Chapter Two #2
Lucas and Gannon sped after him, following him as he made his way deeper into the room, on the hunt for the Duke of Gloucester.
Diners, noting the enormous, dirty knights in their midst, began to whisper and point, but Bastian didn’t notice and even if he did he would not have cared.
He was singularly focused on finding Gloucester in the midst of the chaos.
As he rounded the corner of one of the tables, his gaze came to rest on the man himself.
Gloucester was several feet away in conversation with someone Bastian didn’t recognize.
Bastian hadn’t seen Gloucester in a year, however, and even though he recognized the man, he noted how badly he had aged during that time.
The brown hair was turning shades of gray.
That’s what a wife will do to you, he thought.
Without reserve, he marched up on Gloucester and made sure the man saw him.
Gloucester couldn’t help but see Bastian, a man at least a head and shoulders taller than even the tallest man in the room.
His enormous, imposing presence filled up all air and space.
Gloucester was so surprised that he nearly dropped the golden chalice in his hand when he realized Bastian was in his midst. His thick lips opened in surprise.
“Bastian!” he gasped. Then, he laughed loudly and grasped Bastian by the arm. “By God’s Holy Rood, the Beast himself. I had heard your ships had docked in London but I truly did not expect to see you until tomorrow, old friend.”
Bastian was impatient and exhausted, a bad combination. It was a struggle to be polite. “Your Grace,” he greeted evenly. “I received word that you wanted to see me immediately. I did not delay.”
Humphrey of Lancaster, Duke of Gloucester, displayed all the signs of a man who was truly thrilled to see Bastian.
He beamed at him and Gloucester was not a beaming man.
Congenial at times, loyal, courageous, and scholarly, Humphrey embodied what a well-rounded prince should be.
As the youngest son of Henry IV, he was close with his brothers, with his nephew the young king, and consequently close to the men who served them. He was particularly fond of Bastian.
“It is very agreeable to see you again,” Gloucester said. “You seem healthy and whole enough.”
Bastian nodded. “Indeed I am, Your Grace,” he said. “I am relieved to be back in England and hope to see my father very soon. He has not been well.”
The smile on Gloucester’s face faded somewhat. “I know,” he said. “Braxton de Russe was a very great knight, once. He served my father and then my brother flawlessly. I am sorry for his troubles.”
Bastian dipped his head in thanks. “As am I,” he replied. “Therefore, I should like to see him as soon as possible. If you would not mind coming to the point of your summons right away, I would be grateful.”
Gloucester was already in motion, complying with the request. He pulled Bastian along with him as he moved. “Come with me, then,” he said. “I shall not take much of your time, but it is important that we speak.”
Bastian directed Lucas and Gannon to remain in the hall with a simple hand gesture, following Gloucester as the man pulled him along, introducing him to guests as he went, pointing out the great de Russe knight known as Beast and watching the expressions on the diners’ faces.
Soon enough, everyone was whispering about de Russe and pointing in his direction as Gloucester dragged him through the well-lit, fragrant hall.
As they passed by the last long table in the “U” formation, Bastian pointed to the actors still on the floor before them.
“May I ask what goes on, Your Grace?” he asked the duke. “My knights and I were attempting to figure it out.”
Gloucester paused, a sly grin on his lips as he watched what had once again become mock combat.
“Do you not know King Richard and the fall of Acre when you see it?” he asked, lightly done.
“My wife enjoys entertainment, so nearly every night we have some manner of performance. Tonight, it will be a re-enactment of Richard’s victory over Saladin.
This will go on for most of the night. Count yourself fortunate that you must leave. ”
Bastian glanced at the duke and, seeing that the man was smiling, he gave the man a half-grin. “I am very sorry I will miss it, Your Grace.”
“Nay, you are not.”
“Nay, I am not.”
Gloucester snorted. Then, he pointed to the performance as a wooden ship of some kind, brightly painted, emerged from a corner of the room. There were men walking the ship into the hall, men who were also dressed as the ship’s crew, and they began firing mock arrows at the men in mortal combat.
