Chapter Thirty #5
Dane’s sea-crystal eyes stared at her a moment. “What if the church says no? Then what?”
She lowered her gaze and perched herself on the edge of a heavy silk chair. “Then we continue to love each other and raise your new sisters at Deverill. And we will continue to love you and Trenton very much. Nothing will change.”
Dane thought a moment, lowered his eyes and staring at the floor.
“I have heard some of the squires call you a whore. The knights do not, because they respect Sir Gaston, but sometimes…sometimes I have heard them talking about Sir Gaston and then they shut up when I enter the room. Do you suppose they think he is wrong to annul your marriage to my father?”
Remington felt sick to her stomach. She knew Dane would be subjected to this kind of talk and wasn’t surprised at his question.
“It does not matter what they think. We know what is right, do not we? We know that Sir Gaston loves us far more than your father ever did, no matter if he is my legal husband or not,” she studied her son’s face a moment, his boyish features transforming into young manhood.
“I am sorry if you are ashamed of me, Dane. I never meant to humiliate you.”
His eyes met hers, shocked. “I am not ashamed of you! And Trenton beat up the last squire who said bad things about you. Everyone is afraid of Trenton.”
“They are?” she asked, puzzled. “Why?”
“Because he’s so big,” Dane insisted. “He’s as big as you are.”
Remington looked at him doubtfully. “He’s not a bully, is he?”
“Nay,” Dane shook his head. “Not at all. But he does not like it when people say bad things about you or Sir Gaston. It makes him mad.”
Remington gazed at her son, thinking how very much he had grown in the past year. He was nearly nine years old, and Trenton was almost ten. It was hard to believe how much had changed.
“How do you like it here?” she asked, feeling a little better now that the most ugly subjects had been dealt with.
Dane’s face lit up and he proceeded to tell her all about his six months at Oxford.
Remington listened intently, laughing and genuinely enjoying his tales.
Time flew past as she listened to her son, so very glad to see him again that she was content to listen to him all night.
In the middle of one particularly comical story, there was a soft rap on the door.
Dane, as he was so trained, opened it.
Gaston entered the room, a young man at his side. It took Remington a moment to realize she was looking at Trenton.
She stood up, her eyes wide. Trenton was, indeed, as tall as she was. Probably taller, and he outweighed her, too.
“Trenton!” she gasped.
Gaston grinned, looking down at his son. “My reaction precisely. Greetings, Dane.”
Dane bowed a polished gesture. “My lord de Russe. Congratulations on your dukedom, my lord.”
Gaston’s eyebrows rose faintly as he let go of Trenton’s shoulder and moved to Remington. “My, so formal. You have learned your lessons well.”
Remington couldn’t take her eyes off Trenton. He was growing into the exact image of his father, and he smiled weakly at her.
“Good health to you, my lady.”
She went over to him, her mouth open, inspected him. Then she looked at Dane. “You were correct, Dane. He is as large as I am, larger, in fact. Forgive me for doubting you.”
Dane grinned and Gaston put his hands on his hips. “By God, Dane, you have all of your teeth in. And look how fat you are. I must speak to de Vere; he is feeding you far too much. Both of you.”
Remington laughed at the expense of the boys. “It’s not just the food, but the exercise, too. We have been putting in hard hours on the training field since we are to be promoted to squires at the end of the summer,” Dane said proudly.
“So I am told. I am also told that Sir Steven de Norville has demanded you both squire for him,” Gaston said with approval. “A fine knight, indeed.”
“De Norville?” Remington recognized the name. “Did not he serve Courtenay?”
“He did until de Vere bought his services from the bishop,” Gaston replied, his gaze still warm on the boys.
“The man is a splendid warrior and de Vere was willing to do anything to gain his loyalties. De Norville’s own squire is due to be knighted next month and he is in need of a new one. Two new ones.”
Remington smiled proudly. “How wonderful. Imagine that I have two sons who are squires.”
Trenton looked to his father, surprised that Remington called him “her” son and looking for a reaction. Gaston merely smiled faintly. “And they will be the finest, will they not? As befitting the sons of the Duke of Warminster.”
If there was ever any doubt that Remington and Gaston had not completely accepted the boys as their own, as if each respective boy was not loved any less because they were not of the same blood, those fears were dashed. Blood or not, Dane and Trenton were brothers.
