The Dark One: Dark Knight (80 page)

     Gaston knew he would have to broach the
subject now, while they were still in private. He found he was actually nervous
doing so, not because he feared his king, but because it had never been easy
for him to verbalize. He cleared his throat quietly and removed his helm. “My
lord, might I have a private word with you before we sup?”

     “Of course,” Henry waved at him. Servants
and attendants scampered from his presence. “What is it, de Russe? You have
reconsidered the dukedom?”

     Gaston smiled ironically. “Nay, my lord,
not at the moment. What I wish to speak of is far more serious.”

     “I see. How serious?”

     Gaston took a deep breath, forming his
thoughts. “I remember after Stokes, my lord, you told me that whatever I wished
would be mine. Anything. You offered me two dukedoms and an earldom to
compensate me for my loyalties, but I refused. Do you recall why I refused?”

     “Because you have no ambition,” Henry said
flatly. “You angered me, Gaston. I wanted to reward you properly, yet you would
not allow me.”

     Gaston fixed his king in the eye. “You may
reward me properly now, my lord. I would have a request of you.”

     Henry's eyebrows rose. “Is this so? Tell
me.”

     Gaston set his helm down on an ornate
cherry wood table. The gauntlets slowly came off. “A woman, my lord. I want a
woman.”

     Henry was astonished. “A woman? By God, de
Russe! You want a
woman
? Be so kind as to inform me of this woman whom
you would accept above a dukedom?”

     “Guy Stoneley's wife.”

     Henry stared at Gaston as if he had not
heard correctly. Or, mayhap, he was waiting for more of an explanation. None
was forthcoming. After a moment, he settled himself into an overstuffed chair
with a weary, long sigh.

     Gaston watched his king closely; from his
expression, he knew he was not pleased.

     “Gaston…,” he shook his head mournfully,
resting his forehead on his hand and rubbing at the building pressure. “Not
you. This cannot happen to you. Why would you want Stoneley’s wife?”

     “Because I love her,” Gaston said
truthfully. “Mari-Elle is dead, and I plan to marry the woman. What I would ask
of you, my lord, is to grant me permission, and then help me seek the needed
annulments. I need Stoneley's cooperation in this matter, as you know. As I
need the church's and they will not give it freely.”

     Henry looked as if a rock had just struck
him right between the eyes; he grimaced. “You love her? Dear God, Gaston, since
when does love have to do with anything? I do not love my wife.”

     Gaston felt as if he was being reprimanded,
but he would not lose control of the conversation. He meant to have what he
wanted. “I did not go to Mt. Holyoak for any other reason than to serve you, my
lord. Have I not served you with complete devotion? Have I not suffered
personal costs for your loyalty?”

     Henry shook his head sharply. “Yes, yes, of
course you have. No one is disputing your loyalty, and certainly not me,” he
looked up at Gaston, scrutinizing the man closely. “Are you sure? Is this what
you truly want? Because, I can assure you, it will be most difficult. The papal
legate and I are not agreeing these days, and for me to petition the church for
an annulment will only irritate them further.”

     “This is what I want,” Gaston did not
hesitate. “As badly as you wanted England, I want
this
. I want her, and
I shall have her if I have to kill Guy Stoneley and every man who refuses me
until I receive the answer I seek.”

     Henry was stunned and his appetite was
waning. He did not want to deny Gaston the only request the man had ever made
of him. And he could see, clearly, that Gaston meant what he said. He suddenly
felt very tired.

     “Lord God, de Russe, when you make a
request, it is certainly a ripe one,” he sagged in his chair, scratching at his
scalp. “Because I value you so, and because you have been my devoted servant, I
will do what I can. But it may not be enough; not even I can order the church
to issue you an annulment.”

     Gaston let out a long sigh; he had not
realized he had been holding his breath. “I would make one more. Donate the
dukedom of Warminster to the church in exchange for their cooperation.
Warminster is rich land and they will be most grateful for the grant.”

