Goodbye/A Conclusion Reached

Kasey

kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary:  Adhemar leaves.  Jocelyn writes to Christiana and a letter in return makes the friends happy.  

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Not mine and I do not own them.

Notes:  Two chapters in one.

~~~~~~~~~~

For four days, Etienne packs wagons and confers with his most trusted men, giving explicit instructions to the garrison that is staying behind.  Since his decision to leave, he has been less tightly wound, an almost relaxed air to him.  It is as though that breakdown was exactly what he needed, making him a different sort of man.  I see him seldom during those days.  He is awake before I wake and comes to bed after I am asleep.  Meals are taken in spurts by the men, with myself, Lydia and Adele eating alone and the rest of the household later.

Patrice has gone, her chamber cleared out completely of her belongings.  She will only be coming back to visit.  I shall miss Patrice for sure.  Her counsel over these months has been invaluable, helping me to adjust to my place here, her dramatics adding a bit of laughter to my days, laughter I had once despaired of having again.  I am pleased to feel comfortable now calling her 'mother' aloud, and she teared up when I did so.

This family is now mine, and I love them all.  Even crusty old Giles, who has also gone from this manor.  He has taken his books and plans to visit a friend of his, another man of learning.  I believe the two of them will have a fine time discussing medicine and philosophy and all those other subjects Giles has been reading up on.  I am uncertain if I shall miss Giles exactly, for he is so much like Etienne.  Arrogant, domineering, sarcastic....I had not thought such things could run in a family before, but those two prove it.

Patrice's words have made me think out what happened in the stable.  I have witnessed many things in regards to my husband's foul temper.  He is volatile, yes, but when that temper is fully released, he usually does have excellent reasons for being so angry.  Someday I hope to discover the cause of his deepest anger, that hurt that was done to him and made him what he is.  Looking back, I suppose he could have been angry with Einon.  I had erred in asking that knight along, for the entire ride he tried to get me to agree to take a rest in the woods.  Was he attempting a seduction of sorts?  Possible I guess, though he had behaved like he was saying things that made him uncomfortable.  He is gone now, ushered away and off our lands by several of Etienne's men.

Etienne leaves tomorrow and I try to remain awake in the large expanse of our bed, the sheets on his side of the bed cold.  I am used to him beside me, his larger body wrapped about my smaller one, chest to my back, our legs tangled together.  I am dreading the long number of nights ahead without him, not wanting him to go.  Our row a few days ago has changed my outlook as well as Etienne's manner.  I came away a victor from that battle, stronger because of it and more certain of where we stand in this relationship.  He is trying.  He is meeting me, working through whatever demon holds him in tight grasp.  There is progress.  I glimpse a shining bright ray of hope in the tumultuous storm clouds about us.  We are changing, the two of us, becoming attuned fully to one another and settled in to our life together. 

There was a time not too long ago when I would not have spoken to him as I had.  I would not have demanded that he prove his trust in me, nor would I have even looked at him.  This change is good.  I vented my own anger and was not swept away in consequence.  Our wills clashed and he proved his trust in me with two sentences.

How those sentences altered my mood!  I was shaking and unable to fully comprehend the weight of his decision.  As I contemplated that parchment Patrice set before me, joy began to trickle along my flesh until a tide of it poured over me.  I could not stop smiling as I finally wrote.  The letter I had begun in our chamber was slipped into the fire, burned to ashes and destroyed. 

He proved his trust and once more we start over, on even ground with one another, standing side by side.  How many times will Etienne and I begin anew?  As many times as necessary.  I understand so many things now that I did not before.

Marriage is growing together, helping one another along that twisting road of life.  And if that road ends in a cliff and we must find a way across the chasm to the other side, we shall do so together, up and down, back and forth, through every high and low on our journey.  I cannot fear that journey.  I cannot fear my husband.  I trust him to protect me.  Will he trust me? Does he trust me?  I believe so.  I begin to believe him and I do not, with the entirety of my being, wish him to leave, not now when we have reached this turn.  There is a fear in my mind that he will be killed in this latest war he rides off to.  I try my best not to think of the possibility, yet it is there nonetheless, a reality I cannot ignore.  It could happen.  I could be made a widow and all our progress together will be for nothing.

I roll onto my side as our door opens, Etienne coming in, creeping on stealthy feet about the room.  He places the bar on the door, undresses and comes to bed.  I stay still, his weight settling behind me on the mattress.

"Christiana."  His voice is a low, rough whisper.

"Hmm?"

Warm fingers trail down the bare flesh of my arm, then back up, brushing my hair from my shoulder and caressing my back.  The sheet is inched away, revealing my nakedness to him.  I have decided to dispense with wearing a nightdress when he is here.  It is easier to not wear one than to repair them over and over when he becomes impatient with the yards of delicate fabric.  "You are not sleeping."

With a small smile, I glance at him.  "No.  You leave tomorrow and I have not had a last chance to seduce you."  I want to hold him to me, his head on my breast, and never let him go away.  I cannot do so, cannot find the words to tell him I want him to stay.  Not that he would stay.  He has made up his mind to do this and no words from my lips will convince him not to go.

His lips touch my shoulder, kissing a line along it.  "You seduce me with every glance, every touch...."  That weary look he wore a few days ago is lingering on his handsome face. 

It is on the tip of my tongue to admit my love for him, but I cannot force the words out.  They stick in my throat.  I am afraid to speak them aloud.

I am urged onto my back, my husband leaning over me.  His mouth takes mine as his hands travel my body.  A desperate urgency takes us and I am caught up in it.  The only thought in my mind is the here and now.  Tomorrow does not matter and yesterday does not exist.  He is my husband and this may be the last time we are together.

When dawn begins to color the horizon, we part to bathe and dress.  All too soon, Etienne is gone.  I remain on the catwalk until I can see no more trace of the army in the distance.  A sigh slips from me.  I am Lady here and it is my duty in Etienne's absence to run this household.  It is time to put all Patrice taught me to use.

