Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (6 page)

The second knight came off the ramp, steering his charger clear of le Bec’s because the horses didn’t like one another. Tall, fair, and leanly muscular at the young age of twenty years and three, Sir Lucas de Lara recognized his cousin’s uncle. Bastian had three uncles on his father’s side and Lucas knew all of them; Aramis, Trenton, and Hugh. He liked Aramis the least and Worthington even less in spite of the fact they had fostered together. Aramis was ruthless and politically ambitious and Worthington was the same. They wouldn’t have pissed on their own mother to put out a fire if, in leaving her burning, it would have furthered their own agendas. Therefore, Lucas flipped up his visor and acknowledged the men coolly.

“My lords,” he said crisply, his focus immediately turning to Bastian. “The men are gathered, my lord. Where would you have us move them?”

Bastian pointed north. “Take them out of the city to Holborn and then head east on the old Oxford Road. When you reach the Tottenham Road, which will lead north in to Bedfordshire, camp at the crossroads for the night and then continue north to Etonbury Castle. I shall catch up with you in a day or two.”

De Lara nodded smartly, although there was curiosity in his expression. “Where will you go, Bastian?” he asked quietly. He had permission to address his cousin informally. “Your father sent word that he is in London. Will you go see Uncle Braxton?”

Bastian shook his head, trying to turn away so that Aramis and Worthington wouldn’t hear what he had to say. He didn’t want them repeating anything.

“Not right away,” he grunted quietly. “I am sure that is why Uncle Aramis and Worth are here, to take me to my father, but I have been instructed to see Gloucester first before I do anything else, so I will be heading to Greenwich to see Humphrey before I do anything else.”

De Lara kept a straight face because he knew Aramis and Worthington were watching him. “To the new Bella Court?” he asked, muffled. “I hear that God himself is jealous of the place.”

Bastian lifted his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “An icon of prideful luxury for his wife, I am sure,” he muttered. “She has always had a massive entourage. He had to have somewhere to contain it. I am sure a greater lair of depravity and corruption has never existed.”

De Lara struggled not to grin. “And you are about to head into the belly of the beast,” he said. “I am quite curious to see it myself. Shall le Bec and I ride escort?”

Bastian shook his head. “Nay,” he said flatly. “You two are in charge of the men. I will catch up to you once I’ve seen Gloucester.”

De Lara wouldn’t be so easily put off. “Isn’t le Bec’s sister at Bella Court?” he asked. “She’s part of the Duchess of Gloucester’s court, you know, and Gannon has mentioned his desire to visit his sister. He hasn’t seen her in two years. Why not let us come with you? Besides, I want to wallow in wickedness and decadence, too. Why should you have all the fun?”

Bastian looked at his cousin, displeasure on his features. “There is no reason for you to go.”

“But I want to meet your new wife.”

Bastian couldn’t help the expression of extreme distaste now rampant on his features. “I am going to see Gloucester so that he can introduce me to my betrothed,” he said impatiently. “I do not plan to marry her this night, so why must you come to witness my displeasure as I am introduced to the woman? It is not her fault I am not happy with this marriage and if, on the off-chance I manage to offend her, I do not want le Bec there for obvious reasons. If I say something wrong, I do not want her running to her brother so that he comes to punish me for upsetting his sister. This is a very delicate situation, Luc. You will not treat it so casually.”

De Lara did grin, then. “You know Gannon would not challenge you in any case,” he said. “He knows you well enough to know that you would not consciously insult the woman, but he has made mention of wanting to see her. We can have the senior sergeants take the men north. Let Gan and I ride with you to Bella Court. You may have need of us.”

Bastian sighed with frustration, mostly because he didn’t want to argue with Lucas any longer. He was too exhausted to particularly care, to be truthful, so he would let his knights come along simply to shut the man up. He also suspected that Lucas wanted to see the women of the duchess’ court, as he had a discerning eye for women in general. Whatever the case, he was not entirely opposed to letting his knights come along. He waved Lucas off as he turned back towards Aramis and Worthington.

“Then secure my horse and my possessions while I finish speaking with my uncle,” he said. “And make sure the men understand what is expected of them. Provide the sergeants with enough coinage to procure enough meat for tonight. I would see the men well fed after such a long journey.”

Lucas was off to carry out his orders as Bastian returned his focus to Aramis and Worthington, who were watching him most curiously. He struggled not to come across as impatient with them.

“Although I am very grateful that you both have come to welcome me home,” he said, “you will understand when I say I have much to attend to. Mayhap you will come visit me at Etonbury soon.”

Aramis would not easily be put off. “Surely you will rest tonight, Bastian,” he said. “Your father is expecting you. It is he who has sent us to bring you home.”

