Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning

Chapter: 18

~~~~~~~~~~

Gavin drove his horse fast across the field. This was the end of it all and, God willing, of Henry. The man was a lunatic, there was no other explanation for his behavior. To kill Adhemar and kidnap his wife was madness itself. Adhemar’s family had a certain reputation among the nobility, the sort where few crossed them. Gavin should know. His sister had married into that family. Granted, Robert was a good man, but he was still one of them. What would Robert do to avenge his nephew and by extension Jocelyn? Gavin had no desire to be in his way.

Though his thoughts churned, he still had the presence of mind to register the men following him. There were only three he quickly discovered and decided it was worth taking the time to route them. He didn’t need Henry getting wind of what he planned to do before he was ready.

First, he’d save Mary and Jocelyn and then, he’d save Kate before Henry even knew what was happening.

~~~~~~~~~~

The pains Robert felt upon waking were the sort he’d not felt in years. Through God’s grace and luck, he’d not been seriously injured since he was Adhemar’s age, but now…he was in a world of hurt. Every muscle in his body felt strained, his head pounding. Proof he was alive, he decided, wondering also if it was of value to attempt opening his eyes.

From his right, he heard a woman humming softly as she stroked a cool cloth along his brow. In English that had a light French accent, she said, “Will, he’s waking again.”

Again? He didn’t remember waking earlier. He must have woken if she said it. Robert forced his eyes open and might have laughed if the effort to do so hadn’t been so gargantuan. The woman was pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes -- Jocelyn’s former maid. Robert didn’t remember her name. He did, however, remember she’d married William Thatcher, Jocelyn’s former love and Adhemar’s rival. The man standing behind her. The quirks of fate were often amusing.

“A name, sir,” Will said in a kind tone that was rather unlike the one most men would use. It was a question, not a demand. “Tell us who you are and, if you’re up to it, what occurred here.”

Could they not see who he was? Robert opened his mouth to ask, then thought on that beating those men had given him. Were his features so bruised and swollen they’d no recognition? “Robert of Anjou,” he supplied, voice thick and strained. “Nephew is Adhemar.”

“Count Adhemar?” Will’s brows rose and he exchanged a glance with his wife. When he looked back, Robert saw an urgency in his eyes. “Jocelyn was with you then? It was her cap on the ground.”

“Yes, she was with me.” Pausing occasionally for breath, he told them what had happened, making sure he mentioned Henry of Burgundy’s crest on the men’s coats. It was important they know who was responsible for the attack so justice could be done. They listened in silence and when he was done, they stepped off to one side. He was just able to hear their conversation and closed his eyes, feigning fatigue from speaking. In truth, he wanted to concentrate on their words without them realizing it. Not that he wasn’t bone weary already from the effort of speaking. He was, but was far more interested in their conversation than resting.

“We have to take him to Adhemar’s.”

“Will, we have to go after Jocelyn!”

“No. We go to Adhemar. We’re four men, Christiana, one of them injured who can’t fight, and one woman not trained to fight. How far would we get into Henry’s house even if he has tried to convince us he’s a friend? No, we need Adhemar and his army or at least a garrison. Adhemar has the men to force Henry to release Jocelyn.”

Unspoken was the truth that Adhemar also had the stomach for the harshness of battle. However, Robert detected both hardness and decisiveness in the young man’s voice, a recognition of their limits, and the authority of a man growing into his title. Most women wouldn’t argue, but Robert wasn’t surprised when Christiana was just like Jocelyn, arguing what she thought right. She’d be very like her former mistress wouldn’t she, since they’d grown up together?

They argued for long minutes, drawing their two men into it as well. Robert opened his eyes again and watched them. Christiana was upset, her arms crossed and eyes flashing her emotions. How much like Anne she was then!

In the end, Christiana was overruled and ordered to get Robert ready for travel. She accepted the decision with far more grace than he’d ever observed from Anne in such instances. Anne always took a little time to sulk before becoming sweetness and light once more. He greatly hoped to live to see her and their children again. It certainly didn’t feel like he would, but then all incapacitations as he’d experienced left that impression. No man who’d taken a hearty beating thought he was going to live to see the next day. Inevitably, he did live.

