Chapter Seventeen
“I thought this wasn’t a military fortress,” Sparrow said, peering through the window of Braidwood’s reception room and out into the courtyard beyond. “There are hundreds of soldiers out there.”
Pale with angst, Gisella stood beside her friend, watching her husband and his knights organize a large collection of new troops that had arrived over the past hour.
It was nearing the nooning hour but troops arriving in the courtyard had been going on since before dawn.
There were knights in armor, too, several of them, and Gisella watched with mounting distress as an army was assembled before her eyes.
“This is my fault,” she hissed quietly. “Had I not struck Thomas, none of this would be happening. Men are going to die because of what I did.”
Sparrow knew the entire story, mostly through Gisella’s rather disjointed tale that morning when they converged on the kitchen for the morning meal.
By that time, all of the knights save Braxton had been out in the courtyard, so breakfast was a small meal shared by Gisella, Braxton, Sparrow, the king’s physician, and the king.
Henry, in fact, didn’t seem too upset given what was going on around him.
He had expected to be taken back to the Tower this morning but that trip seemed to have been delayed.
More to the point, he seemed rather happy about it and ate nearly everything that was put before him – eggs with cream and cheese, several hunks of warm bread and butter, and strips of pork that had been fried crispy.
He stuck close to Braxton and seemed quite at ease with the man, and even managed to start a conversation with Gisella about his desire for a lovely prayer book.
She responded politely, speaking of a beautiful Italian prayer book that Lady Gloucester had, something that interested Henry greatly.
But throughout the conversation, Gisella’s thoughts and mind were with her husband in the courtyard.
She simply couldn’t shake the sense of dread.
They moved out to the big reception room after the morning meal was finished and Sparrow sat with Henry, teaching him how to play a game called Bone Ace from a deck of beautifully painted cards that had once belonged to Aderyn de Russe.
It was a numbers game and Henry was good with numbers, so he quickly ended up beating Sparrow several hands whereupon she turned the game over to Braxton, who played gleefully against the boy who was trying very hard to beat him.
This left the old physician hovering behind his young charge, watching the game, as Gisella and Sparrow watched the courtyard, worrying over what was to come.
“It is not your fault,” Sparrow said, sympathetic. “I would have done the same thing. What a nasty man to say such terrible things about your husband.”
Gisella could see her brother speaking with Bastian and another knight she recognized.
Sir Andrew Wellesbourne was in their midst, having come with the other troops that morning.
He was dressed for battle, and Gisella was nearly sick with what was transpiring.
Her husband was obviously building an army in that small, manicured courtyard.
“I am going outside,” Gisella said when she could stand it no longer. “I must speak with Bastian.”
Sparrow held on to her, refusing to let her go. “You must not,” she said. “Nothing you can say to him will change his mind, will it?”
Gisella’s featured twisted into a pout. “I must try,” she insisted. “I cannot let men die because I slapped a ridiculous young lord. It is not worth men’s lives.”
Sparrow didn’t let go of her but she could see how upset her friend was.
She wasn’t particularly surprised. Gisella and Bastian had spent a good deal of time together as of late and Sparrow could only go on the assumption that something good was blossoming between them.
Certainly, Gisella wouldn’t be so distressed if she didn’t feel something for the man she married which was surprising given their rocky start.
Still, it was wholly wonderful because Gisella deserved such happiness.
She stopped gripping Gisella’s arm and looped her hand through her friend’s elbow.
“Walk with me,” she said softly.
Gisella followed simply because she was told to.
It was better than standing around, worrying.
Unhappy, she let Sparrow lead her out of the reception room and into the entry hall.
Sparrow tried to take her into the big room with the Roman tiles on the floor but Gisella pulled towards the front door and Sparrow relented, following her out into the warm day.
The sun was out overhead and the humidity from the river was stronger here than in the house.
There was the house in its “U” shape, a pebble path leading from it, through the gardens, and then to the drive and wide courtyard area where the soldiers were gathering.
Gisella was practically towing Sparrow towards the courtyard but Sparrow convinced her to wander through the garden a bit and admire some of the lovely flowers.
