De Lara nodded. “He puts a great deal of pressure on Aramis to marry well. No wonder the man tries to stay away from women; his father has all but turned him off of them. But the Earl of Mercia’s sister is another matter altogether.”
“He will never have her,” de Moray, the grumpy old man of the group, spoke softly. When the others looked at him, curiously, he simply shook his head. “She will marry another.”
“Who?” de Reyne wanted to know.
De Moray looked at the collection of men, his brow furrowed. “Have you not seen the way Gate behaves with her? It is not only de Russe who is in love with her, but de Wolfe. I have seen lesser women tear apart strong men so I would be lying if I said this does not concern me.”
De Reyne cast a long glance at St. Hèver, who simply shook his head. “Gaetan is not in love with her,” Kye said quietly. “Interested, I would believe, but the man is not in love with her. I do not believe he knows how.”
“Gate has Adéle warming his bed,” de Reyne put in. “She has already given him two sons. He has no need for anyone else, least of all a Saxon woman.”
St. Hèver nodded in agreement. “If anything, he will take her as a concubine.”
“Until he tires of her,” de Reyne said knowingly.
“Exactly.”
Those two seemed to agree but the others did not. De Lara put up his hands in a supplicating gesture.
“Are you two so blind that you do not see it?” he asked. “Watch how he behaves around her and then you will understand what I mean. De Russe may be in love with the woman but I can promise you that Gaetan is as well. Did you not see how he held her hand when that fossil of an apothecary was carving into her leg? That, good knights, is a man who feels something. Mark my words.”
“Why did you let me drink so much?”
The question came from around the side of the tavern as de Winter suddenly appeared, groaning, followed by Aramis, Gaetan, and the others. The group at the front of the tavern instantly quieted their gossip as the others came to join them. Now, Denis de Winter was evidently miserable and was blaming everyone but himself, so the subject shifted from talk of Gaetan and Aramis to de Winter’s spinning head.
“I can feel the world rock when I close my eyes, which means tomorrow my head will be swollen,” Denis said. “Someone should have stopped me.”
Téo, walking beside him and grinning, slapped the man on the back. “Your head is already swollen and misshapen no matter what you do,” he said. “You have the biggest head I have ever seen.”
De Winter put both hands on his head, outraged. “I do not.”
“It’s the size of a full moon, Denis. I am surprised you can get it into your helm.”
De Winter scowled at him. “Then my head must reflect the size of my manhood,” he sneered. “I can hardly get it into my trousers.”
“That’s not what she said.”
Soft laughter erupted from the group but Denis didn’t like that fact that he was evidently being insulted on his most important body parts. “Who is she? I demand to know.”
Téo simply laughed at him, shaking his head at a drunken de Winter who had a big head and an even bigger manroot. He looked at Gaetan, who was smirking at de Winter as the man looked down into his trousers to make sure he was as well-endowed as he thought he was.
“God’s Bones,” Gaetan muttered, yawning because of the late hour. “The conversations we have among us are most enlightening. Denis, stop looking at yourself. There is something inherently vulgar about that.”
De Winter shrugged but he stopped looking. Then he turned his back on Téo, farted loudly, and walked away. Téo, under a gas assault, waved his hands to chase off the stench and moved well away. In fact, all of the knights shifted, shoving de Winter back into the area of his own smell. Gaetan rubbed at his forehead, knowing they were all weary and somewhat inebriated, and that sleep was in order before all of the farting and insults grew out of hand.
“I am going back to the apothecary’s hut,” he told them. “I will take Téo and Jathan with me. The rest of you can either sleep in the tavern or in the livery, but return to the apothecary at dawn.”
The men nodded to the orders. “But what if Lady Ghislaine is not well enough to travel?” de Moray asked. “What then?”
That was the question all of them were asking. Gaetan folded his enormous arms in front of his chest in a pensive gesture.
“I suppose we shall decide that tomorrow,” he said. “If the fever is broken, then we shall continue with her. But if it is not, then I suppose she will have to remain. We are close enough to Alary of Mercia’s lair that we more than likely do not need her any longer. The lady and I were speculating earlier today that if Alary is still traveling as slowly as he was when we departed Westerham, then he is a few days behind us, if not more. There will be plenty of time to intercept him and reclaim Kristoph. I am sure the lady would like to be there when we do.”
“She is only our guide, Gate,” Wellesbourne said, which caused everyone to look at him in various stages of disapproval. He grew defensive. “All I am saying is that she has served her purpose. The lady was gravely injured because of us so, mayhap, it is time to relieve her of this burden. I have been in this land enough to be able to find Tenebris, so we do not need her any longer. Moreover, when we meet up with her brother, there is going to be a fight and it does not seem fair to drag her into our battle when she is already injured.”
Gaetan remained even tempered as the others frowned at Bartholomew. “She saved Kristoph from death the day he was captured,” he reminded the man. “We have gotten this far because of her. She has served a valuable purpose and I would no more cast her aside than I would cast one of you aside. Unless anyone has any objections, she will continue to be a part of our contingent while we are on this mission.”
No one seemed to have any objections and Wellesbourne remained silent, fearful that saying any more would only antagonize the group that was clearly sympathetic towards the lady. But Gaetan’s words only seemed to underscore what de Lara had said earlier, about Gaetan being in love with the woman. The Gaetan he knew would have never spared such concerned for a woman. Now, the knights were starting to see it, or at least some of them were.
Gaetan wasn’t aware of their thoughts, of course, but he was eager to get back to the apothecary because he’d been gone longer than he’d anticipated. It had been cathartic to sit with his men over hot food and enjoy good conversation. Even so, his thoughts were never far from Ghislaine. He’d relived that stolen kiss a few times, wondering what it would be like when she actually returned his kisses. The thought had made him smile.
Now, he glanced up in the sky, seeing that the stars had changed because of the late hour. The moon was sitting low on the horizon as clouds drifted across the heavens.
“If no one has anything more to say, then seek your beds, all of you,” he said. “I will see you on the morrow.”