     “Donate Warminster.” Henry echoed with
disbelief. “Gaston, do you realize what you are asking? The church will rule an
entire dukedom. By God, man, they already vie with me for power. To grant them
a dukedom will be to give them a larger foothold in England.
My
England.”

     “And I will give them Clearwell and Mt.
Holyoak as well,” Gaston said steadily, his voice low. I will give them
everything I have if it will buy two annulments.”

     Henry stood up, pacing the floor with
nervous steps. Gaston watched his king's stiff back, waiting for a refusal.
Henry did not like the church, and donating the dukedom did not sit well. Henry
scratched and paced for several long moments.

     “I am in your debt, de Russe,” he said
after a moment. “Had it not been for you at Milburn Haven, we would have never
made headway onto land. Had you not been at Bosworth, Richard might have very
well routed me. And at Stokes, you were brilliant. You are the greatest
military machine I have ever had the fortune to see, and you are worth more
than your weight in gold. I feel as if I cannot deny you your request in good
conscience,” he looked at Gaston. “I consider you quite possibly my most
valuable military asset and I would not alienate you for the anything. But tell
me this; this woman is not a passing fancy, is she? Is she worth the trouble
she will cause?”

     Gaston's jaw ticked. “I would do anything
for her, my lord. Anything! I want to make her my wife through legal means, but
if that is not possible, it will not stop me. I will have her anyway it takes!”

     Henry stared at Gaston a moment longer
before shaking his head ironically. “I would meet this woman who has branded
you, Gaston. I am having difficulty grasping all of this.”

     “She is in a safe place, my lord, until this
situation is resolved,” he replied steadily. “She does not go near Guy
Stoneley.”

     Henry looked at him, a bit coldly. “I
granted the man's request and I will not go back on my word.”

     “You are not going back on your word. If
you cannot find her, the situation is out of your grasp.”

     “You brought her to London, did you not?
With a papal escort?”

     “She is in London.”

     Henry paced over to Gaston, eyeing him. “
Where
in London?”

     “Before I tell you, I would have your word
that she does not go to Guy Stoneley,” Gaston said plainly. “If she does, then
I will kill him. I will not allow her near him.”

     Henry could see the depths of passion
within the smoky gray depths. He was preparing to order Gaston into submission,
but he rolled his eyes wearily instead. “You are a demanding bastard. Stoneley
has been asking for his wife daily.”

     “I am sure he is, my lord,” Gaston said
with more emotion than he had exhibited yet. “He wants to pry her for
information to feed the Yorkist resistance. He knows she has been living at
Mount Holyoak, with me, and he wants her knowledge. Surely you know that.”

     “I know that.” Henry snapped. “Gaston, do
not force me in this.”

     “I am not trying to force anything, my
lord,” Gaston said. “But I forbid Stoneley to see her.”

     Henry looked at his Dark Knight, knowing
the man meant what he said. There would be blood, and there would be chaos if
Gaston de Russe ran amuck with anger and jealousy. “I do not like the fact that
I will be breaking my word if I do not allow Stoneley to see his wife,” he said
lowly. “If you supervised their reunion, would you allow the man a glimpse of
her? I would not be breaking my word, then, in allowing him to see his wife.”

     Gaston hated the idea with a passion, but
he knew he must give a little in order to secure this bargain. “I will do that
if you will grant me a favor in return; that you will begin annulment
proceedings on my marriage to Mari-Elle.”

     “I will,” Henry nodded. “In fact, we can
begin them tonight. Peter Courtenay is the bishop of Exeter.”

     Gaston nodded, feeling strangely weakened
by all of this arguing. “I have brought my own papal representative to assist
me in these unfamiliar matters, my lord. Would it be acceptable for him to sup
with us, as well?”

     Henry nodded, having no taste for supper
after this conversation. “By all means. By God, I am tired already. You have
sapped my strength with all of your illogical demands.”

