Page 381 of Historical Hotties
Henry reluctantly picked up his cards again, eyeing them with disinterest. “What is Sir Bastian going to do?”
“What he must do in order to retain his honor.”
Henry wasn’t even sure what that meant, which upset him. He was used to his advisors giving him vague answers about situations and about the state of the country in general. Sir Braxton had been very open with him since they met last night, leading Henry to believe that the man might be more forthcoming with him. He was looking upon the old man as a friend, someone he liked very much. He was disappointed to realize that Sir Braxton was like the other men in his life, all of them trying to keep the truth from him. He sighed heavily.
“Sir Thomas was very mean,” he said, throwing down a card. “He yelled at Lady Gisella and said terrible things about Sir Bastian. He said that Sir Bastian was evil, but I know that he is not. I also know that I am young and I do not know much about the way of the world, but I will never learn if no one will tell me the truth. Will you please tell me the truth about what Sir Bastian is doing? Mayhap I can help.”
Braxton glanced at the physician, still standing behind Henry, and noted the man’s concerned expression. But he was not moved by it. The physician was part of that group of men Henry spoke of, men who thought the best way to protect him was to keep things from him. Then his focus moved to the king, a young man who had warmed quickly to him last night. It was evident that the boy had been given little emotional comfort in his life and, in spite of his position, little attention. At least, little attention where it mattered. Henry was a smart young man but he had led a very protected and sheltered life. Perhaps the lad was right. He would never learn the ways of the world around him if people were constantly withholding information. Braxton set his cards aside.
“Sir Bastian is going to march on Wallingford Castle where he believes de la Pole is hiding,” he said. “He will ask Suffolk to turn his brother over to him to face punishment but in the event Suffolk refuses, Bastian is prepared to lay siege to Wallingford Castle.”
Henry absorbed what he’d been told, the big, brown eyes seriously considering the situation. “But Wallingford Castle belongs to me,” he said. “The Earl of Suffolk was made the custodian a short time ago, but the castle still belongs to me. If I tell Suffolk to open the castle and let Bastian in, he will have to do it.”
Braxton nodded, hesitantly, because the boy had a point, as improbable as that point was. “I cannot see Suffolk simplyturning his brother over to Bastian, Your Grace,” he said. “In theory, you are correct– if you order him to turn de le Pole over to Bastian, then Suffolk should comply, but the truth is that he more than likely won’t.”
Henry frowned. “Then I will take back Wallingford Castle and he cannot have it,” he said, standing up, his body tense with anger. “Take me to Sir Bastian, please. I would speak with him about this situation.”
Braxton was rather impressed that the timid young man he’d met only the day before seemed to be displaying some courage. For a child who had every decision since birth taken away from him and made by others, he was showing distinct signs of being able to make decisions for himself. He only needed the opportunity. When he was not surrounded by those who controlled his every move, it was clear there were the makings of a king. Braxton smiled faintly at the lad.
“Aye, Your Grace,” he said, holding out a hand. “But you will have to help me to stand. My legs do not work well these days.”
“Wait,” the physician spoke up. “The king would be much more comfortable here, out of the sun. It is not good for his health to be out in such heat.”
Braxton knew that wasn’t the reason why the old physician didn’t want Henry leaving the manor. The old physician was part of the group that controlled the king even though the physician had often been the one to show the boy more compassion than the others. The old physician simply wasn’t used to allowing the young king much freedom under the guise that it would compromise his safety. Braxton waved the old man off.
“Nonsense,” he said. “We will only be a minute. Isn’t that right, Your Grace?”
Henry was already on his feet, nodding seriously. “I will speak to Sir Bastian briefly,” he said, looking at the physician. “You will wait here for me. I shall return.”
Before the physician could lodge further protests, Braxton held out his hand to the boy, asking for assistance. Henry was more than happy to comply because it made him feel useful, something he rarely felt. He held tight to Sir Braxton as the man shuffled his way out of the reception room and to the entry to the manor, both of them moving slowly into the bright, humid sunshine beyond as the old physician unhappily remained behind.
There were more men in the courtyard now than there were earlier. The smell of horses was strong in the air as was the steady buzz of conversation coming from a rather large crowd. Braxton was shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun as a familiar figure walked towards him, separating himself from the crowds of soldiers. As Braxton’s hand shaded the sun blinding him, Aramis came into his line of sight.
Fully armored, the Duke of Warminster did not appear inordinately happy. In fact, he appeared quite frustrated. “Brax,” the man said as he approached. “What goes on here? What is Bastian doing and why does he want one thousand of my men sent to him from Deverill Castle?”
Braxton remained calm in the face of his brother’s irritation. “Did he not explain the situation to you completely in the missive he sent to you?” he asked. “He must have been somewhat clear or you would not be here with a contingent of men from West Court.”
Aramis frowned. “He told me that he expects trouble with Suffolk and needs strength in numbers,” he said. “I would not be here but Worthington insisted, so here I am. I do not want to enter into a conflict with Suffolk, Brax. He is an ally of Gloucester and I do not want my dukedom taken away again by the man who granted it to me. What is really going on that Bastian would call upon me?”
Braxton cocked an eyebrow. “Would you provide him with men if it meant confiscating what Suffolk has?” he asked. “If there was money or property involved, would you give him manpower so easily?”
It was a shot straight to the heart of a man who was a bit of a mercenary. He backed down somewhat. “Mayhap,” he said, confused by the question. “Isthere money or property involved?”
Braxton ignored the question. He didn’t want to particularly enter into a family squabble in front of the king and indicated the boy beside him.
“Will you please greet the king before you continue, Aramis?” he said. “Henry is our guest.”
Aramis looked at the young lad with the big, brown eyes and it took a moment for the information to register. When it did, he struggled with his surprise. To see the king without his entourage and not surrounded by a dozen crown soldiers was not only disorienting, it was shocking.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing to the boy. “Forgive me, for I did not recognize you. You have grown quite a bit since last I saw you.”
Henry appraised the big man with the graying hair. He looked between Aramis and Braxton. “He is your brother?” he asked Braxton.
Braxton nodded. “I had three brothers, Your Grace,” he said. “Trenton was the eldest but he died a few years ago without a son, so the dukedom passed to Aramis. I am next in line and then we also have a younger brother, Hugh.”
Henry thought on the de Russe brothers. “Where is Hugh?”
Aramis spoke. “We have properties on the Marches, Your Grace, and Hugh has been at our castle of Clearwell because of some unrest along our stretch of the Marches,” he said. “Whenever there is trouble, we like to send Hugh because heis the meanest of us all. The Welsh would not dare tangle with him.”
