Chapter Eighteen
The sunset was shades of brilliant oranges and purples, dashed across the deepening sky.
It was nearly dark now but the colors were still there, fading in their glory.
Gisella could see them from the lancet window from the reception room at Braidwood even though the window faced east. Still, she could see the brilliant colors but they had little meaning.
Her thoughts were with Bastian as he headed to Wallingford Castle.
His plans were to confront Suffolk at first light which meant a night march, rare for an army but Bastian had insisted.
He was already concerned that de la Pole had escaped him even though reports coming back from Brant’s men at the ports had been negative.
Still, there was the chance that de la Pole had slipped away.
That made the march to Wallingford in the dead of night that much more imperative.
Gisella and Bastian’s goodbyes had been tender but swift.
They had already said all that needed to be said so when the time came, Bastian took her in his arms and kissed her sweetly in the semi-privacy of Braidwood’s entry hall before heading out to the courtyard where men were already filing from Braidwood’s ward and mounting the white stallion that his wife had given him.
The horse seemed to be calming under Bastian’s firm control and Gisella had waved to him as he’d ridden from the ward astride the flashy beast.
But her brave smile soon faded when the great gates of Braidwood closed behind the army and she stood in the open doorway, wondering what the morrow would bring.
Although she truly didn’t believe Bastian would be killed, she was nonetheless worried for his safety and for the safety of all of them.
That a slap should resound so loudly and cause such an armed response was guilt that she still struggled with.
Henry had been extremely excited to go on this venture, riding a gentle gray mare and surrounded by heavily armed knights.
The only thing that made Gisella smile over the entire situation was thinking of Henry’s happy expression in that he was actually being permitted to do something he considered quite kingly.
But Henry’s court physician was so upset about it that he had taken to drink and had gone straight to his chamber to mull over the fact that the young king was out of his control.
Furthermore, he was too old to ride with the army, upsetting him further.
With the physician tucked away for the night, Braxton and the ladies gathered in the reception room.
It was like the calm after the storm. There wasn’t any tension in the air at this point and even though their thoughts were heavily on the departed army, the ambiance of the room was one of patience.
All they could do was wait for word. Now, it was Sparrow against Braxton, playing round after round of Bone Ace, and Braxton was still losing, now to a woman.
It was a slap in the face of the man’s ego but he was good humored about it, pretending that he was losing on purpose when they all knew otherwise.
“Gigi, come play with us,” Sparrow told her friend, who was lingering by the window. “I am beating your father-in-law terribly. You must come and comfort him.”
Gisella turned to look at the pair, smiling as Sparrow won yet another round. Braxton, showing mock frustration, pretended to gather all of the cards and throw them into the fire, causing Sparrow to squeal with laughter. Gisella came away from the window, wandering in their direction.
“Sir Braxton, you really should not play her any longer,” she said. “Find another game. She is terrible at Chess.”
Braxton’s old face lit up. “Ah-ha!” he crowed. “There is a Chess set here. I will find it and then I will beat you into submission, young woman. Prepare for much humiliation by my hand.”
Sparrow giggled. “I will take your challenge, my lord,” she said. “Pray you can make good on it.”
Braxton’s eyebrows lifted in outrage. “You saucy wench,” he said. “Do you dare to dispute my game skills?”
“I do,” Sparrow said sadly. “It is with great regret that I do. Who have you been playing lately? Imbeciles?”
Gisella giggled as Braxton struggled to hold a straight face. “I shall win and then I shall take a switch to you,” he told her. “Collins! Where is that man? He will know where the Chess set is.”
As Gisella and Sparrow laughed at Braxton’s animation, Collins entered the reception room.
“My lord?” he greeted.
Braxton pretended to be quite serious. “Collins,” he addressed the man. “Do you recall where the Chess set is?”
Collins nodded. “It is in the solar,” he replied. “Shall I retrieve it?”
Braxton nodded firmly. “Bring it here,” he demanded, pointing at Sparrow. “I must teach this young woman a lesson.”
Collins could sense the good humor and he nodded, grinning, as he turned for the door. But he abruptly stopped and focused on Gisella.
“Lady de Russe,” he said. “Supper is almost ready to be served. Where would you have it set?”
