Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (24 page)

As Collins and a few house servants brought trays of food into the reception room and set it upon that beautiful, big table with the pewter candlesticks, Bastian remained silent with regards to the subject of the Maid. He wasn’t about to say anything in front of the servants, even trusted de Russe servants, so he kept his mouth shut on the matter and neither Brant nor Martin pressed him. Lucas and Gannon eventually joined them in the reception room and the focus shifted to the nooning meal.

There was a huge amount of edibles presented and Gisella was impressed with the culinary talents of Braidwood’s cook because she saw many things that she’d seen on Lady Gloucester’s table, or at least variations of it. There were little doughy cakes filled with almond paste, baked in honey and wine, as well as a very large knuckle of beef with a good deal of meat on it. More pastries lined the table including boiled figs slathered in honey and small, hard cakes also basted in butter and honey. There were cheese tarts, beans and onions, and big hunks of yellow bread with a thick, brown crust.

All things considered, it was a great feast and Gisella and Sparrow sat at the table with Gannon and Lucas, the women eating from the same trencher, as Bastian and his cousins ate standing up, food in hand, speaking on mostly family-related matters. Gisella wasn’t paying much attention to Bastian because at this particular moment, Gannon and Sparrow had her attention.

Sparrow was clearly enamored with Gannon and kept glancing at him, but her brother was being stubborn and refused to look at the woman. It was an odd stand-off with Gannon clearly uncomfortable and Sparrow being about as obvious as she could possibly be. As Bastian and his cousins got into a heated discussion over something that had to do with Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, Gisella fixed on her brother.

“Gannon,” she said, picking at the cheese tart. “Are you planning on going back to France soon or will you be remaining in London with Bastian?”

Gannon looked up from his beef. “I am assigned to Bastian, so where he goes, I go,” he said, looking back to his meal. “But I have had enough of France, to be truthful. I think we all have.”

Gisella watched him pull apart a big, fatty piece of meat. “Has it been terrible, then?” she asked.

He shrugged, shoving a piece of stringy meat into his mouth. “I have spent far too much time there,” he said. “I have been fighting in France since the Battle of Vernueil almost seven years ago. It feels like a lifetime.”

Gisella wasn’t unsympathetic. “What will you do now that you are home and have no more wars to fight?”

Gannon shrugged, watching Lucas as the man finished his meal and excused himself from the table. As de Lara quit the hall, Gannon returned his attention to his sister.

“Talk of remaining in England upsets Lucas,” he said quietly. “He has a woman he is in love with in Rouen. He wants to marry her and it is upsetting to him not knowing how long it will be before we return.”

Gisella’s expression was one of regret. “Mayhap he can go back very soon and marry her,” she said. “Is there a reason why he must be here with Bastian?”

Gannon thought on that. “He is Bastian’s cousin and where Bastian goes, he goes.”

Gisella’s brow furrowed. “But if he is Bastian’s cousin, why is he not in conversation with Bastian and his other cousins?” she wanted to know. “Aren’t they all related?”

Gannon shook his head. “Lucas is Bastian’s cousin on his mother’s side, the de Lara side,” he said. “Moreover, Lucas and Martin cannot stand one another so it is best to keep them separated.”

Both Gisella and Sparrow looked over to Martin, several feet away as he huddled with Bastian near the hearth. “He
does
seem rather obnoxious,” Gisella admitted. “He and Bastian were fighting earlier.”

Gannon swallowed the remainder of his food and drained his cup of wine. “That is to be expected,” he said, belching after his meal. “No one likes Martin. The man is insufferable and crass, but he is a very good knight. We tolerate him for Bastian’s sake.”

With that, he excused himself from the table and followed Lucas’ path out of the room. Gisella and Sparrow watched him leave. When he was gone, Sparrow sighed.

“Your brother is going to be a more difficult conquest than I thought,” she said. “We spent the day together yesterday but only because your husband ordered him to remain with me. There were moments when he would warm to me but just as quickly, he would pretend to be disinterested. I can tell that he is going to be a great challenge.”

