Tiberius quit the room, shutting the old, oak panel softly behind him. When he was gone and they were alone, Garran returned his attention to his father.
“Why did you ask him to leave?” he asked quietly. “Papa, what is happening? Why do you need to speak with me alone?”
Bose gazed down at his son, his only son. He and his wife, Lady Summer, had four children. Garran was the eldest and the man had three younger sisters. It had been very hard for Bose to allow Garran to leave his home and swear fealty to the House of de Shera, but Bose understood that Garran was his own man and needed to do what he felt best. Now, as he gazed down into his son’s eyes, he began to feel very possessive of him. He wanted him back.
“Henry is convening a council in London next week,” he said quietly. “Surely you know of all of this, Garran. Your lords were instrumental in nearly wresting the country from Henry. The man was only able to save himself by agreeing to share power with de Montfort and the barons. I do not think it was right of the barons to do this. The king is the monarch and his rule should be absolute, not shared with a group of power-hungry barons. That is all this is, Garran; a grab for power.”
Garran pondered his father’s words. He knew the man was passionate about supporting Henry but he didn’t particularly want to get into an argument with him about it. They had differing philosophies.
“Is that why you came, Papa?” he asked softly. “To scold me for siding with the de Sheras?”
Bose shook his head. “Nay, my son,” he said. “I did not come to scold you. I have come for a reason more powerful than that. I have come to tell you that I will be sitting upon Henry’s council. The king has asked this of me and I have agreed. That being said, I have now come to ask you where your true loyalties lie. Do they lie with your family or with the House of de Shera?”
The gentle expression faded from Garran’s expression. “What do you mean?”
Bose lifted his black eyebrows. “Exactly that,” he said. “You know that I have tried to stay out of whatever was happening between Henry and de Montfort. I do not like power struggles but I also do not like to see a gang of sword-heavy barons threaten the king.”
“We are not threatening him.”
“Then what do you call it?” Bose wanted to know. “Your beloved de Shera brothers are inciting another Anarchy, just like the one that nearly destroyed this country when Stephen and Matilda were fighting, and if the de Sheras are fighting against Henry, that meansyouare fighting against Henry. If Henry pulls me into this war, which he has done, then it means you are fighting against me. Will you raise your sword against me, son?”
Garran looked horrified. “Of course not.”
Bose could see how upset Garran was becoming. He put his hand on the man’s cheek again to both comfort and calm him.
“I am afraid it will come to that,” he admitted. “Henry has asked for my sword and I have sworn to give it.”
Garran’s horror was growing. “No offense intended, but you are an old man, Papa,” he said. “You do not need to be fighting the king’s wars.”
“Yet, I am,” Bose countered quietly. “He has asked and I have agreed. Now, I have come to tell you this personally. I have alsocome to ask you to side with your family and return with me to London. If you do not, then at some point, you and I will face each other in battle. I do not want this, Garran. It will surely kill me.”
Garran’s onyx-colored eyes were filled with sorrow. He could hardly believe what he was hearing, yet upon reflection, he wasn’t surprised in the least. He was only surprised with the fact that it had taken his father this long to ask for his loyalty.Family or de Shera.Those were his choices. He was a man torn. With great effort, he stood up and moved away from the hearth, lost in thought.
“I do not agree with the king’s politics, Papa,” he finally said. “How can I side with a man I do not agree with?”
Bose watched his son carefully, the movements of a distraught man. “You are siding withme,” he insisted quietly. “I must support the king. You will support me and the de Moray name.”
Garran shook his head. “It is not that easy and you know it,” he insisted. “I believe in what de Montfort is doing.”
“Enough to side against your own father?”
Garran sighed heavily, putting his hands to his face in a gesture of utter confusion and defeat. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was his father gazing back at him, with hope in his eyes, and he couldn’t stomach that look. He knew what hehadto do, yet he also knew what hewantedto do, and they were two different things. Greatly torn, and greatly grieved, he went to his father and put his arms around the man’s shoulders.
“Papa,” he whispered. “I would not raise a sword against you, but you must give me time to think about this. What you ask… it would be the greatest decision of my life.”
Bose patted the arms that were around him. “I know,” he said. “It is not an easy choice, but you must decide what is more important to you– your family or your convictions. As much as Iwould convince you to come with me, ultimately, you must make the decision that is right for you. I understand that.”
Garran lay his cheek on the top of his father’s head. “And if I choose to remain with the de Shera brothers? What then? Will you disown me?”
Bose squeezed Garran’s arm. “I will not,” he confessed. “But my heart would be broken. Imagine if you were in my position, Garran. Would you not want for your son to be at your side in all things? That is what I want– I want my son back. I want you supporting me and supporting your family. I do not believe that is too much to ask.”
Garran thought on the words. Nay, it was not too much to ask, but it was a decision that would change Garran’s life one way or the other. All he knew was that he could not lift his sword in battle against his father, yet he could not support a king he did not like. With a sigh, he kissed his father’s head and let him go.
“I must think on it,” he said, moving away from the older man. “I cannot give you an answer right away. I must think on what you have said and reason it out in my own mind.”
Bose watched his son as the man sat heavily on the small cot. “I am leaving Oxford tomorrow morning,” he said quietly. “I would like you to leave with me, so do not wait too long to give me your answer.”
Garran felt dull inside, dull and torn. His mind was in turmoil as he glanced up at his father. “Why so soon?” he said. “You can make it to London in plenty of time if you wait a day or two to leave Oxford.”