Gisella looked at Braxton and Sparrow before responding. “It is just the three of us,” she said. “Can you bring it in here and set it upon the big table?”
Collins nodded and shuffled out of the room, leaving Braxton to shuffle through the big deck of cards, trying to figure out why he kept losing, as Sparrow stood up and stretched her legs.
Then she rubbed her arms, as the warmth of the day had quickly faded and the coolness of the night was settling.
“It will be a lovely night,” Sparrow said to Gisella, who was moving back to the window that overlooked the courtyard. “Mayhap we will take a stroll in the moonlight through the garden after supper.”
Gisella’s gaze moved over the landscape beyond the window. “How romantic,” she said drolly. “If I am going to stroll in the moonlight with someone, I would rather do it with my husband.”
Sparrow giggled as she came upon Gisella and laid her head on her friend’s shoulder. “And I would rather do it with your brother,” she whispered. “Has he said anything to you about me?”
Gisella shook her head. “There has not been the opportunity,” she said. “I have been with Bastian most times and when I have seen Gannon, it is in passing. But I will ask him if you want me to.”
Sparrow lifted her head, smiling demurely. “He is so strong and handsome,” she said. “I will never forgive you for not telling me about your wonderful brother. I have known you for two years and you have never made mention of him other than briefly.”
Gisella made a face. “That is because I do not look at my brother as strong and handsome,” she said. “He is simply my brother, the wicked boy who used to torment me when we were younger.”
Sparrow laughed softly but was cut short of replying when the soldiers near the gates of Braidwood began to take up a call.
Curious, both women peered through the lancet window in time to see the gates opening wide.
Men began pouring through, men bearing the colors of Gloucester, and the smile faded from Gisella’s face.
Gloucester had arrived and she knew, instinctively, that his presence was not a welcome one. His men were kicking up dirt in the bailey, shouting to one another, and she could already sense the tension. She turned to Braxton, who was still fussing with the cards.
“Sir Braxton,” she hissed. “Gloucester is here.”
Braxton lifted his head, looking at Gisella with a surprisingly calm expression.
But it was clear he was mulling over the man’s arrival.
The calm mood of the evening shifted, now becoming tense and curious at the unexpected arrival of Gloucester.
Gisella and Sparrow came away from the window, heading for Braxton.
“He is here to stop Bastian from riding to Wallingford,” Gisella said to the man, but suddenly looked stricken. “Or he is here to take the king back to the Tower. God’s Bones, what will he do when he finds out the king has gone with Bastian?”
Braxton reached out and grasped her arm, squeezing it firmly.
“There is nothing he can to do except follow Bastian to Wallingford, in which case Bastian will deal with the man,” he said calmly.
“For now, we will welcome Gloucester and ask him to sup with us. But you and Lady Sparrow must remain gracious and calm, no matter what the man says. Is that clear?”
Gisella and Sparrow nodded solemnly. “Of course,” Gisella agreed.
“And you will let me do the talking.”
Again, the women nodded in agreement. Braxton patted Gisella on the cheek with his big, rough hand.
“Good lass,” he said. “Now, let us welcome our guest. Lady Sparrow, go and tell Collins that we may have guests for supper.”
Sparrow fled the room, leaving Gisella with Braxton to face Gloucester alone.
The old man could see how nervous she was, and rightly so, and he reached out to take her hand, holding it gently.
Gisella squeezed his big fingers, taking comfort in Bastian’s wise father.
She was coming to like him a great deal.
The knock on the entry door inevitably came and a servant scurried from the dining room with the Roman tiles in the floor to answer it. They could hear voices, mostly Gloucester’s loud one, and Braxton called out.
“My lord,” he said in a rather booming voice. “Join us in the reception room if you would.”
Gloucester appeared in the doorway moments later, dressed in a fine tunic and cloak.
He was without armor but the men accompanying him, three knights that Gisella knew to be part of Gloucester’s entourage, were in full protection.
All four men entered the reception room, heading for Braxton and Gisella.
“Sir Braxton,” Gloucester greeted. “You are looking well this eve. Greetings, Lady de Russe.”
Gisella forced a smile at the man, still holding on to Braxton as she did so. “Welcome to Braidwood, my lord,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. “We are honored by your visit.”