The Thunder Lord: The de Shera Brotherhood Book One (Lords of Thunder: The de Shera Brotherhood 1) (5 page)

She was backing him into a corner. Honey knew that Gallus would not show her disrespect by breaking a bargain she had brokered. She had accepted Gaerwen’s offer even if Gallus had not. Honey watched her son’s angry face, the veins throbbing in his temples. He had no choice in the matter and they both knew it. He had a wife whether or not he wanted one. When Gallus refused to respond to her question, mostly because there was nothing he could say, Honey patted him on the hand.

“Send Max or Ty to settle the traveling party,” she said again, steadily. “You will stay here and comfort your betrothed, as it is your duty. You will not run off, Gal. You cannot always run from things you do not wish to face.”

He frowned at his mother but he could not hold his anger for long. Where Honey was concerned, he never could. He ended up averting his eyes, looking away as the sounds of Jeniver’s weeping filled the entry. They were sounds he did not wish to hear.

“Let me go,” he finally whispered, referring to her hold on his arm. “I do not want to listen to this. I cannot.”

Honey knew why but she didn’t let go. Gallus couldn’t deal with his own grief for a wife dead this past year much less someone else’s. She sighed knowingly, easing her hold on his arm.

“You cannot run from your sorrow forever,” she whispered. “Lady Jeniver has no one in the world to comfort her at this terrible time. At least you had your brothers and your daughters to give you a measure of solace. Lady Jeniver does not even have that. Mayhap you can help her.”

His head snapped to her, almost challenging. “
Help
her?” he repeated, incredulous. “How?”

“Because you understand what she is going through,” Honey reminded him. She knew her eldest son and knew he had great compassion, something he didn’t like other people to see. But she knew the depths of the man’s feeling. She knew he might very well be the only one to help Lady Jeniver, essentially a complete stranger, because he could sympathize with her grief. She squeezed his arm. “Please, Gal, help the woman. She is in agony.”

Gallus rolled his eyes miserably. “Mother....”

Honey squeezed his arm again, harder. “Take her away and allow her to rest,” she whispered. “Max and Ty will tend to the man’s traveling party and I will go upstairs and see if I can help the surgeon.
You
must tend your betrothed.”

Gallus couldn’t even respond. He was angry, distressed, and overwhelmed. He could have simply pulled away from his mother and marched away, but that wasn’t his nature. He was obedient to her and always had been, at least in most cases. He respected her greatly and he would not dream of showing the woman any measure of insolence. With a heavy sigh, he looked over his shoulder to see Maximus standing a few feet away.

“Max,” he grumbled. “Where are my knights?”

Maximus was watching several of Isenhall’s servants tend three badly injured men but he turned to his brother when he heard the man speak. He wasn’t oblivious to Lady Jeniver’s sorrow. In fact, the entire entry hall was filled with the injured and dying, the bloody aftermath of a nasty ambush. Distress hung in the air like a fog. It was everywhere, touching everyone. He responded to his brother’s question.

“They are trying to track down the perpetrators of this ambush,” he said. “I told them to follow the group and single out the leaders, if they are still alive. I would assume you would want someone to punish for this because if we do not, the Welsh might have something to say about it.”

That was the truth. Gallus nodded slowly. “The entire island of Anglesey will have something to say about it, for certain,” he said after a moment. “While the knights are seeking justice, see to disbanding and housing what is left of ap Gaerwen’s party.”

“Aye,” he replied quietly. “Do you want me to make arrangements to send them back where they came from?”

The question filled the air between them as Gallus reluctantly looked to Jeniver, weeping over her father. He thought a moment on his answer.

“For now, we will house them,” he replied. “When the lady is coherent, I will discover her wishes on the matter. For now, make sure everyone is tended and fed. That is the best we can do this day.”

Maximus nodded and turned back to the wounded, issuing quiet orders to the servants and soldiers who were tending the injured. As the middle brother moved to carry out his orders, Tiberius came towards his brother from his position near the entry door. He, too, had been helping with the wounded. When he saw that his eldest brother was issuing orders to Maximus, he came forward.

“What would you have of me, Gal?” he asked quietly.

Gallus’ gaze was on the grieving daughter. “When ap Gaerwen dies, we must take his body to be prepared for burial,” he said. “Will you assume this task? The man is a king and should be given all due respect.”

Tiberius lifted his eyebrows. “When?” he repeated. “The man is still alive, Gal.”

Gallus gave him a knowing look. “You have seen wounds such as his before,” he said. “I have never seen a man survive them. Have you?”

Tiberius shook his head in resignation. “Nay,” he replied. “When the man’s time comes, I will make sure all propriety is given.”

“My thanks.”

Tiberius simply nodded. With his younger brothers moving to carry out their tasks, Gallus turned back to the lady, still on the floor, only to note that his mother was still standing there. She was looking at him with an expression he’d seen before. Honey had a way of making her sons feel important and intelligent, as she was doing now. He could never make a bad decision in the eyes of his mother or in the eyes of his now-dead wife. Both women had a way of giving him strength. He’d lost part of that strength with Catheryn’s passing so he found that Honey’s respect was very important to him. He was a rare man who had learned to value a woman.

“I thought you were going up to help the surgeon?” he asked softly.