~~~~~~~~~~

'Dear Christiana,

Kate has at long last given in to her attraction to Wat.  It has been building, quite obviously, for awhile now.  Can you picture Kate flustered?  Well, Wat's teasing has her that way.  You know how Wat is.  When he is in a good mood, he is incorrigible and when he is in a bad mood, he is psychotic.

We were sitting by the fire when it happened, eating a late meal.  Kate had cooked, a rich stew she supplemented with wild herbs, and some fresh fish Will caught.  We have all been taking turns cooking, instead of just Roland and Wat doing that chore.  Roland has been helping me during the times I must cook.  Learning to do so is a trial, but a fun one.

Wat was in his fifth bowl of the stew, when he looked up, bliss on his face, at Kate beside him.  "Kate.  You can cook."

"Well of course I can."  This was said matter-of-factly, as though it was ridiculous to think she could not cook.

"You never told me you could cook."  I kid you not, dear friend, Wat actually set aside his dish with food still in it.  That gave us all pause.  Wat not eating?  Was he feverish?

"You never asked me."  She replied.

Wat swooped down on her, his hands clasping her face.  Kate did not stand a chance.  Her eyes widened and hands pushed at him, but not for long.  After only a few seconds, she was kissing him back.  Will and Roland grinned like idiots and our herald Stephen looked most confused.  I myself am happy for them.  They disappeared together later and in the morning, Wat held Kate to him with such tenderness that tears came to my eyes.

Although, I cry at nearly everything these days.  This baby has made me the weepiest of women.

Oh Christiana, I have come to love them all!  I have come to love this life and understand why Will has such a fervor for it.  Tournaments are all he has known, first in the fashion of servant and now as knight.  And I, I cannot deny him the happiness he finds in competition.  It is unthinkable to do so.  I have learned to love the spontaneity and the simplicity of traveling and living in tents.  Who would have thought that I, of all people, could let go of those things that trapped me in my father's house, the clothes and the jewels?  I am still a flower and my petals are still bright, but I am a different sort of flower and happy to be so.  I believe this will be our life.  The winter months will be at our house and the summer months at Tournament.

