Chapter Sixteen #2
When Bastian reached his bedchamber, he opened the door to find the room in a bit of disarray.
Gisella had her capcases unpacked and there were garments, shoes, belts, and accessories on the bed, on the eating table, and on the floor.
As he entered the chamber and quietly closed the door, locking it, Gisella looked up from where she was bent over the smaller capcase.
“That did not take long,” she said. “Your business with your knights must not have been very important for your conference with them to be so short.”
Bastian approached the bed, picking up a very silky shift, feeling the texture against the rough skin of his hand. It was arousing.
“It was important,” he said casually. “What are you doing?”
Gisella gestured to her cases. “I thought I should pull these garments out and at least put them on a peg and let them hang,” she said. “We are going to remain here for a time, aren’t we?”
Bastian nodded. “Aye.”
Gisella smiled at him as she went back to her garments, taking those off the bed and moving for the connecting dressing room where there were pegs on the wall to hang garments from.
Bastian could see her through the open door, moving around in the dark room.
His thoughts were lingering on the meeting he had just come from and of the plans for the future.
Gisella had to know about them. It was only fair, considering she was as involved at the root of the situation as he was.
But the more he watched her, the more he began to wonder – was his vendetta against de la Pole purely one of honor?
Or did it have to do with the fact that he actually felt something for his new wife?
Had he not been fond of the woman, de la Pole’s strike wouldn’t have angered him.
He would have punished the man purely out of personal honor.
But what he was feeling went far beyond persona honor.
A man dared to take a hand to a woman that was coming to mean a great deal to him.
Her beauty, her humor, and her intelligence…
all of it was coming to mean something to him and every time he thought on de la Pole taking a hand to that perfection, he wanted to rip the man’s head off.
But he was distracted from his thoughts when Gisella came out of the dressing room and gathered a few more garments that were laid across the bed.
He watched her as she moved, so graceful and fluid.
Now, if he was to see her hanging from a silken cord above a crowd, singing in her sweet voice, it would seriously arouse him.
He would also be wildly furious at the fact that she wasn’t doing it for him alone.
As she brushed past him, he spoke quietly.
“You may now tell me what happened at the Tower today,” he said, moving to the hearth where two comfortable chairs sat before the snapping blaze. “Why did you strike de la Pole? What did he say to upset you so?”
Gisella’s good humor vanished. Still holding the garments in her hand, she looked at him with an expression of both guilt and remorse. She struggled to tell him.
“He said vile things,” she finally said. “He said that you were evil.”
Bastian’s gaze was steady on her. “Men have declared me evil on many occasions but I did not slap them for it,” he said. “Tell me what de la Pole said to make you strike him. Tell me the truth.”
Gisella sighed faintly, knowing she had little choice but to tell him everything.
She knew this moment would come and she had been anticipating it, but now she found that she was reluctant to tell him.
He was a strong, virtuous knight and did not deserve the gossip thrown at him, especially by foolish young nobles. She sighed heavily.
“He said you are called Beast because you are evil and wicked,” she said quietly. “He said that you deflowered the Maid. So I slapped him.”
Bastian had suspected what de la Pole had said, or at least alluded to, so he wasn’t surprised.
He could see that Gisella was upset by all of it, and rightly so.
Rumors that he had never particularly cared about before were starting to get under his skin because they were affecting Gisella.
He didn’t want her to be distressed by foolish whisperings simply because he didn’t like to see her sad.
He was indifferent enough to ride out the rumors, she was not.
Reaching out, he took her by the elbow and sat her down on the bed before collecting one of the chairs near the hearth and pulling it up alongside her. When he sat down, it was facing her, both of their expressions quite serious. Bastian spoke softly.
“I am called Beast because I am a beast of a warrior,” he said.
“It was a name that started very early in my life when I was a squire. I have the blood of seven legendary knights flowing through my veins, ancestors whom I honor – Bhrodi de Shera, William de Wolfe, Brandt de Russe, and Braxton de Nerra on my father’s side and Christopher de Lohr, Ajax de Velt, and Sean de Lara on my mother’s side.
