He fell silent, looking around the church, noticing that de Tormo had disappeared. Knowing he was alone made it easier to say what needed to be said.
“God, I hope you hear me,” he said. “I have never asked for anything, but this time, I am. I am asking you to heal my father. He is greatly loved, God. He has children and grandchildren who need him and love him. My father was not always a man of love and peace. I am sure you know that; he was a man of war. But my father was never deliberately evil. He was a man with principles. I know he has a reputation as the Dark One, and that has followed him around most of his life, but he is not dark. He is not wicked. I know that because he saved my mother and me from a man who was truly wicked. He risked everything for us and, to me, that is the mark of a fine and decent man, no matter what others think of him. God… there are many men in the world, but only one Gaston de Russe. I know I am a grown man, but I cannot stomach the thought of losing the only man who has ever loved me unconditionally. I would gladly trade my life for his. Please… heal him.”
By the time he was finished, he was choked up. The tears were on the surface and he swiftly wiped them away. Feeling somewhat foolish that he’d been speaking in the dark, to a God he didn’t have a relationship with, he stepped back from the bank of candles, looking around to see if there was anyone in the chapel who might have heard him. But it was still dark and empty.
Dane knew that Grier was waiting patiently for him outside and he didn’t want to leave her in the cold too much longer, but something was keeping him in the church. He just couldn’t seem to leave. He stared at his prayer candle as it flickered before impulsively dropping to his knees and making the sign of the cross over his chest. He hadn’t done that since he’d been a small boy. On his knees in front of the glowing bank of candles and their warm light, he folded his hands and closed his eyes.
“Please,” he whispered fervently. “God, I kneel before you as a sign of respect. I cannot promise that my faith will ever be strong, but I do have faith in my love for my father. There is no stronger bond than that between a man and his son, and since you had a son, you understand what I mean. I ask you to heal my father and to make him whole or, at the very least, let him live to see my son when he is born. My father means so much to so many. We need him, God. Please… please give us that gift. On this night of nights, give me my father’s life.”
With that, he suddenly lurched to his feet and blindly turned for the church entry. There were tears clouding his vision and he blinked them away. He was embarrassed and, perhaps, even a little bewildered. He’d prayed, and that was so very alien to him. Perhaps it had even been stupid.
He was almost in a panic to leave.
He looked around, briefly, to see if de Tormo was lurking in the shadows, but the priest remained missing. Dane continued out into the snowy church yard, passing by a man wrapped in a heavy, white woolen cloak who was heading into the church. He brushed the man because the snowy path kept them from moving too far out of the shoveled path of travel, but the man didn’t waver. He merely lifted a hand as if to apologize for the brush. Dane also lifted a hand, simply to be polite, and continued on his way.
The land was settling in for the coming night, and everything was becoming quite dark now. The Shrewsbury escort had begun to light torches to see their way through the coming night, since it would be dark by the time they reached Deverill. Dane’s boots crunched on the snowy path and he could see Grier as she stuck her head outside of the window again, now looking up at the night sky. As Dane walked past the front of his escort, he signaled the men to begin pulling out. Horses began to move forward as Dane went straight to the cab.
“We should be to Deverill shortly,” he said. “Bundle up, sweetheart. The air is getting colder.”
Grier watched him as he moved to collect his horse, which was standing right next to the cab with a soldier holding the reins.
“Did you find Father de Tormo?” she asked.
He nodded. “I did. He will come to Deverill tomorrow, so you shall meet him then.”
As Dane mounted up, Grier turned her attention back to the sky. “I look forward to it,” she said. “Did you notice what a beautiful night it is tonight?”
Dane was gathering his reins. “Probably not,” he said. “But I did notice the clouds off to the east. It looks as if we may have snowfall for Christmas.”
Grier could see the clouds, too, but her attention was on the clear sky above. “That would be nice,” she said. Then, she pointed. “Look at that star, Dane. Have you ever seen anything so bright and shining?”