“That is not what happened,” he said flatly. “Acre was not a naval battle. I told my wife this but she does not want to listen. She directs these plays, you know. It is her passion.”
Bastian merely nodded his head, cocking an eyebrow at the ridiculousness of it when someone in the ship stumbled and the entire ship fell down and the actors with it.
The crowd laughed loudly at the spectacle as the men with the ship struggled to stand up with the ungainly wooden ship frame around them. Gloucester rolled his eyes.
“Idiots, all of them,” he sighed. “But I will say that my sympathy is with them. My wife does a new play every night, so they have little time to prepare. Speaking of prepared, did you see the angel hanging from the gallery above them?”
He was pointing again, now to the woman who was still suspended over the crowd.
She was still singing, a faint tune now, alluring and sweet.
She was also still spinning in a slow circle as men reached up, trying to touch her hands which were always slightly out of reach.
Bastian watched the woman at a distance.
“Aye,” he finally said. “Le Bec said it was his sister.”
Gloucester nodded. “That is Lady Gisella le Bec, daughter of the mighty Richmond le Bec,” he said.
“She is one of my wife’s favorite courtiers.
She is cultured, skilled, intelligent, and wildly beautiful.
Every man at Bella Court is in love with her to some degree, but she is a very reserved young woman.
She shuns them all. I heard rumor there was a knight who had her heart but he was killed in France.
You probably know him. In fact, I believe he was a distant cousin of yours. Maxim de Shera was his name.”
Bastian looked at him in surprise. “Indeed, I knew him,” he said. “He was killed during the Siege of Orleans two years ago. He took an arrow meant for me.”
Gloucester nodded. “I heard,” he said grimly. “A fine knight, I was told, but I must say that I would rather have him take the arrow than you.”
Bastian thought back to the knight, a second cousin, who had been a handsome man, skilled, with a French whore who followed him everywhere.
He had at least three children with the woman and they were, for all intents and purposes, a married couple.
Scratching his neck, Bastian returned his attention to the young woman hanging from the gallery.
“He was quite skilled,” he said, deciding not to make any mention of the camp whore or the children. “I felt his loss deeply. You say that Lady Gisella was in love with him?”
Gloucester nodded, seemingly mesmerized by the twirling lady in the distance.
“That was the rumor,” he said. “But I do not know any more than that. In any case, the lady has kept herself quite pure and quite removed from any suitors within my wife’s court.
She is well respected, and much liked, and that is why my wife and I decided she needed a husband of some wealth and prestige.
She will make you a fine wife, Bastian. Congratulations. ”
Bastian knew Gloucester had been leading up to the marital contract as he watched his betrothed hang rather provocatively from a silken cord.
He sighed deeply. “Does her father approve of this union?” he asked, knowing it would be of no avail to argue for his right to bachelorhood.
“The last thing I want is an angry Richmond le Bec after me.”
Gloucester laughed softly. “He wants to meet you, of course,” he said, “but he seems agreeable. The House of de Russe carries great weight and you, my friend, seem to carry the greatest weight of all. This will be a fine match. Lady Gisella is a lovely and obedient girl. I am sure you will like her once you have come to know her.”
Bastian’s eyes were riveted to the woman as she gently twirled. “And what does she say to all of this?” he asked. “If she was in love with Maxim, then I cannot imagine she would be very agreeable to a husband.”
Gloucester shook his head. “She had no reaction to the news,” he replied. “When I informed her, she did not argue in the least.”
“Then she is not opposed?”
“She was not jumping for joy, either.”
Bastian watched the woman for a moment longer before running a weary hand over his dark head and turning away. Suddenly, he felt quite fatigued, the reality of the situation weighing heavily upon him. I do not want a wife! But he knew he had little choice. The decision had been made.
“When is this marriage to take place, then?” he asked, feeling his impatience return. “I have much to do and little time for social graces, Your Grace. I have much to do before returning to France.”
Gloucester nodded. “I know,” he said. “That is why you will marry her before you leave Bella Court. I have a priest on-call for just this purpose. Marry her now and be done with it. Then you can leave her here at Bella Court with my wife whilst you go about your business. Heading to Etonbury Castle, is it?”