I am the result of generations of refined breeding, the perfect knight if you will, and that is why I am called Beast. There is no other like me in England.
I am not called Beast because I am wicked.
As for deflowering the Maid, I told you before that I was her jailor and nothing more.
I never touched the woman in a manner that ran contrary to my duties or my authority. ”
Gisella nodded solemnly. “I believe you,” she said.
“But I could not let Sir Thomas shout such terrible things about you. The king was there – he heard everything and I’m sure many other people did as well.
Bastian, I know I should not have struck Sir Thomas but he infuriated me.
I could not let him say such things about a man who does not deserve it. ”
A smile spread across his lips as he gazed into her lovely face. “I have never had someone defend me so staunchly before,” he said. “You cannot know how deeply your concern touches me.”
She smiled in spite of herself, because he was. It was hard not to look into that handsome face and not smile in return.
“I have spent the past two years in Lady Gloucester’s court,” she said. “I have seen gossip ruin men’s lives. I do not wish to see that happen to you.”
He reached out and took her soft hand in his, her delicate white fingers dwarfed by his big ones. “And it shall not with you as my protector,” he said. “You have my thanks.”
Gisella could feel the warmth from his hand, traveling up her arm, filling her body with fluid delight. She looked at his hand as it held hers, watching as he gently caressed her fingers.
“May… may I ask you a question?” she asked.
“You may always ask me any question you wish. I will answer you truthfully.”
She was having a difficult time concentrating with his fingers fondling her hand so sweetly.
“Will you please tell me what the Maid was like?” she asked.
“We have all heard so much about her and how she was a madwoman who professed that God spoke to her. But she was just a girl, wasn’t she? What was she like?”
Bastian pondered her question for a moment.
“Aye, she was a girl, like any other,” he said.
“But I have never seen one so young be so passionate about something. She was deeply passionate about her people. And she was quite intelligent given the fact that she had never had any education. There was also a wisdom about her that was difficult to describe.”
Gisella listened attentively. “Do you believe that God spoke to her?”
He smiled, ironically. “Henry asked me nearly the same thing,” he said.
“Do I believe that God spoke to the Maid? If He did not, then she accomplished some fairly amazing feats on her own. I never saw Him speak to her so I cannot say for certain, but I believe her faith was stronger than any I have ever seen. If that means that God spoke to her, then mayhap He did.”
Gisella thought of the young woman who had moved an entire country. “She was young, wasn’t she?”
He nodded. “Around nineteen years of age.”
Gisella lifted her eyebrows in realization. “She was a year older than I am,” she said. “That seems strange to have done so much with her life in so short a span.”
“Indeed,” Bastian agreed. “She was quite driven.”
Gisella mulled over the young woman and the saints who propelled her.
But she was also thinking about Thomas de la Pole and his slander against Bastian regarding the Maid.
Bastian was still playing with the fingers of her right hand and she slipped her left hand in as well, squeezing his big fingers.
“What are you going to do about Sir Thomas?” she asked softly. “I cannot imagine his actions will go unpunished. Is that what you went to speak with your knights about? Punishing him?”
Bastian looked at her, the way the firelight played off her lovely features. She was such a gorgeous creature and he could see that the red welt on her jaw was turning blue as a bruise began to form. The fury in his heart resumed with a vengeance.
“Aye,” he said honestly. “If Suffolk does not turn the man over to me for punishment, then I will take him by force.”
Gisella’s features tightened with fear. “What does that mean?”
Bastian met her gaze steadily. “It means I will hunt the man down and when I find him, I will do whatever is necessary to extract him and take him into my custody,” he said.
“We think he might be at Wallingford Castle. Gloucester said he would mediate the situation with Suffolk but I will not wait, at least not overly. Every second I delay is a second that might provide de la Pole with the opportunity to flee the country.”
Gisella felt rather sickened by all of it. “You would go to war with Suffolk?”
Bastian kissed her hand and released it, standing up from the chair. “I would do what is necessary to punish de la Pole for striking you.”
Gisella sighed miserably. “But I struck him first.”