Chapter Four
Days passed and Gaston immersed himself into Mt.
Holyoak. He rode the perimeter of the lands, studying the landscape and becoming acquainted with the farms and encampments within the territory.
He went into Boroughbridge and became familiar with the layout of the town and took a feel for the peasants, a hearty lot more loyal to each other than to the Yorkists or the Lancastrians.
The people of the village were respectful of him, over-reactively so.
They acted as anyone else did when they came face to face with the Dark Knight; they looked at him as if they were fighting the urge to run for their very lives.
Gaston was pleased, of course, for he wanted them to fear him.
Fear bred a healthy respect, he thought, especially with the less intelligent.
Satisfied with Boroughbridge, Gaston continued his reconnoiter and passed through the great corrals where the sheep of Mt.
Holyoak were kept. His first sight of the corrals was astonishing; from the crest of the hill, there was nothing but a sea of white for miles.
In the distance was the great stone barn where the sheep were shorn come spring.
Bleating ewes and the strong smell of dung assaulted his nostrils, but it did not dampen his enthusiasm.
This is mine, he thought. All of this is mine.
He did not return to the keep at night, instead preferring to camp on his land to become still better in tune with it. He traveled with Arik and Antonius, leaving Patrick and Nicolas in charge of his castle.
After five days of becoming familiar with his new lands, Gaston finally returned to the massive fortress with a new respect for his castle he was now in possession of.
He reminded himself to thank Henry for his generosity.
Even if Henry had sent him to Mt. Holyoak for the sole purpose of controlling Yorkshire, he was still vastly pleased with his reward.
He and his knights were passing very close to the fortress when he suddenly caught sight of a figure in the distant trees. It was a slight female figure and something told him it was Remington. He did not know how he knew, he just did.
“Continue on,” he told his men.
Arik caught sight of the figure as well. “Who is that?”
Gaston gathered his reins. “Lady Stoneley, I suspect.”
“How do you know that?” Arik wanted to know. “I can barely make out the figure from here.”
Gaston ignored him, spurring his charger in the direction of the trees.
Remington heard him coming. She straightened from her task and shielded her eyes from the bright sun, watching with surprise as the great dark destrier roared towards her.
The sheer power and size of man and beast entranced her and she was frozen to the spot, watching with curiosity as he bore down on her.
Aye, she knew who it was. There was no mistaking the Dark Knight, yet she found she was not as fearful as she had been days earlier when he had ridden into her keep.
She had five days to become accustomed to the idea that he was now her lord and it was easier to control her apprehension.
Besides, he had not been cruel to her in any way and she reasoned she had nothing to fear.
The destrier came to an unsteady halt a few feet away, kicking up dirt and rocks.
Gaston gazed down on Remington, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.
It took him less than a second to realize that he was pleased to see her.
By God, he had barely been around the woman and already he was missing her.
He should have been angry with himself, but instead, he was actually curious.
“Good day to you, my lady,” he said.
She bobbed a quick curtsey for him. “Good day to you, my lord. Did you enjoy your journey?”
He nodded his helmed head. “Aye,” he replied. “Mt. Holyoak is the jewel of Yorkshire. I am verily pleased with my acquisition.”
She nodded, lowering her gaze. “I bid you welcome home, my lord.”
He glanced around, hearing the birds and studying the undergrowth. But his eyes came back to her lowered head. “What are you doing out here?”
She held up her basket. “Gathering flowers, my lord. For pomades and perfumes.”
“Pomades and perfumes?” he repeated. “Of what sort?”
“Honeysuckle,” she showed him the blossoms from her basket. “Violets, too. And in the garden in the kitchen yard, we have massive bushes of lavender.”
To her surprise, he dismounted his warhorse and lumbered over to her. He was so massive that she was positive the ground quaked when he walked. But she held her ground against the giant, the Dark Knight, as he approached.
He reached up and removed his helm in one clean stroke, his smoky gray eyes meeting her intensely. His hair, like an unruly child’s, hung down over one eye.
“What scent do you prefer?” he asked.
“I favor honeysuckle and the lavender, my lord,” she held up a blossom. “My sister, Jasmine, favors the violet as does my youngest sister, Skye.”
