Remington looked at him, a twinkle in her eye. “Weren’t you?” she said. “I seem to remember differently.”
Trenton smirked at her, refusing to incriminate himself. He patted her hand, returning his attention to the sky as his thoughts drifted from Nicolas to his father. He felt the need to speak to Remington about it, if only to tell her that he had been told. Already, it was to be a sad conversation.
“Dane told me about my father,” he said quietly, his mood sobering dramatically. “Had I known of his illness, I would have come home much sooner.”
Beside him, Remington could feel her mood sobering, too. Even though she hadn’t given birth to Trenton, she had always considered him her son, as Trenton considered her his mother. They had a strong bond between them, but it was a different bond than Trenton had with his father. With Remington, their bond was based on the fact that even though they weren’t related by blood, they still loved and trusted one another. She respected him a good deal.
When Remington looked at Trenton, she saw Gaston as he was thirty years ago – tall, proud, big, and strong. Trenton and Gaston were so similar, in all aspects, that it was frightening at times. But it also meant they had the same stubbornness, the same fears, and nearly the same outlook on many things. Therefore, she knew that Trenton had been rocked by the news of his father’s health. He was emotional like Gaston was, too.
“I am sure Dane told you that he does not want anyone to know,” she said after a moment. “I have been trying to honor that, but I had a moment of weakness one day and told Dane. I know he has told Cort, and now you.”
Trenton patted her hand. “I will not let my father know that I know, but I feel terrible that I asked him to go to Wellesbourne to… well, to talk to Uncle Matthew about…”
He trailed off. “Gaston told me,” Remington said, seeing that Trenton wasn’t particularly surprised by her admission. “I know why you have come. To be truthful, I am not surprised, Trenton. You were always a man of great feeling. I wondered how long it would be before you realized that a loveless marriage is not for you.”
“It really wasn’t a matter of a loveless marriage. It was simply that I fell in love with a woman and the marriage aspect did not enter my mind until I realized that it would be a complicated thing for us to be together.”
Remington smiled faintly. “Lysabel Wellesbourne,” she murmured. “She was such a lovely little lass. I have not seen her in years, though.”
“She is still a lovely lass,” Trenton said. “More so now.”
Her smile faded. “And you are sure this is what you want?”
“Never more sure of anything in my life. I am just sorry that I got my father involved. Had I known of his illness, I swear I would have never asked him to intervene with Uncle Matthew.”
Remington let go of him and perched on a small wall that lined the stairs. She pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, looking up at the sky again, her expression distant with thought.
“Trenton, I will be honest,” she said. “I do not know how much time your father has left on this earth. It could be months, it could be years. But I suppose the same could be said for any of us – none of us knows how much time we have left. But in the time we have left, we must make those days count. We must fight the good fight, and live the good life, because once we are laid to rest, we will be remembered by those deeds. I want your father to be remembered by his deeds as a man and as a father, not by the betrayal at Bosworth those years ago that seems to follow him. That is why I support him as he goes to Wellesbourne to speak to Matt on your behalf. It is important for him to accomplish important things while he still can.”
Trenton had a lump in his throat as he listened to her talk. She seemed so serene and calm about it, like a woman who was resigned to the inevitable yet so very grateful for the time she had left. It was so painful to hear it, yet so beautiful at the same time. He wondered if Lysabel would ever speak so sweetly about him when his time came.
He hoped so.
“How sick is he?” he asked, his voice tight. “Please tell me.”
Remington looked at him. “Sick,” she said. “Every day, he is a little slower. He thinks I do not notice, but I do. I will tell you something that I’ve not told him, Trenton. I cannot bring myself to do it, not as long as he tries to keep his illness a secret. He does not want to acknowledge it, so I honor that. But I will tell you that every day that passes, and I see the man I love slow down just a little more, a little piece of me dies right along with him. On that day when I finally lose him, I shall rejoice that he is no longer suffering, but my heart will be destroyed by the loss. I cannot imagine my world without him. Still, the one thing that brings me some measure of comfort is that those who have passed before us, Arik as well as my sister, Rory, shall be waiting for him. He shall not be alone in death. To think of his reunion with Arik is the only way I can keep from falling to pieces.”
Trenton closed his eyes and the tears streamed down his face, in the darkness where no one could see them. He wiped them away, hearing the grief in Remington’s voice and realizing that, indeed, his father was probably sicker than Dane had led him to believe. The regret he was coming to feel at having stayed away so long was beginning to overwhelm him.
“I think that, mayhap, I shall remain at Deverill for a while,” he said, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “My father may have need of me, so I will remain close.”
Remington could see him wiping at his face in the darkness. “I did not tell you that to coerce you into remaining,” she said. “I told you that because it is the truth.”
“I know. But I cannot return to London, not now. I feel the need to repair my relationship with my father. All of the resentment and anger I felt towards him seems rather foolish now.”
Remington stood up and made her way over to him, putting a gentle hand on his arm. “It will mean the world to him if you remain,” she said quietly. “Mayhap, it is time to let the past go. Life is so precious, Trenton, and it flies by so quickly. When he rides to Wellesbourne, go with him. Keep watch over him. And mayhap, some of what has been damaged can begin to heal.”