Gisella turned to look at her. “I have been anxious to ask you about the events of yesterday while I slept,” she said softly. “But I did not want to ask in front of others. So my brother is being difficult, is he? I have it on good authority that it is not because he is in love with someone else. He is simply being stubborn.”

Sparrow grinned. “I like stubborn,” she said. “I will have him eating out of my hand in a week or less.”

Gisella giggled. “I do not think so,” she said. “He is quite resistant.”

Sparrow shook her head. “It does not matter,” she said confidently. “I will lay siege against his walls and emerge the victor. You will see, Gigi.”

Gisella continued laughing, eating the last of her cheese tart. “I hope you prove me wrong.”

Sparrow leaned forward, taking one of Gisella’s hands and squeezing it. “Speaking of conquest,” she whispered, “how has it been with Sir Bastian? Have you two...?”

Gisella shook her head quickly, eyeing Bastian several feet away. She knew what her friend meant simply by her tone.

“Nay,” she murmured. “We have not consummated the marriage yet if that is what you were going to ask. There has not been the opportunity.”

Sparrow was also looking at Bastian, his fine figure several feet away. “But there is always tonight,” she whispered. “Don’t you want to... well, know what it is like? Remember how Silly Lily would speak of her adventures with some of Gloucester’s knights? She would speak of a man’s touch and how it caused her to tremble. Don’t you want to know what she meant?”

Gisella tore her eyes from Bastian, looking back to Sparrow. “I do,” she admitted. “But it is a frightening thought.”

“Why?”

“Because there is pain,” she mumbled. “Silly Lily said there was a good deal of pain.”

Sparrow frowned. “Pah,” she spat softly. “Silly Lily also said that men smell like compost heaps and that their genitals are slimy, like a fish. She is full of lies and misinformation.”

That was true. Gisella knew that their foolish friend back at Bella Court was full of more fiction than truth. “You are correct,” she said, sighing. “I suppose I have nothing to fear.”

Sparrow shook her head. “Nay, you do not,” she said. “Sir Bastian seems to be quite attentive to you since your arrival at West Court. I am sure he will be kind to you in his husbandly duties as well.”

Gisella didn’t reply. She was thinking on the event itself, feeling nervous at the mere thought. Bastian was so large and so powerful that she felt lightheaded at the thought of him touching her as a husband touches a wife. As she sipped at her wine, mulling over that eventuality, Bastian broke away from his cousins and startled her with a touch to her shoulder. Nearly choking on her wine, she coughed heavily as Sparrow and Bastian patted her on the back to keep her from strangling on inhaled wine.

“I am sorry,” Bastian said as Gisella calmed herself. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Gisella smiled weakly at him, wiping her mouth with a linen towel. “It was clumsy of me, I suppose.”

He smiled down at her, a genuine smile. The gestures, since yesterday, had been quite frequent and in most cases quite warm. Gisella could feel that giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach again, a sensation she was quickly coming to associate with Bastian.

“We should go see to Henry now rather than later,” he said. “I suspect he will want us to remain at the Tower, at least for the evening meal, so you may want to change your dress. We will be at the king’s table, after all.”

Gisella nodded eagerly. “I would like to change into something more appropriate,” she agreed, rising from her chair. “Where have my cases been taken?”

Bastian held out his hand. “I will take you,” he said, helping her away from the table. As he and Gisella began heading for the entry hall and the staircase beyond, Bastian turned to his cousins. “Take Lady Sparrow in hand, if you will. She is a fine woman from Lady Gloucester’s court and, I am sure, well-educated on games and other things. Keep her entertained until we return.”

Brant wasn’t too interested in the directive but Martin was. The last Gisella saw Sparrow, Martin was closing in on her with a rather lustful smile on his face. As Gisella and Bastian began to mount the stairs, they heard a sharp slap and Brant’s low laughter. Gisella looked at Bastian in alarm, but he merely shook his head.