“As it is, we’ll need to travel slowly to have a care for his injuries.” She was thoughtful of his pains, stroking his brow again with a gentle hand and that cool cloth. He was grateful for that cloth. “We don’t want to add to the damage already done.”

Robert reached up, taking Christiana’s hand in his and lifting it from his brow. As pleased as he was that they gave him care and planned to continue doing so, their objective was Jocelyn. He was simply Adhemar’s useless Uncle, while Jocelyn carried the heir in her belly. “Leave me. Ride for Adhemar and leave me here. You should find Jocelyn as quickly as possible, before that rogue has a chance to harm her. She’s pregnant and I’m nothing to Adhemar compared to her.”

“You’re still his family and I won’t be responsible for the death of one of his,” Will said, coming to crouch beside him. “Not when I can possibly prevent it. You’re injured, helpless. You’d be easy prey for any other thieves hiding in these woods. It’s not an option.”

“Then send your herald riding fast to Adhemar and we’ll likely meet him coming back with Adhemar and men within a couple hours.” Robert watched William Thatcher mull that idea over in his mind as though he’d not though of doing that.

“It’s a sound plan, my lord,” the herald interjected. “I’ll ride hard.”

Hesitation flickered in Will’s eyes, but he agreed, nodding. “Very well….” He paused, head cocking to one side, listening. In the distance, there was the sound of many horses approaching at a rapid pace. Quickly stepping between Christiana and Robert, Will and his two men stood ready, Will’s hand upon his sword.

