Chapter Eight #2
Gaston gazed down at the dead man impassively. “And to make sure the mistake does not happen again, you will serve as an example to all of those who might think of touching Lady Stoneley or her sisters.”
Everyone around the soldier seemed to be paralyzed for a moment, no one moving or speaking or even daring to blink. Arik and Antonius moved up behind Gaston and glanced down at the dead soldier, then turned to walk away without so much as a grunt or a word. Arik went to Remington.
“Come, my lady,” he said gently.
Remington was like a stone statue; her eyes were wide as the sky and her hand was frozen over her mouth. She stared at the dead man in deep shock and Arik put his hand on her arm.
“Lady Remington?” he urged delicately. “Let us return to the castle.”
Ever so slowly her hand came away from her mouth and she turned to focus on Arik. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came forth. He knew she was lost when he saw the sea-crystal eyes glaze over and roll back into her head.
Gaston turned around to see Remington passed out cold in Arik’s arms. Still lingering on the man he had just killed, he motioned for the soldier’s comrades to take his body away. Only then did he move to Arik.
“Give her to me,” he rumbled.
Obediently, Arik handed her over and Gaston clutched her against his massive chest tenderly; even Arik could see the softness in his lord’s touch.
“I want the troop house finished before I return,” Gaston said quietly.
“Where are you going?” Arik inquired.
“To a faire,” Gaston replied, carrying Remington off across the outer bailey, towards the castle.
*
Remington was extremely subdued as they plodded along the road to Ripon.
It was of no matter to Dane, for he chattered endlessly to Gaston, Antonius and Patrick, curious about every aspect of the equipment they carried.
They were patient with the boy and answered him accordingly, but each man’s mind was detached from the conversation at hand.
Antonius kept eyeing Jasmine from where she sat on her small gray palfrey, and she would blush prettily and smile at him.
Patrick was intent on passing gazes at Rory, who would actually act coy, as Skye, sitting next to her sister on the wagon, would stick her tongue out at him.
It was a crazy, charming game that went on mile after mile.
Only Remington avoided Gaston’s searching gaze.
He rode slightly ahead of her wearing his full battle armor, which frankly intimidated her.
But she was also confused and bewildered at the events in the bailey and she spent this quiet time trying to discover for herself if she did something terribly wrong to have caused a man’s death.
Was her mistake in not stopping Gaston, or was it going to the bailey in the first place?
She simply did not know and her stomach cramped endlessly from her nerves.
Gaston rode calmly at the head of the column, alone as usual since Arik was not present.
He brought six knights and an equal number of men-at-arms along, very seasoned fighting men, for he was unsure of the conditions in Ripon.
In the heart of the Yorkist community, he was most certain to be viewed as a traitor and an enemy and he had no desire to be caught defenseless, especially with women and children present.
He would have liked to have ridden with Remington, to have eased her mind about what happened, for he knew she was brooding about it.
But it had been completely necessary for her safety and for the safety of her sisters; when rumor got around as to the severity of the punishment, no man would so much as look at her.
Ripon sat in the Greenland at the foot of the Pennine Mountains. Even as they drew close to the town, they were greeted by gay peasants and merchants traveling in and out of the city. The faire had started yesterday eve and was in full swing.
Gaston grew cautious when he realized there were soldiers everywhere, knights of different houses whom he had fought with and finally, against. And there was no mistaking that they knew the Dark Knight on sight.
He could see it in their eyes as he studied the men beneath his lowered visor; he could see their bodies tense and their faces grow taut.
He was not sorry he had come, indeed; he was pleased to make a show of force, yet he was concerned for Remington and her sisters.
Should any fighting start, he did not want them in the way.
“Look.” Dane cried out gleefully as they entered the outskirts. “A puppet show. Can I go see, Mummy? Can I?”
Remington looked to the source of his excitement; a makeshift puppet stage and a dozen children hovering about it. She could hear the children laughing.
“Very well,” she slid from her bay palfrey and helped her son from the wagon.
A soldier appeared to take the horse from her and she jumped at his swift action, terrified he was going to grab her and terrified Gaston would commit murder again.
But he led the horse away and she calmed her racing heart, taking Dane by the hand and leading him towards the puppeteers.
