Page 389 of Historical Hotties
“Sir Braxton, I would like to reiterate that I do not wish to hurt you,” he said. “But I am seeking something which Sir Bastian is rumored to possess. I have been told by someone who witnessed the Maid’s death that, when it was over and her remains were being cast into the Seine River, Sir Bastian took a piece of her remains. He has a relic of the woman, if you will. I want it. He has not told you of it?”
The reason behind the assault on Braidwood was now made clear and Braxton felt as if he’d been hit in the belly. His breath left him and he struggled to remain on an even keel. He had feared that the relic Bastian had taken from the Maid’s ashes would get him into trouble and now it was here in front of him. Trouble had indeed arrived. If Bastian had been standing in front of him at that moment, he would have punched him in the nose. Braxton suspected, at that moment, that denial wouldn’t get him very far. It might even get him killed. Therefore, he was moderately truthful because he was coming to wonder if the Armagnac in front of him was an answer to his prayers. As odd as it seemed, he wondered if the man could help him.
“May I ask who told you of this relic?” he asked.
Le Foix was studying the old man’s face for any sign of truth in the matter, but Sir Braxton was better than most at maintaining an emotionless face. It was one of the marks of a good knight.
“An English soldier who was there,” he replied truthfully. “The man was running about London spouting that Sir Bastian had betrayed England because he had taken a relic from the Maid. How many people believed him, I would not know. We came into the information quite by accident but if it is true, then it is very important to us. Our cause is to save France from England just as you would want to save England if France wastrying to claim lands that did not belong to her. Has your son told you of this relic?”
Braxton saw no reason not to tell the man. In fact, he might be able to convince the man to fulfill the Maid’s dying wish as Bastian was planning to do. Truth be told, Braxton didn’t want his son involved in anything that had to do with the Maid. If he turned the relic over to the Armagnac, then it would become their problem and cease to be Bastian’s issue. That was the help that he would seek from this man who desperately wanted what Bastian had. With that in mind, he proceeded carefully.
“I seem to remember a conversation with my son that pertained to the Maid,” he said thoughtfully. The broadsword in his hand lowered as he sat heavily on the bed. His strength was nearly gone. This entire circumstance had put too much strain on him and his chest felt tight. His left arm also felt strangely numb but he struggled through the discomfort that he’d felt before. “He mentioned that before she died, she wished for anything that remained of her to be buried in Winchester Cathedral because it is the seat of the Cardinal of Winchester. From what I understand, he was one of her chief inquisitors.”
Le Foix was very interested in what the old man had to say. “I had heard that as well,” he said. “What more did your son say about it?”
Braxton leaned back against the headboard, struggling to catch his breath. “She asked that my son take her remains and bury them at Winchester,” he said. “Of course, when she was burned, there wasn’t much left, you see. But something evidently did remain.”
Le Foix was hanging on every word. “What?”
Braxton took a deep breath. The pain in his chest seemed to be increasing. “He said that he was having his men sweep her remains into the river when he came across her heart,” he said softly. “He took it to bury at Winchester. I do not know where itis, or where he keeps it, but if I can find it, I will give it to you. If his commanders knew he had it, he would more than likely be brought up on charges of treason, if not complicity with the Maid of Orleans. I do not want this end for my great son.”
Le Foix was stunned. “He has herheart?”
“That is what he told me.”
Before le Foix could respond, they heard great crashes downstairs and the sounds of sword against sword. It was evident that Braidwood’s guards had made it into the house and now there was a massive battle going on. Le Foix stood up, hearing the fighting, knowing that his time with Sir Braxton was short. But now he was so close to what he had come for that he couldn’t leave. He was seeking answers that no one seemed to know.
“Sir Braxton,” he asked, almost beseechingly. “Was your son more than a friend tola Pucelle?Did… did he love her? It seems to me that only a man in love would do such a thing for a woman.”
Braxton shook his head. He was feeling lightheaded as the pain in his chest grew. “I do not know,” he said softly. “But he kept her heart. Isn’t that the most precious thing of all?”
The fighting was drawing closer. They could hear it at the top of the stairs and le Foix was on his feet. Braxton wasn’t oblivious to the sounds of men fighting and dying but he realized that he didn’t want le Foix to leave before they could finish their business.
“Tell me where to look for it,” le Foix demanded anxiously. “I will look now.”
Braxton shook his head. “I would not know where to start,” he said. “Go, now. Send me word on where to reach you and I will do my best to find what you seek. I do not want my son to have it, you see. In his hands, it makes him a traitor. In yourhands, it makes you a patriot. Will you take this heart, then, and bury it at Winchester as the Maid asked my son to do?”
Le Foix wasn’t sure that he would but he agreed. He would do anything to get his hands on the relic. “I will, I swear it.”
“You must be careful, of course,” Braxton said quietly. “Eyes may be watching but better you to bury it than Bastian. I am asking you to save my son and I do not even know your name.”
“Armand,” le Foix said without hesitation. “Armand le Foix.”
Braxton waved him on weakly. “Go now,” he said. “Out in the corridor, go to the left. You will come across a small staircase. Take it and it will lead you to a door that will take you out of the house. From there, you can flee.”
Le Foix made his way to Braxton, putting his hand on the man’s arm. The old man didn’t look well but he didn’t give it much thought. He was too concerned with gaining the relic.
“Swear to me that you will give it to me,” he begged softly.
Braxton gazed up at him. “On my oath as a knight, I will find it and give it to you,” he said. “But you will never tell anyone who it came from, is that clear? No mention of my son will follow this relic around.”
“You have my vow.”
“I believe you. Now, get out before the guards catch you.”
Le Foix fled without another word. The noise of battle was in the corridor now as men fought for their lives on the stairs and into the hallway. Braxton listened to the sounds of fighting but he didn’t particularly care. He was thinking on saving his son from himself, of giving the Maid’s relic to her supporters who so badly wanted it. To get the relic as far from Bastian as he possibly could. Aye, he would save his son.
With an aching chest and a numb left arm, Braxton closed his eyes and hoped that the pain would soon subside. But it was not to be. As Braxton passed away peacefully in his bed, le Foixmade it as far as the courtyard before a de Russe soldier with a crossbow caught him in the back.
