The King sat on a stool across from him as the barber-surgeon began laying instruments on the table. “You were right about Tourelle from the beginning, Gaston. Much trouble could have been avoided had I taken your word from the start. You have my apology.”
Gaston gazed at his sovereign in astonishment. Never had he heard Philippe apologize. To anyone. For anything. “A king must make difficult decisions,” he said with a shrug—regretting the gesture when it pained his shoulder.
“Aye, but a king must also know enough to judge men wisely, and I have been most unwise.”
“My liege, it is over now.”
Gaston’s assistant left with the armor, and the surgeon stepped near, applying a stinging, wet compress to Gaston’s raw shoulder that made him flinch.
“Pardon, milord,” the young man said. “‘Tis wine, to cleanse the wound. It is a method of preventing infection.”
Gaston glanced at him, a wry grin tugging at his mouth. So Celine thought all the important advances had not been made until her time. “Has my wife been offering you advice?” he asked curiously.
“Your wife?” The young man looked at him in puzzlement. “Nay, milord.”
“Gaston.” Philippe flicked an impatient glance at the barber-surgeon, who quickly swabbed the other cuts, turned back to the table, and began tearing lengths of linen for bandages, leaving the two men to their discussion. “Gaston, all that was stolen from your family is now returned to you. Along with Tourelle’s considerable holdings as well.” The King leaned forward, his face sober, as if he were only now getting to the subject he truly wished to address. “It makes you, in truth, a most wealthy man. Lord of a vast portion of the Artois region. I am not certain I can grant such wealth to a mere knight.”
Gaston regarded him warily. Would Philippe take back what he had only just granted? All of it? Part of it? He held his tongue.
“And so,” the King continued, his features breaking into a smile, “I suppose I shall have to make you a duc.”
Stunned, Gaston could not speak for a moment. “Saints’ breath,” he sputtered at last. “Sire! I ... it is—”
“Nay, do not thank me. When I make a mistake, I admit it. And I make amends.”
“Amends?” Gaston choked out. “But a duc. You have me leaping over more ranks than—God’s blood! Baron, viscomte, comte—”
“Aye,” Philippe laughed. “It is good to be King.”
Gaston couldn’t help but laugh as well, though it hurt his side. “Sire....” He shook his head in disbelief. “It is too generous. Too—”
“Noble? Gaston, today on this field, I saw more nobility than I have seen in all my years in battle. You fought honorably, even with all that lay at stake, even while Tourelle acted the knave. I see now that I accepted what others said of you too easily in the past. Mayhap that is why I was so slow to judge whether it was you or Tourelle who was telling the truth.”
“But that does not mean that I deserve—”
“You are more deserving than many who inherit such a title,” Philippe insisted. “You have earned it. Far more than you earned the name Blackheart. Aye, mayhap you committed some regrettable deeds in the past, but a man can change. Nobility is not in titles, Gaston, or even in deeds.” He rose to leave. “It is in the heart.”
Gaston dropped his gaze to the ground, uncomfortable with such words. Change ... nobility ... the heart. He had resisted change for so long. Thought he must stay as he was to survive. Believed he could never be truly noble, that he did not wish to be.
That he could never give in to his heart.
It was difficult to accept all at once.
“Mayhap, my liege.”
“I believe it is true, and I should know. I am a king.” Smiling, Philippe clapped him on the shoulder. “I leave you to the surgeon, my good Duc.” He turned to go, then stopped before the tent flap, turning back. “Ah, but I almost neglected to address the other subject I meant to speak to you about. The request that you made of me so long ago—the annulment. I believe I know what your answer will be, but it is yours if you wish. Do you still want it?”
***
Celine waited until the King had left Gaston’s tent. She wasn’t sure it was acceptable for a mere woman to address a king, but someone had to ask the question that needed to be asked and she wasn’t sure Gaston would think of it, after all he had been through today.
But as soon as she raised the question of an annulment, the King cut her off.
“I have already discussed it with Gaston, milady. Speak to him.”