Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (45 page)

The Village of East Stratton

Four miles north of Winchester

Bastian was up, pulling on his boots, preparing to go downstairs and order some food for his wife. She was sleeping soundly now, just before dawn, and he was loathe to wake her, but they were so close to their destination that he was eager to reach it.

It had been two days of riding at a clipped pace, starting before dawn and ending well after dark. Bastian wanted to make it to Winchester within three days and Gisella, to her credit, hadn’t complained once. They’d ridden through sun and rain, and she had been strong and determined through it all. Bastian couldn’t have been prouder of her or more impressed. This woman he had married, this lovely woman he had fallen in love with, was stronger than he could have imagined.

He had tried to bring her comfort at night when they stopped, finding the best inn he could and securing the best room available. Gisella had been provided with a hot bath each night and an abundance of food and drink. The bath had been gratefully accepted, as had the food, but she had been so exhausted that she had literally fallen into bed with her clothes on twice.

Bastian had gently removed her shoes before wrapping her up in the coverlet and climbing into bed beside her. There hadn’t been the opportunity for intimacy during this trip, to express the plethora of emotions that were swamping them both, but he had not been troubled by it. They had the rest of their lives to know each other as husband and wife, again and again, and he was greatly anticipating what was to come.

On this third morning after leaving Braidwood, Bastian headed downstairs to the common room of the rather large inn on the edge of a village called East Stratton, not far from Winchester. There were people sleeping all around the room. It looked as if it were a room full of dolls, all cast aside in every possible position. Snoring filled the air as well as the occasional fart or cough. It was fairly dark but for the fire in the big, dirty hearth and the glow coming from the kitchen area to the rear of the structure.

Bastian headed into the kitchen area and found the innkeeper as he and his baker churned out loaves of cheaply made brown bread for the day. He ordered a meal brought up to his room so that he and Gisella could eat and quickly be gone, and as he was leaving the kitchen, the innkeeper and a serving wench were putting together a substantial morning meal of bread, cheese, and porridge. Now, his thoughts moved to the day ahead and of what was to come, of the task he must complete. His mind on other things, he headed for the stairs.

Near the staircase was a small table, leaning, and someone was sitting in the chair beside it, their upper body splayed out over the tabletop. It was dark and as Bastian passed by, he accidentally bumped the table. He didn’t give it much thought until the person’s head came up, startled, and he heard a sleepy groan. His boot was on the first step, preparing to go upstairs to his wife, but something made him stop. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something about that groan that sounded oddly familiar.

Bastian turned to peer closely at the person at the table, sitting in almost complete darkness, and he came off the stairs. Moving closer to the table, he strained to see who it was and why that groan had seemed so very familiar. As the figure lifted its head and some of the ambient light in the room fell upon the features, it was Bastian’s turn to groan. God help him, he nearly shouted.

It was Henry.

Bastian lashed out a big hand and grabbed the boy’s arm, startled speechless by the sight. He could hardly believe it. Henry, on the other hand, had no idea who was grabbing him and opened his mouth to yell but Bastian slapped a hand over the great gaping royal lips.

“Henry!” he hissed. “It’s Bastian. Look at
me!
”

Henry did, his eyes widening with recognition and surprise. Before the boy could say another word, Bastian removed his hand and yanked the boy up from the chair, dragging him up the stairs and into the chamber he shared with his wife.

Gisella was still sleeping when Bastian pulled the king into the room and shut the door, bolting it. He let the boy go but he was gazing at him with such surprise that Henry nearly lost his courage. He was afraid Bastian was very angry with him but up until this point, he had shown a great deal of courage in what he had done. He had been confident and surprisingly resourceful for such a sheltered lad. But now, looking at Bastian’s expression, his courage began to waver.

“I had to come,” Henry said quickly. “I told you I had to come and even though my uncle said that I could not, I
had
to. It is important to me, Bastian. Please do not be angry.”

Bastian wasn’t angry but he was quite astonished. And frightened if he was to admit it to himself. He could see that the boy was verging on tears so he reached out to grasp him again, perhaps in a comforting gesture even though he really didn’t want to comfort him. He wanted to beat him.

By this time, Gisella had been awoken by the noise and she rolled over, gasping aloud when she saw the young king.

“Henry!” she cried softly, struggling to sit up in bed. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Henry looked at Gisella, feeling progressively panicked. Gisella and Bastian did not appear particularly happy to see him and he was terrified that they were going to return him back to London before he could help them complete their task. Even though Bastian had him by the arm, he began to back away.

“I had to come,” he said again, looking between the two of them. “It was not right of my uncle not to allow me to come. He does not understand why this is so important to me and I will not tell him. I promised Bastian that I would never tell about the Maid’s heart, and I will not. But I must help you bury her heart. It is something I
must
do.”

Astonished, Gisella looked at Bastian for his reaction, but he was looking at the boy with a mixture of disbelief and resignation.

“
How
did you get here, Your Grace?” he asked, trying not to sound as if he was demanding.

The boy struggled not to appear too contrite, as if he hadn’t been terribly disobedient. “I followed you,” he said. “I took a horse from Braidwood and I followed you. I have been following you for two days.”

