Page 93 of Historical Hotties
And then, there was Rhori.
The calmer, less-impulsive knight was drunk for the first two days, too, but being a little more sensible and able to control himself better than Bose, he sobered up quickly. He had been sober ever since and every time Cassius broke a table or a door, Rhori slipped the tavernkeeper a few coins to pay for it.
In fact, it had been Rhori who had kept the tavernkeeper from running to the Pontefract garrison for help by explaining that Cassius had just lost his wife. He didn’t elaborate, but he led the man to believe that Cassius was grieving a death. Being sympathetic, and a little frightened, the tavernkeeper simply kept himself and his servants out of Cassius’ way. They had tried to go about their business as usual, trying to work around a man who was tearing up their world because his had evidently been destroyed.
And that’s where they found themselves today.
Another fight.
Unfortunately, men wearing the black and white standard of William de Ros of Helmsley Castle decided to visit the tavern on that day. De Ros was a crown supporter, but a finicky one. Cassius took exception to the men as soon as they entered and in little time, a room-clearing brawl had started. Even Rhori had to get involved because there were seven de Ros men and only Cassius and Bose. Not that they couldn’t take care of seven menon their own, but one of them jumped on Bose’s back and tried to strangle him, so Rhori crowned the man with a chair.
The remaining de Ros men tucked their heads down and fled.
“Another victory for the House of de Wolfe!” Cassius crowed, drinking deeply of the cheap ale that had kept him inebriated for days. “I shall best every man in England at this rate and then they shall have to bring in some Scots for me to pummel. It has been a long time since I pummeled a Scot just for the pleasure it brings me.”
Rhori pulled him down into a chair. “All hail your mighty fists, Cass,” he said, stroking the man’s ego. “You are a magnificent beast.”
Cassius threw his arm around Rhori’s neck and pulled him close, kissing his dark head loudly. “I love you,” he said. “You are my brother and I love you. I have real brothers and I love them madly, but you are my friend and my brother. I love you, du Bois. I truly do.”
When Cassius wasn’t tossing men around, he was being silly and sappy. Rhori was forced to push him away or risk being suffocated by all that love.
“Aye, Cass, we love you, too,” he said, motioning to the tavernkeeper for some food. “Come, now. Let us eat something and discuss your future plans. We’ve been here a week, but your grandmother is waiting. We must go to Castle Questing soon.”
Cassius looked at him, the pale eyes flickering with unchecked emotion. “My grandmother,” he muttered. “Jordan Mary Joseph Scott de Wolfe. She was named for the River Jordan, you know. A stronger woman you will never find. I love her dearly.”
“I am sure she loves you, too.”
“And my father and mother. I love them more than anything.”
“Aye, Cass, I know. And they love you.”
“But I love my grandmother so very much and I must see her soon. Imust.”
The tavernkeeper arrived. Bread and meat were being set upon the table in copious amounts as Cassius declared his love for everyone in Northern England.
“Then let us go to her,” Rhori said, pulling the wine away from Cassius and hoping he didn’t notice. “Let us leave this place and not look back. Look at all of this glorious food! Eat and tell us of Berwick Castle, where you were born. I’ve never been there.”
He was trying to distract Cassius and get some food in him, hopefully to help ease his drunken state somewhat and bring him back to his senses. Thankfully, Cassius complied and shoved meat in his mouth, sloppily.
“It is by the sea,” he said, chewing. “A massive place by the sea. When my brothers and I were young, we used to run like wild colts on the sand. My father would take us there when we became too much for my mother to handle and he would make us run from him. Whoever got caught was thrown into the icy waves. I was never caught and neither was my oldest brother, Markus, but my two younger brothers, Magnus and Titus, were caught often. My father would throw them in the waves and they would run home to my mother, weeping and shivering. She would yell at my father for it and he would blame it on Markus and me.”
He laughed at the memory of his beloved father casting blame for his actions. The tavernkeeper brought around boiled cider, putting it in front of Cassius instead of the ale he’d been drinking. Rhori and the tavernkeeper had been trying to replace the ale for three days, but Cassius always caught on and always went to find his own drink. But again, they would try.
Rhori tried to distract him, keeping up a running stream of conversation. “Your father had many brothers,” he said. “He learned to deflect the blame.”
Cassius snorted, drinking the cider and realizing it wasn’t his ale. He hurled the cup across the room and yelled for his favored drink. “Ale!” he bellowed. “Who keeps putting that putrid juice in front of me? I will kill the next man who forces me to drink that stuff.”
Rhori couldn’t even look at Bose because he, too, was sotted with drink. In fact, Bose agreed with Cassius, giving the man his cup, and Rhori grunted in exasperation.
“Cass,” he said, trying to sound casual. “How do you expect to ride the rest of the way to Castle Questing if you are drunk? It will not work well in your favor.”
Cassius was still chewing on his meat. “I will make it,” he said. “When I decide we should leave.”
“Edward is going to expect you back in London next month. We cannot remain here forever.”
Cassius looked at him as if he wanted to say something angry in response, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He simply drained the cup in his hand.
“I do not want to talk about that right now,” he said. “Bose, find me more drink.”
