Page 334 of Historical Hotties
Bastian heard his cousin’s reply as he headed into the entry of the manor house and took the flight of stairs to his left. They were big stone steps with carved wood bannisters, and he remembered once as a child getting his head stuck between twoof the carved balustrades. His father had actually been forced to remove one of them so Bastian could get his head out and the replaced balustrade had never been the same. These days, it leaned slightly as a testament to Bastian’s childhood follies.
Such fond memories in this house invaded his thoughts as Bastian made his way to one of the chambers on the second floor. It was very dark on this level and very quiet, as people were still sleeping in the dawn hour. Bastian hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the house until he set foot in it. He felt like he was home again and when he reached his father’s door, he opened it without even knocking.
The room was nearly pitch-black and the heavy oilcloths were covering the windows. Embers glowed in the sooty hearth, just enough to ward off the chill, and the room smelled of urine. In the darkness, Bastian headed to the bed, his hands reaching down to feel for his father. The moment he located the warm body, however, he felt the tip of a very sharp weapon against his torso, poking through the gaps in the armor he wore.
“One more move and I will shove this through your belly,” came the threat.
Bastian snorted. “Good morning to you, too, Father,” he said. “No wonder you have no friends if this is any indication of your standard greeting.”
Sir Braxton de Nerra de Russe gasped at the sound of his son’s voice. “Bastian?” he whispered in awe. “Is it truly you?”
Bastian was grinning in the darkness as he put a very big hand on Braxton’s head, leaning over to kiss the man on the forehead. “It is truly me,” he said, fumbling away from the bed until he came across a taper on the table next to the bed. “Were you expecting someone else? A lover, mayhap? Father, I am shocked at such a thing. Do you really have a lover?”
He was teasing his father as only he could do. Anyone else would see Braxton’s fists flying. Even now, Braxton struggled tosit up in bed as Bastian moved to light the taper in the embers of the hearth.
“Cease your prattle, you foolish man,” he said, grunting as he moved because any movement these days was a great exertion for him. “Of course I do not have a lover. What on earth would I do with her?”
Bastian lit the taper, standing up and moving to the candleholder next to the bed to light a few more half-burned tapers in a candelabra. “Surely you have not forgotten what to do with a woman,” he said. “I realize you are old and fairly decrepit, but she could do all of the work. You would simply need to tell her what you need.”
Braxton finally made it into a sitting position. “Bah,” he scoffed. “All I need is my son and nothing more.”
Bastian put a pillow behind his father’s back so the man could sit comfortably. “You have him, then,” he said, “at least for a time. Gloucester has plans for me but I told him I needed to see you first.”
Braxton gazed up at his eldest. After a moment, he held out his hand to him and Bastian took it, holding it tightly.
“It is good to see you,” Braxton said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “It has been a very long time.”
Bastian nodded, squeezing his hand. “Toolong,” he agreed. “I am sorry I was unable to come home sooner. Bedford keeps me occupied in France and I have little time to spare.”
Braxton sighed knowingly. “Pull up a chair and sit,” he said. “I must speak with you. I want to know how you have been.”
Still holding his father’s hand, Bastian reached out and pulled a padded oak chair over to the bed and planted his bulk in it. “I have been well enough,” he said, the levity fading from his voice. “There has been much happening in France but I will not bore you with the details. Suffice it to say I have been very busy.”
Braxton’s blue eyes were intense. “Bore me with the details,” he rumbled. “What has kept you so wrapped up in that foolish endeavor? And what is this I hear about you and the Maid of Orleans?”
Bastian’s good humor was gone. “Great Bleeding Christ, not you, too,” he muttered. “What have you heard?”
Braxton squeezed his son’s hand tightly. “Gloucester was here last week,” he said. “He told us a great deal, actually. He said that she bewitched you. Is this true, Bas? Did you let that evil woman take hold of you?”
Bastian frowned. “Of course I did not,” he said. “Father, I was her jailor. It was my duty to ensure she was treated fairly, which she was not. Bedford himself spread the rumors that she bewitched me because it took the focus off just how badly and unethically he conducted himself against her. Do you want to hear what I know of the woman or are you going to trust the gossip mongers?”
Braxton didn’t generally give in to rumors, but when they involved his son, he couldn’t help but be concerned. “Then tell me the truth and I shall believe you.”
“Whatever I tell you must be kept in the strictest confidence.”
“I will take it to my grave with the best of secrets.”
That was enough to satisfy Bastian. His father’s word was his bond and there was none finer in England. He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts, before continuing.
“I have always been proud of my profession, Father,” he said quietly. “I come from a long line of great knights. The bloodlines of seven of England’s greatest warriors flow through my veins and I am proud to bear a sword to honor them. At least, I was proud until this madness with the Maid. She was a very pious and passionate girl, and she believed that saints had spoken to her and told her to free France from the English. She was smart and she was clever, and she embarrassed Bedford many a time.After she was captured, she was treated with less courtesy than one would treat a stray dog. She was starved, tortured, and lied to, and Bedford was behind all of it. Father, I did not become a knight to execute a young woman who had been illegally prosecuted and immorally sentenced to die. She did not bewitch me. She was simply one of the very few people I respect because she was true to her beliefs until the end. She had the courage of God himself.”
Braxton was listening carefully. “Then you did not deflower her?”
He cast the man a disgusted expression. “This is the third time in the past day I have had to answer that question,” he said, agitated. “Of course I did not. But others tried. She managed to fight them off and once I discovered their transgressions, I punished each and every one of them.”
Braxton nodded his head, digesting the information. He knew his son well enough to know what the man meant. “You killed them.”
“I did.”