“Not to worry,” he said quietly. “Now Martin knows what he cannot get away with.”

Gisella’s eyes widened in outrage. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Why did you leave her in his care if you knew he would be inappropriate with her?”

Bastian patted her hand calmly. “Trust me,” he said. “It is not as bad as all that. The most Martin would do is pinch her cheek or tell her she was a delectable piece of meat. If he said that to you, what would you do?”

Gisella calmed somewhat. “Slap him, I suppose.”

Bastian’s lips were twitching with a grin. “Which is what Lady Sparrow did,” he said as they neared the top of the stairs. “Your friend is quite safe, I assure you. She has established the rules now and Martin will follow.”

Gisella hoped that was the case, at least for Martin’s sake. If rightly offended, Sparrow wouldn’t stop at a slap and Martin would be risking his future ability to have children. The woman had never been afraid to defend herself.

The thought made Gisella grin.

Tower of London

Henry the Sixth of England was a boy of nine years of age, to be ten years of age in December, and Gisella decided within the first few moments of seeing the young king that her sense of pity for the boy was not an overreaction. It simply confirmed what she had observed before on the two instances when she had been in the same hall with him. The young king was controlled like a puppet. He had a retinue of advisors hanging around him, including the two severe women she had seen before. They hovered over the king, handing him things if he pointed to them, making sure he had a pillow behind his back, making sure his feet were on cushioned rests. She was sure they did everything but breathe for the lad. To her, he appeared smothered and there was something in his dark eyes that suggested misery.

They met Henry not in the White Tower but in the St. Thomas Tower, in the young king’s chamber that looked as if an old man lived there. Nothing in the room suggested that a boy of nine years of age resided within those walls. There were crosses and at least two Bibles that she could see on the table, rare and precious books. She had heard rumor that the young king was quite religious and the ambiance of the chamber did nothing to dispel those rumors. It seemed like a holy, humorless place, steeped in the traditions of kings long past.

So she stood back while Bastian spoke mostly to the king’s advisors, men who were well aware of Bastian’s role in the king’s court. Although the major players were not present – men like Bedford, Gloucester, or de Beauchamp, the Earl of Warwick, standing among the physicians and servants of the body was Sir Thomas de la Pole, younger brother of the Earl of Suffolk. He was young and ambitious, and wielded his brother’s influence like a mallet.

Everyone knew who he was, including Gisella. He had attended several of Lady Gloucester’s events and rumors about the man and his shady dealings flew fast and furious in the gossip circles. Given that he wanted power, and enjoyed using his brother’s authority, he had regarded Bastian with suspicion since the moment the man had entered the room. In fact, he was unhappy about his presence and didn’t care who knew it, including Bastian.

It therefore made for an uncomfortable situation as he eyed Bastian, and Gisella to a certain extent, and whispered to those around him, those who listened because they had to, because he was Suffolk’s brother. Bastian ignored him completely but Gisella didn’t. She knew the man had the tongue of a viper. By whispering about Bastian, the young lord had evidently hoped Bastian would notice him, but he did not. Finally, the younger brother of Suffolk would no longer remain in the background.

“Sir Bastian,” he said, addressing Bastian after the man had finished a brief conversation with the young king’s personal physician. “You have been fighting in France for many years. Surely you are uncomfortable and unaccustomed to being relegated to a personal protector. Surely this must distress an honored knight such as yourself.”

Bastian looked at the young lord. Already, he didn’t like him. He’d been quite aware that the young man was whispering about him but he didn’t care in the least. Bastian had no real use for the Earl of Suffolk and he could see that the man’s brother wasn’t much different.

“I am honored to serve the king,” he said simply.

Sir Thomas was expecting more of an answer than that. He lifted his dark eyebrows for emphasis. “Is that so?” he said, almost mockingly. It was clear that there was a good deal on his mind. “May I speak freely, Sir Bastian?”

