Arrival

Kasey

kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: The travelers arrive at Adhemar's home.

Rating: This chapter is PG-13.

Disclaimer:  Not mine and I do not own them at all.

Notes:  In regard to Adhemar's problem with music, it occurred to me, after posting the last chapter, that some of you readers may not have seen the deleted scenes on the DVD.  There is a scene where it is explained that he is 'deaf to the tones'.  Also in the deleted scenes, is a scene where Christiana goes off with Roland, but I have an explanation for her claims of innocence, which will come in a later chapter.

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Does she think no one can hear her weeping?  She railed her pain for all to hear throughout the night.  And yet I must give her some meager respect, for this morning she shows no signs of that incessant crying that kept me up through all the wee hours.  I had to drink large quantities of wine and ale to dull the sound of her screeching.  Her eyes are not red and swollen and she does not have a splotchy face from it.  Perhaps she is one of those few women who are pretty when they cry.  Or perhaps she simply knows how to hide it.

In any case, she sits serenely on her mount, showing no sign of that crying.  I want to hurt her, to do anything to know exactly what she feels behind her courteous manner.  It is like an itch I cannot quite reach, that desire.  The more she attempts to hide herself from me, the more I want to rip into her.

Maybe I should not have confronted her last night.  Perhaps it was I who caused her to cry, although I do not remember being an ogre to her.  I remember asking about the peasant man and then kissing her, although both are somewhat blurry and out of focus.  I know she did not give me a satisfactory answer to the first, but the second was most satisfactory and rousing.  I almost smile at the pleasant memory of her lips quivering beneath mine, her breasts rising and falling with her breath and her skin silky smooth to touch.  Almost.  Excruciating pain rolls within my skull, banishing the pleasure of the memory.

Oh dear God, my head.  It aches, it throbs, it feels ten sizes larger than yesterday.  The sound of the men behind us is driving me insane.  A lesser man would bid the journey end for the day and wait until the pain is gone before continuing.  I am not a lesser man.  We must be home. I am weary of being away and there are myriad  things I must attend to, things I have been putting off for far too long.  Once home, I believe I will have mother mix me a potion for this pain.

A thought occurs to me.  Christiana is to be my wife.  Isn't the wifely thing to tend to her husband when he is hurting?  Well, I am hurting.  Ye God, am I hurting.  She will mix up some herbs for me.  I look at her.  She's been giving me a wide berth this morning since her customary greeting and is now in quiet conversation with Germaine, but why should I not interrupt?  I am Lord.  I am Master.  She will obey me.  I call for a stop and dismount, going to her and jerking her from the saddle.  She stumbles, but manages to keep to her feet.

"Etienne?  My Lord?"

I pull her to the side of the path.  "My head aches.  I bid you to fix it.  Now."

A tiny frown curls her brow as she stares up at me, for once her face not meekly lowered.  Her lips curve.  I suspect she is on the verge of smiling and if she does, I will slap her, I swear I will, even though I have never hit a lady before.  "What sort of hurt?"  She steps close and lowers her voice.  Behind her, Germaine cringes.  Why he starts so I haven't the slightest.  Nervous man.  Christiana touches my arm with one tentative hand.  "A trifle too much ale?  Or just a simple ache?"

"Simple?"  My brows raise.  "I am being beaten over the head by a sadistic invisible imp with a lance.  I do not call that a simple ache."

She lowers her face, then raises it again, gathering courage it feels.  "But if he is beating you because you imbibed a little much, then the remedy is different.  And less pleasant."

I shrug off her hand and cross my arms over my chest.  She has to ask which?  Mother never has to ask.  For that matter, the surgeon never has to ask.  But she does?  "What do you think?"  I narrow my eyes at her, waiting for her reply. Her glance sweeps the crowd of men stopped a discreet distance from us and she bites her lip before answering me.

"I think you drank too much last night and are taking it out on all of us."

I blink.  "I am not taking it out on everyone.  My head just hurts."  I take a deep breath.  Now I sound like a petulant child and to be so is to show weakness.  I am not a child, nor shall weakness be tolerated.  "Fine."  I will admit it.  "I drank one too many.  Fix it."