Robert wondered what the man thought he was going to do if a full army or even just a garrison came to them. Fight them all? It was exactly as Will had told Christiana -- four men, one injured and a woman untrained. Turning his head to the road, he say men round the bend, dust billowing from their horse’s hooves, and then Christiana blocked his view.

~~~~~~~~~~

There was the tiniest flutter in her belly. Jocelyn pressed a hand to the spot, felt the child inside her. For the past week, she’d been wondering if she dreamt those little movements, but now she clung to them, welcoming the reassurance.

Adhemar would come for her. He’d take her from this place and she vowed she’d continue to treat him as a good wife should. He had to come. It was unthinkable that he wouldn’t. He would come for her and for their child. She thought of all that had occurred between them, finding she could manage a laugh now to think of him playing the fool for her and her alone for weeks. She’d give anything to hear those lines of bad poetry again!

In the room beside hers, she heard the child, Mary, crying. The girl was so very young and frightened. The young woman that had been killed had been her maid, leaving Mary all alone. Jocelyn talked to her through the wall whenever she could, trying to entertain her and ease her fears. They played word games and counting games to pass the time and Jocelyn made up fantastic stories of princesses and knights. She was no Geoffrey Chaucer in her plots and characters, yet Mary responded with a lessening of sobs and requests for more detail spoken in her thin child’s voice. When Adhemar came, she’d make sure they took Mary with them and returned her to her family, whomever they were.

For days, how many she didn’t bother counting, the men left her alone, shoving food in at her, but mostly leaving her to herself. That promised chat with her captor didn’t materialize immediately, leaving her apprehensive, angry, and scared all at once. None of them thought to give her water to wash with and she noticed that the dirt of this place was quickly darkening the pristine white of her coat into tan, ugly streaks, the hem -- dyed red as on her previous coat -- was turning a shade like dried old blood instead of the pretty bright color it had been.

Jocelyn fervently hoped it wasn’t an omen of what was to happen to her. She’d been through the lowest of places before and didn’t want to descend there again.

The door opened, her captor stepping in, favoring a patronizing smile upon her that had her gritting her teeth in annoyance as she crossed her arms.

“Dearest lady, Adhemar is dead. My men assure me they left him quite still and breathing his last in the road the other day.” He closed the door, leaned against it, gaze slipping down her and back up.

From several feet away, she could smell his rank body odor. It seemed likely that he’d not sent water for her to wash with because he himself rarely washed. The scent caused her stomach to flip over in her belly and she swallowed hard before breathing through her mouth. Could he not smell himself? Jocelyn raised a hand to cover her mouth and willed herself not to be ill.

“It was fortuitous that you chose to go riding with him right then, for my men were coming to steal you away anyway. And to not have to fight Adhemar’s men is just luck. However did you convince him to ride out alone?”

He thought Robert was Adhemar. Jocelyn struggled to keep her smug knowledge of that from showing on her face, though it was difficult with her hope firing up inside her. If he thought Robert was Adhemar, he’d hardly be expecting Adhemar when he inevitably did come for her.

“No matter. It’s done. With Adhemar gone, it’s only Sir William to come to your rescue and gallant ex-lover that he is, he’ll run right here, bringing his friends and that farris with him. He’ll exchange the woman for you, I’m sure. After all, look at everything he did last season to have you.”

Henry certainly didn’t know Will well. While Jocelyn thought he’d see the necessity of rescuing her, he was Christiana’s now. Jocelyn was no longer his desire. He’d go to Adhemar first, wouldn’t he? He’d tell Adhemar she was in danger and offer to help, but there was no way he was going to bring Kate or any other woman into a battle. Adhemar would come and when he found out this wasn’t some blood feud over anything of his, but rather over Kate…he wasn’t going to be pleased. It was one thing to kidnap his wife over something he’d done and another entirely to do so over a peasant woman associated with his former rival for Jocelyn’s affections.

No, pleased was the last word to describe how her husband would be. She found she wanted to watch him kill this man, to make him suffer.

Jocelyn bit her tongue, though she longed to eviscerate the man with her own words. He soon grew tired of her silence and left her alone once more, pacing in her solitary prison. As the hours passed, night turning to a new day, impatience grew inside her. She’d fully expected Adhemar to rescue her long before now. Really, couldn’t he hurry? Did he have to take his own sweet time in this?

As she paced, she grew more agitated until she stopped, staring at the door, a plan taking root in her mind. It wasn’t filled with pleasant things, but rather things she’d just as soon not have to do and if it got out of hand, she could well find herself raped and killed before she could extricate herself. Or before Adhemar could find her.

If Adhemar wasn’t going to rescue her on her timetable, Jocelyn would just have to rescue herself.

Without a mirror, she’d no idea how she looked. Still, she smoothed her clothes, her hair, and tugged her bodice as low as it would go. The guard on her was the same one for Mary. She’d been keeping track of that, watching in case she could aid Adhemar somehow when he arrived. Henry didn’t seem to think they were in any danger of overthrowing the man and had kept only one guard there. It was usually the same guard. The manor was built along the same sort of plan as many she’d been in and she’d not glimpsed many men at all when Henry had thrown her in here. Did that mean he’d a paltry army compared to other men?

Jocelyn frowned. She’d never really thought about men and their armies before except in how the battles they fought might affect her home. She’d preferred to consider other things. Romantic things, like poetry and minstrel’s stories. Maybe that was why she’d had such trouble letting go of Will and accepting Adhemar.

Giving herself a little shake, she relaxed her shoulders. No matter now. She was in the thick of life and wasn’t about to go without a fight.

Hoping the guard didn’t prefer a more buxom sort of girl, she opened the door. Over the years, she’d learned how to use her wiles to get her way. Now, there was far more on the line than a simple whim. Her life, and Mary’s, depended on being convincing -- and in not being squeamish when she needed to take certain action. She was going to have to get her hands bloody and hope that someday, somehow, she could forget what she was going to do.

She smiled at the guard, noting the knife on his belt, and sized him up, forcing her emotions behind a cool mask. He was little more than a boy, younger than she, his uncertainty in the very set of his shoulders and his too-straight posture. He was a boy playing at being a man and she regretted for a few seconds the necessity of killing him. “Your employer is most rude.”

“My lady?” His gaze slid down her and in them, a spark of interest.

“He leaves a woman alone for far too long.” Stretching out a hand, she touched the coarse cloth of his shirt, dragged her fingers slowly down his skinny chest allowing her lips to curve in an enchanting smile. This boy, and hired ruffians like him, always believed noble women were hot whores under their icy, haughty veneer. Or at least that’s what she’d heard Adhemar and his men joking about in the evenings. Her overture now would be like a fantasy come true. “I require…companionship and he’s neglected me most sorely. Whatever shall I do?”

The start of a smile tugged at his lips and he glanced up and down the hall. “I’ll…companion you if you please.” In his eagerness, he reminded her of a little puppy.

Her hand continued it’s downward slow movement to his belt, Jocelyn staring up at him as though he was the most fascinating man she’d ever seen. “I so please.” Her fingers curled about the hilt of the knife.

To her right came the sound of a sword pulling from a scabbard. Slowly, she released the hilt and turned her head, certain she’d feel Henry’s fist upon her. Instead, she found the blond man who’d hurried away a couple days earlier. Jocelyn stumbled back into her prison as he approached.

“G-gavin. You can’t see her. My lord says to kill you --”

Gavin’s hand raised, covering the guard’s mouth, forcing him against the wall, sword burying deep into his stomach. Jocelyn gasped, hands covering her mouth as her stomach once more churned. The guard was pinned there, thrashing weakly as he died. In only seconds, it was over. Once the body went limp, Gavin eased him to the floor, pulled the knife from his belt and proffered it to Jocelyn.

“My lady.”

“You help me?” Striding forward, she snatched the knife from him and held it out as though to fight him. He glanced at it and nodded.

“Yes. But you must help me. Take Mary and keep her for me. If I don’t come for her within a week, see that she’s cared for.”

A thousand questions flitted through her mind in a rush, among them being why her?

“Anne is her aunt,” he explained tersely.

“Anne? Robert’s Anne?” Jocelyn moved towards him, intending on grabbing his arm and making him explain, but he stepped away, opening the door to Mary’s room. She gave a cry, “Papa!”, and hurried into his arms.

“Come, my lady, we’ve no time for explanations. I must get you safe and then I’ve still more to do.”

He snuck them from the manor and onto that road she’d been brought in on, tucking Mary’s hand into hers.

“Please, walk. Henry’s going to have a lot to think about in the coming hours and you’ll see rescue very soon. I saw men, not Henry’s, coming this way not even an hour ago.”

Gavin was gone before she could do more than accept the child and, after a glance back the way they’d come, she sighed and guided Mary down the road. As she walked, she began to shake, trying desperately to hold back her tears of relief and fright for Mary’s sake. They weren’t safe yet, not until they were found by friends.