Are you well?  I was sad that your husband saw fit to leave Tournament so quickly, for I was enjoying the time you and I shared talking.  Your letters continue to speak of your unceasing efforts to be a good wife to him.  My heart cries for you, dearest friend.  I have told Will I do not understand Adhemar's view.  Why does he still keep you and I from visiting?  He let us visit in the galley.  He does not object to our letters.  The conversation went thus:

"You do not understand, Jocelyn, because you are not a man."  As though I have no ability to comprehend!  That look he exchanged with Wat and Roland infuriated me.

"Then explain it and I shall understand."

Will turned his head, those blond locks falling about his face in a most appealing way.  "I will try."  He motioned Kate over.  "Say Kate and I are close friends, spending time together without others around to see us.  Her closest male relative suddenly decides she should marry Wat.  It is a good match for her and her family, but Wat has a bit of a temper--"

"A bit!"  Kate quipped with a smile.

"Imagine that." Roland drawled.  "Wat with a temper."

Wat gave them both a dirty look, eyes narrowing and lips pursing.

Will ignored them.  "Everyone knows he has a temper and he is a bit feared for it.  Now, he is going into this burned from a previous attempt to make a match and his assumption of Kate's character based on our friendship is not a kind one.  His jealous tendencies stoke his temper and vice-versa, until the thought of Kate even glimpsing me drives him mad."

"Jealousy?"  I asked, shaking my head.

"Yes."  Will frowned.  "And no."  He put his hands on his hips.

"It's complicated."  Wat said, drawing Kate to him and slipping his arm about her waist.

"But that does not answer my question.  If I visited her there, he would have no reason to fear Roland and Christiana together--"

Roland cleared his throat.  "Does he know she helped you and Will to meet?"

His question confused me.  It did not seem to go with the conversation  What did Will and I have to do with you and Roland meeting?  "Yes.  He discovered that somehow.  Why?"  I looked at him.

"Simple.  He knows you do not approve of him for her.  That is obvious.  You are not silent in that opinion.  He could think you would try and repay him for the hurts he did Will by helping Christiana and I to meet.  You visiting her would open up the possibility of a meeting being arranged.  All that would need to happen is for me to hide down the road a ways and for the two of you to go for a ride alone, with no escorts, conveniently passing where I hid.  It is safer for him to deny you the visit and keep her close under his watch."

"That is the working of a low mind!"

And do you know that all three of those men gave sheepish grins at that.

Roland sighed.  "He is protecting what he sees as his.  He will do that by whatever means he deems necessary.  A man does that.  It is part of what makes a man a man, that urge to protect his property and his family.  He cannot be faulted for that.  He will keep her safe."

"She is not property Roland."

Kate shook her head.  "It makes sense.  He is afraid she will betray him with another man."

And that was our conversation and conclusion.  Your husband fears betrayal.

I pray for you daily,

Much love,

Jocelyn'

I roll the letter and seal it, then give it to our messenger.  He must know all the different ways to Adhemar's house with his eyes shut by now, with all the letters I have sent to Christiana.  I watch him ride away from our camp.  We are so close to the house, that I long to go there, but I ignore the pang as I have learned to do. 

I pick up the piece of embroidery Roland has started me on and stare at it.  It is the opinion of the men that I need to have rest and not move about much.  They are all afraid I shall go into labor at an inopportune moment.  Strangely, Wat is the worst.  Every time I shift to try and find a comfortable position, his eyes get wide and he asks if it is time, or rather, if I am 'dropping the kid yet'.  I am tempted to moan a bit and tell him yes, but am afraid he would run away from camp and not return until he thought it was safe.

Kate is the only one who is not pressing me to remain quiet and still.  After my first few months, where it became apparent that I have the constitution of a horse, her concern for my so-called 'delicate condition' lessened.  She is always eager to feel the baby move and I wonder if she is wanting children of her own.  The way she and Wat are behaving now, I would not be surprised if one is made soon.