Dane glanced up as he moved his horse forward. Almost directly above them was a very bright star with a backdrop of deep blue sky. There were other stars around it, and the sky was rather brilliant with them, but that star in particular was quite bright.
“Lovely,” he said, returning his attention to his wife as the cab began to move. “It seems appropriate, since this is Christmas Eve. Didn’t the Magi follow a bright star to Bethlehem where the Christ Child was born?”
Grier nodded, her gaze on the sky for a few moments longer before settling back in the cab. “Indeed,” she said. “They followed it to a stable where our Lord lay in a manger.”
“Must have been scratchy.”
“Dane!”
He grinned. “Sorry,” he said, turning to wave a big arm at the escort behind him, men who were cold and a little slower to move. “But when you think about it, that must have been very stinky and uncomfortable.”
She frowned at him. “That is sacrilegious!”
He was trying not to laugh. “It is realistic.”
“Our Blessed Mother had no other choice but to give birth in a stable and you will not judge her for it.”
Dane shook his head. “Never,” he said. “One has to do what is necessary, I suppose.”
That only brought a long look from his wife, who did not appreciate his sense of humor. Dane wouldn’t have thought anything of it had he not remembered that not a few minutes before, he’d been begging God to heal his father. Perhaps God didn’t appreciate his humor, either.
Casting a rather sheepish look heavenward, Dane hoped his heartfelt prayers weren’t just negated by his humor. As he said, his faith wasn’t particularly strong, but his love for his father was.
Musty mangers aside, he hoped God understood that.
Part Two:
Home
Deverill Castle
Dane had been right; Grier had never seen so many people all from the same family.
Deverill Castle was a behemoth of a structure, with massive sand-colored walls, an enormous bailey, a great hall situated in the bailey, and then another smaller hall inside the keep itself.
It was inside this smaller hall that everyone from the de Russe family was gathered. When Dane and Grier arrived, they were accosted by men and women that Grier didn’t even know. Everyone wanted to hug her and kiss her cheeks, and she smiled rather fearfully as strangers embraced her. Having no siblings of her own, and no family members, to be embraced by such a large family was somewhat intimidating at first.
But she knew she could come to like it.
The first person she saw was Trenton de Russe, a mountain of a man with a grin on his face as he kissed her cheek. Trenton introduced her to his wife, Lysabel, a lovely woman with blue eyes and a sweet face. She was carrying their baby son, Rafael, and Grier fawned over the infant as Trenton stood by proudly. But Trenton and Lysabel were pushed aside by another de Russe brother, Cort, a god of a man with a quick wit, followed by Boden, whom Grier already knew from his time serving her husband at Shrewsbury. He greeted her like a long-lost sister.
Next was another de Russe brother, Matthieu, who didn’t look like the rest of the brothers too much. His hair was copper, his eyes green. He introduced his four boys, all young men who had little interest in a new aunt. The next two de Russe siblings were Gage and Gilliana; Grier had met Gage before, about a year ago when Gaston and his sons had come to Sh
rewsbury, but she’d never met Gilliana, the youngest de Russe child. Gilliana was a lush beauty with auburn hair and green eyes, and according to Gage and Boden, had suitors lined up from London to Cornwall. But she was quite sweet and Grier liked her immediately.
Just as she was warming to their conversation, it was cut short by the oldest sisters, twins Adeliza and Arica. They were identical copies of one another with eleven children clamoring at their feet. They were both quite lovely, and very kind, and Grier was pulled into their orbit, with one on each side, and she could hardly pull away. She cast Dane a rather helpless glance as the sisters closed in around her, including Gilliana, and they all went to sit over near the blazing hearth.
Dane stood with Trenton as the women seemed to cluster over near the hearth where the children were playing and running around, teasing each other. Even Lysabel went to sit with them, handing her son over to Grier, who took the baby with delight. Dane had to smile at his wife as she played with the toothless infant.
