Page 402 of Historical Hotties
Gisella’s weary smile turned genuine. “As am I,” she said. “I hope to see you very soon.”
Elizabetta squeezed her hands, letting go as her brother took both his wife and the young king upstairs. Indeed, it had been an eventful and exhausting day for all.
It was quiet and somewhat dark upstairs. The broken doors and window frames had been mostly repaired by the local carpenters while the family had been attending Braxton’s funeral. The smell of fresh wood from the carpenter’s repairs was heavy in the air. Bastian took Henry into the chamber that had been occupied by Braxton, one that had been considerably cleaned up when they had been away for the mass.
The mattress was new, stuffed with straw and great rolls of soft, spongy wool, and new linens made up the bed. As Bastian blew out one of the two banks of tapers in the room, Henry stood in the doorway, next to Gisella. He gazed at the room with a mixture of sorrow and apprehension.
“Is… is this where Sir Braxton died?” he asked Gisella.
She nodded sadly. “Aye,” she replied. “He went to sleep and never woke up.”
Henry looked at her. “He will not mind if I sleep in his bed, will he?”
Bastian answered. “He would be happy and grateful for you to sleep in his bed,” he replied. “You need not fear. Do you remember sleeping here a few nights ago? Gisella and I will be through the dressing room door should you need us.”
Henry nodded, eyeing the bed. Timidly, he pushed on the mattress, seeing that it was fresh and soft. He could smell the straw. Then, he turned to Bastian.
“When will we leave for Winchester?” he asked. “On the morrow?”
Bastian drew in a long, slow breath, one of reluctance. “Gisella and I will leave at dawn,” he said. “But Gloucester has denied you. You must return to the Tower with him.”
Henry features washed with panic. “But you said I could go!”
Bastian nodded patiently. “And if it was my decision alone, you could,” he replied. “But Gloucester overruled me. He does not want you to go.”
Henry was near tears. “Did you tell him we were going to Etonbury?”
“I did.”
“And he still denied me?”
“I am afraid he did.”
Henry was distraught. He plopped down on the bed, struggling not to cry. “But… but this is so important to me,” he said. “How can God know of my penitence if he does not see me help you bury the relic? He will think I do not care!”
Gisella went to sit next to the boy. “That is not true,” she said softly. “We will offer up prayers on behalf of the Maid and on behalf of you. We will explain to God why you could not come. He will understand.”
Henry looked at the woman, tears in his eyes. “But Ineedto do this,” he whispered. “My armies killed her. People who saythey serve me killed her. I did not tell them to kill her. I am sorry that they did and God must know that. The Maid must know that, too. I must have her forgiveness as well.”
Gisella put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “I promise that I will explain to God why you could not come,” she said. “I will tell him that you did not tell your men to kill her. Bastian knew her very well. Let us ask Bastian if he supposes the Maid would understand that you did not order your men to kill her.”
They both looked to Bastian, who was standing by the corner of the bed. When Gisella spoke those few words, he thought back to the woman he knew, that poor woman huddled in her cold and dank cell, unafraid of death because she knew her cause had been true. Poor Henry was young and so much of this kingdom that belonged to him was out of his control. He was a very religious boy, very pious, much as the Maid had been. Forgiveness was part of their beliefs.
“Do you want to hear of something that no one else knows?” he asked softly. “Not even my father knew of this.”
Henry nodded although Gisella wasn’t so sure. She had been dealt quite a few revelations over the past few days and her heart wasn’t as strong as it usually was, especially with her husband speaking on his relationship with another woman. Oblivious to her reservations, Bastian continued.
“The day before she was put to death, I asked the Maid if she wanted me to help her escape,” he said softly. “She had tried before, you know, but I had always captured her and brought her back. I realize now that I should have let her go, but I am sure she would have been captured again. It was inevitable. Do you know what she told me when I offered to help her escape?”
Both Henry and Gisella were listening quite eagerly. “What did she say?” Henry demanded.
Bastian sighed. “She told me that it was foolish,” he said quietly. “She told me that she was grateful for my offer but thatit was futile and that she was not afraid to die. She accepted her fate, you see, as God’s will. She was forgiving to me and to all else. Much like Christ, she was destined to die for her beliefs. You have asked me if I believe the Maid would forgive you for your role in her death and I can tell you without a doubt that she already has. She forgave you before you even asked.”
Henry didn’t know if he felt better or worse about that. “She was kind, wasn’t she?”
“She was very kind.”
Henry seemed to calm after that. He was still marginally distressed but not nearly what he had been. Now, he simply appeared sad. It was a lot to weigh on the mind of a nine-year-old boy.
