Gaston still didn’t understand. “Father Otho de Tormo died many years ago,” he said. “In his death, he helped me more than he ever did in life. Did you know him?”
Raphael nodded. “I do.”
“You do?”
Raphael bent over, pushing Gaston onto his back on the big bed. There was something intense about his gaze, but his movements were gentle. It was clear that he was a caring and considerate individual. As he pulled the coverlet over Gaston, he spoke.
“Sometimes, men do not always live a life they are proud of,” he said. “You, great lord, have lived a life to be proud of, in all ways. Dane has said you are a man of principles. He has spoken of his great love for you, and of your family’s great love for you. If I knew nothing else about you, knowing of your family’s powerful love for you would tell me everything I needed to know. Fear not for the past, or of the reputation as the Dark One. Men change, as you have. You have a legacy to be proud of.”
Gaston was looking up at the man. Odd how a stranger’s words should impact him so, but the man seemed to know a great deal about him. For most, that would have been off-putting, but for Gaston, he felt strangely kindred with the man.
“Did Otho tell you all of this?” he finally asked.
Raphael smiled. “He did,” he said. “But there have been others, men who have known you over the years. Great lord, you have been ill for some time, and pain wracks your body, and that is a sign that God is near. Tell me something; if you could ask one thing of God, what would it be?”
Gaston didn’t know why he considered the question seriously. He really didn’t. He thought this physic was a little too religious for his taste, but there was something about the man that made him unable to look away. Perhaps he was tired; perhaps he was weak. Whatever the case, he found himself responding to the question.
“I do not want to leave my family,” he said, his eyes welling with tears he fought to keep away. “I grew up lonely. I never had a family until I met Remington, and now… now, if wealth was measured by love, I am the richest man in the world. I have strong sons and beautiful daughters, and many grandchildren. I have a life that men dream of. What would I ask of God? That I could known good health again. I cannot stand my wife and children seeing me this way. I feel old and feeble, and that is no way for a warrior to feel. Once, I was the strongest knight in the realm. I want to feel that way again. That is what I would ask of God.”
Raphael nodded in understanding. “As I suspected,” he said. “You would not ask for wealth or glory, only health.”
“A man’s health is more valuable than all the gold or glory in England.”
Raphael smiled. “All men should be as wise as you, great lord,” he said. “Mayhap, that which you ask for shall be yours.”
“Only if a miracle occurs.”
Raphael simply moved away from the bed and back to his satchel. “Sleep, now,” he said. “I have done what I was sent to do.”
Gaston watched the man tie off his satchel and collect it under his arm. His gaze then drifted to the windows, which had the oil cloths peeled back. He could see a light dusting of snow beginning to fall.
“It is this night when men feel closest to God,” Gaston muttered, his eyes heavy-lidded now. “Someone told me once that it is on Christmas Eve when angels walk the earth because it was on this very night that the angel appeared to the shepherds in the field to tell them of the birth of the Christ Child. I saw such a star tonight, in fact. I wonder if it is a sign that an angel has appeared somewhere.”
Raphael pulled his cloak around him, his gaze lingering on Gaston. “Would you believe me if I told you that one has?”
Gaston’s lips twitched with a smile but, by then, sleep had claimed him. He could not reply.
Pulling his cloak more tightly about him, Raphael quit the chamber and slipped down the servant’s stairs, going out the way he’d come. Out into the snowy night, he headed for the gatehouse, slipping out just as the sentries were sealing it up for the night. They saw the man go and called to him to return, but he waved them off, heading into the flurried darkness.
As he disappeared into the night, the bright and shining star overhead, which had been the only thing visible as the snow clouds rolled in, began to fade away. More clouds covered it, and the light gradually went away, a phenomenon not unnoticed by the sentries at the gatehouse. They, too, had noticed that brilliant star that had appeared at dusk. But now, it was obscured by the clouds.
Or, so they thought.
It was a star they would talk about in years to come, but a star they would never see again.