"Of course."  She excuses herself and returns long minutes later with a cup.  I sniff it and swallow a gag.  Whatever she has put in it, it is foul smelling and no doubt tastes just as vile.  Christiana touches the bottom of the cup with two fingers.  "You must drink all of it and quickly.  I suggest you move so that your men cannot see you."

With a snarl, I stomp off into the forest and down the drink in four swallows.  My stomach immediately tries to crawl out my throat.  I double over and am thankfully silent through it all.  A cool hand touches my brow as I crouch, waiting for the world to stop changing colors.  Christiana is beside me.  She wipes a wet cloth over my face in tender strokes, then hands another cup to me.

"Water mixed with wine.  Rinse and spit."

I do so.  As the world returns to normal around me, I find my head is clearer and much of the ache diminished.  Her remedy works better than the one my mother favors.  I stand, legs a bit shaky from my heaving exertions.  "I thank you."  The words do not come easy for me.  Never have.  She shrugs, the possible beginnings of a genuine smile on her lips.

"There is nothing to thank for.  It is my duty to help."

With a nod, I wave her back to the path and take my time returning.

The rest of the journey is swift, as we were not far from my home and my mother is waiting for us in the courtyard, my two sisters and grandfather with her.  For their benefit I help Christiana from her horse and lead her forward.  Her hand trembles in my own.  What is she afraid of?  Them?  Or me?

With a gruffness that is characteristic of my grandfather, he steps to us, resting his weight on a tall staff that I know very well he does not need to support him.  He also drags his left leg slightly behind him and I wonder what, if anything, has happened to cause this limp in my absence.  Likely, he is being contrary for some reason known only to himself.  When he has thoroughly ogled my intended, he turns to me.  "She looks strong.  Don't wait for the wedding."  As if I need his approval.

As he leaves, my mother embraces me, the scent of rose on her.  She clasps my face in her strong hands.  "My son.  My ice demon.  Welcome home, Etienne."  The pride in her voice is unmistakable.  She has never been disappointed in me, encouraging me to work harder, to push myself to be the very best.  She has been my supporter in all my endeavors.

"Mother."  I motion to Christiana.  "This is Christiana Devereaux."

She turns her gaze, much like my own, to that trembling girl.  I can see Christiana's fear coming to surface, her eyes wide and unblinking.  I do nothing to alleviate her fears, whatever they may be, leaving her to my mother.  Mother stares at her.  "I knew Hugh Devereaux long years ago.  That he should sire such a lovely girl is...strange to my eyes.  Welcome.  You may call me 'mother', or 'Patrice' if you must.  The ladies with me are Adele and Lydia.  Adele is Etienne's twin and Lydia is the youngest."

Christiana murmurs a greeting and my mother cuts short her own greeting.  I despise the mood that sometimes comes upon her where I stand for nearly an hour in the courtyard being greeted by every manor servant and peasant that mother decides should be presented, and am glad she has not seen fit to do thus this day.  She takes charge of Christiana, Adele trailing behind them and I leave my staff to their duties.  Lydia follows me for a bit, spouting off as that willful girl is wont to do, but grows bored when I will not rise to her bait.

I am brought up to date on the happenings of my lands and pause to think on my family.  Adele, I am told, is ready to return to her beloved convent, and I am willing to let her go if she chooses to do so.  The nuns treat her condition well and their letters tell me Adele is a great help to them.  I can only wonder what sort of help a grown woman with the mind of a six year old child truly is, but they do love her as she loves them, so back Adele will go.

As for Lydia, I believe mother has disciplined her for something.  She is chomping for a fight and accuses me of being humorless, claiming that should I smile, my face will crack.  Dearest Lydia is lucky I do not marry her to a man grandfather's age.  I do not know where her assertion is coming from, but I'm certain mother will inform me.

I go into my chambers and sit on the window ledge peering out at my lands.  There are so many things I have ignored in past months, things that must now be settled.  I must find a husband for Lydia and get her from my house.  Who do I know that will tolerate her whims?  I shake my head and dismiss such ponderings.  There will be time enough after today.