Bastian’s eyes narrowed. “You may not.”

His voice was low and threatening, meant as a warning, and every man in the room but Thomas took it as such. As Bastian turned his attention towards the young king to address him, Thomas spoke again, more loudly this time.

“Forgive me, but on behalf of the king and his safety, I must speak,” he said. “We have all heard the regular reports from France, and Rouen, and many of these reports involved you specifically. We have all heard about your fascination with the Maid and I beg you to clarify these rumors. If you are to be so close to our king, then it is imperative that we all understand the truth behind these reports so that we may understand the character of the King’s Protector.”

Bastian looked at the young lord, his jaw flexing dangerously. The very subject that had been kept quiet, or spoken of in hushed tones, was now being laid bare for all to scrutinize by the brash young lord who had no sense of tact. Obviously, the young man had no fear of Bastian in a room full of advisors, but that was his mistake. Bastian had no qualms about moving against Suffolk’s brother should it be necessary. He would not submit to this idiotic young lord, not now, not ever.

“Gloucester and Bedford trust me,” he rumbled, “and that is good enough for you. You are in no position to judge as a foolish idiot who hides behind the shield of his brother.”

Thomas lost some of his confidence at the blatant slander. “We are all concerned for the king,” he pointed out. “If you do not dispel these rumors, what are we to think?”

Bastian didn’t even reply. He wasn’t going to waste his time. He turned back to the young king, who was watching the entire exchange with rather wide eyes. The lad appeared frightened. Bastian held out a hand to the boy.

“Your Grace,” he said politely. “Would you please attend me? We have a few items to speak of without the presence of your retainers.”

Young Henry wanted to go with him. That much was evident. He knew of Sir Bastian de Russe, the man called Beast, and knew he was the greatest knight in all the land. He admired that greatly. But he was timid, and uncertain, thanks to the fact that he was never allowed to make a decision on his own, so he looked to his two severe-looking nurses for approval. The women, however, appeared indecisive in their own right, eyeing Bastian suspiciously, so it was the personal physician who finally told the young king that he could go with de Russe. As the young king rose stiffly to his feet, Thomas spoke again.

“Why can’t you speak to the king where we can all hear what you will tell him?” he wanted to know. “If you do not dispute these rumors about the Maid, have you mayhap brought her poison here, now to deliver it to the very king you have been sworn to protect?”

Bastian wanted to respond, he truly did, but he kept his mouth shut. It was better that way, as he would not dignify de la Pole’s remarks. Without a word, he quit the chamber, escorting his young ward out into the corridor beyond. When the old nurses tried to follow, the physician called them off. This caused a great panic for the nurses but the physician assured them the boy was safe with de Russe. For the young king to be without his retinue was an uneasy concept, indeed.

The moment the door shut, Gisella turned in de la Pole’s direction. She made her way to the man, casually, but there was pure venom in her intentions. No man was going to speak to Bastian so disrespectfully and get away with it. Besides, she was not beyond playing hard politics when the situation called for it. She was going to put de la Pole into a hole and keep him there.

“I have been introduced as Lady de Russe, but do you know who I am, Sir Thomas?” she asked, pretending to be polite. “Do you recall meeting me at Bella Court?”

Thomas was frustrated that he’d been unable to engage de Russe in a confrontation and turned to Gisella prepared to vent that frustration on her.

“Nay,” he said flatly. “I do not remember you and I do not care.”

Gisella smiled thinly. “That is unfortunate,” she said, “because I remember you. I also remembering hearing a few less than flattering rumors about you as well. If you show such disrespect to my husband again, I may be forced to tell him what I have heard about you and a certain golden salt cellar that turned up missing from Lady Gloucester’s collection. Several people said they saw you smuggle it out of Bella Court after the duchess’ summer festival last month and there is further rumor that you sold it to pay for your habit of the young boys that you purchase on Watling Street. Do not look so shocked. Did you think no one knew about you and your penchant for abusing children? Odd how none of these advisors know of it when you are so close to the king. Rumors can end your ambitions, my lord. Beware you do not offend the wrong people.”