I pluck the needle from the fabric and make a half-hearted stitch, then another.  It takes me awhile, but I do manage to make headway on the design.  I am almost enjoying myself, sitting in the sun sewing, when I hear a horse in the distance.  Will joins me.  We wait to see if the rider will come our way, my husband's hand rubbing the ache in my lower back.

The rider does come to us, and I see it is our own messenger.  The boy comes to us.  "I had gotten only a little ways and a messenger from Adhemar's house met me.  A letter for you, my Lady.  I sent your letter on with him."

I take the letter and break the seal, unrolling it.

'Dear Jocelyn and friends,

I am writing to invite you to visit our home as soon as you can manage to arrive.  My husband says you may bring who you choose from your household.  I realize Tournament is still going on, so I will understand if you must decline the invitation.  Please let me know as soon as you can.  I hope to see you all soon.

Love,

Christiana'

Tears cloud my vision as our household gathers around me.  From Will, Wat, Roland and Kate, to the staff we have brought to Tournament.  They all drop their chores and wait for whatever Christiana has written.  I grin.  "We're invited to visit as soon as we can make arrangements."

Kate hugs me.  "All of us?"

I read the letter aloud so they may hear and even Roland manages a smile.  This visit is hard-won and all know it.  We begin packing within the hour, or rather everyone but me begins packing.  I am not allowed to lift anything heavier than the sewing bag Roland fashioned for me.  Roland will accompany most of the staff home.  Kate and Wat will go with us to Adhemar's home.  Later, I seek Roland and find him alone, resting on a fallen log watching the sun set.

"You could go with us.  He did not forbid you to come."

He sighs, one hand stroking his beard.  "I will not make trouble for her."  He pats the log beside him.  "Sit.  You should not stand so long in your condition."

I sit, though I do not feel like doing so.  "Really, Roland, I am not as delicate as you all see me as."

"Yes, you are.  Will thinks you are, so you are."

Interesting reasoning.  I train my gaze on the brilliant reds and oranges streaking the horizon and ask the question I have been wanting to ask for days.  "Do you still love her?"

"Yes."  He replies simply.  "I shall always love her, but...I have let her go.  In another time, maybe she would have been mine.  She is his and I must accept it and move on."

"Wise words."  Glancing at him, I see a sadness gleaming in his eyes, but also acceptance.  He has accepted what has occurred.  Finally.

"You would not think Wat capable of giving such beautiful counsel, would you?"  Roland gives a tiny, gruff laugh.  "He cornered me a few days ago, told me that he 'thought Will was stupid in love, but I beat a dead horse while it's decomposing and nearly a skeleton.'  He said to let her go and get over her, as she was obviously not meant for me.  I have been thinking since then about it.  I cannot live my life mourning for what cannot be."

He seems different somehow.  Peaceful.  Happy.  "You are a good man, Roland."

He makes no comment, but stands and holds out a hand to me.  "Come, Lady.  If you are to travel tomorrow, you need rest.  Let us return to camp."