     Gaston smiled weakly. “You will not think
them so illogical when you meet her, my lord.”

     Henry perked up just a bit. “Is that so?
She is a beauty, then? Worthy of all this heartache?”

     Gaston pictured Remington’s face and his
expression turned tender. “Worth dying for.”

     Henry moved to the door, feeling all of his
thirty-odd years. “Let us hope it does not come to that.”

     John de Vere arrived at the Tower the
following morning, Gaston was sure, to prevent the Dark One from doing anything
rash. Or mayhap it was to show his support; for whatever the reason, Gaston had
a long conversation with the earl and de Tormo that constituted his morning.

     Peter Courtenay had been somewhat
encouraging in the matter of annulling his marriage to Mari-Elle; he seemed to
think that if the king himself gave testimony before the papal board, it would
be the only petition required. Since the woman was dead, there was no reason
not to grant an annulment. But in the matter of Remington's marriage to Guy, he
was not as positive.

     He had been somewhat shocked at Henry's
request. Gaston was not surprised at the passion of Henry's argument to Peter;
the king could persuade the devil himself to give up his throne if he were so
inclined. Gaston was silent for the most part, answering questions that were
asked of him until the bishop seemed clarified on all matters. He promised to
seek audience with the apostolic delegate, James of Imola, within the next few
days and report back to Henry.

     Meanwhile, Gaston would have to gain Guy
Stoneley's agreement, and he had no idea what to expect. Would he outright
refuse? Would he agree with his blessings, rid of his wife? Would he bargain?
Gaston suspected the latter.

     Which was why he spent the morning
conversing with de Vere and de Tormo. He had an inkling that Stoneley might
possibly demand his release, and the return of Mt. Holyoak for his cooperation.
Gaston did not know why he suspected the terms; he just did. As much as he had
grown to love Mt. Holyoak, he would gladly return it to Stoneley. But the
matter of his release was another matter. Only Henry could grant his freedom,
but Gaston was inclined to believe the king would do just that if Gaston asked
it of him.

     Henry sent for Gaston just before the
nooning meal. Leaving de Vere and de Tormo in the Queen's council chambers,
where they had been speaking, Gaston retreated to the king's private solar as
requested.

     Henry was fatigued as the heat and the
humidity of London plagued him, explaining his short mood. When Gaston arrived,
he ignored any greeting.

     “Stoneley is demanding his wife again,
Gaston. I think it would be best if you send de Tormo to explain the situation,
since the priest has already formed a rapport with him.”

     Gaston nodded slowly. “Agreed.”

     “But,” Henry pointed a thin finger at him.
“I want Lady Stoneley brought here this afternoon to see her husband. Mayhap if
he sees her, he shall cease his endless requests and we can get on with the
matters at hand. The man is a pest.”

     Gaston’s jaw ticked and Henry rose swiftly
from his carved chair.  “None of that, de Russe. I understand your feelings and
I am not unsympathetic, considering what I was told about Stoneley by de Tormo.
But sometimes we must do distasteful things in order to achieve a greater end.
Besides, there is no reason for you to be uneasy; you will supervise the visit
and, therefore, no harm will come to the lady. Do you comprehend me?”

     “Aye, my lord,” Gaston’s voice was a low,
distant thunder.

     Henry slanted Gaston a long look to see if
he could detect any sort of subversion or disobedience on the part of the Dark
Knight; under normal circumstances, such a thing would be considered unheard of,
but men in love were known to do strange, unpredictable things.

     “And then the two of you will join me for
supper,” he added, quieter. “Elizabeth is due here from Windsor this afternoon
and I should like us to dine together.”

     “My thanks, my lord,” Gaston replied. “We
would be honored.”

     The king scratched at his scalp a moment.
“Be off, then. Send de Tormo to me.”

     Gaston bowed and turned on his heel
swiftly, marching for the door. Only when he entered the dark, cool corridor
did he mutter a sharp curse.