From their position in the garden, they could see the activity with the troops more clearly and Gisella seemed to calm somewhat.
As long as she was close to the action and could see Bastian, her mood was better.
Coming upon a carved stone bench, Sparrow forced Gisella to sit down beside her.
“Now,” Sparrow said quietly. “Tell me what is going on with you and Sir Bastian. Honestly, Gigi, you are acting like a woman in love. I have never seen you so distraught over a man.”
Gisella looked at her friend sharply. “In love?” she repeated, shocked, but just as quickly, the idea settled with her.
She mulled it over. Then she turned to look at Bastian as he mingled with his knights, a head taller than the rest of them, and her heart swelled enormously.
“I… I am not entirely sure if I am in love with him, but I certainly care for him. He is kind and quite wonderful.”
Sparrow’s gaze lingered on Bastian, too. “Then what is not to love about him?” she asked, her gaze moving to Gannon and wondering if someday she would love someone, too. “I can see a change in you, my friend. I think you have fallen in love with your husband.”
Gisella wasn’t startled by the idea the second time.
Her gaze stayed on Bastian and she began to reflect on their relationship in just these few short days.
After a moment, she sighed. “It seems like a lifetime ago that we met,” she murmured.
“Was it really only a few days ago? That is so difficult to imagine. I feel as if I have been around him my entire life.”
Sparrow grinned, holding her hand. “I am so happy for you,” she said, giving her a hug. “After your terrible beginning with him, I was not entirely sure you would even like him. It seems that you do.”
Gisella looked at Sparrow and, seeing her grin, began to laugh. “I do,” she agreed, joy in her heart that she couldn’t begin to describe. “I do very much.”
Sparrow nodded. “I can tell,” she said. “But you must now do what all wives of great warriors do – you must let him do what he must do. You cannot stop him, Gigi. If you try, you will only make yourself miserable. You have seen enough knights and warriors to know this.”
Gisella’s smile faded, thinking of Bastian going to war against Suffolk because of her.
It was enough to make her feel sick again.
As she sat there with Sparrow and worried, Bastian and Sir Andrew headed in her direction.
She watched them approach, her heart beating wildly at the sight of Bastian, swelling with joy.
Perhaps Sparrow was right. Perhaps she was in love with him.
She couldn’t explain her feelings any other way.
“Lady de Russe,” Bastian greeted her with a smile on his lips. “It is agreeable to see you out here. Are you sure it is not too hot in the sun for you?”
Gisella smiled up at him, focused on him as if he were the only person in the entire world. “Nay,” she said. “It is a lovely day. We were just sitting here and enjoying the garden.”
She made it sound quite innocent and Sparrow cast her a somewhat disbelieving look, but Gisella ignored her. Bastian, however, didn’t see Sparrow’s expression. Much like his wife, he seemed to be singularly focused, only upon her.
“The river makes it a bit sticky, but it is not too terrible,” he said. Then, he indicated Andrew, standing to his right. “My lady, you remember Andrew Wellesbourne, of course.”
Gisella nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Welcome to Braidwood, Sir Andrew.”
Andrew was without his helm this morning and displaying a full head of curly blond hair. He nodded politely to Gisella’s statement.
“Thank you, Lady de Russe,” he said. “I only wish the circumstances were happier.”
Gisella’s smile faded somewhat. “As do I,” she said. “You brought more men with you, I see.”
Andrew nodded, glancing at Bastian to make sure the man approved of him commenting on such a thing. Bastian didn’t seem opposed to it so Andrew continued.
“I did, my lady,” he said. “May I be honest and say that Bastian told me what happened with Thomas de la Pole. The man shall be punished for what he did. It is inexcusable.”
Gisella nodded. Then, she simply turned and walked away.
She was afraid if she remained and there was more discussion about the impending military action, she might break down and she did not want to do that in front of Andrew.
She was already dangerously brittle this morning, emotions she had never experienced before swamping her.
She had never had to deal with having someone she adored heading off to battle.
Aye, she adored him. To think of something happening to Bastian brought tears to her eyes and as she headed into the kitchen, to the rear of the gardens, someone grasped her gently by the arm.
“Wait,” Bastian said softly. “Where are you going?”