The Thunder Lord: The de Shera Brotherhood Book One (Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood 1) (18 page)

Gallus was still looking at the ground, caught up in a maelstrom of emotion as Lily wedged herself in his lap and Violet hung around his neck. He knew his mother was right, God help him, he knew it. He had never been afraid of anything in his life, but love itself frightened him. He was terrified to love and lose it again. After a moment, he sighed heavily.

“I am sorry if I shamed you,” he said to his mother. “When I left Isenhall those weeks ago, I was not thinking of anyone other than myself. Please forgive me.”

Honey never could stay mad at him for long. She gazed at her eldest son, shaking her head sadly. “Gallus,” she explained. “You are a brilliant, intelligent man, but sometimes, you are a fool.”

“I am coming to see that.”

With effort, Honey rose from the stool and made her way over to him where he sat on the bench, utterly defeated and somber. Gallus didn’t look up at her and she laid her hand upon his dark, dirty head.

“What do you intend to do to remedy this situation?” she asked.

Gallus shook his head before gently pulling Violet off his neck because she was strangling him. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “Mayhap you can tell me what I must do in order to right this wrong that I have committed.”

Honey stroked his inky hair with her cold fingers. “You must go to Wales and speak with her,” she said. “Jeniver is not an unreasonable woman. She and I had many opportunities to speak on things. She is quite intelligent and she has a good heart. Even after you abruptly left her, she was still very kind to your daughters. She gave them her puppy.”

His head shot up, looking at her with surprise. “She
did
?” he asked, awed. “But… but that dog meant so much to her. I cannot believe she would give it to them.”

Honey nodded. “I know,” she said, looking him in the eye. “Now do you see what a good heart she has? She gave the girls the puppy because they were distraught over you having left without bidding them a farewell. She did it to make them feel better.”

Gallus felt like the biggest fool in all the world. He clapped both hands over his face in disbelief, struggling to process all he had been told. It was clear to him that there was only one thing to do.

“I must go to Wales,” he said, standing up and lowering Lily to the ground because she was hanging on his arms. “I must apologize to Jeniver and pray she forgives me. I was so… wrong.”

Honey nodded emphatically. “You were,” she agreed. “But if you are honest with her, I believe she will forgive you. But do not expect it easily or completely. You created a great deal of damage to the woman.”

Gallus knew that. But he looked at his mother then and was reminded of her nearly-green color, her terrible countenance. He reached out and took her hand again.

“But I am worried about leaving you,” he said. “You… you clearly are not well. I do not want to leave you if you are… if I was to be away and... oh, God, I cannot bring myself to say it.”

Honey smiled and patted his cold, rough cheek. “It is enough that you are finally coming to accept it,” she said. “Nothing will happen while you are away, but do not stay away too long. Collect your wife and hurry home.”

The entry door burst open again and Maximus and Tiberius entered, followed by howling winds and blowing snow. The little girls squealed as the two brothers shoved the door shut, shaking off the snow and staging for the fire. Violet and Lily ran straight at them and Tiberius, even though he was nearly frozen, pretended to fall to his knees as the girls giggled and yanked on him. Maximus stepped over his brother and put himself so close to the fire that his clothing began to steam as the water evaporated.

“Welcome home,” Honey said to her other sons, grinning as Violet and Lily tried to drag Tiberius to the floor. “How was your visit to London?”

Maximus was so cold that he was having difficulty moving and Honey began to help him peel away his layers of frozen clothing.

“Eventful,” Maximus said, noting that Gallus was in the room. “Did Gallus tell you everything?”

Honey shook her head as she pulled a cold, wet, woolen scarf from around his neck. “He did not,” she said. “What happened?”

Maximus pulled off his helm with great effort, revealing his pale, cold face beneath. “We single-handedly averted a small invasion of Savoyard loyalists,” he said. “Eleanor and her relations have some regrouping to do.”

Honey didn’t particularly care about the politics of England although she was well-versed in them thanks to her sons. She knew Eleanor, the queen, through her family’s dealings and had met the woman on more than one occasion. She stood back as Maximus shook off the heavy, fur cloak he was wearing, handing it over to servants for it to be shaken out and dried.

“I am sure de Montfort and Bigod were glad for your presence,” she said evenly, giving no hint of the displeasure she felt at their sudden departure. She was certain that neither Maximus nor Tiberius had a hand in Gallus’ decision to flee Isenhall without a word. “When do you return?”

Maximus shook his head. “De Montfort is calling an assembly at Kenilworth soon and we must attend,” he said, holding out his frozen hands to the fire. “Other than that, I do not know when next we will be summoned. Unless something catastrophic happens, our next assembly will be at Kenilworth.”

Gallus, who had been standing back in the shadows until this point, made his way forward and extended his hands before the fire to warm them.

