Page 390 of Historical Hotties
With him died the hope that the Maid’s relic would end up back in the hands of the French.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was dawnover the Berkshire countryside as the veil of night slowly lifted, revealing the lovely summer day ahead.
Wallingford Castle was a massive structure with concentric walls and berms for defense. The soldier who knew the layout had failed to impress just how big the place was so Bastian took about an hour inspecting the size of the castle before reforming his original plan. There were distinct entrances to the castle and unless Suffolk planned to catapult Thomas over the walls to aid in his escape, the best course of action would be for Bastian’s men to cover the obvious entrances.
Arriving on the second day after leaving Braidwood, Bastian’s three hundred man army had been positioned around Wallingford’s four main entrances just before sunrise, holding strategic places so that de la Pole, if he was still at Wallingford, could not slip through their net. Wellesbourne positioned his siege engines in full view of the castle but far enough away so the inhabitants knew they were not an immediate threat. They were a warning. And that was how Bastian wanted it.
Just after sunrise, Henry sent Aramis to the gatehouse of Wallingford with a message for Suffolk. The guards at thegatehouse were rather puzzled by this army who had descended upon them overnight and when the Duke of Warminster appeared and asked to speak with Suffolk on behalf of King Henry, their confusion increased but they dutifully went in search of their liege.
He hadn’t been hard to find. William de la Pole, 4thEarl of Suffolk, had been watching the army from his window in the keep of Wallingford but he wasn’t confused like the rest of them. He suspected who had come, especially when his brother, Thomas, had run about in a panic. William had been forced to slap his brother and sit him in a chair.
Suffolk had made it back to Wallingford Castle hardly an hour before the army appeared on the horizon. At first, he hadn’t known whose army it was that approached his castle but he wasn’t surprised to see the banners of Bastian de Russe being mounted by the standard bearers once they drew closer. His discussion with Gloucester the day before had tipped him off that de Russe was on the hunt for his brother, Thomas, so when the army began to settle in the distance, William knew why. And he was prepared.
De Russe, went the whispers as Suffolk made his way to the gatehouse. He knew why de Russe was here. Not only had Gloucester told him about the event at the Tower involving his brother and Lady de Russe, but his brother had told him about the incident nearly the moment he arrived home. Truth be told, Suffolk didn’t like his brother any more than de Russe did but because he was, in fact, his brother, Suffolk was obligated to protect the man. It was coming to be a strenuous task.
As he passed through the two inner baileys and into the outer ward where the main gatehouse was located, his men began to shout to him that the Duke of Warminster had arrived to speak with him. Knowing that Warminster was de Russe’s uncle, Suffolk ordered both inner baileys locked up while ordering themain gate to be opened for Warminster. Standing in the outer ward as the great portcullis was lifted, he waited patiently for Warminster. He couldn’t say that he was looking forward to the meeting.
Aramis wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, either. He had truthfully never been to Wallingford and he was very impressed with the size of it. He also knew that it would be impossible to breach with only three hundred men. Even for three thousand men it would be a grand undertaking. As he passed beneath the massive portcullis of the giant two-storied gatehouse, he caught sight of Suffolk in the ward beyond. He headed in the man’s direction.
As Aramis drew close, Suffolk lifted his eyebrows in a somewhat dubious expression. “My lord,” he greeted. “I would welcome you to Wallingford, but I do not believe you are here to partake of my hospitality.”
Aramis’ expression was equally dubious. “As much as I would like to, I am afraid business comes before pleasure,” he said. “Nasty business, you know. I wish it was otherwise.”
Suffolk nodded in resignation. “Gloucester told me what happened between my brother and Bastian’s wife,” he said. “God’s Teeth, Warminster, I did not even know Bastian had a wife. Now I find that I must deal with the outrage of the entire House of de Russe because of my stupid brother. Gloucester said that Bastian wanted me to turn my brother over to him. Does that still hold true?”
Aramis shook his head. “It is not Bastian’s message I bear but King Henry’s,” he said. “The king is riding with us. He has instructed me to tell you to turn your brother over to Bastian or he will take Wallingford from you. I am afraid it is just that simple.”
Suffolk clapped a hand to his forehead, wearily rubbing his eyes. When he stopped rubbing, he spoke. “Damn Thomas,” hehissed. “I sent him to court to get him away from me, you know. Now he is back where I do not want him, here, withme. I will gladly turn him over to Bastian but I want to speak with the man first. Will you bring him to me?”
Aramis cocked a doubtful eyebrow. “Given the circumstances, I am sure you will understand that Bastian will not set foot inside of Wallingford,” he said. “Better you come to him.”
Suffolk nodded wearily. “Lead the way.”
Aramis and Suffolk headed back to Bastian’s encampment, passing beneath the big gatehouse of Wallingford and over the moat that was the biggest moat Aramis had ever seen. With the day already warming in late August, it stunk terribly. Once they passed over the drawbridge, Bastian’s tent was about a quarter of a mile to the west and they could see it easily, nestled in a field of pale green grass.
No guards, no armies, no weapons. This was a man to man discussion. Aramis and Suffolk left the road and trudged through the grass to get to Bastian’s tent, hardly speaking a word between them. It was serious business they faced and no one wanted to make light of it. Upon reaching Bastian’s tent, Aramis pulled the heavy flap back for Suffolk and ushered him inside.
Bastian wasn’t there but Henry and Brant were. They were seated at a folding table that had a map on the surface, studying the map. The young king was very interested in what Brant was showing him but he glanced up when he saw movement in the doorway, momentarily blocking out the light. When the king realized that it was Suffolk, he stood up.
“Well?” he demanded. “Did you bring Thomas?”
Suffolk was rather stumped by the demand, looking to Aramis, oddly enough, for support. “Nay, Your Grace,” he replied. “He is in the castle. I have come to speak with Bastian.”
Henry frowned. “I told you to give Thomas to Sir Bastian,” he said. “You will bring him right away.”
Suffolk sighed. “I will, Your Grace,” he said. “I simply wanted to find out what Bastian planned to do in order to punish him.”
Henry’s firm demeanor backed down somewhat. He could see that Suffolk was wary. “Are you afraid he will kill him?” he asked.
Suffolk lifted his eyebrows. “Frankly, I am,” he replied. “As much as my brother deserves to be punished, I do not want to deliver him to his death.”
The young king thought on that a moment. He turned to look at Brant, who had been his close companion since leaving Braidwood two days ago. Brant was a very big man, but he had been very kind to Henry, much as Braxton had been. Henry was coming to like the de Russe men in general very much because they treated him with respect and dignity, something he’d not experienced much of. Most of the men around him tried to control him but the de Russe men did not. He trusted them.
“What do you think, Sir Brant?” Henry asked the knight. “Do you think Sir Bastian will kill Sir Thomas?”
Brant gazed steadily at the king. “That is hard to say, Your Grace, but I do not believe so,” he said. “Mayhap the moment it happened, he might have, but now that time has passed and he has been allowed to cool, mayhap he will not kill him. But I do not know for certain. You will have to ask Bastian.”