He confirmed what Bastian already knew. “I cannot tonight,” he said. “Gloucester has summoned me and he will have my head if I do not see him before I see anyone else. You know this. Return to my father and tell him that I will try and see him tomorrow morning before I head up to Etonbury. Is he at West Court Manor?”

Aramis nodded. “He is,” he replied. “We are all there. Come and see Braxton before you go, Bastian. You know that your father has not been well.”

That seemed to slow Bastian down somewhat. He nodded, with some regret. “I do,” he replied. “My sisters have sent me missives detailing his health as of late. His heart, isn’t it?”

Aramis confirmed it. “The physic says he is growing steadily weaker,” he said. “I do not relish outliving my younger brother, Bastian, but your father has not been at all well since losing your mother. It took something out of the man to watch his wife die of a cancer.”

Bastian remembered his mother, Lady Aderyn de Lara de Russe, a fine and intelligent woman with a very funny sense of humor. She had been his source of wisdom, and of strength, just as she had been those things to the rest of the family. Bastian was the eldest child with two younger sisters and another brother who had died in infancy, and the family had been very close knit until Aderyn’s death. Like an explosion, her passing had scattered them to the wind with nothing left to hold them together. Bastian missed those days of familial closeness. Therefore, he reconsidered the priority to visit his father.

“Tell my father I will see him before I head north,” he said after a moment. “It will more than likely be tomorrow sometime and I cannot stay for long, but I will come and see him. You will tell him that.”

Aramis nodded, satisfied. “I will,” he replied. “Are you off to see Gloucester now?”

Bastian nodded, slapping his uncle on the shoulder and nearly sending the man crashing into Worthington. “I am,” he said as he moved for his muzzled warhorse. “I will see you at West Court tomorrow, I swear it.”

As Aramis watched his big nephew move off, satisfied that he would again see the man, Worthington took a few steps after Bastian as if to follow him.

“Do you want company, Bas?” he asked. “I could ride with you. We have not seen each other in two years. Would you truly deny me the pleasure?”

Bastian didn’t want his cousin along but stopped short of insulting the man. “Not tonight,” he said. “I am weary and would make terrible conversation. We shall see each other tomorrow when I visit my father.”

He mounted his horse before Worthington could protest, spurring the charger onto the road that lined the docks, the avenue that led into the walled city of London. His knights mounted swiftly and followed him, all three of them disappearing into the darkness of night that was cloaking the city. The sounds of their horses’ hooves echoed off the streets, the structures, long after they had disappeared from view.

Aramis and Worthington stood there for few moments after Bastian had faded from their sight, their attention turning to the hundreds of men that Bastian’s sergeants were now starting to move. The shouts of men reverberated all around as the weary army, so very weary from years of war, began to move like a great tide of men. Worthington finally turned to his father.

“You did not tell him of the threat Uncle Braxton received,” he said. Then, he shook his head with great regret. “If you had told him, he would have ridden straight to West Court.”

Aramid nodded faintly. “I know,” he said. “But Bastian is exhausted. Could you not see that? Any mention of threats against him, threats that his father has been receiving no less, will not help his state. Let him settle his business with Gloucester first. When he sees Braxton tomorrow, he will know the extent of what has been happening.”

Worthington’s jaw flexed. “Supporters of the Maid have threatened him for his role in her demise,” he said quietly. “The Armagnacs threaten him because he did not save her from the flame.”

“We do not know it was the Armagnacs for certain.”

“It could only be them. Uncle Braxton said so.”

Aramis suddenly looked very old and very weary himself. As the head of the House of de Russe, he assumed all family burdens, even if they weren’t directed at him. The latest threats against the Beast, the greatest knight England had ever seen, were almost too much for him to take. But in that sorrow lingered a more realistic thought.

“I am sure he already knows of the threats against him by the Armagnacs,” he muttered. “What he does not know is that they have threatened Braxton as well. Certainly, Bastian must know. Braxton’s heart is too weak to take such a strain.”

Worthington simply nodded, thinking on his hulking, infamous cousin and the life the man led. Surely, he would not have traded places with him. Not for anything.

Silently, Aramis and Worthington left the dark and smelly shoreline where the boats bobbed gently in the night tide, finding their way back to their steeds and looking forward to a warm bed and a good night’s sleep but wondering all along if they were about to see the Beast unleashed against the threats against him. Aramis wondered, too, if battle and warfare weren’t in his own future. Old as he was, if Bastian called upon him, he knew he would go.

He would fight the threats against the Beast. De Russe family honor would dictate it. Suddenly, the future, to Aramis, wasn’t so clear.