Bastian was looking at the man with some shock. You will marry her before you leave. “I will be going to West Court Manor to see my father first,” he said, answering the man’s question. But he couldn’t help revisit the suddenness of his impending marriage. “I am to marry her tonight?”
Gloucester’s amiable expression tightened into the look of stone that Bastian had seen before. The man didn’t like being questioned. “You are,” he said. “Do you have something to say to that?”
It didn’t matter if Bastian did or not. He knew the man did not expect an answer to that question other than a display of obedience and thanks. “Nay, Your Grace,” Bastian said. “But surely her parents will wish to attend? Surely there must be plans and preparations for such a thing?”
Gloucester shook his head. “Richmond le Bec understands the life of a fighting man better than most,” he said.
“He knows your time in England will be brief and there is no time to plan a grand ceremony. I told him after the ceremony, and after you have attended the young king for a time, that I would send you on to Lydford Castle in Devon, which is his seat. My brother granted it to him a long time ago. Le Bec is quite the mining baron now. He makes a fortune from the tin mines on his property, so your wife comes with a substantial dowry. You can go there to meet your new father-in-law and also claim her dowry.”
Bastian really didn’t care about the dowry.
He was still reeling over the fact that Gloucester expected him to marry the lady without delay.
He hadn’t been prepared for that. As he struggled to keep his opinion about the hasty marriage to himself, Gloucester pointed to the chaos going on in the center of the room.
“Go and retrieve your betrothed, Bastian,” he instructed. “Bring her to my solar so we can see this marriage through. My solar is at the end of the hall to the east and I will meet you there after I find my wife. She will want to witness this.”
With that, he walked away, leaving Bastian standing stunned and somewhat outraged with the turn of events.
He wanted very badly to refuse the entire silly betrothal but he knew he had no choice.
This was considered a reward. He looked at it as a punishment.
Moreover, he could hardly imagine what the young woman thought of the whole thing.
Of course she had no reaction when Gloucester informed her of her future.
Much like Bastian, she had to do what she was told.
Therefore, there was no use in delaying the inevitable.
Fighting down his fury and his frustration, he sought out Gannon and Lucas, who were still on the other side of the hall where he had left them.
Retracing his steps back to them, he ignored the stares and whispers of the guests in awe of the mighty Beast, now moving among them.
But he also began to suspect their whispers were more than simply admiration.
He had a feeling the Maid was being discussed as well.
Rumors moved quickly. The courtiers were, if nothing else, a gossipy bunch.
He tried to shake off thoughts of their rumor-mongering as he closed the distance between him and his knights.
“That is indeed your sister, Gannon,” he said as he reached them, pointing to the lady hanging by the silken cord.
“I have been instructed to retrieve her and take her to Gloucester’s solar where a priest will marry us immediately.
Since she does not know me and I do not wish to start out this marriage with a screaming, terrified bride, you will retrieve your sister and bring her to the corridor beyond where you will make the appropriate introductions to me. Is that clear?”
Gannon nodded, trying to hide his surprise. “You are to marry her tonight?”
Bastian sighed sharply. “It is not my choice, I assure you,” he said. “Gloucester has made the arrangements. Go and retrieve her and I shall meet you out in the corridor. Lucas, come with me.”
He took de Lara with him, leaving Gannon standing where he had left him, a bit stunned with the quick turn of events. As the noise and music and merriment went on around him, Gannon was in a world of his own, struggling to reconcile himself to his sister’s immediate future.
Certainly, he liked Bastian and had a great deal of respect for the man, but it was natural for him to want to protect his sister from suitors.
Only this particular suitor was a reluctant one and Gannon began to worry that his sister would be trapped in a discontented marriage with an apathetic husband.
He knew Bastian and knew the man could be hard and cruel at times.
Nay, he didn’t like that thought at all.
But he had no choice but to obey orders, just as Bastian was obeying them. Gannon understood that. With a grunt, perhaps one of regret, he made way to his sister, dangling above the combatants, praying she wouldn’t hate him overly for being an instrument leading to a lifetime of unhappiness.