Chapter Seventeen #4
Henry nodded, looking down at the scribbles in the dust. “I know him,” he said. “I saw him hit Lady Gisella. That is why you want him, isn’t it? To punish him for striking her?”
Standing behind Braxton, Aramis let out a grunt of displeasure now that he knew the reasons behind Bastian’s motivation, over a woman of all things, but Bastian ignored his uncle. He nodded to the king’s question.
“It is, Your Grace,” he said.
Henry’s gaze moved to Gisella, standing with both hands looped into the crook of her husband’s elbow. She smiled at Henry and he could see the faint bruise on her jaw where de la Pole had hit her. Henry scratched his head, frowning.
“What Sir Thomas did to Lady Gisella was very unkind,” he said. “He must be punished. I will go with you to Wallingford Castle and order Suffolk to give you his brother. He must obey me or I will take Wallingford away from him.”
Bastian was stunned at the very simple yet very effective plan. Nothing of what the king said was untrue. Henry seemed quite serious about it but Bastian wasn’t convinced it was a good idea.
“That is generous, Your Grace, but I do not think you should be put in such a position,” he said.
“Suffolk is an ally and you do not want to turn him against you. Moreover, I will be traveling with an army and you would be safer if you remained here. I believe I can convince Suffolk to give me his brother.”
Henry wasn’t sure if he was being denied or not, so he went on the assumption that he wasn’t. “I will ride with you,” he said, more firmly. “Suffolk must listen to me. If he denies me, I will make sure he is punished.”
Bastian could see that the young man would not be deterred, which brought about a new host of problems. He forced a smile.
“You offer is very generous, Your Grace,” he said again, eyeing the men surrounding him.
They were all looking at him as if glad they were not the ones dealing with the head-strong king.
“If you would like to listen to Sir Worthington speak on the strategy of addressing Suffolk, I will speak with my father a moment. Please excuse us.”
Henry wanted to hear about strategy so he wasn’t hard pressed to remain and listen to Worthington’s suggestions about the approach to Wallingford.
Gisella let go of Bastian, remaining with the king as Bastian pulled both his father and his uncle with him into a private huddle a few feet away.
He started to speak but Brant broke away from the group of knights and came to the huddle as well.
From the look on his face, he seemed to be having the same concerns about the young king traveling with them into a potentially dangerous situation as Bastian had.
“Gloucester will murder me if I take the king into battle against Suffolk,” Bastian hissed at his father. “Why did you tell him about the situation with Suffolk?”
Braxton held steady against his son’s frustration. “He asked,” he said simply. “God’s Bones, Bastian, he is the king. He wants to help. Let the boy do something to help you if he can.”
Bastian’s eyebrows flew up. “Are you mad?” he demanded. “I cannot take a nine-year-old king to a confrontation. If Gloucester doesn’t kill me, Bedford and Beaufort will.”
“I must agree with Bastian,” Aramis said. “He cannot take the king to Wallingford to confront Suffolk.”
Braxton frowned at his brother and at his son.
“Why not?” he asked. “You have not spent the past several hours with that boy. Gloucester and the regents have that child so boxed up and so repressed that he is scared of his own shadow. He wants to be a good king. He wants to do what is right. He is not fond of battle or confrontation. He wants to help solve your problem, Bastian. Why can’t you let him fulfill the destiny that his father would have wanted for him? ”
Braxton’s words doused Bastian’s building fire.
When his father put it like that, of course Bastian could not deny the boy the opportunity to fulfill what his father would have wished.
A good king. That was all Henry ever wanted for his son, his namesake, the child who was only nine months old when he became king.
Bastian sighed heavily and looked at Brant, a man he trusted.
He and Brant were nearly the same age and had much the same personality. He lifted his eyebrows for emphasis.
“Well?” he asked Brant. “What are your thoughts? For certain, now I do not know what to think, so give me your advice.”
Brant looked over at the king, who was intently watching Worthington as the man drew in the dirt. After a moment, he sighed heavily.
“He is the king,” he said. “If he truly wishes to go, we do not have the power to deny him. So we will bring him with us and ensure that he is amply protected. We also send word to Gloucester about what is happening. Your missive from last night asking him if he has yet contacted Suffolk has not been answered. Surely a missive regarding the king would prompt the man’s immediate response. ”
“Or his immediate ire,” Aramis grumbled. “This is madness.”
Bastian looked at him. “Do you have a better idea?” he asked. “If you do, now is the time.”
Aramis rolled his eyes. Then, he pursed his lips angrily, looking over at the group of knights where the young king was now pointing to the dirt map and asking questions.
“I am going to be stripped of the Warminster dukedom as well after this,” he hissed. “I just know it. I am going to be living on the streets of London and prostituting myself to pay for my daily bread.”
Bastian grunted. “We will probably all end up in the Tower,” he said. “But, for now, we have no choice, as Brant pointed out. If Henry wants to come and order Suffolk to turn his brother over to me, then we shall be forced to permit it. Father, will you come with us and watch over Henry?”
Braxton shook his head. “As much as would like to, I cannot,” he said. “Traveling from West Court yesterday took away all of my strength. A march to Wallingford would likely kill me.”
Bastian patted his father’s shoulder in understanding. “Then you remain here and protect the women,” he said. “That is the most important task of all.”
With that, Bastian broke away from his father, uncle, and cousin, and headed over to where the knights, his wife, and the king were gathered.
He thought fleetingly of his friend, Henry’s father, and of how proud the man would have been of a son who wanted to do the right and good thing for all.
When he thought on it that way, he didn’t have much of a heart for denying the boy any longer because the qualities Henry was displaying were the qualities of a good king.
Lost in thought, he heard footfalls next to him and turned to see Brant walking beside him.
“I am putting you in charge of the king’s safety,” he told his cousin. “Make sure he is amply protected.”
Brant nodded. “I will,” he said. Then, he hesitated before speaking further. “Bas?”
“Aye?”
“Do you think Suffolk is going to obey the king’s order to release his brother to you?”
Bastian didn’t say anything for a moment. When he did, his tone was low and steady. “I cannot know for certain,” he said. “But if he does not, it will be your duty to take the king and ride hard for London while I lay siege to Wallingford. Return the boy to the Tower and guard him with your life.”
“You know I will until the death.”
Bastian sincerely hoped it did not come to that.