“We are going on further,” Rory called to her. “We shall meet you inside.”
Remington waved to her and the wagon moved forward once again, driven by Rory. Gaston lingered behind, retaining Sir Roald with him and three soldiers.
Dane loved the puppet show, especially when the witch-puppet began throwing out candy to the audience. Remington stood back, a faint smile on her lips as her son scrambled about on the dirt in search of the sweets. Gaston stood slightly behind her.
“We can buy him sweets elsewhere,” he mentioned to Remington. “He does not need to eat them off the ground.”
She turned to look at him. “It is of no fun to eat sweets that have not been thrown at you, my lord. Surely you know that.”
His helmet was on, his visor down, and she couldn’t see his face. “Indeed I do. But the larger children are getting all of the goods. See?”
Dane stood up, two pieces of candy in his hands and a frown on his face. The puppet show was ended when the treats were thrown and the crowd of children disbanded.
“I only got two pieces of candy,” he wailed when he came upon his mother. “Those bigger boys took the rest.”
“We can buy you more,” Remington made amends. “Come now, let’s go inside and see what else there is.”
They made their way inside the small gates that opened up onto a wide street. Ripon was a bustling city and the faire was a large one. Remington felt her tension leave her as her eyes grazed the hustle and bustle; she liked crowds and people. There would be much to see and do here.
“Where to, my lady?” Gaston asked behind her. Taran followed like a trained dog once again, his great head butting against Gaston as he tried to move closer to Remington.
She glanced about. “I am not sure. Let’s just start walking and see where we end up.”
They proceeded onward. Roald walked casually beside Gaston, leaning toward his lord.
“There is a jousting exhibit and competition, my lord,” he murmured.
“How do you know that?” Gaston asked.
“There is a sign posted at the gate,” Roald replied.
Gaston snorted. “I wonder what idiots we will see here today, then. An open competition will bring them from all over.”
“Idiots that hate us,” Roald mumbled. “They might make a competition to see who can kill us first.”
Gaston grinned. Roald was always the doomsayer of his corps and he was amused by him. “Bring them on. It has been a while since I have competed for sport.”
Remington was several paces ahead and stopped at a booth boasting fine leather purses and shoes. While Dane danced impatiently beside her, she carefully inspected a lovely pair of white doeskin boots. The merchant was intent on showing her a purse to match and she studied the pouch with equal care.
Gaston watched Dane wriggle and complain and finally took pity on him. He walked up and took the boy by the shoulder.
“Look over there, Dane,” he pointed with his huge mailed hand. “There is a man with trained dogs.”
Dane’s eyes lit up. Gaston walked him across the avenue and together they watched five trained dogs jump through hoops and dance on their hind legs.
Dane was enthralled, clapping loudly with every accomplishment and Gaston had to smile at the boy’s enthusiasm.
He was growing quite attached to the lad in lieu of his own absent son, and watching Dane made him long for his own boy.
He had not seen Trenton in almost a year.
He had spent so much of his time fighting for Henry and avoiding Mari-Elle that Trenton had suffered in the process.
He so desperately wanted to have his son with him, but he could not offer the boy a proper life.
At least at Clearwater, he was in a stable environment.
Even if he had grown up thinking his father wanted nothing to do with him.
Yet Gaston saw his chance for knowing his son was nearly passed, for the boy was soon to foster at Northwood Castle in Northumberland. He had made arrangements with Lord Longley, an old soldier and friend of Gaston’s father, after Trenton was born.
But as he watched Dane, he realized that there was no reason for Trenton to go to Kent.
After all, Dane was staying at Mt. Holyoak to foster; why shouldn’t Trenton come as well?
Gaston planned to make Mt. Holyoak his seat, his haven for the rest of his life, and he wanted his son with him.
Who better to train the boy than he and Arik?
He crossed his arms with a grunt of satisfaction at his conclusion. Aye, his son would come to live with him and he himself would oversee the boy’s development. He only hoped he could undo everything Mari-Elle had undoubtedly instilled into the lad.
The little dog show was over and Dane took great delight in petting one of the friendly animals, a wiry little mutt with short white hair. The dog waged his tail furiously and licked Dane’s hand.