Page 359 of Historical Hotties
Gisella nodded eagerly. “I would like to change into something more appropriate,” she agreed, rising from her chair. “Where have my cases been taken?”
Bastian held out his hand. “I will take you,” he said, helping her away from the table. As he and Gisella began heading for the entry hall and the staircase beyond, Bastian turned to his cousins. “Take Lady Sparrow in hand, if you will. She is a fine woman from Lady Gloucester’s court and, I am sure, well-educated on games and other things. Keep her entertained until we return.”
Brant wasn’t too interested in the directive but Martin was. The last Gisella saw Sparrow, Martin was closing in on her with a rather lustful smile on his face. As Gisella and Bastian began to mount the stairs, they heard a sharp slap and Brant’s low laughter. Gisella looked at Bastian in alarm, but he merely shook his head.
“Not to worry,” he said quietly. “Now Martin knows what he cannot get away with.”
Gisella’s eyes widened in outrage. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Why did you leave her in his care if you knew he would be inappropriate with her?”
Bastian patted her hand calmly. “Trust me,” he said. “It is not as bad as all that. The most Martin would do is pinch her cheek or tell her she was a delectable piece of meat. If he said that to you, what would you do?”
Gisella calmed somewhat. “Slap him, I suppose.”
Bastian’s lips were twitching with a grin. “Which is what Lady Sparrow did,” he said as they neared the top of the stairs. “Your friend is quite safe, I assure you. She has established the rules now and Martin will follow.”
Gisella hoped that was the case, at least for Martin’s sake. If rightly offended, Sparrow wouldn’t stop at a slap and Martin would be risking his future ability to have children. The woman had never been afraid to defend herself.
The thought made Gisella grin.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tower of London
Henry the Sixthof England was a boy of nine years of age, to be ten years of age in December, and Gisella decided within the first few moments of seeing the young king that her sense of pity for the boy was not an overreaction. It simply confirmed what she had observed before on the two instances when she had been in the same hall with him. The young king was controlled like a puppet. He had a retinue of advisors hanging around him, including the two severe women she had seen before. They hovered over the king, handing him things if he pointed to them, making sure he had a pillow behind his back, making sure his feet were on cushioned rests. She was sure they did everything but breathe for the lad. To her, he appeared smothered and there was something in his dark eyes that suggested misery.
They met Henry not in the White Tower but in the St. Thomas Tower, in the young king’s chamber that looked as if an old man lived there. Nothing in the room suggested that a boy of nine years of age resided within those walls. There were crosses and at least two Bibles that she could see on the table, rare and precious books. She had heard rumor that the young king wasquite religious and the ambiance of the chamber did nothing to dispel those rumors. It seemed like a holy, humorless place, steeped in the traditions of kings long past.
So she stood back while Bastian spoke mostly to the king’s advisors, men who were well aware of Bastian’s role in the king’s court. Although the major players were not present– men like Bedford, Gloucester, or de Beauchamp, the Earl of Warwick, standing among the physicians and servants of the body was Sir Thomas de la Pole, younger brother of the Earl of Suffolk. He was young and ambitious, and wielded his brother’s influence like a mallet.
Everyone knew who he was, including Gisella. He had attended several of Lady Gloucester’s events and rumors about the man and his shady dealings flew fast and furious in the gossip circles. Given that he wanted power, and enjoyed using his brother’s authority, he had regarded Bastian with suspicion since the moment the man had entered the room. In fact, he was unhappy about his presence and didn’t care who knew it, including Bastian.
It therefore made for an uncomfortable situation as he eyed Bastian, and Gisella to a certain extent, and whispered to those around him, those who listened because they had to, because he was Suffolk’s brother. Bastian ignored him completely but Gisella didn’t. She knew the man had the tongue of a viper. By whispering about Bastian, the young lord had evidently hoped Bastian would notice him, but he did not. Finally, the younger brother of Suffolk would no longer remain in the background.
“Sir Bastian,” he said, addressing Bastian after the man had finished a brief conversation with the young king’s personal physician. “You have been fighting in France for many years. Surely you are uncomfortable and unaccustomed to being relegated to a personal protector. Surely this must distress an honored knight such as yourself.”
Bastian looked at the young lord. Already, he didn’t like him. He’d been quite aware that the young man was whispering about him but he didn’t care in the least. Bastian had no real use for the Earl of Suffolk and he could see that the man’s brother wasn’t much different.
“I am honored to serve the king,” he said simply.
Sir Thomas was expecting more of an answer than that. He lifted his dark eyebrows for emphasis. “Is that so?” he said, almost mockingly. It was clear that there was a good deal on his mind. “May I speak freely, Sir Bastian?”
Bastian’s eyes narrowed. “You may not.”
His voice was low and threatening, meant as a warning, and every man in the room but Thomas took it as such. As Bastian turned his attention towards the young king to address him, Thomas spoke again, more loudly this time.
“Forgive me, but on behalf of the king and his safety, I must speak,” he said. “We have all heard the regular reports from France, and Rouen, and many of these reports involved you specifically. We have all heard about your fascination with the Maid and I beg you to clarify these rumors. If you are to be so close to our king, then it is imperative that we all understand the truth behind these reports so that we may understand the character of the King’s Protector.”
Bastian looked at the young lord, his jaw flexing dangerously. The very subject that had been kept quiet, or spoken of in hushed tones, was now being laid bare for all to scrutinize by the brash young lord who had no sense of tact. Obviously, the young man had no fear of Bastian in a room full of advisors, but that was his mistake. Bastian had no qualms about moving against Suffolk’s brother should it be necessary. He would not submit to this idiotic young lord, not now, not ever.
“Gloucester and Bedford trust me,” he rumbled, “and that is good enough for you. You are in no position to judge as a foolish idiot who hides behind the shield of his brother.”
Thomas lost some of his confidence at the blatant slander. “We are all concerned for the king,” he pointed out. “If you do not dispel these rumors, what are we to think?”
Bastian didn’t even reply. He wasn’t going to waste his time. He turned back to the young king, who was watching the entire exchange with rather wide eyes. The lad appeared frightened. Bastian held out a hand to the boy.
“Your Grace,” he said politely. “Would you please attend me? We have a few items to speak of without the presence of your retainers.”
Young Henry wanted to go with him. That much was evident. He knew of Sir Bastian de Russe, the man called Beast, and knew he was the greatest knight in all the land. He admired that greatly. But he was timid, and uncertain, thanks to the fact that he was never allowed to make a decision on his own, so he looked to his two severe-looking nurses for approval. The women, however, appeared indecisive in their own right, eyeing Bastian suspiciously, so it was the personal physician who finally told the young king that he could go with de Russe. As the young king rose stiffly to his feet, Thomas spoke again.