~~~~~~~~~~

Henry of Burgundy wasn’t stupid. Maybe he wasn’t the smartest man in the country, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Gavin would eventually try something foolish, like trying to save the lady, the child, and the woman. He’d told his men to let Gavin notice them following him. It was a simple plan really. Gavin had such a nice, convenient attachment to Mary. While Gavin was saving his precious daughter, which he would, of course, do first, Henry was going to pay a visit to lovely Kate. Gavin had to learn that he couldn’t have everything in life. Mary or Kate. Never both and since he would without doubt choose his daughter first…. Well, he didn’t deserve Kate and Henry planned to have her long before Gavin could get in the way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Christiana didn’t want to be left behind. Will was ten seconds from ordering Wat to pull her down from her mare and tie her to a tree, for if she was free, she’d follow. Of all the times she could choose to be stubborn, it had to be now, in front of Adhemar?

“Woman, will you behave,” he hissed.

“I’m going,” she insisted. “I can help.”

“Oh, really,” Adhemar interjected, waiting impatiently with his garrison behind him. His horse communicated Adhemar’s own impatience by dancing about in constant movement. “What will you do? Threaten to stab the men with your sewing scissors?” He continued as she flushed scarlet. “No doubt you keep them sharp, but they won’t free Jocelyn or do much damage. I’ve never retained a single scar any of the times I‘ve been stabbed with scissors.”

Which made Will wonder which woman in Adhemar’s life had stabbed him with sewing scissors repeatedly. Or had it been women plural? He could easily imagine some poor vexed woman grabbing her favorite scissors to defend her virtue.

Christiana scowled. “Give me a bow and arrow and I can hit any target.”

Since when? Will couldn’t recall a single moment when Christiana had practiced the bow since he’d known her.

Adhemar transferred his gaze to Will. “Thatcher, control your wife. I’ve no time for this. Tie her to that tree and leave her here.”

