the stairs to the ground floor where Troy had finished clearing out the remainder of the servants. Even though it was raining outside, the interior of the manor would still burn quite easily, so Troy and several soldiers methodically torched every room on the lower floor, creating enough of a blaze so it would block the stairs, and then made their way out of the burning structure.