Walter blinked. He had no idea where this conversation was leading and wondered if the Dark Knight had lost his mind. Yet as much he hated to admit it, he did indeed trust the man with his impeccable reputation.
“Aye,” Walter blinked slowly, with resignation. “I would trust you with my life.”
Gaston sat forward, resting his folded hands on the table. When he met Walter’s gaze again, it was if he had reached out and grabbed the man without actually touching him.
“Then trust me when I tell you that Henry is worthy to be our king,” he said quietly. “I do not give my loyalty easily nor lightly. I do not act upon whim. Know this to be true.”
Walter swallowed, visibly impacted by his words. He met Gaston’s gaze for a moment longer before relaxing back into his chair. Contemplatively, he turned his gaze to his father.
Brimley was looking back at Gaston. The silent moment ticked away as each man pondered his own thoughts until Brimley stirred.
“I can promise you no trouble from Crayke, sir, but at this point I can promise you nothing more,” he said. “We must havetime to sort our priorities on this matter. You have given us much to think on.”
“I can ask for nothing more,” Gaston replied. “I would hope that you would speak with your allied barons on this meeting and assure them of our intentions. Peace will be met with peace, and loyalty with sworn allegiance from the crown. And the support of the Dark Knight.”
“And if there are those who would not know peace?” Brimley asked, his white eyebrows rising.
Gaston slanted the man a gaze that he was famous for; it was likened by men who had seen it to Judgment Day.
“Then they shall die.”
Brimley showed no fear. He nodded faintly and looked to his sons. “It would seem our visit is ended.”
Clive and Walter rose, as did Gaston and Arik. Brimley faced Henry’s knight with a new respect.
“In truth, Sir Gaston, I had no idea what to expect this day,” he said. “Your reputation paints you to be a mythical beast of sorts. I am surprised to see that you are a man of intelligence, not simply a man of war. We will speak again.”
“I look forward to that time, my lord,” Gaston answered.
Brimley nodded curtly, knowing the meeting was ended and anxious to return home. He felt better exiting the meeting than he had going in, and that was a positive factor in his mind. He motioned to his sons and they quit the solar in a small group.
“Why did not you ask him to stay the night?” Arik asked after the men had left.
“It would have been too much, too soon,” Gaston replied. “They are terribly uncomfortable as it is and I am sure would prefer the company of the stars to mine. They already have camp set up in the woods east of Mt. Holyoak.”
“What about Rory?” Arik asked, his sly tone unmistakable.
Gaston gazed coolly at him. “What about her? We shall be rid of her if she goes to Crayke and thereby the problem will be eliminated.”
Arik shook his head. “But you were going to punish her. Since when do you go back on your word?”
He was pushing and Gaston knew it. “You are not a clever man, Arik. Do not try to probe me innocently, for you shall fail. Now I must make sure our guests get off safely.”
Arik shut his mouth, although he was thinking a great many things. But he knew better than anyone not to voice his opinions.
*
Trouble was, Rorydid not want to go. Remington found her with Charles as they experimented with secret potions and powder and Rory balked at the suggestion. She insisted staunchly that she had not put the eggs in Nicolas’ helmet and refused to take the blame.
Remington pleaded, yelled and threatened her sister in an attempt to convince her to leave with Lord Brimley. Rory ranted and threatened to return. She had not done the dastardly deed and she would not leave simply to escape the wrath of the Dark Knight.
Remington was flustered and angry at her sisters’ stubborn nature. She was trying to save the willful girl’s hide. It never occurred to her that Rory did not want to leave for an entirely different reason, and its name was Patrick.
Dane joined them later, chewing on a hunk of warm bread and excited about the fish he had caught. But one look at the experiments Charles and Rory were performing made him forget about his insignificant fish and he begged to help.
Remington was forgotten, as was Lord Brimley. With a resigned sigh, she perched herself on a stool and watched the mysterious research without enthusiasm.
She fully expected Gaston to ream her for her shrewd actions. She saw an opportunity and chose to make the best of it, pleased with her cleverness, yet Rory was refusing to cooperate. She was afraid, but not completely terrified. Anything Gaston did to her could not be as bad as what Guy planned for her daily.