I go. 

~~~~~~~~~~

I have reread Christiana's letters with Jocelyn's help, my reading skills improving in leaps and bounds with each one.  We started with that first letter and have worked our way through them all, even the one Christiana wanted kept apart.  I insisted on that one.  So much was clear in just that one letter, from Adhemar's character to Christiana's own sense of inferiority beside Jocelyn.  The girl actually thinks she could not also inspire a man to poetry.  Did she not listen to Roland at all?

Reading those many pages, I see what both Christiana and Jocelyn do not, though the fact is plain in Christiana's own words.  Adhemar has most definitely lost it.  Not his mind, though it can appear that way.  No, as I suspected at Tournament, he has lost his heart, fully and with no return, to his wife.  The progression of his feelings is laid out in those things he did, the words he spoke.  Christiana holds him prisoner as certainly as Jocelyn holds me.  While I am most willing, I see in Christiana's letters that he is fighting it, not willing to admit he has already lost the battle and that he has learned to love.

Count Etienne Adhemar, victor on the battlefield and great soldier is fighting the one battle he cannot win:  the battle of love.

Poor man.  I sympathize with his struggles.  He may well be too proud to go against his instincts in proving his affection.  Still, he did concede a visit.  That is something.  I do not look forward to the inevitable strained days of this visit.  I doubt he and I can ever be friends.  I know I can be civil however.  What I have repeatedly explained to Jocelyn is the truth:  I cannot hate the man himself, only the things he does.  She does not understand my view, but I do not expect her to.

We ride to the Adhemar lands, leaving Roland in charge of the household.  I do not like leaving him behind, but he insisted he would rather go home than join us.  While I am certainly glad he is over Christiana and nearly back to his old self, I miss his teasing quips.  Wat and Kate accompany us, along with a few soldiers, a concession I am making to the reports of thieves along this road.  I would not see us waylaid before we reach our destination.

I glance at the two walking a short ways behind us.  Wat and Kate.  I never would have predicted those two would get together.  The possibility never entered my mind.  Hot tempered Wat with practical Kate?  They do compliment each other though.  Kate can cool Wat's temper with a few words when she chooses, and Wat can rile her up and embarrass her faster than anyone.  Kate says they will not marry though.  She is amenable to birthing a few babes, but no marriage for her.

Wat was upset about that for awhile, until she explained herself to him.  It seems that if she marries a man not a blacksmith, she will lose her business.  None of us want that and since Wat refuses to consider taking up the trade, they shall stay unmarried.

Now I glance at Jocelyn.  She has curled up in the wagon and fallen asleep.  How she can sleep with that rough ride I do not know, but she is sound asleep on her back, covered by a light blanket.  I am glad.  She is nearly eight months along now, her belly huge.  She would cry to hear me use that word, but it is accurate.  Kate insists Jocelyn must be carrying twins for her stomach to be so big.  I do not care how many babes are in there, just that they, and Jocelyn are healthy.

I will be glad when she is no longer pregnant and I can stop cringing whenever she asks me a question.  It is horrible.  I no longer know what is going to make her cry, since anything at anytime could cause an outburst of fresh tears.  Her emotions have been raging since month four or so and Jocelyn has gotten it into her head that I think she is fat.   Explaining that she is carrying baby weight does no good.  She replies that she is only a big, fat, huge, baby carrier.

Wat does not help matters.  He told her she was a big, fat, huge, baby carrier and that crying about it was not going to help that.  By the look Kate gave him, I do not think he uncrossed her legs that night.  Now, he has given to asking Jocelyn if she is dropping the kid yet.  Dropping the kid.  Sometimes I wonder if Wat was dropped.

My gaze drifts back to the road before us.  In the distance, the walls of our destination are visible.  A groan slips from me, luckily too low for anyone to hear.  I do not wish to have to visit politely with Adhemar.  We have little in common and I have no desire to talk enough with him to discover if we have any common interests at all.  God help me.

I will bite my tongue and behave for both Christiana and Jocelyn.  Is that not a man's lot?  Women control us more than any of us would admit.  A stony stare from Jocelyn and I know I have crossed some line somewhere.  I trip over myself to make things right.  Love is constant apology at times and concession most of the time from one or the other.  How else can two people, as different as God could dream up, live together in that institution marriage?  Man and woman cannot be selfish and live in wedded bliss.