Trenton nodded, feeling extremely emotional as he stood there and held her hand. As he brought her hand up to his lips for an affectionate kiss, they began to hear the thunder of horses.
From where they were standing, they could see two big warhorses charging out of the stable area, heading for the gatehouse. Both Trenton and Remington watched as the horses raced by and voices began calling to the sentries at the gatehouse, who began to crank open the massive gates. Trenton, in particular, peered after the riders curiously.
“That is Dane and Cort,” he said, looking to Remington. “Where do you suppose they’re going?”
Remington shook her head. “Knowing those two, it could be anything,” she said. Releasing Trenton, she turned for the massive entry door. “Dane lures Cort into the same misadventures that he used to lure you into, and Cort, being young and excitable, is an eager victim to Dane’s mastery.”
Trenton grinned, following Remington towards the entry. “Whatever he is doing this night, I am glad Dane did not try to pull me into it,” he said. “Let Cort follow the man to his doom. I have followed him more times than I can count.”
Remington laughed softly as she opened the door. “You are a wise man,” she said. “Seek your bed and be thankful you are not out riding in the dead of night on another one of Dane’s foolish escapades.”
Trenton followed her in through the door, into the foyer that was lit with a dozen glowing tapers. “I intend to do just that,” he said. “But you can believe I shall ask those two what they were up to come the morrow.”
“If they tell you, do not tell me. I am sure that I do not want to know.”
Trenton grinned as he kissed his mother good night and headed up to his chamber. Even as he headed up the narrow steps, his mind was lingering on his brothers and wondering if he should follow them just to keep them o
ut of trouble.
He decided against it.
That night, he slept better, but he awoke before dawn with thoughts of the journey to Wellesbourne on his mind. Rising to a purple sky and cold temperatures, he made sure Dewi was prepared for the trip back to Wellesbourne and as he was in the stables, he happened to notice that neither Dane nor Cort’s horses had returned.
Whatever the pair was doing, it had kept them out all night, and by the time Trenton was ready to depart with his father, younger brothers, and about fifty men-at-arms, Dane and Cort still had not returned. When he asked Remington if she wanted him to go after them, she simply rolled her eyes and shook her head. She wasn’t concerned, so Trenton wasn’t either, but the as the escort departed Deverill Castle, he couldn’t help but wonder about the disappearance of Dane and Cort.
Whatever they were doing must have been very important, indeed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Wellesbourne Castle
Matthew had seen the color of the banners from the approaching party and, even at a distance, he knew who it was.
He wasn’t surprised.
High in his bower in the keep of Wellesbourne, he wasn’t surprised that Gaston de Russe was approaching, but he was angry. Angry that the man should exhaust himself so, making the trip from Deverill Castle all the way to Wellesbourne. In hindsight, perhaps Matthew should have preemptively gone to Deverill Castle since he knew the situation with Trenton would warrant a meeting with the man’s father.
He didn’t need to be a soothsayer to know that.
Therefore, he watched the distant approach of the de Russe party, coming in just before sunset with a sky that was shades of deep blue, with pink clouds creating a brilliant splash of color. He loved sunsets like this, something that reminded him of the joy of life every single day, but that joy was somewhat diminished over the past few days.
He was a man in turmoil.
In the days that Trenton had been gone from Wellesbourne, Matthew had been given a lot of time to think about the situation. The truth was that he hadn’t wanted to hurt Trenton. He’d known the knight his entire life and had loved him like a son, but he was a son with a good many problems and Matthew didn’t want his daughter attached to a man with such demons.
That was the bottom line.
Lysabel was recovering from an abusive marriage and although Trenton had saved her from that horrible situation, and it was clear that there was a good deal of affection between them, Matthew simply couldn’t allow his daughter to become the mistress to a married man no matter how much she adored him. He kept going back to that conclusion every time he tried to re-examine his decision.
Had he done the right thing?
Had he been unnecessarily cruel?
No, he didn’t think so. Lysabel deserved better.
Matthew knew his refusal to condone such a thing had crushed Trenton. That had been clear in the man’s face and Matthew’s nature with those he loved was to be kind and generous. But he simply couldn’t give his permission for Lysabel to carry on a clandestine relationship with Trenton. In his heart, he couldn’t. It wasn’t right and they all knew it. His daughter deserved the chance to become a wife to a fine man, and her daughters deserved a father-figure who was kind and honorable, and who didn’t do the king’s dirty work.
A man who didn’t kill on command.
Like Gaston, Matthew held that same opinion of Trenton’s service.
Matthew knew that was what Gaston was coming to discuss, among other things. It didn’t matter that Gaston and Trenton had suffered a somewhat contentious and complex relationship as adults; Trenton had gone straight to his father with what had happened and Gaston, like any good parent, was coming to see what he could do to help his son, only in this case, he was coming to the home of his very best friend.
Matthew didn’t know if that friendship made the situation better or worse.
“Matt?”
Matthew turned to see his wife standing behind him. Alixandrea was dressed in a flowing gown, with her hair pinned upon her head. She entered their bedchamber, a smile on her lips as she headed for her husband.
