Page 392 of Historical Hotties
Henry nodded, studying Bastian’s face to see any hint of displeasure and there was none. It made him feel a bit better.
“I have been thinking, Sir Bastian,” he said seriously. “I do not want my warlords to fight. I want them to be friends. This is important to the survival of my kingdom. If you kill Sir Thomas, then you and Suffolk will not be friends.”
Bastian could see the simplicity of Henry’s thought processes but none of what he said was untrue. In fact, it was rather intuitive. Bastian realized he had no choice in any of this and to try to persuade the king differently would only confuse the boy. The child had enough people bullying him and telling what to do. He didn’t need to hear it from someone he was coming to trust a great deal. Glancing at Brant, standing behind the boy, he could see that his cousin was thinking the exact same thoughts that he was. Bastian had no choice.
“Nay, Your Grace, we would not be friends,” he said, resignation in his tone. “What punishment would you have me give Sir Thomas? Surely you have made a decision on that.”
Henry’s brow furrowed in thought. “I have given it a good deal of consideration,” he said. “The Bible calls for an eye for an eye in such cases of men offending men. I would say that you should deal the same blow to Sir Thomas that he dealt to your wife. That would give you satisfaction and then you would not have to kill him.”
At first, Bastian thought the suggestion to be quite ridiculous but the more he thought on it, the more he realized that it wasn’t a bad suggestion at all. He could hit a lot harder than de la Pole could. Aye, it wasn’t such a bad suggestion after all. He coulddeliver a blow that would render the man unconscious for hours, if not days. He realized that he rather liked that. He was going to smash de la Pole’s face in and take great glee in doing so. The man would certainly suffer a lot more than if he was to kill him outright. With those thoughts in mind, Bastian nodded his head to the king’s directive.
“Aye, Your Grace,” he said. “I will agree to an eye for an eye.”
Henry was vastly relieved that Bastian acquiesced to his wishes. He watched Bastian move to the other side of the tent and stand there, waiting in the shadows for Suffolk and his brother to make an appearance. As Henry returned his attention to the map he and Brant had been studying, they could hear distant arguing.
More than arguing, it was a scuffle. They could recognize Suffolk’s voice and then another tense voice, assumed to be his brother. There were some grunts involved and even a yelp. Bastian, standing off to the side, looked curiously at Wellesbourne, who returned his puzzled expression. But, unlike Bastian who remained serious, Wellesbourne was biting off a grin. Especially when they heard what sounded like a slap. Wellesbourne broke into soft laughter and Martin, standing over near his brother, had to actually turn his head away so the others would not see his grin. More scuffling, more agitated voices, and Suffolk appeared at the tent flap dragging his brother by the hair.
The knights wiped the smiles off their faces even though it was quite funny to see the Earl of Suffolk dragging his reluctant brother by the hair to face his punishment. But Henry was astonished and concerned. He jumped out of his chair and ran to Suffolk.
“What are you doing to him?” he wanted to know. “Why are you hurting him?”
Suffolk didn’t let his brother go as the man struggled in his grasp. “I found him running off across the inner ward, Your Grace,” he said. “He was running to the stables in the hope of escaping. I was forced to subdue him to bring him to face his punishment.”
“That… that woman hit me first!” Thomas spat, facing the ground from the way his brother was holding him. “I will not be punished for defending myself!”
The knights looked uneasily at Bastian. The man had promised not to kill Thomas but if the man kept talking, and especially if he poorly referenced Lady de Russe, then he might wish he was dead once Bastian finished with him. Suffolk yanked on his brother’s dark hair.
“Silence,” he hissed. “You are in the presence of the king. Still your tongue, you fool.”
Thomas only marginally settled down. He was still furious and terrified. He also couldn’t see the king from the angle of his head, and he couldn’t see Bastian either, but he knew both men were in the tent, looking at him, and he intended to defend himself.
“Lady de Russe struck me,” he declared. “Am I not allowed to protect myself?”
Henry frowned as he watched the young lord twist and struggle in his brother’s grip. “You said terrible things about Sir Bastian,” he said. “She struck you because you were being mean and hateful. You did not have to hit her back.”
Thomas tried to twist his head so that he could see the king. “Your Grace,” he said, his tone considerably sweeter as he address the monarch. “I was merely concerned about a man with de Russe’s reputation being so close to you. We all know of the rumors that surround him. There must be some truth to them or we would not have heard so many. A man who sided with theMaid of Orleans should not be so close to you, Your Grace. It is only you I am concerned with, I swear it.”
Henry was still frowning. “I have asked Sir Bastian about these rumors,” he said. “I now know those rumors to be false. It is not your place to say who is close to me and who is not. I do not wantyouclose to me anymore. I do not like you, for you are unkind. I have given Sir Bastian permission to punish you.”
Thomas’s anger turned to fear. “He will kill me, Your Grace!”
Henry shook his head. “I have ordered him not to,” he said. “But he will punish you in the same fashion as your actions against his wife. He will strike you in the face and then this will be finished.”
Thomas began to howl. “Not my face!” he cried. “He will disfigure me for life! Nay, Your Grace, I beg you– not my face!”
Henry could see that the man was hysterical and it concerned him. Was he being too hard on the man? Uncertain now, he turned to look at Bastian, who could see the young king was in danger of changing his mind. Quickly, he broke from his stance and marched over to Thomas, who was bent in half by his brother’s strong-arm tactics. Bending over so that Thomas could see his face, he spoke quietly.
“You will take your punishment without another word,” he said, his voice low so that only Suffolk could hear him. “If you do not take it like a man, when this is over, I will track you down, slit your throat, and toss you into the river. You will obey the king just as I will and this shall be finished. If you drag it out, it will cost you your life. Is this in any way unclear?”
Thomas was absolutely terrified, but not so terrified that he didn’t understand that a worse fate await him if he did not accept his punishment as the king dictated. He whimpered at the sight of de Russe’s angry face.
“What are you going to do?” he rasped.
Bastian stood up straight and motioned to Suffolk. “Let your brother go,” he said. Then, he focused on Thomas again. “Stand up straight and face me.”
Suffolk obediently released him and Thomas, hunched over, struggled to stand up as ordered. He cowered as he faced Bastian.
“What… what are you going to do?” Thomas stammered.