It was a star that had served its purpose.
Part Four:
The Best Christmas of All
It was a cold, bright, and fresh morning, and Dane had just received a snowball on the side of the head, launched with precision by Cort, who was now running for his life as Dane charged after him. Everyone was screaming and laughing as Dane tackled Cort, who slipped on the ice, and the two of them went plowing into a snowdrift.
But Dane wasn’t alone. When next he realized, children were piling on top of him and on top of Cort, egged on by Trenton and Matthieu. It was Matthieu’s four boys who were the first ones to pile on, followed by an assortment of other children. Dane started laughing, so hard that he could barely breathe, but he managed to grab a fistful of show and rub it into Cort’s face.
It was bedlam.
Somehow, Dane made it out of the pile of men and children, wet and covered with snow, but he hardly cared. Christmas morn had dawned bright and beautiful after a storm overnight, and it was a winter wonderland for everyone to play in. Not surprisingly, the first ones out into the snow had been Boden and Gage, and they’d awakened the entire keep by pounding on doors, awakening the children, announcing that it was Christmas morn.
They had taken their lives in their hands doing so.
Matthieu’s sons had been the first ones to join their uncles, joined by more children as the parents couldn’t keep them still. All eleven of Adeliza and Arica’s children emerged, bundled up and ready for the morning, and it was Boden and Gage who herded the children down into the bailey where great piles of fresh snow awaited. Screaming, happy children filled the morning.
Trenton brought his two daughters down soon enough, and Brencis and Cynethryn joined in the fun. They were Lysabel’s daughters from her first marriage, but Trenton had adopted them when he married their mother, and he loved them as if they were his own blood. Lysabel remained in their chamber, feeding their son, but Dane and Grier joined the chaos in the bailey, with Grier staying far out of the way as the brothers de Russe lobbed snowballs at each other.
Unfortunately for Grier, Gage tried to use her as a human shield against her husband, which Dane didn’t take kindly to. As he was demanding Gage release his wife, Trenton came up behind his youngest brother and smashed snow down the back of his coat. Howling, Gage released Grier, who laughingly ran to the safety of her husband as Trenton further punished Gage by dragging the man over to a snowdrift and pushing him into it. It was the older brothers against the younger brothers as the balance of power shifted.
Last to join the fray were Remington and her youngest daughter, Gilliana. Bundled up in furs, they stood on the stoop of the keep entry, watching the madness. Gilliana didn’t want to get cold and wet, but she was pulled away by her nieces and had no choice but to play in the snow. Seeing his mother standing alone on the steps, Dane went to join her.
“Good morn to you, Mother,” he said, kissing her cheek. “A happy and chaotic Christmas to you.”
Remington touched her boy on the cheek. “A happy Christmas to you as well,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”
Dane nodded, watching Grier as Brencis and Cynethryn pulled her out into the snow, trying to convince her to help them build a snow fortress. “I did,” he said. “Shrewsbury Castle may belong to me, but Deverill is home. I feel as if this is where I truly belong.”
Remington smi
led. “It is where you truly belong,” she said. “Is Grier happy? Did she sleep well?”
Dane was looking at his wife as she began to help her nieces make a snow fort. “She did,” he said. “Which is normal for her. She can sleep anywhere, any time of day. Being with child has made her exhausted.”
Remington’s eyes flew open wide as she looked to her son in shock. “A baby?” she gasped. Then, she threw her arms around her son. “Dane, I am so thrilled for you! What a glorious Christmas gift!”
Dane hugged his mother. “We were going to surprise Father with it, but I am finding it increasingly difficult not to tell everyone before I tell him,” he said. As his mother released him, he gazed into her eyes. “I have not discussed this with Grier yet, but I am sure she will agree with me. Regardless if the child is male or female, I would like to name my firstborn Rory, after Aunt Rory. You will recall, she was my playmate for many years. I miss the woman with the bright red hair who would do anything I asked of her, up to and including baiting hooks or climbing trees. I have never told you how much I have missed her because I never wanted to add to your sorrow, but I have missed her every single day. I would like to honor her by naming my child after her.”