“You may have to attend the assembly at Kenilworth without me,” he said quietly.

Maximus peered at him curiously. “Why do you say that?”

Gallus was looking into the flames. “Because I must go to Wales to retrieve my wife,” he said. “She has gone home.”

Maximus’ brow furrowed with confusion. “She went back to Wales?” he asked, looking curiously at his mother. “Why did she leave?”

Honey wouldn’t answer so Gallus replied. “Because I’ve not been much of a husband,” he said vaguely, looking at his brother. “Suffice it to say that I have wronged her. I must go to Wales to retrieve her and if de Montfort calls the barons to Kenilworth before I can return home, you will have to attend without me.”

Maximus wasn’t clear on how his brother had wronged his new wife because Gallus had never told him or Tiberius that he’d left Isenhall without a word to her or to any of the womenfolk. It simply wasn’t something they had discussed.

“De Montfort will not be pleased if you do not attend the assembly,” he said. “In fact, he will be angry.”

Gallus shrugged. “It cannot be helped,” he said. “Hopefully he will not convene the barons before I return from Wales.”

“
Must
you go?”

“I must.”

Maximus wouldn’t argue with him. By this time, Tiberius was listening, holding both of his nieces in his arms. He looked curiously at Maximus who simply shrugged.

“Then I shall go with you,” he said to Gallus. “You should not go to Wales alone.”

Gallus shook his head. “Nay,” he said firmly. “For the very reason that de Montfort may summon us, you must remain here and in command. I will return from Wales as quickly as I can.”

There wasn’t much more to say on the subject. Maximus and Tiberius exchanged resigned, if not slightly annoyed, glances, knowing there would be no discouraging their brother. When Gallus’ mind was set, there was no changing it. Wearily, Maximus wiped at his eyes.

“When will you leave?” he asked.

Gallus turned away from the hearth. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I will not waste any time.”

Maximus didn’t agree with his plan. “If you leave during this snow, it will take you months to reach Anglesey,” he said. “Why not wait until the weather clears?”

Gallus simply shook his head and wandered off, taking the steps to the second floor, heading to his bower that was now cold and lonely and without Jeniver. Honey, Maximus, and Tiberius watched him go. When his footfalls faded away, Maximus turned to his mother.

“What happened?” he asked her. “Why did Jeniver go back to Wales?”

Honey wasn’t in the habit of disparaging her sons in front of one another so she simply shook her head.

“Your brother has a difficult road ahead of him with her,” she said. “Do not ask him any more about it. If he wants you to know, he will tell you.”

With that, she followed Gallus’ path up the steps, leaving Maximus and Tiberius with Violet and Lily. When she was gone, Maximus turned to his younger brother. He had no idea what to say to the man so he ended up shaking his head in exasperation.

“Now, what was that all about?” he wondered aloud. “Why did the woman flee back to Wales?”

Tiberius shrugged, still holding his nieces, one girl in each big arm. “I have no idea,” he said. “But he did not speak of her at all during our trip to London. At least, he didn’t speak of her to me. Did he speak of her to you?”

Maximus shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “And now that I think upon it, it is a bit strange. You would think he would have said something about the woman. She is his wife, after all.”

“Should we go with him, anyway?” Tiberius asked. “We can follow him.”

Maximus shook his head. “He would simply become angry,” he said. “Besides, I suspect this is something Gallus must do alone. We have no right to interfere in his marriage.”

“Then we let him go alone?”

“We do.”

Tiberius didn’t say anything more. Maximus was correct in that Gallus’ marriage was his own. They had no right to interfere. As much as it seemed out of the natural order of things not to ride with their brother to Wales, this was evidently something he had to face alone.

If your brother wants you to know, he will tell you.

They had to let him go.

March

The snows of winter had been brutal. On the fifth day of March, after more than three weeks of travel that, under normal circumstances should have only taken eight or ten days, Gallus took the ferry across the ice-clogged Menai Strait and landed on the Isle of Anglesey.

He had come this far alone, without his usual army, even though his brothers had fits about him going it alone. Maximus nearly burst a blood vessel at first, but eventually, he resigned himself to the inevitable even as Tiberius tried to plead with Gallus to take a small contingent of men.

In the end, Gallus made a concession by taking three hearty soldiers with him, and once a week, no matter where he was, he would send one of the soldiers home with a missive for the family letting them know he was well. Now, three weeks later, he had sent the last soldier back to Isenhall to let his family know that he was crossing over into Anglesey.

Wales was one big, white country. The mountains were white, the fields were white, and the little towns were covered in great mounds of snow. As he’d made his way across the very northern tip of the country, he’d spotted goats with big horns that seemed to have an affinity for the snow. The trip, other than the freezing weather and snow, hadn’t been particularly miserable until he’d begun sneezing and coughing a few days ago. He suspected he was running a fever as well and his throat was so raw that when he coughed, he hacked up blood.

