Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (42 page)

Gisella put her soft hands on his cheeks, watching him as he kissed her fingers, her palms. “I am so sorry for your father,” she whispered. “He was a lovely man. I am so glad that I was able to know him in the short time we had.”

More tears ran from his eyes and Gisella wiped them away tenderly. “I miss him already,” he said hoarsely, relishing her gentle touch. “But I am very glad he was able to know you. That means the world to me.”

Gisella struggled to stop her tears, wiping his face of tears more than she was wiping away her own.

“He was very proud of you,” she said softly. “He loved you a great deal. But I take comfort in something Sparrow said at his passing – she said that she cannot be sad for a man who is now happy with his wife in the afterlife. That is how I am trying to look at it.”

Bastian nodded. “He has missed her all these years, very much,” he said as she dried the last of his tears. “I missed her, too, but I never understood the depths of his longing until I married you. Now, I understand completely and I am very happy they are together again for I know, most certainly, that I would not want to live without you.”

Gisella smiled bravely and he cupped her face, kissing her tenderly. It was the best kiss he had ever known, something that meant more to him than any similar gesture he had ever experienced. Gazing into her lovely, tired eyes, he felt better than he had in days. He felt fortified again, drawing strength from her. All was right in his world again.

“We must bury my father today,” he said softly. “Then we shall discuss making a journey to Winchester to bury the Maid’s heart. The sooner I bury it, the better for us all. I do not want anyone else trying to come after it, or me. My father’s death is too high a price to pay for this relic. It is time to be done with it.”

“Sir Bastian?”

The voice came from the doorway to the reception room and they both turned to see Henry standing there. Bastian felt a bolt of shock roll through him at the sight of the king. He thought that he and Gisella had been quite alone but now he realized they’d had an audience. Much had been said between them that a curious young king could hear, which worried him. Stiffly, he rose.

“I thought you were helping Lady Sparrow in the kitchen, Your Grace,” he said, hoping his tone didn’t reflect the displeasure he felt.

Henry’s eyes were big on him as he stepped hesitantly into the room. “I… I was helping her,” he said. “But she said to find a servant so that we could have a blanket, but… but I found you instead.”

“Indeed you have.”

Henry kept coming, walking towards Bastian with an expression between apprehension and interest on his face. He finally came to a halt next to Bastian, gazing up into the man’s eyes. It was obvious that there was much on his young mind. He timidly pointed to the doorway he had just come from and then pointed to Gisella.

“I heard what you said,” he said. “I did not mean to listen, but I did not want to interrupt you so I heard what you said. Is it true you have the heart of the Maid and that she asked you to bury it at Winchester Cathedral?”

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 was something 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’d undoubtedly 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 came with 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 had
only
been 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.”

Bastian’s scowl grew. “You shall know my hand to your backside if you do not stop listening to personal conversations.”

Henry laughed and skipped away, down the front steps where the carriage waited to take them to the ferry. Gisella and Bastian followed, with Bastian carefully escorting his wife to the carriage and helping her into the cab. He made sure she had a piece of bread in her hand before he went off to find his horse.

The white stallion was at the head of the procession along with Aramis and Gloucester. Bastian mounted the horse, unaware that Gloucester was scrutinizing both him and the animal. Gloucester recognized the beast. In fact, he had given it to Gisella a few weeks ago as a token of his admiration for her.

Now, Bastian was riding it. Gloucester wasn’t sure if Gisella had told Bastian about the unnerving attention he’d showed towards her and he didn’t want to ask. Still, he was quite incensed to see that Bastian was riding a very expensive horse, and one that he had paid dearly for. As Bastian gathered his reins, Gloucester rode his steed alongside.

“Beautiful horse, Bastian,” Gloucester said, trying very hard to be casual about it. “Wherever did you get it?”

Bastian knew very well what Gloucester was referring to. He had expected the man to comment about the horse sooner or later and he had his response well planned. It would be one of those moments he wished he could tell his father about because he knew the man would have had a great belly laugh over it.

“My wife gave it to me as a wedding gift,” he said evenly. “He is quite the magnificent beast but my wife had no use for it. I think some pompous nobleman gave it to her – you know the type – like alley cats looking for the next female cat to mount. Those men are always the worst fools, giving expensive gifts to women who would rather commit themselves to a nunnery than allow the man close to them. But his loss is my gain. Mayhap someday I shall meet this fool and thank him for my lovely horse.”

With that, Bastian lifted his arm and the column began to move, heading towards the great open gates of Braidwood’s courtyard. As Bastian spurred the white stallion forward, he didn’t dare look at Gloucester for fear of bursting into giggles because he had no doubt the man was red-faced and furious behind him. He’d gotten the better of Gloucester and the man couldn’t do a thing about it.

Somewhere above him, he swore he could hear his father’s laughter.