Beast: Great Bloodlines Converge (13 page)

“Cease your prattle, you foolish man,” he said, grunting as he moved because any movement these days was a great exertion for him. “Of course I do not have a lover. What on earth would I do with her?”

Bastian lit the taper, standing up and moving to the candleholder next to the bed to light a few more half-burned tapers in a candelabra. “Surely you have not forgotten what to do with a woman,” he said. “I realize you are old and fairly decrepit, but she could do all of the work. You would simply need to tell her what you need.”

Braxton finally made it into a sitting position. “Bah,” he scoffed. “All I need is my son and nothing more.”

Bastian put a pillow behind his father’s back so the man could sit comfortably. “You have him, then,” he said, “at least for a time. Gloucester has plans for me but I told him I needed to see you first.”

Braxton gazed up at his eldest. After a moment, he held out his hand to him and Bastian took it, holding it tightly.

“It is good to see you,” Braxton said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “It has been a very long time.”

Bastian nodded, squeezing his hand. “
Too
long,” he agreed. “I am sorry I was unable to come home sooner. Bedford keeps me occupied in France and I have little time to spare.”

Braxton sighed knowingly. “Pull up a chair and sit,” he said. “I must speak with you. I want to know how you have been.”

Still holding his father’s hand, Bastian reached out and pulled a padded oak chair over to the bed and planted his bulk in it. “I have been well enough,” he said, the levity fading from his voice. “There has been much happening in France but I will not bore you with the details. Suffice it to say I have been very busy.”

Braxton’s blue eyes were intense. “Bore me with the details,” he rumbled. “What has kept you so wrapped up in that foolish endeavor? And what is this I hear about you and the Maid of Orleans?”

Bastian’s good humor was gone. “Great Bleeding Christ, not you, too,” he muttered. “What have you heard?”

Braxton squeezed his son’s hand tightly. “Gloucester was here last week,” he said. “He told us a great deal, actually. He said that she bewitched you. Is this true, Bas? Did you let that evil woman take hold of you?”

Bastian frowned. “Of course I did not,” he said. “Father, I was her jailor. It was my duty to ensure she was treated fairly, which she was not. Bedford himself spread the rumors that she bewitched me because it took the focus off just how badly and unethically he conducted himself against her. Do you want to hear what I know of the woman or are you going to trust the gossip mongers?”

Braxton didn’t generally give in to rumors, but when they involved his son, he couldn’t help but be concerned. “Then tell me the truth and I shall believe you.”

“Whatever I tell you must be kept in the strictest confidence.”

“I will take it to my grave with the best of secrets.”

That was enough to satisfy Bastian. His father’s word was his bond and there was none finer in England. He paused a moment, collecting his thoughts, before continuing.

“I have always been proud of my profession, Father,” he said quietly. “I come from a long line of great knights. The bloodlines of seven of England’s greatest warriors flow through my veins and I am proud to bear a sword to honor them. At least, I was proud until this madness with the Maid. She was a very pious and passionate girl, and she believed that saints had spoken to her and told her to free France from the English. She was smart and she was clever, and she embarrassed Bedford many a time. After she was captured, she was treated with less courtesy than one would treat a stray dog. She was starved, tortured, and lied to, and Bedford was behind all of it. Father, I did not become a knight to execute a young woman who had been illegally prosecuted and immorally sentenced to die. She did not bewitch me. She was simply one of the very few people I respect because she was true to her beliefs until the end. She had the courage of God himself.”

Braxton was listening carefully. “Then you did not deflower her?”

He cast the man a disgusted expression. “This is the third time in the past day I have had to answer that question,” he said, agitated. “Of course I did not. But others tried. She managed to fight them off and once I discovered their transgressions, I punished each and every one of them.”

Braxton nodded his head, digesting the information. He knew his son well enough to know what the man meant. “You killed them.”

“I did.”