“Gaston is coming,” she said quietly, “but I am guessing that you already know that.”
Matthew returned her smile. “I can see his party from here,” he said. “I was just going down to greet him.”
Alixandrea’s smile faded as she gazed up into her husband’s face. “He should not have come.”
“I know.”
“His health…”
“I know, love. I know.”
She sighed sadly and he kissed her on the forehead. Taking a deep breath, he moved past her, leaving Alixandrea looking after him.
“Do you think Trenton asked him to come?” she said. “If he knew Gaston was ill, surely he would not have asked it of him.”
Matthew paused by the door, his fingers on the jamb. “Gaston and Trenton do not speak,” he said. “I cannot imagine that even in the rare conversations they have had as of late, that Gaston has told his son of his declining health. Gaston did not even tell me about it; it was Remi who did.”
Alixandrea closed the gap between them, her hands going to his shoulders in comfort. “Does he know that you know?”
Matthew’s lips tightened, an emotional response to an emotional subject, pain in his heart that was strangling him. “He knows.”
Alixandrea patted him on the cheek, seeing how much the situation distressed him. “Then go and greet him,” she said. “I will have refreshments sent to your solar.”
“Thank you, love.”
Leaving his wife behind, and stewing in his own gloomy thoughts, Matthew made his way down to the entry of the keep, stepping out into the pink-sky sunset and watching as the first of the de Russe party began to filter in through the gatehouse of Wellesbourne.
The first things he noticed were two big knights charging into the bailey astride very expensive, and slightly green, warhorses. Both animals were frothing and agitated, and Matthew grinned when the blue roan animal twisted oddly and nearly dumped off his rider. It was enough for the knight to swiftly dismount, unwilling to be thrown at the end of a long trip, and Matthew approached Boden de Russe as the knight flipped up his visor.
“Damnable beast,” he said, shaking his finger at the horse as if the animal could understand him. “If I hadn’t spent a year’s salary on you, I’d chop you up and feed you to the dogs!”
“What is the matter, Boden?” Matthew asked as he walked up. “As I recall, you told your father you could ride anything on four legs and as I further recall, it was he who bought you this horse even when he told you the bloodlines were questionable.”
Boden turned to Matthew, a young man with his father’s size, his father’s good looks, and his mother’s pale eyes. He also had her smile, which he demonstrated brightly as he hugged his father’s best friend.
“Uncle Matthew,” he said. “It is good to see you. And to answer your assertion, my father does not know everything. He could be wrong, you know.”
“Will you tell him that to his face?”
Boden burst out laughing. “Not me,” he said. “I would never tell The Dark One anything like that for fear I might come away missing teeth, or worse. Besides… if I ever want him to buy me anything again, I will have to pretend as if I appreciate this wild mount.”
Matthew gave the young knight an affectionate cuff to the side of the head, grinning when the horse began to act up and ended up dragging Boden away. As Boden tried to calm the horse, Matthew continued on to the other knight, who was having better luck with a big dappled gray. Gage de Russe waved to Matthew.
“Uncle Matthew!” he called. “Look at my latest acquisition!”
He was indicating the horse, who was standing still for the most part in a rather regal pose. Matthew ran a practiced eye over the beast.
“Magnificent,” he said. “Between you and your brother, it appears you got the better horse.”
Gage watched Boden, older
than him by a year and a half, as the man tried to calm his excited steed. “He told my father he wanted the blue roan, and my father tried to tell him that the horse’s sire was mad,” he said. “I have no sympathy for him.”
Matthew clapped him on the shoulder. “Nor I,” he said, turning to the rest of the incoming party and spying Gaston on his big, sleek stallion. “Ah. There is your father. I will send William out to you to help you settle your men.”
Gage’s face lit up; he and William were nearly the same age and had long been good friends. “Willie is here?”
“He is. He has just returned from my garrison at Kington Castle.”
Gage nodded happily and Matthew patted him on the shoulder before making his way through the group of dismounting soldiers until he came to Gaston.
There was dust and chaos in the air all around him, of men and animals settling in after a long journey, but Matthew didn’t see any of that. He only saw the enormous knight in front of him, and he took a moment to watch the man as he slowly, and wearily, dismounted his horse. Someone came to collect the animal, leading the sweaty beast off to the stables, and Matthew’s heart sank as he watched Gaston’s laborious movements.
This wasn’t the man he knew.
Gaston was the biggest man he’d ever seen, and the strongest, but the past couple of years had seen that strength decline significantly. A cancer, Remington had written to Matthew. Physics from London, the best he was told, had diagnosed Gaston with a cancer in his throat, or so they suspected. The man had a cough he couldn’t shake, which had apparently gone on for a year before he allowed the physics to diagnose him.
The news hadn’t been good.
But no one knew, according to Remington. Gaston hadn’t wanted to tell anyone, his children included, and when he realized his wife had told Matthew, he’d been upset with her, but not for long. Perhaps it was good that one person knew of his condition because, certainly, he’d never hidden anything from Matthew. He wasn’t about to start now.
He needed to lean on that friendship more than ever.
The Dark Brotherhood: A Medieval Romance Collection Page 53