He nodded faintly. “And the redhead?”
“Rory?” Remington put the basket down. “She hates all of it. She would smell like a skunk if we did not force her to bathe once in a while.”
The corner of his lip tugged briefly. “I would meet your sisters today. I have not yet had the chance.”
Suddenly the underbrush behind her began to rustle and a young boy burst through, his hands clutching bunches of flowers.
“Mummy! See what I…,” Dane stopped when he was confronted with the Dark Knight and his young face went pale with fright. “I…I.…”
Remington saw how terrified her son was and went to him, putting her hands protectively on his shoulders. “My lord, this is my son, Dane Stoneley. Dane, this is Sir Gaston de Russe.”
Dane was scared, but not too terrified to remember his manners and bow respectfully. Gaston planted his huge feet apart and crossed his arms, his imposing presence filling the air like the scent of her flowers.
“How old are you, lad?” he asked.
“S-seven years,” Dane replied.
Gaston studied him a moment. A year younger than his own son, Trenton, and a sight smaller. But he was a well-formed boy with his mother’s eyes and an inquisitive face.
“Where do you foster?” he inquired.
“Foster?” Dane repeated, glancing at Remington for support. “I… I do not know, my lord.”
“You are of the age when such matters should be decided,” Gaston said, looking to Remington. “Did your husband not make arrangements for him?”
Remington shook her head. “Nay, my lord, he had more important matters on his mind with Richard’s wars.”
Gaston pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Then I see I shall have to do the man’s duty.”
Remington and Dane looked at each other curiously. “You are going to send me away?” Dane asked confused.
“All well-bred young men foster by the time they are eight years,” Gaston explained, puzzled that the boy was so uninformed. “Do not you want to be a knight?”
“Like you?” Dane asked. “Can’t I stay here and learn from you?”
Gaston smiled faintly and Remington was astonished; she did not believe him capable of such a soft action.
But he was not only smiling, he was demonstrating a good deal of understanding with her young son and she was doubly surprised.
She did not believe the Dark Knight capable of anything other than fear and death.
“’Tis right that you should want to learn from me, of course,” he said, eyeing the boy thoughtfully. “Very well, then, Dane Stoneley. I shall consider allowing you to stay at Mt. Holyoak.”
Dane beamed, displaying his missing front teeth. “I want to fight with a sword and a battle-axe,” he said eagerly, and then his smile faded. “But what of my father? What will he say when he returns?”
Gaston looked long at the boy. “He shall not be returning as far as I know, lad. I am lord of Mt. Holyoak now.”
Dane looked puzzled, not at all sorry that his father would not be coming home. “Are you my mother’s husband, then?”
“Nay, lad, I am not,” he answered.
Dane was sinking further into confusion. “But…you are lord, and my mother is lady. You will not marry her?”
Gaston shook his head. “Truth is, Master Dane, I already have a wife. She and my son live at my keep far to the south. A man can only have one wife, and your mother is already married to your father. Now that I am lord, your mother is no longer lady of Mt. Holyoak.”
Remington felt as if she had been hit in the pit of the stomach, although she had no idea why.
Was it because he mentioned that she was no longer lady of Mt.
Holyoak? Was it the realization of that finally setting in?
She did not stop to think that it was possibly because he had said he was married.
Why should the fact that he was married bother her?
She cared not what his marital status was.
Dane absorbed the information, though he was still terribly confused. “Then you are to protect us?”
Gaston nodded once, firmly. Dane tilted his head thoughtfully. “Will you protect my mother if my father returns?”
Gaston’s smoky eyes glittered curiously. “Protect her from what?”
“From my father,” Dane insisted.
“That is enough, Dane,” Remington added quietly.
“Why must I protect her from your father?” Gaston ignored Remington. He wanted to hear what the boy had to say.
“Because he hurts her,” Dane said hesitantly. “I can’t protect her, although I have tried. He just hits me, too.”
Remington turned away, her body shaking with embarrassment and shame. Gaston saw her quivering hand move to her head and he received confirmation of what Arik had suggested on the day they had arrived. The woman was abused.