Crossing the wind-blown strait upon the small ferry, he’d felt truly wretched but refused to give in to the misery. There wasn’t much he could do about it, anyway. Moreover, he had a castle to find once he set his feet on solid ground again and he reasoned that anyone on Anglesey would know where Rhydilian was. He had been correct. He asked the ferryman on the isle and was given directions to the castle in broken French. With a massive, icy gale blowing off of the Irish Sea, Gallus made his way inland, following the directions the man had given him.

Anglesey was frozen just like the rest of Wales was. It made it difficult to spot landmarks that the ferryman had given him. Gallus took a road that led to the north side of the isle, struggling through the horrific road conditions and trying to keep his horse from injuring something. The horse he had ridden from Isenhall had been a half-breed, part Spanish Jennet, and was very hearty in all conditions. A great, hairy beast, the horse had performed beautifully and he intended to keep it that way.

The road to Rhydilian was heavily forested and Gallus made his way along the terrible road, gazing up into the trees to see that the boughs were heavy from the build-up of snow. He moved away from under particularly heavily-laden branches because more than once on his trip north, he’d seen entire halves of trees collapse under the weight of the snow. He had no desire to be crushed by snow and heavy branches.

Nearly four hours since crossing on the ferry, he began to see a structure on the horizon. It took about a half hour more before he could make out a castle perched up on the crest of a small mountain, shrouded by clouds and mist. Coughing, hacking, he continued to make his way towards the bastion, finally making his trek up the hill that led to the mouth of the fortress. The winds had died down but the snow was falling again, and he was covered with it, frozen in spite of the heavy furs he wore. It was also increasingly difficult for him to breathe because of his illness and his eyeballs were hot, a sure sign that he had a serious fever raging. Still, he forged ahead, making his way up the slippery, snowy road until he reached the massive gatehouse of an equally massive castle.

There was no one on the wall walk that he could see and he suspected they were someplace warm, perhaps in a guardhouse on the interior of the wall. Dismounting his steed, Gallus literally fell off, landing on his knees, much weaker than he had realized. He struggled to his feet and made his way to the great gates, pounding with a closed fist.

No one answered. He tried to shout but his voice was gone, taken by the illness that infected his head and chest. Staggering back to his horse, he removed his sword and returned to the gate, pounding on the iron with the hilt of his sword in regular intervals so that those inside would realize someone was at the gate. Wind and snow usually didn’t pound in rhythm, but he pounded for what seemed like hours and, still, no one came.

Exhausted, and very sick, Gallus returned to his horse and tried to mount again, but he was simply too weak. After the third attempt, he fell off and landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him. He was simply too weak and too sick to get up, and as he lay there and stared up at the pewter sky above, his eyes eventually closed and a calm, blissful darkness descended.

He lay at Rhydilian’s gate for over an hour before someone noticed.

It was a field of wildflowers, with warm sun and cool streams upon it. And Catheryn was there, dressed in a yellow and white linen dress he had seen her wear many times. She was tall and elegant and fine, and he ran towards her, holding out his arms.

“Catie!” he called. “Catie, come to me!”

Catheryn turned at the sounds of his voice, her smile lighting up. But every time he seemed to get within close proximity to her, she faded just out of reach. He was nearly frantic to hold her.

“Catie, what is the matter?” he asked. “Why do you not come to me?”

Catheryn shook her head, that lovely head of blond hair, the one so damaged by her fall. But she didn’t look damaged now. She looked whole and lovely. But still, she would not come to him.

“You have been given a gift, Gal,” she said. “I have sent this gift to you because you needed it. I want you to have it. You must do all in your power to keep it.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “Catie, please,” he said. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Catheryn’s smile faded and she gazed at him, steadily. “You need this gift because Honey will soon come to me,” she said, “and this gift will bring you more comfort than you can imagine. Do not be foolish or stubborn, Gal. Embrace this gift with the love and devotion I know you are capable of. This is your last chance. After this, I can do no more.”

Confused, he pleaded with her. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What have you sent to me?”

Catheryn smiled again, a radiant gesture. “You know what it is,” she said. “I love you, Gal, and she loves you also. Wake up, now. Wake up and tell her you love her, this gift.”

He still had no idea what she meant. He was still upset over the fact that she would not come to him. He could not touch her. But she had sent something in her place because he needed it. Just as he reached for her again, a blinding flash of light filled his vision and all was gone in an instant.

***

“Rest easy, Gallus,” a soft, gentle voice filled his muddled ears. “Breathe easy. You are safe.”

