Chapter Eleven #4
There was a huge amount of edibles presented and Gisella was impressed with the culinary talents of Braidwood’s cook because she saw many things that she’d seen on Lady Gloucester’s table, or at least variations of it.
There were little doughy cakes filled with almond paste, baked in honey and wine, as well as a very large knuckle of beef with a good deal of meat on it.
More pastries lined the table including boiled figs slathered in honey and small, hard cakes also basted in butter and honey.
There were cheese tarts, beans and onions, and big hunks of yellow bread with a thick, brown crust.
All things considered, it was a great feast and Gisella and Sparrow sat at the table with Gannon and Lucas, the women eating from the same trencher, as Bastian and his cousins ate standing up, food in hand, speaking on mostly family-related matters.
Gisella wasn’t paying much attention to Bastian because at this particular moment, Gannon and Sparrow had her attention.
Sparrow was clearly enamored with Gannon and kept glancing at him, but her brother was being stubborn and refused to look at the woman.
It was an odd stand-off with Gannon clearly uncomfortable and Sparrow being about as obvious as she could possibly be.
As Bastian and his cousins got into a heated discussion over something that had to do with Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, Gisella fixed on her brother.
“Gannon,” she said, picking at the cheese tart. “Are you planning on going back to France soon or will you be remaining in London with Bastian?”
Gannon looked up from his beef. “I am assigned to Bastian, so where he goes, I go,” he said, looking back to his meal. “But I have had enough of France, to be truthful. I think we all have.”
Gisella watched him pull apart a big, fatty piece of meat. “Has it been terrible, then?” she asked.
He shrugged, shoving a piece of stringy meat into his mouth. “I have spent far too much time there,” he said. “I have been fighting in France since the Battle of Vernueil almost seven years ago. It feels like a lifetime.”
Gisella wasn’t unsympathetic. “What will you do now that you are home and have no more wars to fight?”
Gannon shrugged, watching Lucas as the man finished his meal and excused himself from the table. As de Lara quit the hall, Gannon returned his attention to his sister.
“Talk of remaining in England upsets Lucas,” he said quietly. “He has a woman he is in love with in Rouen. He wants to marry her and it is upsetting to him not knowing how long it will be before we return.”
Gisella’s expression was one of regret. “Mayhap he can go back very soon and marry her,” she said. “Is there a reason why he must be here with Bastian?”
Gannon thought on that. “He is Bastian’s cousin and where Bastian goes, he goes.”
Gisella’s brow furrowed. “But if he is Bastian’s cousin, why is he not in conversation with Bastian and his other cousins?” she wanted to know. “Aren’t they all related?”
Gannon shook his head. “Lucas is Bastian’s cousin on his mother’s side, the de Lara side,” he said. “Moreover, Lucas and Martin cannot stand one another so it is best to keep them separated.”
Both Gisella and Sparrow looked over to Martin, several feet away as he huddled with Bastian near the hearth. “He does seem rather obnoxious,” Gisella admitted. “He and Bastian were fighting earlier.”
Gannon swallowed the remainder of his food and drained his cup of wine. “That is to be expected,” he said, belching after his meal. “No one likes Martin. The man is insufferable and crass, but he is a very good knight. We tolerate him for Bastian’s sake.”
With that, he excused himself from the table and followed Lucas’ path out of the room. Gisella and Sparrow watched him leave. When he was gone, Sparrow sighed.
“Your brother is going to be a more difficult conquest than I thought,” she said.
“We spent the day together yesterday but only because your husband ordered him to remain with me. There were moments when he would warm to me but just as quickly, he would pretend to be disinterested. I can tell that he is going to be a great challenge.”
Gisella turned to look at her. “I have been anxious to ask you about the events of yesterday while I slept,” she said softly.
“But I did not want to ask in front of others. So my brother is being difficult, is he? I have it on good authority that it is not because he is in love with someone else. He is simply being stubborn.”
Sparrow grinned. “I like stubborn,” she said. “I will have him eating out of my hand in a week or less.”
Gisella giggled. “I do not think so,” she said. “He is quite resistant.”
Sparrow shook her head. “It does not matter,” she said confidently. “I will lay siege against his walls and emerge the victor. You will see, Gigi.”