“You must be very proud,” he said to Trenton. “You have a fine son.”
Trenton wasn’t humble about it in the least. “He is big and smart,” he said. “Already he can sit up on his own and I swear to you that he is trying to talk. At only six months of age!”
Dane laughed softly at his serious and sometimes deadly brother; he never thought he’d see the day when the man would dote on an infant.
“Watch out when he does,” he said. “Already, I can see that he rules your house and hold so when he can finally give orders, you will find yourself subservient to an infant.”
Trenton shrugged. “I do not care,” he said. “I am happy to play the fool for my son.”
Dane simply nodded. “I am sure I will say that as well come the spring when mine is born.”
Trenton looked at him in surprise. “Grier is with child?”
Dane nodded. “We have come to surprise Father with it.”
Trenton laughed with joy, slapping his brother on the shoulder. “He will be thrilled,” he said. “So will Mother. Congratulations, old man. Considering we are the oldest of the de Russe siblings, it is about time we start having sons of our own.”
Dane chuckled. “We are also the most accomplished and seasoned of the siblings.”
“Indeed, we are.”
“The rest of them cannot hold a candle to us.”
“Well said. We are kings.”
Dane began to laugh, followed by Trenton. They snorted and laughed at each other, so very happy to be in each other’s company again. Their parents had married when Trenton was nine years of age, and Dane was eight, and they’d spent their entire lives together, fostering and training together. It went against the natural order for them to be apart but, unfortunately, it was necessary at this point in their lives. Therefore, spending time together, especially at the holidays, was particularly precious.
“Where is Mother, by the way?” Dane asked as the laughter died down. “I thought she would be here to greet us.”
Trenton’s smile faded, as well. “She will be,” he said. “Father has not been eating, so she is up in their chamber trying to entice him into taking some nourishment. I am sure she will be down shortly.”
Father has not been eating.
That killed Dane’s mood immediately. He was thinking heavily on heading up to his parents’ chamber when a crash distracted him and everyone else in the room. He turned to see Boden and Gage on the floor of the hall, having wrestled themselves right onto a bench that broke beneath their weight. As the two of them went at it, with Cort and Matthieu standing over them, Dane shook his head.
“Thank God Willie isn’t here,” he said. “Where are the Wellesbournes, anyway? I thought they would be here.”
William Wellesbourne, or Willie as he was called, was the rambunctious youngest son of the House of Wellesbourne, family to the House of de Russe. The patriarchs, Gaston and Matthew Wellesbourne, had been friends for decades, closer than brothers, and Trenton had even married Matthew’s eldest daughter in Lysabel.
Therefore, when there was any great de Russe gathering, it was a sure bet that the House of Wellesbourne would be there. But not tonight, and Dane was rather surprised by it.
“They should be here in a day or two,” Trenton said. “Matt has caught a chill that has settled in his chest, and Aunt Alix will not let him travel until he is well again. Given Father’s condition, neither Aunt Alix or Mother wanted to chance Matt giving Father whatever infection he has.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Dane said. “I cannot recall a Christmas we have not spent with Uncle Matt. I sent Willie home to ride escort with his father to Deverill for the holidays, you know.”
William served Dane at Shrewsbury and in spite of his boisterous nature, he was a fine knight whom Dane depended on. Matthew had sent his wild son north to serve Dane and hopefully grow up in the process, and it had worked for the most part. At least, it had worked until he came within range of Boden and Gage, and then he turned into a naughty seven-year-old child again.
But it was all part of his charm.
“Willie would do well to remain at Wellesbourne Castle with his father for now,” Trenton said. “How has he been at Shrewsbury?”
“He has moments when I want to take a club to him. Then he has other moments when he is fine, reasonable, and strong.” Dane sighed as he watched Boden and Gage roll around on the ground, fighting. “Part of me hopes Willie, much like Boden and Gage, never loses his wild streak. It makes family reunions so much more interesting.”
