Page 403 of Historical Hotties
“But I very much wanted to go with you,” he said, trying one last time to see if Bastian would somehow allow it. “I must seek her forgiveness myself and help you bury her heart.”
Bastian shook his head. “I am very sorry that you cannot,” he said. “But I will make sure God knows of your sorrow for what happened. I swear it.”
There wasn’t much more to say after that. Henry sat on the end of the bed as Gisella kissed his forehead and stood up, accompanying Bastian through the dressing room and to the chamber on the other side.
Even after he was alone, which was rare enough, Henry continued to sit on the edge of the bed, pondering the fact that he would not be riding to Winchester to bury the heart of the Maid. He knew he could never tell Gloucester why he wanted to go so badly and he knew, for a fact, that his uncle would not let him go no matter how much he begged. Once the man’s mind was made up, there was no changing it.
I wonder if he even has a free will?Henry had never heard those words spoken by Gisella. All he knew was that tonight, he was going to make a decision that Gloucester could notchange. He’d spent his entire young life being controlled and manipulated and, at this moment, he’d had his fill of it. Going with Bastian to Winchester was very important to him but he had been denied.
He was therefore going anyway.
*
After a nightin which both Gisella and Bastian slept like the dead, wrapped in each other’s arms, Bastian roused his wife shortly before daybreak. Neither one of them had packed for their trip so after rising and struggling to clear the sleep from her mind, Gisella went about packing a satchel while Bastian swiftly donned his armor and went down to the stables to have the grooms saddle their horses.
Exhausted, Gisella stumbled around, washing her face with cold water from the previous day and dressing in a heavy dark blue woolen traveling dress with hose that were the same dark and heavy color. She laced up her doeskin boots, the only pair of boots she had, and struggled to comb her hair when there was a soft knock at the chamber door. Gisella opened it to find Sparrow standing in the doorway in her dressing gown.
“You are up so early,” Sparrow hissed.
Gisella shushed her and pulled her into the room, shutting the door. Then, she yawned and plopped down onto the dressing table chair. “Help me, please,” she begged softly. “I cannot seem to do anything this morning. Will you dress my hair?”
Sparrow picked up the comb and began to pull it through Gisella’s silken tresses. “What on earth are you doing up at this hour?” she asked. “I could hear you from across the hall. And where is Bastian?”
Gisella yawned again. “We are leaving,” she said, watching Sparrow’s brow furrow with confusion. “We are going to Etonbury.”
“Etonbury?” Sparrow repeated. “Why are you going there?”
Even though Sparrow had heard most of what Armand le Foix and Braxton had talked about during that terrible night, including mention of the relic, Gisella didn’t want to tell her the truth. Perhaps he had been correct when he said that he had kept the information of the relic to himself because of the significance of it. The more people who knew about it, the more danger there was to them. Since Sparrow would be left behind, she didn’t want the woman to know the truth of the matter should Gloucester decide to interrogate her for some reason. Or, in case the information accidentally slipped out. Nay, it was best for Sparrow not to know the truth, as difficult as that was.
“Bastian’s mind is overloaded with grief,” Gisella finally said. “He and his father were going to journey to Etonbury before his death, but now those plans are dashed. Bastian feels that he must get away for a few days to clear his mind and he wants to see Etonbury. Bedford granted it to him but he has not seen it yet. It will be a nice little journey for us. I… I think we need to be alone, he and I. We need to heal after what has happened.”
Sparrow had no reason not to believe her friend. She began to plait Gisella’s long locks. “How long will you be gone?”
“A few days at most.”
“Are any of the knights traveling with you?”
Gisella shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “So you are free to pursue my brother, as he shall remain at Braidwood.”
Sparrow smiled coyly. “He stood with me at Braxton’s mass,” she said. “Did you see him?”
Gisella laughed softly. It felt good to laugh after days of grief. “I did,” she said. “I would expect a proposal of marriage from him by the time I return from Etonbury.”
Sparrow giggled, securing the end of Gisella’s hair. “I will do my best to coerce it from him,” she said. “Now, what else can I help you with?”
Gisella put her on packing a satchel for her while she finished up with her dressing. By the time Bastian returned to their chamber, she was ready to depart and the sun still wasn’t up yet. Checking on Henry to make sure the boy was well, Bastian noted the sleeping figure in his father’s big bed and was glad the lad was asleep and not following him around, begging to go. It was one less thing to worry over.
Asking Sparrow to see to the king when he awoke, they bid the woman farewell and made their way down to the stables where the white stallion and a gentle, gray mare stood, waiting. Bastian strapped his wife’s satchel on his saddle along with his own saddlebags, feeling surprisingly relaxed considering the seriousness of the journey they were about to take. He attributed it to the fact that Gisella was with him, and she was smiling, and all was well in the world again. It gave him strength. Mounting the horses, they plodded off into the coming dawn, enjoying the morning while it was still new and fresh.
What they didn’t see was a small figure slip out of the dining room door of Braidwood, adjacent to the kitchen. As Gisella and Bastian headed out of the main gates and to the road beyond, Henry made his way as stealthily as he could to the stables and cornered a groom, demanding that the man saddle a horse for him. Realizing it was the young king, the groom did as he was told and saddled a leggy mare for the boy to ride. Henry stole a dusty old riding cloak, hanging on a peg just inside of the stable doors, and mounted his steed.
Feeling wicked, and wildly free, Henry told the groom that if he told anyone about his presence, that the man could be guaranteed a lifetime in the Tower for betraying the confidence of the king. That threat alone kept the groom’s mouth shut formost of the day, at least until Gloucester began screaming about Bastian abducting the king, and the terrified groom spilled the information to Aramis. The groom may have been afraid of the young king, but in his view, Sir Bastian had been through enough without false accusations of abduction. It was his conscience that caused the confession at the risk of angering the young monarch.
Gloucester ordered his men mounted, and the knights did so, realizing that Henry had followed Bastian of his own accord and not because he had been snatched. Fearful for the young king’s life and lacking any clue whatsoever as to why the young man would have ridden off alone after Bastian, Gloucester and the knights took off north towards Etonbury, the way they assumed Bastian and Gisella, and subsequently Henry, would have gone, hoping they could catch the king before something terrible happened to him.
But they realized very quickly, based on the distinctive markings of the shoes of the white stallion bearing Gloucester’s mark, that Bastian and Gisella, and eventually Henry, had not gone north. They had headed to the southwest, and their confusion grew.
Now, the race was on with everyone heading to Winchester, knowingly or not.
