Page 399 of Historical Hotties
Bastian cocked an eyebrow. “If you heard all of that, you must have been standing there a very long time,” he said, bordering on scolding. “You really should have interrupted me and told me you were standing there. My wife and I were having a private conversation that you were not intended to hear.”
Henry looked very guilty, glancing at Gisella and seeing the anxiety on her face. He didn’t want either one of them mad at him but he was seriously interested in the subject they had been discussing.
“Sir Bastian,” he said, returning his focus to the man. “You said that the Maid believed the saints talked to her and I believe it, too. I have thought much about her lately and I think she wassomething holy on earth. When you go to Winchester to bury her heart, will you take me with you? I think she was close to God and it is my wish to be close to God, too.”
Bastian gazed steady at the child, so innocent in his love of God in the face of so much corruption and confusion within the world in general. After a moment, he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Henry,” he said softly, foregoing the formal protocol title. “You must understand something very clearly– no one knows I have it. It is a great secret because if men like Gloucester or Bedford or even Beaufort found out, they would put me in jail. They would probably kill me. Do you know why?”
Henry’s eyes were big, terrified at what he was being told yet knowing it to be true. His uncles had killed the Maid, after all– it would not be a stretch for them to kill Bastian, too, if it suited their purpose. He may have been young but he understood the greed of men.
“Because… because they would think you would betray them,” he said with more intuition than any nine-year-old boy should have. “They would think you have betrayed me by carrying the heart of my enemy.”
Bastian nodded slowly. “What you heard between Gisella and me was a private conversation,” he reiterated quietly. “You heard information that no one else knows. If they find out, as I said, I would be in a great deal of trouble and it is trouble you could not help me with. They would put me in the Tower, or worse, and there would be nothing you could do about it even if you are the king. Therefore, you must tell no one what you know. Is that clear?”
Henry nodded seriously. “I will not tell them if you let me go with you to bury her heart.”
Bastian’s eyebrows lifted at a clear threat, only Henry didn’t see it that way. He more than likely saw it as a bargain, as he’dundoubtedly heard thousands of bargains from men around him throughout his young life. Bargain or not, Bastian could see how badly the boy wanted to go. He sighed faintly.
“It is out of the question,” he said. “You cannot go.”
Henry appeared stricken. “But why?” he asked. “Please, Sir Bastian, you must take me. I must go with you.”
Bastian shook his head. “It is madness, Your Grace,” he said. “I cannot remove you from London, first of all, without permission from Gloucester. He would want to know where we were going. He would want to send along a guard.”
Henry shook his head furiously, grabbing hold of Bastian’s arm. “You would not have to tell him the truth,” he insisted, then appeared dismayed that he had suggested subversion. Still, he didn’t back down. “Tell him you are taking me somewhere else. You once wanted to take me to your castle of Etonbury, didn’t you? I remember the name. We can tell him that you are taking me to Etonbury.”
Bastian simply didn’t understand why Henry thought it so imperative to accompany him to Winchester. In fact, he seemed almost frantic about it.
“Why is it so important to you?” he asked softly.
Henry nodded without hesitation and his expression took on a pensive cast. “Mayhap… mayhap if you let me help you bury her heart, God will forgive me for killing her,” he said quietly. “My armies in France are there for me, to keep my properties. Men like you. You kill in my name. My uncles have killed in my name so I am afraid that God will think I killed her. I suppose I really did.”
It was an extraordinarily mature way to look at the situation, something that touched Bastian deeply.I wonder if he even has a free will?That question kept rolling over in his mind, a question Gisella had once asked him. It would seem the boy was growing up before their eyes, a new found maturity that camewith the confidence others placed in him. Being with people who respected him and did not try to control him, accomplished that in some small way. In fact, Bastian turned to his wife to see what her reaction was to all of this.
Surprisingly, Gisella didn’t appear as panicked as she had earlier when she realized Henry had been listening in on their conversation. She met Bastian’s gaze, suspecting he was looking for her opinion on the matter.
“Mayhap it would ease his mind,” she suggested quietly. “It seems very important to him.”
Bastian’s gaze was soft on her. “Mayhap it would ease yours, too,” he said. “Will you come? My father would chastise me for taking you along, but… but mayhap it is important to you, too. We can bury it together and be done with it. Burying the past, so to speak, because I do not want my past clouding our future together.”
His statement had a double meaning. Not only would he be completing the task asked of him by the Maid, but he would be proving to his wife that the Maid hadonlybeen a task and nothing more. It was important for them both, in many ways. Where the heart of the Maid had once threatened to tear them apart, burying it would unite them more deeply than ever before. It was a hope he had.You shall be rewarded, the Maid had told him. He hadn’t realized until now that her statement could mean many different things. Perhaps his greatest reward would be a bond with Gisella, stronger than ever.
“Bas,” Wellesbourne was suddenly in the doorway, breaking them from their conversation. When three pairs of eyes turned to him, Andrew focused on Bastian. “The carriage is ready. We are prepared to depart.”
Bastian nodded in acknowledgement, extending a hand to his wife and helping her from the chair. The subject was closed, at least for the time being. But Gisella was weak, and exhausted,and she clung to his arm as he walked her and Henry from the room. Bastian could feel how heavily she was leaning against him and it concerned him.
“What is wrong?” he asked softly as they made their way to the door. “Why are you so weak?”
Gisella shrugged. “I have not eaten much lately, I suppose,” she said. “Nor have I slept. But I will be all right. Do not fret.”
Bastian frowned. “Sparrow is bringing food in the carriage,” he said. “I will make sure she knows that you are to eat something.”
“I will make sure she eats something,” Henry said. He was hearing every word spoken. “I am riding in the carriage, too. I will give her food.”
Bastian looked at the boy with a mock frown. “Can I not have a private conversation with my wife without your interference, Your Grace?”
Henry grinned, looking between Gisella’s pale, smiling face and Bastian’s bad attempt at a scowl. “Nay,” he said. “I am the king. I must know everything.”
