The red rose always blooms in winter

That night passed relatively calmly. The "relatively" was purely based on the fact that while some people in the castle had managed to find some calm that evening, some had not been able to sleep at all.

Gilbert, for example, was one of those people whose mind never stopped thinking, not even for a minute and that lasted the duration of the night. He had never finished rolling over and over in bed in the grip of his thoughts. He was thinking of the words Captain Hoover had addressed to them. What did they have to pay attention to? Why did they have to stay on guard? Weren't they safe as long as they were on royal ground? He knew nothing about this, he had no answers to the questions that were pounding his head so hard. In any case, not all of his concerns were strictly related to his physical health, but some of them were also directed to the future.

A lot of images of possible futures and events started flowing in his head. The general was excellent at riding horses, not for that he was elevated to the rank of general of cavalry. He had been riding since he was seven years old, he had always ridden alone, on the rugged shores of the Isle of Man. He had always ridden alone because neither his father nor his older brothers, too independent and "grown up" to spend their time with a child, wanted to be with him.

In any case, he was not very used to the idea of ​​moving in a forest or following others. Of course in war it wasn't that difficult, hunting for humans like them, he didn't had to keep up, but the members of the cavalry were sent inside the battle to fight hand to hand, and then there were not all those problems on how to follow others or not. Gilbert got out of bed, he no longer wanted to be in bed when he couldn't sleep.

He quickly pulled the warm red embroidered blankets off his body and managed with a quick push to move from lying to sitting on the side of the bed. He had been given a fine, wide, light white shirt with gold hems to sleep in, but he had pulled it off his body. He had never been used to resting with clothes covering his chest, he wanted to stay cool, not sweat, he liked the cold sometimes. He was standing there anyway, sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, wearing only the white pants that had been given to him for his rest. He counted the days with anxiety, he knew that that day was the 5th September of the year 1730 and he knew that two more days would pass before he could be reunited with his family.

He didn't care so much to meet with his father and his three older half-brothers again. The majority of the memories he had of them were negative. All he wanted was to get up, dress and join his companions in the castle's outer courtyard, to begin their day of hunting. With a firm flick of the wrist he moved the long golden curtain that covered the window. He noticed that dawn had come, looked at the pink sky, the golden sun coming out from behind the hills on the horizon.

He opened the window, breathed the fresh morning air, he let it enter his lungs, he breathed it for a long time. His companions had already gone to the established point, they were talking, he was far away, it was not possible for him to understand what they were talking about. That did not even interest him in a particular way. Anyway, it was possible for him to notice who was present that day. Isabelle was already there, her appearance was enchanting, her long golden hair was tied in a very long braid placed on one of her delicate shoulders and came to a length that could touch her tights. She was elegant dressed in every way possible, she wore a sleek sky blue silk dress with white lace and gold trim.

She sat on a majestic white horse, and next to her, was her older half-brother, Prince Henry, also on horseback, but on a French saddle stallion, with a golden brown coat, but with a muzzle and discoloured legs. Then there were also the twins William and Dickon Dustin, who, not yet mounted on their identical Quarter horses. They lingered among themselves, as was customary to do and sometimes exchanging words in Irish Gaelic that Gilbert, being born on an island in the middle between Ireland and England could barely understand.

The princess looked at the figure of the general at the window and greeted him. -My lord, come down to the courtyard, we are waiting for you ... -the girl urged him making her lips follow a light chuckle.

-I am sorry to tell you, my princess, but unfortunately I am not yet prepared for the event ... - Gilbert retorted, smiling at the young Isabelle. She was an angel, there was no denying it, her big light-blue eyes, her long blond hair, her delicate face.

-I will immediately send some attendants to help you in the dressing, but you should hurry up, please, the way in the woods is long and if we leave after the sun has risen then all the wild boars and foxes would immediately notice our arrival-. Attendants finally arrived in the bright room of the general and as their job they helped him wash his body with various oils and soaps, tied his long ash red hair in a ponytail that fell over his shoulders and covered his hair with the usual candid wig.

They showed and put on him the suit that had been selected for his hunt and led him to the outer courtyard of the castle which would then lead the group into the thick forest. Gilbert looked at his body elegantly wrapped in those clothes: the white shirt he wore, his faded brown felt pants, the white bandages that gripped his muscular abdomen. All that was quite unnatural, it was quite uncomfortable, and he didn't even know why he was obliged to wear such uncomfortable clothing.

He walked down the corridor and his head, once full of thoughts, was mysteriously empty, he no longer thought of anything. He met Juniper, the young baron, he was walking in the reverse direction to his and it was quite bizarre. Gilbert stopped for a few minutes, watched the young man walk away, until some words escaped from his tight pink lips.

-Excuse me ... -the young baron stopped his steps and for a short time the deepest silence was created in the long corridor.

-You should be Juniper Whiteblossom, right? The cousin of Princess Isabelle- the general began to speak again taking steps towards the distant figure of the young man in the corridor. -I am really sorry not to have spoken to you for now, my name is Gilbert Stanley, Viscount of Isle of Man ... -.

The man held out a hand to the other, as a sign of friendship, hoping that he would do the same, or at least responded in a friendly way to his modest greeting, but this did not happen for a long time. Juniper did not turn around, his head was down, his golden curls fell on his forehead and Gilbert was able to feel the strange movements of the other's head, almost as if he were crying.

-Is it all good? Do you need a doctor? - Gilbert began to worry about the young baron.