Trenton snorted. “God,” he groaned. “Remember when it was just us? Remember when things were peaceful and quiet before our parents decided to have wild animals as children?”
Dane looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “We were never peaceful and quiet, Trenton,” he said. “Remember when we were fostering at Oxford and we stole an old nag to ride north to Yorkshire? That was not a peaceful nor a quiet venture.”
Trenton couldn’t stop laughing. “Remember the traveler we stole from?” he asked. “I stole the rabbit he was cooking, and you stole his pants so he could not run after us. Mother tried to beat us for it when she found out.”
Dane was chuckling. “Ungrateful wench. We did it to help her.”
“She did not appreciate our efforts.”
“Father did.”
The laughter faded almost immediately. It was difficult to speak of Gaston and not feel a stab of sorrow, for either of them. Dane finally spoke on the subject that had been weighing on him so heavily, fearful to speak of it as if even mentioning the subject somehow made it far more real.
“I stopped at St. Denys on the way into town,” he said. “I saw Father de Tormo. He says that Father hasn’t been to church in quite some time.”
Trenton nodded, but it was a gesture made with a heavy heart. “That is true,” he said. “De Tormo has been coming to Deverill for the past several months so Father does not have to exert himself.”
Dane sighed. “He is not going to live much longer, is he?”
Trenton didn’t say anything for a moment. When Dane turned to look at him, he was blinking rapidly, as if blinking back the tears.
“It is possible,” he finally said. “I cannot even bring myself to think on it. I see him every day, Dane. Now that I command his armies, I am with my father every single day and I have seen a steady decline over the months. His hair is grayer, his footsteps slower… I honestly do not know how much time he has left, but it is not much. How long can you remain here at Deverill?”
Dane shrugged. “As long as I wish, I suppose,” he said. “I have left my second in command, Dastan du Reims, in charge of Shrewsbury. You met Dastan when you visited last year.”
Trenton nodded. “I did,” he said. “A competent man.”
“One of the best,” Dane said. “I feel confident leaving him in command while I spend time here with Father. Truthfully, I am afraid to leave now, afraid that I will never see him alive again.”
&
nbsp; Trenton grunted. “That is a very real fear, with all of us.” He suddenly caught a glimpse of something behind Dane. “Ah. Mother is here.”
They both turned to see Remington de Russe emerging from the stairwell that led to the upper floors of the keep. A gorgeous woman with copper curls pinned at the nape of her neck, she looked far younger than her years. Seeing Dane, her first born, had her rushing in his direction with her arms open. The pair came together in a fierce hug.
“Dane,” Remington said with satisfaction. “You have finally arrived. I have been waiting all week for you to come, and now you are finally here. It is so good to see you.”
Dane kissed his mother’s soft cheek, pulling back to look into her sea-colored eyes. It was the face he’d always known, perhaps a little older, a little more lined, but no less beautiful. Dane knew he had the most beautiful mother in all of England.
“It is good to see you, too,” he said with satisfaction. “You are looking well.”
Remington smiled broadly. “As are you, my son, the duke,” she said, her gaze drifting over him as if reacquainting herself with the little boy she’d known, the man he’d now become. “I am so proud of you, Dane. You cannot know how full my heart is. The whole family is so very happy and thrilled for you.”
Dane smiled. “I’ve not seen you since it all happened,” he said. “It seems like so long ago, but it has only been two years now. I have written to you since then but, somehow, it is not the same to write. It has been ages since we have had a nice, long talk.”
Remington’s smile faded as she patted her son on his stubbled cheek. “It has,” she said. “And you are correct; it is not the same for your father to come and tell me of your life at Shrewsbury, and it is not the same for Trenton to tell me nearly the same thing. I have wanted to go north to visit you, many times, but your father does not wish for me to travel without him, and he cannot travel these days. So… I was waiting for you to come to Deverill to tell you how proud I am of you and how much I love you.”
A Very Medieval Christmas: A Medieval Romance Novella Bundle Page 7