Gisella continued laughing, eating the last of her cheese tart. “I hope you prove me wrong.”
Sparrow leaned forward, taking one of Gisella’s hands and squeezing it. “Speaking of conquest,” she whispered, “how has it been with Sir Bastian? Have you two…?”
Gisella shook her head quickly, eyeing Bastian several feet away. She knew what her friend meant simply by her tone.
“Nay,” she murmured. “We have not consummated the marriage yet if that is what you were going to ask. There has not been the opportunity.”
Sparrow was also looking at Bastian, his fine figure several feet away.
“But there is always tonight,” she whispered.
“Don’t you want to… well, know what it is like?
Remember how Silly Lily would speak of her adventures with some of Gloucester’s knights?
She would speak of a man’s touch and how it caused her to tremble. Don’t you want to know what she meant?”
Gisella tore her eyes from Bastian, looking back to Sparrow. “I do,” she admitted. “But it is a frightening thought.”
“Why?”
“Because there is pain,” she mumbled. “Silly Lily said there was a good deal of pain.”
Sparrow frowned. “Pah,” she spat softly. “Silly Lily also said that men smell like compost heaps and that their genitals are slimy, like a fish. She is full of lies and misinformation.”
That was true. Gisella knew that their foolish friend back at Bella Court was full of more fiction than truth. “You are correct,” she said, sighing. “I suppose I have nothing to fear.”
Sparrow shook her head. “Nay, you do not,” she said. “Sir Bastian seems to be quite attentive to you since your arrival at West Court. I am sure he will be kind to you in his husbandly duties as well.”
Gisella didn’t reply. She was thinking on the event itself, feeling nervous at the mere thought.
Bastian was so large and so powerful that she felt lightheaded at the thought of him touching her as a husband touches a wife.
As she sipped at her wine, mulling over that eventuality, Bastian broke away from his cousins and startled her with a touch to her shoulder.
Nearly choking on her wine, she coughed heavily as Sparrow and Bastian patted her on the back to keep her from strangling on inhaled wine.
“I am sorry,” Bastian said as Gisella calmed herself. “I did not mean to startle you.”
Gisella smiled weakly at him, wiping her mouth with a linen towel. “It was clumsy of me, I suppose.”
He smiled down at her, a genuine smile. The gestures, since yesterday, had been quite frequent and in most cases quite warm. Gisella could feel that giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach again, a sensation she was quickly coming to associate with Bastian.
“We should go see to Henry now rather than later,” he said. “I suspect he will want us to remain at the Tower, at least for the evening meal, so you may want to change your dress. We will be at the king’s table, after all.”
Gisella nodded eagerly. “I would like to change into something more appropriate,” she agreed, rising from her chair. “Where have my cases been taken?”
Bastian held out his hand. “I will take you,” he said, helping her away from the table.
As he and Gisella began heading for the entry hall and the staircase beyond, Bastian turned to his cousins.
“Take Lady Sparrow in hand, if you will. She is a fine woman from Lady Gloucester’s court and, I am sure, well-educated on games and other things. Keep her entertained until we return.”
Brant wasn’t too interested in the directive but Martin was.
The last Gisella saw Sparrow, Martin was closing in on her with a rather lustful smile on his face.
As Gisella and Bastian began to mount the stairs, they heard a sharp slap and Brant’s low laughter.
Gisella looked at Bastian in alarm, but he merely shook his head.
“Not to worry,” he said quietly. “Now Martin knows what he cannot get away with.”
Gisella’s eyes widened in outrage. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Why did you leave her in his care if you knew he would be inappropriate with her?”
Bastian patted her hand calmly. “Trust me,” he said. “It is not as bad as all that. The most Martin would do is pinch her cheek or tell her she was a delectable piece of meat. If he said that to you, what would you do?”
Gisella calmed somewhat. “Slap him, I suppose.”
Bastian’s lips were twitching with a grin. “Which is what Lady Sparrow did,” he said as they neared the top of the stairs. “Your friend is quite safe, I assure you. She has established the rules now and Martin will follow.”
Gisella hoped that was the case, at least for Martin’s sake. If rightly offended, Sparrow wouldn’t stop at a slap and Martin would be risking his future ability to have children. The woman had never been afraid to defend herself.
The thought made Gisella grin.