Chapter Eighteen #4
Oleg followed her through the castle, listening to her rattle off instructions.
She most likely would not be returned by September, when the sheep would be shorn, and she made sure that Oleg understood to proceed without her.
Grain stores needed replenishing and the fact that the providence had had a good season promised to fill the stores to capacity.
No one would go hungry in Boroughbridge, or the neighboring towns of Helperby and Brafferton.
With winter on the approach, food was of a primary concern.
She and Gaston had exchanged heated words this morning.
Unsure of how long they would be in London, Remington wanted him to convince Antonius and Nicolas to marry her sisters before she left.
To think of her sisters unwed and pregnant left her feeling hollow with pity, and she felt it Gaston’s duty, as their liege, to convince the knights to do the right thing.
Gaston replied, patiently, that he could not force his men into matrimony before they were ready.
Angrily, Remington had turned her back on him and left to go about her duties.
Even as she went over the kitchen stock with Oleg, she was still angry with him.
Aye, she knew she was being somewhat unreasonable, but she couldn’t fathom the knight’s reluctance to do the right thing.
But the most maddening thing was when Gaston had told her frankly the whole situation between her sisters and their prospective husbands was none of her business.
None of her business! The words still riled her, even as Oleg went over the inventory of stored vegetables.
Remington ordered a vegetable soup for the nooning meal from his tally and left him to sort out the rest of the kitchen supplies.
Eudora was packing for her and she wanted to check up on the woman.
She passed into the grand hall and came face to face with Dane and another young page, laden down with stock for the kitchens.
Her first reaction was to hug him, and she could see the light in his eyes as well, but just as quickly she averted her gaze and walked past him.
Dane, with a sad face, passed into the kitchens behind the other boy.
Her anger at Gaston and her sadness for her son brought tears to her eyes as she made her way down the corridor.
She was leaving on the morrow and not even allowed to say good-bye to her son.
Her sisters were pregnant and unwed, and she was faced with an uncertain future. When did her life become so miserable?
As soon as she reached the narrow stairs, Gaston and Antonius entered the castle and nearly ran her over. She looked up to snap at them, but then noticed that they were in full battle armor.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded warily, forgetting she was mad at him.
“Brimley is under siege!” he said. “It would seem that Lord Botmore heard of Brimley’s meeting with me and decided to pay him a visit.
Brimley told Botmore that he was planning to support the crown and Botmore went wild.
His troops were already inside the keep and from what I understand have managed to fairly wreak havoc. I must go and do what I can.”
“Botmore!” she hissed. “He destroyed Crayke?”
“I do not know. But I intend to find out and make restitution to Brimley.”
The day that had started out bad had just gotten worse. She sank down on the steps and shook her head. “Gaston, Derek was betrothed to Catherine Brimley, Lord Brimley’s youngest daughter. Botmore was so proud of the alliance. I cannot understand why he would do this.”
Gaston jerked his head at Antonius, who discreetly vacated. He gazed down on Remington’s puzzled, sad face.
“Nor I, angel,” he said softly. “Except to say that Botmore is seeking revenge on me and he knows it would be foolish to attack Mt. Holyoak with all of the troops I have here. Suffice it to say he intends to cause me a great deal of trouble.”
She gazed up at him, her anger completely gone. How could she be angry at that beautiful, masculine face? “So you go to fight again?”
He smiled wryly, sitting heavily on the stair next to her. With all of his armor, he nearly squashed her into the wall. “I am afraid so. But I am leaving Arik behind, to guard you.”
“Arik?” she was surprised. “Why would you leave your second in command behind to baby sit?”
He looked at her, his gaze tender as it lingered on her face. “Nothing is more important than you,” he said softly. “I would stay behind if I could, but I must lead my troops. Besides, if this is a ruse, then I want Arik in charge of the fortress.”
“But I thought you said Lord Botmore would not attack Mt. Holyoak?” she said, concerned.
“He would not do it while I was within the walls because he knows it would be futile. But he may try while I am off on some dandy pretense. I am not at all sure that this is not some sort of ploy to lure me away from my keep.”
Her face went white. “My God, Gaston, could Botmore be luring you into an ambush?”
“Nay, I do not believe so,” he assured her. “The messenger who brought the news was one of Brimley’s men. But Botmore could have planned it this way to remove me from Mt. Holyoak while an army of Yorkists await at a distance to regain my seat.”
