Page 383 of Historical Hotties
Braxton’s words doused Bastian’s building fire. When his father put it like that, of course Bastian could not deny the boy the opportunity to fulfill what his father would have wished.A good king. That was all Henry ever wanted for his son, his namesake, the child who was only nine months old when he became king. Bastian sighed heavily and looked at Brant, a man he trusted. He and Brant were nearly the same age and had much the same personality. He lifted his eyebrows for emphasis.
“Well?” he asked Brant. “What are your thoughts? For certain, now I do not know what to think, so give me your advice.”
Brant looked over at the king, who was intently watching Worthington as the man drew in the dirt. After a moment, he sighed heavily.
“He is the king,” he said. “If he truly wishes to go, we do not have the power to deny him. So we will bring him with us and ensure that he is amply protected. We also send word to Gloucester about what is happening. Your missive from last night asking him if he has yet contacted Suffolk has not beenanswered. Surely a missive regarding the king would prompt the man’s immediate response.”
“Or his immediate ire,” Aramis grumbled. “This is madness.”
Bastian looked at him. “Do you have a better idea?” he asked. “If you do, now is the time.”
Aramis rolled his eyes. Then, he pursed his lips angrily, looking over at the group of knights where the young king was now pointing to the dirt map and asking questions.
“I am going to be stripped of the Warminster dukedom as well after this,” he hissed. “I justknowit. I am going to be living on the streets of London and prostituting myself to pay for my daily bread.”
Bastian grunted. “We will probably all end up in the Tower,” he said. “But, for now, we have no choice, as Brant pointed out. If Henry wants to come and order Suffolk to turn his brother over to me, then we shall be forced to permit it. Father, will you come with us and watch over Henry?”
Braxton shook his head. “As much as would like to, I cannot,” he said. “Traveling from West Court yesterday took away all of my strength. A march to Wallingford would likely kill me.”
Bastian patted his father’s shoulder in understanding. “Then you remain here and protect the women,” he said. “That is the most important task of all.”
With that, Bastian broke away from his father, uncle, and cousin, and headed over to where the knights, his wife, and the king were gathered. He thought fleetingly of his friend, Henry’s father, and of how proud the man would have been of a son who wanted to do the right and good thing for all. When he thought on it that way, he didn’t have much of a heart for denying the boy any longer because the qualities Henry was displaying were the qualities of a good king. Lost in thought, he heard footfalls next to him and turned to see Brant walking beside him.
“I am putting you in charge of the king’s safety,” he told his cousin. “Make sure he is amply protected.”
Brant nodded. “I will,” he said. Then, he hesitated before speaking further. “Bas?”
“Aye?”
“Do you think Suffolk is going to obey the king’s order to release his brother to you?”
Bastian didn’t say anything for a moment. When he did, his tone was low and steady. “I cannot know for certain,” he said. “But if he does not, it will be your duty to take the king and ride hard for London while I lay siege to Wallingford. Return the boy to the Tower and guard him with your life.”
“You know I will until the death.”
Bastian sincerely hoped it did not come to that.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The sunset wasshades of brilliant oranges and purples, dashed across the deepening sky. It was nearly dark now but the colors were still there, fading in their glory. Gisella could see them from the lancet window from the reception room at Braidwood even though the window faced east. Still, she could see the brilliant colors but they had little meaning. Her thoughts were with Bastian as he headed to Wallingford Castle.
His plans were to confront Suffolk at first light which meant a night march, rare for an army but Bastian had insisted. He was already concerned that de la Pole had escaped him even though reports coming back from Brant’s men at the ports had been negative. Still, there was the chance that de la Pole had slipped away. That made the march to Wallingford in the dead of night that much more imperative.
Gisella and Bastian’s goodbyes had been tender but swift. They had already said all that needed to be said so when the time came, Bastian took her in his arms and kissed her sweetly in the semi-privacy of Braidwood’s entry hall before heading out to the courtyard where men were already filing from Braidwood’s ward and mounting the white stallion that his wife had given him. Thehorse seemed to be calming under Bastian’s firm control and Gisella had waved to him as he’d ridden from the ward astride the flashy beast.
But her brave smile soon faded when the great gates of Braidwood closed behind the army and she stood in the open doorway, wondering what the morrow would bring. Although she truly didn’t believe Bastian would be killed, she was nonetheless worried for his safety and for the safety of all of them. That a slap should resound so loudly and cause such an armed response was guilt that she still struggled with.
Henry had been extremely excited to go on this venture, riding a gentle gray mare and surrounded by heavily armed knights. The only thing that made Gisella smile over the entire situation was thinking of Henry’s happy expression in that he was actually being permitted to do something he considered quite kingly. But Henry’s court physician was so upset about it that he had taken to drink and had gone straight to his chamber to mull over the fact that the young king was out of his control. Furthermore, he was too old to ride with the army, upsetting him further. With the physician tucked away for the night, Braxton and the ladies gathered in the reception room.
It was like the calm after the storm. There wasn’t any tension in the air at this point and even though their thoughts were heavily on the departed army, the ambiance of the room was one of patience. All they could do was wait for word. Now, it was Sparrow against Braxton, playing round after round of Bone Ace, and Braxton was still losing, now to a woman. It was a slap in the face of the man’s ego but he was good humored about it, pretending that he was losing on purpose when they all knew otherwise.
“Gigi, come play with us,” Sparrow told her friend, who was lingering by the window. “I am beating your father-in-law terribly. You must come and comfort him.”
Gisella turned to look at the pair, smiling as Sparrow won yet another round. Braxton, showing mock frustration, pretended to gather all of the cards and throw them into the fire, causing Sparrow to squeal with laughter. Gisella came away from the window, wandering in their direction.
“Sir Braxton, you really should not play her any longer,” she said. “Find another game. She is terrible at Chess.”
Braxton’s old face lit up. “Ah-ha!” he crowed. “There is a Chess set here. I will find it and then I will beat you into submission, young woman. Prepare for much humiliation by my hand.”
