Chapter Six #5
“There has not been the opportunity to tell you of our immediate future,” he said.
“We will only be at West Court for two or three days at the most. After that, we will go to London where the young king resides. I have been assigned as his chief protector for the time being. It would seem that Bedford and Gloucester are concerned for the king’s safety and I am to ensure his good health.
I have been ordered to take you with me so that you may entertain the young king while I watch over him.
These were Gloucester, and Lady Gloucester’s, directives. ”
Gisella considered the information carefully. “I have only caught glimpses of the young king during my time with Lady Gloucester,” she said. “My impression is that he is a boy with many retainers about him telling him what to do.”
Bastian nodded in agreement. “As a young king, he needs the wisdom and training of others.”
Gisella shook her head. “Nay,” she said softly.
“I mean that when I saw him, there were two severe looking women hovering over every move he made. They told him what bites of food to take, and how often, and limited his drink. One of them even wiped his mouth. You say I am to entertain him? Am I to be his companion?”
Bastian shrugged. “That was the directive I was given,” he said.
“I apologize that you will be entertaining a young boy who would probably rather be out riding or fishing. I’ve not seen the king in a few years, of course, so I do not entirely know his mind, but when I was that age, all I wanted to do was ride my horse. ”
Gisella was silent a moment, pondering what she’d been told.
“I will be honest when I say I felt a good deal of pity for him,” she said.
“He was being pushed around and he did not fight back. He simply did what he was told. I wonder if he even has a free will. He has only known people telling him what to do. I wonder if he ever makes his own decisions.”
Bastian glanced at her, thinking on the meaning of her words. “You will soon find out,” he said. “I suppose that if he has no free will, you will encourage such a thing.”
Her head came up and she looked at him. “God gave man a free will,” she said. “A king, most of all, should have one. He is making the decisions for our country, is he not? Better his decisions than someone else’s with an ulterior motive.”
Bastian pulled off the last of his plate armor.
“Wisely spoken, wife,” he said, watching her expression at the use of the new term.
She appeared rather startled at first but then she grinned when she saw that he was watching her.
He grinned in return. “I have a feeling you will be an excellent companion to him but beware his advisors and retainers. If they feel you are working against them, it might make our lives rather difficult.”
She cocked her head curiously. “Our lives?”
He nodded as he removed the padded tunic upon which his plate armor rested. “Aye,” he said. “If they slander you, I will have to kill them, which might upset Gloucester and Bedford. It is therefore my suggestion that you tread carefully with whatever you discuss with the king.”
Gisella smiled ironically. “I have spent over two years in the company of Lady Gloucester,” she said, “dealing with fools like Guildford, or worse. I understand the need for care and tact. Would you really kill those who slandered me?”
“Without hesitation.”
It was a chivalrous declaration, one that made Gisella’s heart beat just a little faster.
“I do not wish for you to commit murder on my behalf,” she said, smiling somewhat modestly.
“Therefore, I will be very careful of what I say and do. Moreover, I would not wish for my actions to reflect badly upon you.”
Bastian was pleased with her view on the situation. He would appreciate a wife who honored him and did not pull him into difficulties. “I cannot imagine that would happen,” he said quietly, “but I appreciate your caution.”
It was a warm moment between them, something rare and new and tremulous, but it was something they both found agreeable.
The padded tunic came off in the middle of this sweet moment and he threw it to the floor, grunting with relief.
Gisella, seated within a few feet of him, caught a terrible whiff of body odor, so bad that she nearly gasped as the invisible wave of noxious fumes washed over her.
But she caught herself from audibly reacting, coughing instead to cover the gaff.
As she politely cleared her throat and tried not to breathe through her nose, Bastian sniffed the stained, dirty linen tunic that was still on his body.
“Great Bleeding Christ,” he hissed. “I smell as if I have been dead for three months. My apologies, my lady. I have been traveling for over a week wearing the same clothing. I did not realize how rotten I smelled until this very moment.”
Gisella did the polite thing. She downplayed the stench. “I did not notice, my lord.”
He cast her a long glance. “You are kind to say so, but unless you have no sense of smell, it would be impossible to miss this horrific odor I seem to be emitting,” he said. “I should bathe before I knock you over with it.”
Gisella giggled as he moved across the room, to another door, and opened it.
Beyond was a small room that contained a privy and a big, iron tub.
Gisella could see it through the open door.
Bastian began to bang about inside, rummaging around in a small cabinet, before opening another door that evidently opened out into the corridor.
He began shouting for hot water and soap, and Gisella could hear feet scurrying in the corridor outside of the room.
As she sat there and watched, servants began entering the dressing room where Bastian was still rummaging around.
The servants brought soap, towels, and buckets of hot water eventually started coming.
A servant even entered the bedchamber and picked up Bastian’s filthy padded tunic and took it out.
There was quite a bit of bustle going on around the room and Gisella watched with waning curiosity because her attention kept drifting to the massive pillared bed over near the windows.
It was very large, certainly large enough for a man of Bastian’s size with room to spare, and the more she looked at it, the more her exhaustion had the better of her.
Bastian was in the dressing room, telling the servants to hurry filling his tub, as Gisella rose from her chair and nearly staggered to the bed.
She put her hands on it, feeling its softness, and she could wait no more.
She thought perhaps to lay down on the top of the coverlet, simply to rest her eyes while Bastian bathed the stink from his body, but the moment she crawled onto the bed and lay her head on the pillow, sleep overwhelmed her and she entered a dark, liquid world where dreams of a big knight with blue eyes seemed to linger in her mind.
It was the beginning of more dreams to come.