Gallus took a long, deep breath and was met with such pain that he began to cough violently. His chest felt as if a vise was squeezing it and his throat was raw and painful. He had no idea where he was, or what had happened, but when he opened his eyes, Jeniver was there, gazing down at him. She had a hand on his forehead and another on his chest, holding him steady as he coughed.

Gallus stared up at her, hardly believing what he was seeing. Servants were milling about her and she took a compress that was handed to her, wiping his forehead and face, and swabbing his neck. Gallus couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“I am sorry,” he blurted, his voice raspy. “I left you and I should not have. I am so sorry, Jeniver. Please forgive me for my terrible and selfish behavior.”

Jeniver looked at him, her gaze guarded. In fact, her entire expression was guarded, as he imagined her heart and emotions were, but the injury he had inflicted upon her hadn’t stopped her from tending him. She was showing him mercy in a way he could understand, putting aside her own feelings to do what needed to be done. He reached up and grasped the hand that was on his forehead.

“Please,” he breathed, coughing through it. “I came to tell you that I am sorry, more sorry than you can know. I should not have left you. I should have told you… told you what I was feeling, what I was thinking, but I was afraid to. My fear caused me to run away and hurt you, and I am deeply sorry.”

Jeniver still hadn’t said anything, but Gallus could tell that she was mulling it over. Her brow was furrowed and her expression taut. Finally, she ordered the servants away in her soft, fluid Welsh tongue and when the chamber door shut quietly, she gently pulled her hand away from his and dipped the compress back into the basin beside the bed. She began to swab his cheeks again.

“You are quite ill,” she said softly. “How long have you been traveling like this?”

Gallus grunted, fighting through the cobwebs of his mind to produce an answer. “I have been traveling over three weeks,” he told her. “I left Isenhall last month but the weather has been so poor that it made travel difficult.”

She stopped swabbing, looking him in the eye. “You traveled in weather such as this just to come to Rhydilian?”

He nodded faintly, his red-crusted eyes riveted to her. “I had to,” he said. “My mother said you had gone home and I had to come. I had to tell you how sorry I was for what I did. I pray you can forgive me.”

Jeniver held his gaze for a moment, feelings of longing and joy and sorrow passing between them. It was easy to feel the pull and would have been even easier to surrender to it. But she quickly averted her eyes before she gave in to the maelstrom of emotion, looking back to the compress and to the items she had beside the bed, items meant to tend him. She set the compress back into the basin, her movements slow and thoughtful.

“You came all the way here in this terrible weather to tell me this?” she asked softly.

“I did.”

She was clearly puzzled. “You made it clear on our wedding day that you did not wish to marry me,” she said. “I should have listened to you. I should not have tried to change your mind. I did not blame you for leaving Isenhall as you did, Gallus. You did not want a wife.”

He watched her as she wrung out the compress. “You think you somehow coerced me into marriage?” he asked. “Jeniver, that is the furthest thought from the truth. I was attracted to you from the onset and felt guilty because of it. It was my own unresolved issues with the death of my first wife that caused my confusion. I told you the day we married that I wanted to marry you and that is still true, but it has taken two months of separation for me to realize that.”

Jeniver didn’t say anything. She swabbed the compress over his forehead, his cheeks, trying to cool the fever. Setting the compress aside, she poured some wine into a cup, added some white powder, and swirled it around.

“Here,” she said, offering him the cup. “Drink this. It will help your fever.”

Gallus did as she asked and she helped him drink the wine, holding the cup to his lips. He realized he was very thirsty and drained the cup. His head fell back onto the pillow, exhausted, as she set the cup aside.

“There,” she said. “That will help. The surgeon is certain that with rest and nourishment, you will recover. I am having beef broth sent up. You will feel better after you drink it.”

Gallus couldn’t help notice that she’d yet to fully address the situation between them. She seemed quite detached and quite sad. His heart broke, just a little more, knowing how badly he’d hurt her.

“I feel better simply looking at you,” he said, watching her head snap up, looking at him with a mixture of anger and joy, and he hastened to plead his case. “Jeniver, please let me say this – I realize I hurt you and my heart is bleeding because of it. I do not know how to make amends to you other than to tell you I am sorry and swear I will never behave so poorly again. You are my wife and I cannot tell you how that gladdens me, but I would expect that I must earn your trust again and I have come all this way to tell you that I will do it. I am sorry for my actions and whatever it takes to repair the rift between us, I will do it. I hope you will allow me the opportunity.”

Jeniver sighed heavily and stood up from the chair she had been sitting on. She turned away from the bed, heading towards the hearth and moving to stoke the fire. Gallus watched her but he also noted the room around them. It was a very small chamber with the bed taking up most of it. It was also extremely warm with the big hearth, for which he was grateful. After having been quite cold for weeks on end, he welcomed the cloying heat.