Braxton was satisfied with the answer. The situation was becoming clearer to him. “Were you in love with her, Bas?”

Bastian shook his head firmly. “Nay,” he said. “Never were my feelings anything other than platonic towards her. But I did feel a great deal of pity for the woman, I will admit that.”

Braxton fell silent a moment, pondering his son’s reply. “Did you ever tell Bedford of your feelings on how the Maid was treated?”

“I did. He ignored me.”

“Then he cannot be happy with your behavior towards her,” Braxton said thoughtfully. “I was wondering why he sent you back to England to play nursemaid to a nine-year-old king. Now I know. Much as the Maid shamed Bedford, you did the same when you took her side.”

Bastian shook his head. “I did not take her side,” he said. “But my opinion of her treatment was well known.”

Braxton cocked his head in a pensive gesture. “So he grants you a title and lands and sends you back to England to watch over the young king,” he said, watching Bastian register mild surprise across his features. “Aye, I knew about the titles and land. Gloucester told us. But it is becoming increasingly clear to me that Bedford sent you back here for a reason. He wants to keep an eye on you yet he does not want you in France with him any longer, at least not until the Maid fades from your memory. If I were you, I would be careful. Do not give Bedford a reason to mistrust you.”

Bastian shook his head wearily. “I have not given him any reason,” he said. “Moreover, if the man was verging on mistrust, why would he assign me to guard the young king?  Nay, you are wrong in that account. He still trusts me but I do agree with the fact that he wants me out of France right now. He wants me to forget about the injustice he perpetrated against the Maid.”

Braxton drew in a long, contemplative breath. “You will not.”

“Nay, I will not.”

“You should, you know. You cannot do anything to help her now.”

Bastian scratched his ear. “That is where you are wrong,” he said quietly. “Before she was executed, she asked for my assistance.”

“What was that?”

Bastian averted his gaze, looking off into the fire in the hearth that was now gaining speed. “She said that St. Michael came to her in a vision and told her that her remains must be buried in England,” he muttered, “for at an appointed place and time, she would return to announce to the English that their presence in France would soon end. She asked me to take her remains to Winchester Cathedral and inter her there.”

Braxton’s brow furrowed. “But you do not have her remains, do you?” he asked. “The woman was burned, Bas. Surely there is nothing left of her.”

Bastian shrugged with reluctance. “Bedford believes I cast her remains into the Seine, and I did for the most part,” he said. “But I did keep a small part of her. It was her dying wish, after all. Guilt on how she was treated by the English causes me to fulfill it.”

Braxton didn’t like that thought at all. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “If Bedford discovers that you have brought something of her to England, he will accuse you of being a traitor. He could possibly accuse you of the same heresy she was accused of. How could you do this?”

Bastian could feel his father’s fear in the question and he turned to look at the man. “Because she asked it of me,” he said. “I cannot give you a better answer than I already have.”

Braxton was visibly horrified but he refrained from berating his son further. He could see that Bastian meant what he said. The man had a code of honor few did, an admirable attribute but sometimes a stubborn one. Possibly even a deadly one. After a moment, Braxton sighed heavily and scratched his head as if at a loss.

“I cannot say I understand why you must do this but I will not dispute you,” he said. “But do not let anyone else discover this mission, not even your closest knights. You would pull them into your betrayal if they knew so it is better to keep it to yourself. You must do this to protect them.”

Bastian agreed. “No one knows, save you,” he said. “I must tell you in case this all goes horribly wrong.”

Braxton shook his head, disapproval and sadness in his movements. “I will pray that it does not,” he said. “I lost your mother, Bas. I could not stand to lose you as well.”

Bastian glanced at his father, seeing his pale complexion in the early morning light. The man didn’t look well at all and he reached out, grasping his father’s shoulder gently.

“You will not lose me,” he assured him softly. “Everything will work out as it should. Meanwhile, I have many plans for my stay in England, not the least of which is inspecting Etonbury Castle, my new seat. Mayhap you would like to travel with me to see it?”