Not only was she depressed, she was now completely frightened at that thought. Slowly, she wound her arms around his massive left arm and lay her cheek on his cold, hard armor. As she was thinking of something encouraging to say, tears suddenly found their way from her eyes and onto his armor.
“Why do you cry, angel? I did not mean to frighten you,” he said tenderly.
She batted her eyes, trying to chase away her tears. “It’s not that. It’s just…why does everything have to be so bloody complex? Why can’t everyone just leave us alone? I do not want to be involved in all of this intrigue and hatred; I do not want you to be involved in it.”
He kissed the top of her head. “This has been my whole life, angel. I am used to it.”
Her head came up, her eyes glittering like the rarest of jewels. She traced shaking fingers across his sensuous lips. “After we’re married… promise me we will remove ourselves from all of this. I want us to live peacefully, Gaston.”
“We will, love,” he kissed her fingers, wanting to reassure her. “Do not worry so.”
From down the hall they heard rapidly running footsteps. Small and quick, it could either be a child or a woman and they both turned as the footsteps came upon them. Dane suddenly appeared, his eyes wide and his face streaked with tears.
“Dane!” Remington knew she wasn’t supposed to speak with him, but she couldn’t help herself when she saw her son.
“You can’t fight!” Dane blurted to Gaston, all but ignoring his mother.
“What’s wrong, Dane?” Gaston was genuinely concerned. Dane’s eyes were wide with fright and his little face pale. “I… I had a dream. I saw armor, your armor, and I saw an arrow through your heart. You were dead. We buried you in your armor.”
Remington went to pieces. Her hands flew to her mouth and she moaned softly as Gaston got a grip on her. He never gave any stock in prophetic dreams, but he knew Remington did. She said that her son had predicted many things through his young dreams.
“’Twas only a dream, Dane,” he said evenly, feeling Remington shaking violently. “If a dream comes true, it is only coincidence. Mayhap dreams are the only things in life we can change; we can choose to believe them or we can choose not to.”
Dane wiped at his eyes, looking a bit embarrassed. “I fell asleep in the kitchen because I did not sleep very well last night. I dreamt you were killed. You can’t go.”
Gaston smiled and put his hand on the boy’s head. “Are you a gloom-and-doom prophet, lad? Did you actually see my face?”
“Nay, I did not see your face. But it was your armor, the armor you wear right now.” Dane insisted, glancing at his mother for the first time. “And I dreamed last night that my mother had a big stomach, like Aunt Jasmine did a couple of years ago. What does that mean?”
Remington’s eyes widened at her son a split second before she turned to Gaston, grabbing him by his armor. “You cannot go!”
She was verging on panic; he could see it in her eyes. He gathered her gently against him and waved Dane off. “I appreciate your concern, lad. I am sure you have assigned duties, do you not?”
Dane nodded weakly, not wanting to disobey his liege. He turned hesitantly, his steps down the hall much slower upon returning.
“Come on,” Gaston stood up with Remington in his arms, sweeping her up the stairs.
Eudora was finishing packing when Gaston brought her into the bedchamber, shaking and weeping. The old woman’s eyes widened.
“What’s happened to her?” she asked urgently.
Gaston lay her down on the bed. “She’s simply overwrought. Fetch her a wine brew, Eudora, to calm her nerves.”
The old woman fled as Remington struggled to a sitting position on the bed. Gaston removed his gauntlets and helm before sitting heavily on the mattress. Remington was still sobbing weakly and he took her hands between his own.
“Remi, get hold of yourself. You cannot put any stock in a young boy’s dreams.”
“But you heard him,” she insisted loudly. “He dreamt of our child, Gaston, and I have not told him anything. Something awful is going to happen to you.”
“Nonsense,” he shushed her gently. “The heat and your condition has you overwrought. Remi, hordes of England’s finest knights have been unable to kill me. What makes you think a minor skirmish will do me in?”
“Dane’s dreams do not lie.” Her crying had lessened, but she was shaking terribly.
As much as he wanted to stay and comfort her, he had a battle to fight. He couldn’t give in to her son’s telltale dreams, no matter if she believed them or not. There was always a logical explanation. Black and white. There was nothing unexplainable.
“I want you to rest until I return, angel,” he said softly. “I shan’t be long.”