Page 380 of Historical Hotties
He watched her as she struggled to quiet her tears. “Then you do not believe my honor is worth the price?”
She looked at him. “I understand that you feel your honor is at stake because another man struck your wife,” she said. “But the reality is that it was simply not that serious of an offense. Not serious enough for you to threaten Suffolk with all-out war if he does not surrender his brother to you. Have you suffered through so much battle and so much turmoil that you do not understand that, sometimes, lesser situations like this can be settled more easily with a negotiation? Not everything requires a call to arms, Bastian.”
He started at her, mulling over her words, thinking she made a good deal of sense. Was it possible that he was so used to drawing a sword that he knew of no other way, no matter what the circumstances? He sighed heavily, now somewhat torn by both his motives and his natural resolution to a crisis. Maybe Gisella was correct but the fact remained that his behavior was innate. He considered his actions the only real solution to the issue.
“Mayhap not,” he agreed quietly. “But in this case, I feel this is the only possible option. De la Pole must be met with force or I fear I will never know satisfaction against the man who struck you. I am sorry if you do not understand my mind.”
Gisella wiped at the last bit of moisture around her eyes. “I am as well,” she said. “We have known each other such a short time, Bastian. With time, we will come to understand one another better but right now, I do not understand you. I am afraid for you. And that makes me sad.”
Bastian didn’t know what else to do other than lean forward and kiss her on the top of the head. “I do not want to be the cause of your sadness,” he said. “But I must do this. Even if you do not understand, I would at least hope you would support my decision.”
Gisella sighed faintly. “You are my husband,” she said. “I support whatever you do. It does not mean I have to like it.”
Bastian wasn’t sure what more to say to that so he reached out and took her hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “Come with me as I finish going about my duties,” he said. “Mayhap if you understand more about what it is I am doing, you will not be so afraid.”
Gisella wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth but she followed him nonetheless, walking by his side as he returned to Andrew and then the three of them headed back to the collectionof knights who were going over the final details for the march on Wallingford.
Gannon, Brant, Lucas, and Martin were in a group plus two additional knights that belonged to Wellesbourne. They were all standing around a piece of dirt in the courtyard that someone had drawn a map upon. It was a map of Wallingford Castle because one of Wellesbourne’s soldiers had been stationed at Wallingford when crown troops had been kept there, as it was a royal property, and the man had drawn out a detailed plot plan of the site. Now, the knights were studying it and, with the soldier’s input, were establishing where best to establish their lines.
Including Gisella in the planning process was supposed to ease her mind but all it did was give her a real sense of a battle march. Bastian was a master tactician, having lain siege many a time to a variety of properties in both England and France, so his solution was logical. Wallingford was surrounded on the east and north by a series of berms as well as being very close to the river, so the plan was to station men lightly near the berms and heavily near the breaks in the berms, preventing de la Pole from being able to escape from the castle easily or unseen.
Wellesbourne had brought two siege engines that would be positioned near the road where Suffolk could see them. They would be out of range, implying that they would not be readily used, but the message would be clear– that Bastian had war machines and he could use them if he had to. In truth, it had been rather fascinating listening to the man known as Beast actually plan an attack, even as small of an attack as there would be on Wallingford Castle, because everything Bastian did was carefully, and expertly, thought out.
It was a glimpse into the mind of a military genius, which helped Gisella come to understand him just a bit more. Her comments earlier, on how they didn’t really know one another’sminds was true for the most part, but now she was coming to see his and it was a curious and interesting journey. She could see how Bastian achieved his reputation as a mastermind and the pride she felt for it was something she had never experienced before. This man that she was married to and who clearly adored her, was perhaps the most respected knight in the realm, and for good reason. She was coming to respect him, too.
As Bastian continued to speak to his men, Gisella found herself simply staring at his mouth as he spoke. Those lips, so full and beautiful, belonged to her, as did the rest of him. He was as perfect as God had intended for Man to be. Fear eased, attention focused, she spent the last few moments before Bastian departed for Wallingford remembering the feel of those lips upon her flesh the night before and struggling not to let her feelings show.
She realized at that moment, that she did indeed love him.
*
“What do yousuppose all of those men are here for?” Henry wanted to know. “Is there something terrible about to happen?”
Seated across the table from Braxton going on their second hour of playing Bone Ace, Braxton glanced up from his cards as the young king spoke. Frankly, he was surprised it had taken the boy this long to comment on all of the soldiers in the courtyard. There were military stirrings afoot.
“Nothing to worry over,” Braxton said casually. “It is your play, Your Grace.”
Henry threw down a card and took another. “What is happening?” he asked. “Will you tell me?”
Braxton was inspecting his cards, knowing he was about to lose another hand to a nine-year-old boy unless he had help from divine intervention. But that was unlikely, so heresigned himself to the approaching defeat. As he anticipated his complete destruction in the card game, he pondered Henry’s question carefully.
“Sir Bastian is having a bit of trouble,” he said after a moment. “He is going to take care of it.”
“What trouble?”
“Trouble with Suffolk’s brother.”
Henry fell silent a moment, contemplating. “Sir Thomas?” he asked.
Braxton nodded, threw down a card, and took another. “Aye, Your Grace,” he said. “It would seem that Sir Thomas struck Lady Gisella and Sir Bastian must see that the man is punished.”
Henry was looking at his cards but his mind was elsewhere. “I saw Sir Thomas strike Lady Gisella,” he said. “Sir Thomas said terrible things about Sir Bastian.”
“So I heard, Your Grace.”
Henry set down his cards. “I want to speak with Sir Bastian now, if you please.”
Braxton gazed across the table at the boy. “Would you at least wait until we finish our game?” he asked. “I am close to getting beat again but I do not wish to concede yet.”