Remington’s breath caught in her throat and, immediately, she was teary-eyed. “I think that would be wonderful,” she said, a lump in her throat. “She loved you so much, Dane. I know she would be so very touched that you would name your child after her.”
Dane smiled weakly. “Good,” he said. “As I said, I’ve not mentioned it to Grier, but I am sure she will agree.”
Remington held his hand tightly as they spent a moment thinking of Rory, a memory to bring the woman alive after all these years. Trenton, who hadn’t really known Rory, had been listening in on the conversation, absorbing the past sorrows. He knew Arik, of course, his father’s tall and blond friend, not unlike Matthew Wellesbourne. His father was close to both men. But Arik was a Viking, the son of Northmen, and that had seemed both frightening and exotic to Trenton as a young man.
All shadows of the past, things and people he remembered as a child. But those memories all revolved around his father, a man who was increasingly on Trenton’s mind as the morning went on.
“Mayhap, Dane and I should go and wake Father,” he said to Remington. “Mayhap we can help him dress and bring him down to the bailey to watch his grandchildren play. You know that he can probably already hear them.”
He was pointing upward, to the chambers above them where Gaston was, and Remington glanced upward. She knew that Trenton was right. But there was hesitation in her manner.
“I will go,” she said. “Trenton, Dane… you know your father does not like you to see him in his weakened state. At least let me get him dressed. Give him the dignity of facing you from a chair, or sitting up in bed, not laying on his back like an invalid. I know you mean well, but…”
She was cut off when Brencis, Trenton’s youngest daughter, approached. The child was wailing, rubbing at her eyes, as she headed straight for Trenton, who bent down to pick her up.
“Here, here,” he said gently, surprising from a man of his size and fierceness. “Why do you weep?”
Brencis’ heart was broken. “I-I want to play with Bryant and Braxton and Etienne,” she sobbed, pointing to her older cousins. “But they will not let me!”
Trenton fought off a grin as he looked to his mother. “Excuse me,” he said quietly. “I have some boys to see.”
Remington grinned as she waved him on, watching him lumber out to a group of nephews who were lobbing snowballs that had rocks in them. One of the boys already had a welt on his head. Seeing Uncle Trenton approach caused all activity to cease because the de Russe nephews had a healthy respect for their very big uncle, and it was soon clear that Brencis would be allowed to join their play, sans the rocks. Dane laughed softly at the sight.
“I never thought I would see the day when a young girl had complete power over Trenton,” he said.
Remington snorted. “Wait until Rory is born,” she said. “If it is a girl, I will remind you of this when you go running to her with every little cry she makes.”
Dane shook his head. “Not me,” he said firmly, pretending it wasn’t true. “Here, let us go and say good morn to Grier. You can tell her how happy you are about our coming child.”
Clutching her son’s arm, Remington beamed as she headed out into the snow, where one of her cheeky grandchildren decided to throw a snowball at her. That brought Dane on the run, and he grabbed Adeliza’s daughter, Marguerite, who reminded him a good deal of Rory. She was bold and brassy and redheaded. As he picked her up and tickled her to punish her, the sentries at the gate let up a cry.
As Dane set his niece to the ground, he could see a rider and donkey enter the compound, realizing almost immediately that it was Father de Tormo. As he’d promised yesterday, the priest was making an appearance at Deverill. He lifted a hand to the man, who waved in return. He was about to head in the priest’s direction when he suddenly heard a collective gasp go up around him. Children began running towards the keep, and by the time Dane turned to see what was going on, he caught sight of his father standing on the stoop.
Gaston had finally made an appearance.