Bastian’s eyebrows lifted. “And I never noticed you? Impossible.”

Henry nodded firmly. “It is true,” he insisted. “You are riding a white horse and I could see him in the distance. I rode in the trees or in the grass. I stayed off the road because I was afraid someone might try to harm me if I remained in the open. I hid a lot. When you stopped at night, I found your horse in the livery. It was not difficult. The first night, I slept with your horse and ran away when you came to collect it. But last night, the innkeeper let me sleep inside because I helped him carry firewood.”

Bastian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The King of England was sleeping in stables and carrying firewood. Although struggling with his outrage, he was more than amazed that the timid, shy king had actually had the courage to follow his heart and pursue Bastian and Gisella even though he had been denied permission to travel with them. He’d often wondered if this lad, this only son of a great and brave king, had something of his father in him. Now, there was no doubt in Bastian’s mind that he did. The lad did indeed have his father’s courage. Still, he’d made the situation very bad, indeed.

“Henry,” he said, sighing heavily. “You have shown overwhelming courage and determination, something that would have made your father very proud. But you have also shown recklessness and disobedience. What do you think Gloucester will say to all of this? The man is undoubtedly looking for you and, quite possibly, even believes I somehow abducted you. Did you ever think about that?”

Henry frowned. “I will tell him that you did not abduct me,” he said. “I wanted to come with you!”

Bastian nodded patiently. “I realize that,” he said. “But Gloucester is going to want to know
why
you wanted to come with me so badly that your would risk your life and your safety to follow? What are you going to tell him?”

Henry went from defiance to fear in an instant. The young king was quite animated in his ideas and emotions. Everything he felt or thought was obvious in his expression.

“I… I will tell him that I simply wanted to go with you,” he said. “You promised that I could go to Etonbury with you.”

Bastian nodded, trying not to show his exasperation. “Aye, I did, but if Gloucester is following you, then he knows we have not gone north to Etonbury,” he said. “What then?”

Henry had no answer for that. He looked between Bastian and Gisella again. “Are you going to take me back to London?” he asked fearfully.

Bastian raked a hand through his dark hair, frustrated. “Nay,” he said. “We are so close to Winchester that it would be foolish to turn back now. We may as well finish what we started and then return as quickly as we can.”

Henry had great hope in his expression now. “Will we do it today?”

Bastian nodded, accepting the fact that he was going to have a great deal of explaining to do to Gloucester when all of this was over. He had no idea what he was going to tell the man but he was certain that Gloucester was already searching for the king. Gloucester was an intelligent man, experienced, but he would truly have no idea where to look for the young king other than Etonbury, which he should have already reached by now if he was searching for the king in a logical fashion. But Gloucester would quickly realize the king wasn’t there, leaving him with no other option than to return to London. Given the situation, Bastian hoped to be back in London by the time Gloucester returned. They would have to move quickly.

“Aye, today,” he said, sounding defeated. “We will eat and then we will travel to the cathedral. It should only take us an hour at most.”

Henry was showing distinct signs of excitement. “I am happy to go there,” he said. “I have never been to Winchester Cathedral.”

Bastian nodded. “Aye, you have,” he said. “You were christened there by your uncle, Beaufort. I remember that day, as I attended the christening. As I recall, it was the last time your father ever saw you. In fact… what day is it today?”

On the bed, Gisella cocked her head thoughtfully. “It is the last day of August, I believe,” she said. “The thirty-first day of the month.”

Bastian paused, looking at her for a moment before turning his focus to the young king. “Your father died nine years ago this day,” he said softly. “Mayhap we will offer up a prayer to him as well.”

Young Henry grew very serious. “I did not realize this was the day of my father’s death,” he said. “It is good that we are here, then. Bastian, what was it like on that day? The day of my christening, I mean?”

Bastian shook his head. “More nobility and pomp than I have ever seen,” he said, reaching out to grasp the boy’s arm. “But we will discuss that at another time. Meanwhile, you and I will go down into the common room and wait for Lady de Russe. Let us leave her to her privacy so she may dress.”

Gisella smiled at Henry, waving at the boy as Bastian grabbed his saddlebags and practically shoved the child out of the room.

“Hurry and dress, sweetheart,” Bastian told her as he and Henry moved through the door. “We will see you downstairs.”

Gisella nodded, waiting until the door was closed before tossing back the coverlet and jumping out of bed. She happened to be in her shift, her traveling clothes hung neatly on pegs, so she quickly washed her face and neck, donning her traveling clothes and braiding her long hair, moving swiftly so that they could depart quickly. Gathering her cloak and her satchel, she fled the room.

After a hearty meal, including two big bowls of porridge for Henry, the three of them were off to Winchester as the sun rose.

Winchester Cathedral could be seen for miles, an astonishing massive church constructed of beige stone and designed in the shape of a cross. When Henry had first seen it on the horizon, he thought they were much closer than they actually were due to the size of the thing. Another half hour of riding saw them to the north end of the town of Winchester with the cathedral looming ahead of them like a bastion of holiness in a sea of worldly sin. It was just after Vespers, the morning prayer, and peasants as well as nobility were filing out of the church, emerging into the bright August dawn.