In Gilbert's eyes, Juniper was somewhat younger than him and apparently much more fragile at the time, both in terms of size and psychology and health. Gilbert placed his hand on the young man's shoulder and with this gesture he was able to sense how hard the young baron's heart was beating and how hard and desperately he was trying to breathe.

With a firm flick of his hands and a quick movement Juniper was able to escape the man's grasp, and as he turned around Gilbert was able to see the boy's face completely: he was pale, his big blue eyes had both very dilated pupils, his lays were streaked with tears and it was very evident that the baron found it hard to breathe, from the common dilation of his nostrils.

-Please ... please don't touch me ... - Juniper prayed.

Gilbert took two steps back, almost struck by what was happening. He had never seen such a thing.

-Please, calm down, try to breathe ... -the general urged the other, who, for some time seemed to be staggering on his own legs. Juniper took the dagger out of his pocket, the weapon his father had given him and nervously began to run his fingers through him and ended up pointing it at the general.

-Go away...please...you don't understand ... I don't understand...anything, anymore ... -.

-You have to calm down Juniper, nobody will hurt you ... - the guards who were accompanying Gilbert to the courtyard were quite unsure of how they should act, they were loyal to the royal family, then to Juniper, but their main purpose was to protect their new prince consort and so they did, aiming their own rifles against the young baron, which resulted in Juniper's greater confusion. The baron's nose began to bleed drastically, giving a colour to his pale face along with his eyes. The young man pressed his two fingers against the flow of blood.

He was already tottering on his legs, he exchanged a quick glance with Gilbert and ended up falling on the ground unconscious. Some guards took care to pick up the young baron's body and transport it to his room, where they would apply sour-smelling vinegar under his nose to restore his senses.

-What happened, I could not imagine that such a thing...all of this... could happen ... - Gilbert began to stammer, still struck by what had just happened. In any case, although he was in concern for the young man, the general was led into the courtyard, where he was given a horse, a black Shire, dark as the starless night sky. They gave him a comfortable and light hunting rifle, including a black leather shoulder strap, so it would not have weigh too much on his hand.

They started walking, and as they walked the air around them took on an immense variety of different scents: he smelled fresh air, the flowers, the dew on the leaves of grass. All these smells were not unknown to him, he knew them all, he had already smelled them over and over again, during his childhood, on the Isle of Man. His saddle was light, not like the one he was forced to go into battle with. It wasn't a burden to him and he didn't sweat in any way and the fine black leather boots were light enough to let his tired feet breathe and at the same hold on to the stirrups.

They began to ride, right in the open countryside and sometimes the white and brown fur of the hounds brushed against his boots which made the hunt somewhat interesting but at the same time more stressful. Anyway, despite all that journey made people's souls calmer Gilbert could only think about Juniper, of what had happened that morning. This resentment led him to take the initiative himself. He had to and wanted to do it, so he accelerated the steps of his trotting horse to reach his betrothed and Prince Henry in the front row.

-Good day my lady, my lord ... - Gilbert drew their attention by lowering his head in greeting.

-Good day, my general, don't you think this morning weather is absolutely magnificent?- the princess asked smiling and filling her young lungs with as much air as possible.

-I also find this morning is incredibly pleasant, but if you don't mind I would like to present you to some of my concerns-.

-Of course, I would be very interested in hearing what you have to say, after all, this is my job ... listening to people...- Isabelle turned her gaze to the general putting on her young face a harmless and innocent smile.

-About your cousin, Juniper Whiteblossom, this morning, he was like if he were completely another person, he was acting strange and aggressive, he was in panic, you have to excuse me, I just can't explain it ... -. Isabelle laughed shortly and then resumed her composed posture.

-You know, what you are telling me is not new to me, my general ... - the princess didn't seem to care much about what was going on around her, she seemed to not care a lot about the young baron - you have to excuse him, my cousin, but he is often so, after his sessions ... -.

A lot of questions started piling up in Gilbert's head and began to disturb him. What kind of sessions were those the young baron was forced to do? Could it be that all this was just a plan of the young princess to manipulate the mind of some person whose weaknesses she knew? Gilbert did not know, but he was determined to find out everything this was about, even at the cost of his life, he would arrive at the bottom of the matter and one day he would finally have his questions answered.

-I'm bored, the way to the woods is long, why don't you tell me something my general? -. Gilbert was completely surprised by that mysterious question, but he didn't want to give up so easily, if what he thought was true and the princess was trying to find his weaknesses and then manipulate him, he would have never give up.

-My life is not that interesting, nothing really happened ... -. Isabelle then turned her gaze to her older half brother on her left and started talking to him.

-Do you want to tell me how your life is going, brother dear? -Henry wasn't a person with a good past, nor with a mind too strong to hold out for long, but in this case he didn't answer. He refused to open his mouth and continued to ride as if nothing had happened.

-Tell me, do you still speak French? Our father always said that your mother used to speak to you in that language ... -. Gilbert observed the scene, observed the quick movements of the prince's thin lips and tried to notice how cleverly the man's psyche was forced by the girl.

-There will come one day brother, where you will have to choose ... whether to take your oath to Great Britain or France, and I hope you make the right choice ... -.

-That day is not today and still, won't be in a long time... - the prince commented, remaining in such a way elegantly touched by his sister.

-It won't be today, it won't be tomorrow, but I appreciate the fact that you think about it, brother dear ... -.