After living for nearly a year with boys whose parents were glad to be rid of them, young men who were abused and cast aside and forgotten, Dane and Trenton knew how very lucky they were to be loved as much as they obviously were.
Dane thought the sun rose and set on Gaston. The man was his hero, his father, and his friend.
And Trenton loved Remington as if he had never had another mother.
No one got very much sleep that night. The four of them retreated to the chamber provided by Lady de Vere and spent most of the night talking.
Both boys proudly showed off their blossoming muscles for their parents, Trenton’s being far larger, like his father’s, but Gaston praised both boys for their physical development.
They spoke of their new sisters, their new cousins and life in general at Oxford.
No one brought up London, or the papal council, or the proceedings. It was as if it did not matter anymore; Gaston and Remington were married in their hearts and in their minds, even if the church did not recognize it. Nothing could change their love and devotion to one another.
Toward dawn, Remington fell asleep on the big bed even as Gaston and the boys continued to talk. Dane seemed to do most of the talking for Trenton, who would chime in every now and again in his already-deep voice. Gaston could see so much of himself in his son that it was frightening.
When dawn finally broke, Gaston knew the boys had assigned duties and reluctantly bid them a farewell. He promised that Remington would seek them out to say her own good-byes before they departed.
Just as he snuggled in beside her and closed his eyes, Remington woke and demanded to break her fast with her sons.
With a weary groan, Gaston rolled out of bed.
Jasmine and Antonius, Skye and Nicolas, Remington and Gaston, and the earl and his wife broke their fast in Lady Anne’s small solar. Dane and Trenton joined them a short while later, feeling peculiar sharing a meal with the earl when they should be serving him.
Father de Tormo did not show up for the meal and the earl sent a servant to fetch him. Not ten minutes later, the servant was back.
De Vere was conversing with Gaston when the manservant bent over and whispered in his ear. Shocked, the earl turned to Gaston.
“Gaston,” he said hesitantly. “I have just been told that your priest was found dead in his bed. Mayhap we should see for ourselves.”
Gaston bolted out of the chair, on the heels of the earl. Remington, ashen at the earl’s words, watched with horror as the men disappeared from the room. After several long, shocked moments, she turned wide-eyes to her sisters.
“My God,” she rasped. “What will we do now that he’s dead? He was our counsel, our chief witness, our….friend!”
Jasmine touched her arm. “All’s not lost, Remi. You still have us.”
Skye nodded eagerly. “We shall convince the papal council. Jasmine can cry and carry on a good act, and I shall….I shall faint for good measure.”
Remington was too shocked to respond to Skye’s attempt at humor and encouragement. De Tormo was dead. She remembered yesterday, how terrible he had looked, and she knew something had been wrong with the man. She had even told Gaston her fears. The priest simply had not looked well at all.
And de Tormo….he had not eaten well, and mostly slept the entire trip. He certainly wasn’t acting himself, and when he had given her the scroll….
The scroll.
He had known something; mayhap he’d had a premonition of his own death, for he told her the scroll was to be opened only in case of a dire emergency.
His death was a dire emergency.
Remington bolted from the room, her sisters and brother’s-in-law in heated pursuit. They followed her up the narrow staircase and down the dimly lit corridor until, one by one, they disappeared into the bower.
Remington dove into the wardrobe and tore out her traveling satchel. With shaking hands, she tossed it on the bed and dug into it. Triumphantly, she jerked forth the vellum.
“Here!” she gasped.
Nicolas and Antonius looked at her as if she had gone insane, but Jasmine and Skye were as eager as she was.
“Open it!” Jasmine demanded.
Remington did not hesitate; she broke the seal and rolled open the parchment.
She read the contents carefully, the color draining from her face. Her wide eyes opened wider and she re-read the message.
The group in the room waited with anticipation, waiting with increasing impatience for her to announce her finding. Finally, Skye could wait no longer.
“Remi?” she encouraged her sister to tell all.
Remington tore her eyes away from the vellum; focusing astonished eyes on her loved ones.
“He knew,” she breathed. “He knew he was going to die and he…. my God, I have got to find Gaston.”
She wandered past them, the parchment clasped tightly in her hands. As she made her way down the hall toward de Tormo’s room in the southern wing, her little entourage followed.
“She’s mad,” Antonius muttered.
Jasmine shushed him loudly. “She’s not. De Tormo must have left her a most powerful message.”