She took a quick bath with scented water, drying herself vigorously and brushing her hair until it crackled. Donning a fresh surcoat of pale green satin, short sleeved and with a square neck embroidered in gold, she moved to Dane’s room to awaken her son.
But Dane was already awake. In fact, he was gone and Remington was pleased that her son was so industrious this day as to rise before her and see to his small chores. With that in mind, Remington bustled on her way with a whistle on her lips.
The day was looking brighter already.
Dane was up, very well. He had been up before the sun rose and had proceeded to the lake to catch fish. He loved to catch fish, for no other reason than he felt a sense of accomplishment.Armed with a small pole Oleg had helped him fashion, he had already caught two fish when he was joined by another prospective fisherman.
Gaston crouched down next to him, silently watching the surface of the water. The bugs were rampant in the humidity, swarming atop the water. He peered into Dane’s bucket.
“Two fish already,” he remarked. “Excellent. By noon you should have caught enough fish to feed my entire army.”
Dane grinned. “There aren’t that many fish in this lake.”
Gaston lifted his eyebrows. “Oh, I would not say that. ’Tis a big lake.”
Dane glanced at him shyly before returning to his task. Gaston watched the boy a moment, thinking of his own son whom he had not seen in a year.
He had seen Dane leaving the fortress at sunrise, heading for the lake. Curious, he had watched the boy for some time from the top of the tower, the little dot next to a pool of blue. His own heart ached for the simple things in life, the things he had never enjoyed because of his profession. True, he had fished as a boy, but his life was dedicated to his training. Always his training.
His whole life had been dedicated to kings and battles. He’d never longed for anything else because he enjoyed his work. Yet ever since he arrived at Mt. Holyoak, he had experienced a strange sense of emptiness, as if there were more to life than war and politics. Being a soldier most of his life, he had no idea what “more” might be.
Seeing Dane retreating to the peace of the lake under the rising sun gave him his very first inkling that, mayhap, he was not as content as he had originally thought.
“Do you come here often?” he asked the boy.
Dane nodded. “Almost every day in the summer. In the winter it is too cold, and the fish do not bite.”
Gaston nodded in understanding. “By God, I cannot remember the last time I fished. I must have been a lad, just a bit older than you.”
“Did you fish with your father?” Dane asked.
Gaston drew in a thoughtful breath. “Nay, I cannot remember ever fishing with my father. He was a very busy man.”
“My father never fished with me, either,” Dane said, playing with his line. “He said it wasn’t a man’s sport.”
Gaston sat down on the grass, resting his arm on his bent knee. “I would not agree with that.”
Dane was pleased to hear that. He sat silently for a few moments, a thousand thoughts running about his busy head. “How did you get to be so big?”
Gaston grinned in a rare gesture. “I was born tall, I suppose. But I built my strength through years of practice and training.”
Dane turned to look at him with wide-eyed innocence. “You are as wide as a door. Do you eat a lot, too?”
He shrugged. “I eat enough.”
Dane was still watching him intently, gazing at legs bigger than he was. “Why do they call you the Dark Knight?”
Gaston’s smile faded as he plucked a piece of grass. “Because I always dress in black, I would guess. Mayhap I remind them of death. People will call you what they will and there is naught you can do about their whims.”
“I heard some of our men-at-arms say that you were the devil’s friend,” Dane said. “Are you?”
Gaston’s brow furrowed. “Hardly, Dane. Do not believe everything you hear. Make your own judgments, lad.”
Dane absorbed his words, turning back to his fishing. His thoughts were coming faster than his mouth could express them, typical for a seven-year-old boy.
“I am glad you are staying here,” he said after a moment.
“Will you leave when my father returns?”