There was no mistaking her meaning. Thomas stared at her, a startled expression on his face. He had no idea what to say to her or how to deny the rumors that were, in fact, total truth, only no one ever spoke of them. No one would dare approach him with these tales, but de Russe’s wife had no fear about it whatsoever. His mouth worked, spittle on his lips.

“You are
mad
,” he hissed. “You have dredged up these lies against me!”

Gisella was quite cool. In fact, she was rather enjoying his upset. “Then you will not mind if I announce the rumors to all of these people,” she said calmly. “I will tell them everything I have heard, from Lady Gloucester no less, and I do believe that her word will supersede any excuses you can give. True or not, it will cast tremendous doubt upon you and your days of political maneuvering will be over.”

Thomas was so angry that he was twitching. “Who do you think you are?” he snarled through clenched teeth. “A lowly wife to a lowly knight!”

“My grandfather was Henry of Bolingbroke,” she fired back with some restraint. “I am of royal blood, you foolish swine. Gloucester and Bedford are my uncles. If you are going to sling insults, sling them where you will have more accuracy.”

Now, the veins on Thomas’s face were starting to bulge. He knew he had to be very careful with this woman and dare not insult her any more than he already had if she was indeed related to the king. He was on uncertain ground and he hated it. He hated not being in control, especially with a woman.

“I will not confess the truth to any rumors if that is your intention,” he finally spat.

Gisella’s manner hardened. “My intention is for you to leave my husband alone,” she said. “Any more words from you to him, or about him, and I will quash you like a bug. Is that, in any way, unclear?”

Thomas didn’t reply. He simply glared at her with enough hatred to fill a moat. But it was enough for Gisella. Leaving the young lord white-faced with shock and trembling with fury, she turned away and returned to her position over near the lancet windows where she had been originally standing. She made eye contact with Thomas once more, only to offer him a smug smile, before turning her attention elsewhere.

Aye, she’d heard about Thomas de la Pole. And Bastian would, too.

It was cool in the corridor outside the king’s chamber in the St. Thomas Tower as Bastian and the young monarch made their way down the narrow stairs that dumped them out into the outer ward of the Tower of London. The Wakefield Tower was directly in front of them, a massive stone cylinder that reached for the sky. They were next to the river and a cool breeze blew in off the water, making the humidity of the weather more bearable.

Bastian waited for the young king to take the lead and go in the direction he wanted to go but the child stood there, looking at him. It was clear he was waiting for someone to tell him where to go, so Bastian began to walk, heading towards the Develin Tower towards the east. The young king followed.

“May I speak, Your Grace?” Bastian asked.

The boy nodded his head, but he was looking around rather curiously. He almost tripped over his feet twice because his attention was on other things. Bastian couldn’t help but notice the great interest in his surroundings.

“Are you looking for someone or something, Your Grace?” he asked. “Can I help you locate whatever it is you seek?”

The boy shook his head, then looked to Bastian with a rather confused expression. “I do not go out without my nurses or my guards,” he said. “They are so tall that I do not get to see much. They are always crowded around me.”

Bastian came to a halt, remembering what Gisella had told him once.
I wonder if he even has a free will?
Bastian knew the young monarch was closely guarded, his every move dictated, but he’d never really seen it for himself. Now, he was starting to understand what she had meant. The seeds of pity sprouted.

“Come with me,” he said softly.

Henry did. Bastian took the boy into the Cradle Tower, which was off to their right, and passing by the guards that were on the ground level, he took him to the upper floor where there was a big room with a window that overlooked the river. The breeze was steady now, blowing through the young king’s reddish-brown curls, and the boy was riveted to the river before him and the city beyond. Bastian leaned on the windowsill next to him, watching the awe in the boy’s expression, the naked emotions of a young man with the weight of a country on his slender shoulders. A weight that had been thrust upon him too soon.