Braxton was still lingering on the fact that his son was endeavoring to fulfill a dangerous vow and he struggled not to let his fear overwhelm him. “Etonbury?” he repeated, laboring to focus on the new subject. “In Bedfordshire, isn’t it?”

Bastian nodded. “A two-day ride from here,” he said. “Do you feel up to it?”

Braxton shrugged. “Possibly,” he said. “When do you plan on leaving?”

Bastian removed his hand from his father’s shoulder and rose wearily, making his way to the hearth to stoke it a little more in an attempt to invite a blaze into the cold room.

“I am not entirely sure,” he said as he poked at the embers and threw a couple of slabs of peat onto them. “I told Gloucester I wanted to spend a day or two with you at the very least before heading into London. I have no idea how long I will be there before I make a move to see Etonbury. I would imagine I would need to settle small details in London first, for example, finding suitable accommodations for my wife, and then I will….”

Braxton cut him off. “Your
wife
?” he boomed. “What is this, Bas? You married and you call that a small detail?”

Bastian turned to his father, quite calmly. “I assumed Gloucester told you of her,” he said. “He seems to have told you of everything else.”

Braxton’s pale face was no longer pale. His cheeks were turning a ruddy shade of red. “He did
not
tell me,” he said. “You say you have a wife now? God forgive you for not telling me the moment you walked in my door!”

He was genuinely upset and Bastian hastened to calm the man. “Do not trouble yourself so,” he said calmly. “I married her a few hours ago at Bella Court. Gloucester and Bedford consider her a reward for my services, much as they gifted me with lands and titles, but I have no use for a wife. I only married her because I had no choice.”

Braxton was staring at him, utterly at a loss. “Where is she?” he insisted. “
Who
is she? Tell me everything this moment, you wicked boy. I demand it!”

Bastian had to laugh at his father. When the man became worked up, there was no stopping him. He put down the fire poker and went back to the chair next to the bed, settling upon it. He put a hand on his father’s arm to keep the man from jumping off the mattress and throttling him.

“She is here,” he said. “I gave orders that she be settled in one of the guest chambers, although I do not know which one. Her name is Lady Gisella le Bec and her father is the great Richmond le Bec. She comes from a fine and wealthy family, one of prestige and nobility. She was a favorite of Lady Gloucester.”

Braxton was hanging on every word. “And?” he commanded. “Is she beautiful? Is she accomplished?”

Bastian nodded. “She is extremely beautiful,” he said. “And Lady Gloucester said she is highly intelligent. She can evidently speak a few languages and she sings like an angel. I have heard her.”

Braxton was watching the way his son rather disdainfully described his wife. It was clear the man had no interest in the woman. Slowly, Braxton’s eyebrows lifted.

“And you are displeased with a beautiful and talented wife, daughter of one of the greatest knights England has ever known?” he asked. Then, he shook his head in disbelief. “Could it possibly be true that you are that much of an idiot?”

Bastian tried not to show any remorse or confusion to his father’s question. The way the old man phrased it, Gisella sounded like the most desirable marital prospect in England and he was a fool for not being more gracious about his good fortune. Perhaps she was indeed the most appealing marital prospect in the country. Perhaps it was his resistance to marriage in general that kept him from noticing. Now, he was starting to feel uncertain.

“I hold nothing against her personally, Father,” he said, trying to explain his position even though he already knew it was indefensible. “It is simply that I do not wish to be married. I am far too busy and a wife does not fit into those plans.”

Braxton’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You will listen to me and listen well,” he growled. “It sounds to me as if Gloucester has made a fine match and you have shown your gratitude by resisting it. What is the matter with you, Bas? And what of this poor girl? If she is as beautiful and talented as you say she is, then you have undoubtedly made her feel as if she is lowly and unworthy with your attitude towards her. That is utterly shameful.”