It was scary how Adhemar’s plan matched Will’s inclination at present. Perhaps tying her to the tree wasn’t a good idea after all. It couldn’t be good if Adhemar advocated it.

Adhemar glanced over his shoulder. “You there, Timothy, Albert, Gerard. Stay here, guard Uncle and…Lady Christiana. Let us be off and if I find my wife dead from your distraction girl, you’ll pay a price, I assure you.”

“Um…my lords….” Mark touched Will’s arm, pointed to the road ahead. “Unless my eyes deceive me, no price need be paid at all.”

All heads turned towards the direction he pointed. Sure enough, Jocelyn was walking along the road, carrying a young child. As she approached, Will could see that her hair was long and loose, her clothes obviously proclaiming her a noble, for no peasant wore such garments as she adored. It was just like Jocelyn to walk as though no one would dare accost her. Will breathed a sigh of relief that he need not ride into battle with Adhemar after all. He’d not put it past Adhemar to ‘accidentally’ kill him. He made to swing from his horse to the ground, but Adhemar laughed, an ugly, harsh sound.

“Going to claim my wife, Thatcher?”

“Not at all.”

“Then stay here.” Adhemar moved to the ground, left his horse with the nearest soldier and strode towards Jocelyn.

Will watched Jocelyn set the child down, say something that sent the girl to the side of the road, and bend. When Adhemar was close enough, she stood and began lobbing…rocks?…at his head. She’d an impressive aim.

“Wretch,” she screamed. “How dare you approach me? Be gone from my sight!”

“What ails you now,” Adhemar demanded, batting away rocks and taking her by the arms. He gave her a shake, one hand raising to cup her jaw.

“You ail me,” she spat.

“How so do I ail you, wife?”

“You left me there, Adhemar. You were supposed to rescue me. Why didn’t you come?”

“Well if you’d stayed where you were, I would have rescued you within the hour I expect.”

She pounded his chest, movements that would not have hurt an insect. “I…” Jocelyn leaned forward, setting her head on his chest. Whatever she said next was too low to hear, but Adhemar’s reply wasn’t.

“Did he hurt you?”

Jocelyn shook her head. “No, but you have.”

“I?” He released her and stepped back. “Pray tell what imaginary offense I’ve committed.”

“I could have died, Adhemar, and you greet me with no more warmth than you would a servant. I, the woman carrying your child, your heir, has no tender embrace. I thought we’d agreed --”

“You threw rocks at me, all but making a warm reunion impossible….” Adhemar tilted his head back, stared up at the sky a moment, then looked back at her. “How do you want me to greet you?” His hands returned to her arms and she seemed to melt against him.

“Tell me you’re glad I’m safe. Tell me….” Her voice lowered again and his in turn until suddenly, Adhemar pulled her closer, drawing her into a kiss and embrace that was far too fervent and heated for the middle of the road.

“They’re perfect for each other.” Christian remarked and Will turned his head to see a soft smile on her lips.

“Once I would have vehemently disagreed.” He eyed the pair again. “Now though…”

“They’re perfect.”

Strange how he could see it after all these long months. Jocelyn had been everything he’d thought he’d wanted. What he’d needed had been a different story. He’d needed Christiana, her steadying influence and calm. Will could see Jocelyn and Adhemar knew what nerves to strike in each other and yet, they appeared to complement each other well. He was pleased to notice that Jocelyn clung to Adhemar, hands grasping his coat, holding him to her. It would be best if she was happy now. He’d hated hearing of her despair.

It was Jocelyn who broke the embrace, holding her hand out to the little girl who came straight back to her. Holding the child against her, Jocelyn finally looked Will’s way, her expression grim. “Will, where is Kate?”

“Back at the house. This was supposed to be a quick trip and she had work commissioned that’ll be due soon.”

Jocelyn glanced up at Adhemar and back. “I’m afraid there’s much you need to know and I doubt we’ve time to dawdle for the telling.”

“Jocelyn?”

“It’s Kate, Will. She’s the reason I was taken and she’s the one really in danger.”

Quickly, she told what she knew. Henry wanted Kate, thought he’d killed Adhemar, and had planned to exchange Jocelyn for Kate. “But with me gone and Kate not with you he’ll head for your home.”

Home was only an hour away.