But it wasn’t just any appearance. The man was bundled up in woolens, but he was moving differently. Faster. As the children ran at him, he bent down and scooped up two of them, kissing cold cheeks and greeting the ones who were clamoring at his feet. He hadn’t picked up his grandchildren in months. As Dane stood there in shock, he could hear his mother gasp.
“My God,” she hissed. “What is he doing?”
Remington began moving towards him, quickly, as Dane followed. In fact, all of the adults seemed to be moving for Gaston as the grandchildren began tugging on his hands, begging him to come out and play. Remington was the first one to her husband, her expression suggesting that she was panic-stricken with concern.
“Gaston?” she asked, trying to be gentle but not doing a very good job of it. “What… what are you doing out here, my love? How did you come down the stairs all on your own?”
Gaston looked at his wife with a hint of color in his cheeks that she hadn’t seen since his illness had been diagnosed. And his expression… full of love and warmth and joy. It had been months, at the very least, since she’d seen that expression. He moved through the children gathered around him and reached out to pull Remington against him, planting a fairly alluring kiss on her lips.
“Good morn to you, angel,” he said in a tone she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I heard everyone out here and thought I would come and play.”
A chorus went up among the children. Play, play they all cried. Adeliza and Arica were there, pulling the children away from Gaston. They were as confused as the rest of the adults as to why the man was on his feet. In fact, Boden and Gage were on either side of their father as if waiting for him to collapse, but he seemed as strong as a tree. Healthy. Remington was still staring at him, shock in her features.
“But…” she sputtered, reaching up to touch his face as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “You look… well, Gaston. How do you feel?”
Gaston grinned; he looked a little tired, perhaps a little elderly, but for the most part, he looked completely healthy. His dark hair, now mostly gone to gray, had been combed, and there was an energy to his movements that hadn’t been seen from the man in ages.
“I feel remarkable,” he said. “I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in quite some time.”
“Father?” Dane was there, looking at the man with his mouth hanging open. “Are you sure you are feeling well? Mayhap, you should let Boden and Gage take you back inside so that you may rest.”
Gaston looked to his blond son, a glimmer in his smoky gray eyes. “I do not need to rest,” he said. “The physic you sent to me has done something no physic has been able to do. Whatever the man had me drink last night has worked wonders. My throat is sti
ll a bit sore, but no coughing. No blood. I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in a very long while.”
Dane was vastly confused. “The physic I sent to you?”
Gaston nodded. “The one from Shrewsbury. The one dressed in white; tall, pale, and blond? Surely you know the man. He said you sent him.”
Dane had no idea who he was talking about. “Father, I didn’t bring a physic with me from Shrewsbury,” he said with concern. “Who came to you and told you I had sent them?”
The children were tugging at Gaston, pulling at him, and it was increasingly difficult to resist. Adeliza and Arica couldn’t keep them away, so they finally gave up because Gaston was going along with it.
“He said his name was Raphael,” Gaston said. “He gave me something to drink. Holy water, he said, but it must have been much more than that. Whatever medicines he gave me, they have worked a miracle. It is the best Christmas gift you could have ever given me, Dane. To thank you doesn’t seem quite enough.”
With that, the lure of playing with his grandchildren took hold and he headed out with the group of them, still followed closely by Gage and Boden, still waiting for their father to collapse. But he didn’t. He let himself be pelted by snowballs by eager little hands and it was the most glorious thing he could have hoped for. He was still old, that was true, but the illness that had been leeching away his life seemed, for a moment, to have faded away. Standing before them was the Gaston de Russe they all knew and loved, a man of strength and with a lust for life.
It was the most astonishing thing any of the adults had ever seen.
Trenton turned to Dane.
“Who is this physic he is speaking of?” he demanded softly. “Did someone come to him last night that we did not know about?”
Neither Dane nor Remington had any answers for him. “I only left him for a short while,” Remington insisted. “When I came down to greet Dane. And you know that I did not stay very long. When I returned to his chamber, he was quite alone and asleep.”
A Very Medieval Christmas: A Medieval Romance Novella Bundle Page 9