Honey nodded faintly. “I was,” she said. “I just wanted to make sure you were in control before I left.”

He knew what she meant. She knew how badly the grief of losing a loved one was affecting him. Honey always knew his mind even when he wouldn’t admit it. Avoiding her statement, he gestured at Jeniver.

“What do you suggest I do now?” he asked. “Should I give the daughter time to grieve before taking her away?”

Honey’s gaze moved to Jeniver, collapsed near her father’s blood on the floor. “Do it now,” she said quietly. “But do it gently, Gal. She is in a fragile state right now.”

Gallus took a deep breath for strength before turning to view the sorrowful woman at his feet. God, he was already hating this, staving off memories of his own that were still too fresh and painful. Her father wasn’t dead but Gallus was positive the man would soon be and the daughter was grieving already. He couldn’t stand there and watch her cry because it was reminding him too much of his own loss, so he took a step or two, crouching down beside her.

The situation was much more intimate at this level. It was Gaerwen’s blood, Jeniver, and Gallus, three people thrown together because of a terrible circumstance. This morning, Gallus’ biggest worries had been his trip to London and his dealing with Hugh Bigod. Now, his biggest concerns were the coming burial for the hereditary King of Anglesey and in taking care of the man’s distraught daughter. As he crouched beside her, he found himself watching Jeniver’s pale face. He grasped for the correct words, hoping he could find them in the midst of his tumultuous thoughts.

“I am sorry that your journey home came to such an end, my lady,” he said quietly but with his customary professionalism. He refused to become emotional about the situation. “Sometimes we cannot predict nor prepare for the things that are dealt to us. There is nothing I can say that will ease your pain but I swear to you that we will tend to your father and treat him as a Welsh prince should be treated. We will honor him. I also swear to you that I will do my best to find whoever committed this terrible crime and bring him to justice. I hope these few actions will ease you in your time of sorrow.”

By this time, Jeniver had stopped openly sobbing and she was looking at Gallus as the man squatted across from her. With a pool of her father’s blood between them, she could see the very big earl as he attempted to console her. In fact, his words had been kind and unexpected.

“Why would you do this?” she asked, her voice hoarse from weeping. “We are strangers to you, my lord. More than that, we are Welsh. We do not belong in your world. Why would you find the
Saesneg
who did this to us when they are, in fact, your fellow countrymen?”

Gallus could see that she was embittered. She had every right to be. “Because whoever did this is no comrade of mine,” he said. “I will find him and I will punish him personally.”

Jeniver wiped at her eyes. She was disoriented and distraught, that was true, but there was something innate within her that made her want to believe him. Perhaps it was pure vulnerability on her part, lost and alone as she was, and it was comforting to think that the Earl of Coventry would perhaps leap to her aid. But there was also a part of her that blamed him for what had happened and all the Englishmen like him. It was difficult to know how to react at all.

“Punishing those who committed the crime will not restore my father to health,” she said, struggling with renewed tears as she thought of her father, now fighting for his life as kind English strangers tried to save him. “My father, in his later years, became a man of peace. He preached peace and encouraged it, between neighbors as well as between the Welsh and the English. When he was young, he was a great warlord but when my mother died, he began to realize the fragileness of life and the preciousness of it. Some men called him weak while others called him a great peacemaker. Did you know that about him? He has not carried a sword in years.”

Gallus shook his head. “I did not know,” he said softly. “I do not know much about your father, I am ashamed to admit. I hope you will tell me more of him should you feel inclined to speak on the subject. He sounds as if he is a great man.”

Jeniver nodded, tears making their way down her cheeks again. “He is,” she whispered. “He is wise and generous. He did not deserve this.”

Gallus could see that she was nearing sobs again and he wanted to head that occurrence off. “My lady,” he said, reaching out to gently grasp her elbow. “Would you please come with me? The floor is no place for you. While your father is being tended, I will take you someplace where you can rest and wait for word of his condition.”

Jeniver was hesitant until Honey, who had thus far been standing silently by while Gallus interacted with the distressed young woman, came up behind Jeniver and gently put her hands underneath the woman’s arms to lift her up.

“Go with Gallus, my lady,” she said softly because she was fairly certain that the woman was about to refuse Gallus’ request. “We will tell you as soon as we know something of your father’s health. For now, we must take care of you and make sure you are well, too. You have had quite a trying day and your father would want you to be taken care of.”

Jeniver found herself being lifted up and moved along whether or not she wanted to be. Before she realized it, she was being led from the entry by the big earl and to the flight of stairs that she had been so fascinated with. Before she could mount the stairs, however, a soldier handed over her wandering puppy and she clutched the animal tightly, allowing Gallus to lead her away from the scene of destruction and blood.

Mounting the steps, one by one, all she could think was that she was walking further and further away from her life that once was. Her father was dying and her life was changing forever because of it. She wasn’t ready for it to change, not in the least, but she had little choice.

She wondered if the earl would bring up the fact that her father had begged the man to marry her. She hoped not. She wouldn’t bring the subject up, either. It was something she hoped would be attributed to the fears of a dying man and nothing more. At the moment, she had no desire to marry the earl or anyone else. She simply wanted to return to Rhydilian Castle, her home, and try to pick up the pieces of her shattered life. Was this actually happening? Was any of this even real?

It was a nightmare she suspected she would never awaken from
.