My mind returns to those letters.  From what Christiana wrote, she has made many concessions since last fall and Adhemar but a few.  Now, it would seem as though she has done more for their marriage, yet I must consider the sort of concessions that man has made.  Changing his mind and wedding her properly.  Inviting a troupe of musicians to reside at the manor year round.  His apology.  Letting Christiana and Jocelyn speak in the galley.  And this final one of our visit.  His concessions have all been huge when one knows the man.  I imagine each one required quite a bit from him in the way of pride, each one chipping away at that state.

When Adhemar sets his sight on some goal, he attains it, one way or another.  To go to her -- after swearing he would not wait for the priestly blessing -- and put forth a plan of a ceremony for the next day must have gnawed at his gut.  His goal had been to bed her that night and he set it aside.

His dislike for musicians is well known, but not the reason.  Few know the exact reason and Christiana did not say in her letters why he habitually tosses troupes from his hall.  However, he gave her the gift of music, something she adores.  The girl loves to dance.  Even Jocelyn does not love dancing as much as Christiana.  I suppose her skill at the dances makes up for the fact that she is hopeless at an instrument and cannot sing a tune to save her life.  I once heard her singing and it made me wince.

The apology.  Adhemar does not apologize.  At all.  A man such as he sees no reason why he should have to give apology for his actions or words.  He thinks others should just develop a thicker skin or simply do things his way.  It is a selfish view and the fact that he did go to Christiana with an apology the next day suggests two things to me, the first being that he cares how she feels.  He cares.  What he said hurt her and he knew it.  He tried to make her feel better.  The second is that he had already begun to change.  The old Adhemar would not have thought to go to her.

For Christiana and Jocelyn to speak face to face must have been terrifying for him.  I would have been such if I was he.  Knowing Christiana and Roland were close months earlier and that Roland was likely with us, to let them speak and possibly plot a meeting between the two....I do not know if I would have been so generous to allow a meeting with Jocelyn were I he.  Truly.  But he did, even if he did panic a couple days later.  Their flight from Tournament points to a case of panic.  He was uncertain what could develop and wanted her to himself.  Just as I thought.

And our visit.  I wonder what has transpired to cause him to allow us to come to his home without restrictions of our staff.  At best, is Christiana pregnant and he feels he can lower his guard now?  At worst, does he plan some attack to even the score between us?  I do not believe the latter to be true.  So much time has gone by, yet I would gamble to rule it out fully.  My eyes lift to scan the walls as we approach. 

I hear Jocelyn waking, giving that little sigh she always does before opening her eyes.  That sigh is endearing, as though she is consciously putting aside the dream world.  She clears her throat.  "Where are we?"

"Almost there."  I point, still staring at the walls.  This visit is too good to be true, but I will not deny Jocelyn, cannot deny her.  Christiana would not send an invitation unless it was approved and genuine, I must remember that.  Still, I do fear some treachery on Adhemar's part, some little spiteful turn that Christiana is ignorant of.  I do not fear for Jocelyn.  No.  He is smitten with Christiana.  I mean a final lash at me for beating him last year, the settling of a score man-to-man.

We ride into the courtyard.  Adhemar's home is large, much larger than Jocelyn's father's house, the walls stretching out left to right.  Christiana is waiting there, two women flanking her.  One is older, the other younger.  I presume them to be Adele and Lydia.  The older woman is fidgeting, as a young child might, the younger glancing to Christiana.

Jocelyn struggles to stand in the wagon and finally scoots on her rear until she can swing her feet over the edge of the back.  She is grinning, waving her hands at me.  "Hurry up, Will.  Get me out of here."

I dismount and head for her, gently helping her from the wagon and brushing stray pieces of straw from her dress.  She bounces on her feet as I do this, obviously impatient, and as soon as I release her, she moves forward as fast as she can waddle with her balance all messed up from her belly.  Christiana meets her and they hug.  "I have missed you!"

Christiana reacts in kind, the two giggling and talking at the same time, the rest of us in the courtyard forgotten.  Wat and Kate finally catch up, Kate laughing.  I cross my arms, eyeing the women that were with Christiana.  They look uncomfortable and uncertain, so I go to them.  Hello.  I am Will Thatcher."  At an elbow in her ribs from the younger woman, the older slowly extends her hand to me.  I take it and press a kiss to the air above its back.

She pulls her hand away quickly and wipes it on her skirt.  "My name is Adele.  I do not live here usually."  Adele is a pretty woman, but I know from Christiana's letters that she is the one who is mentally a child.  What happened to cause that, I wonder?

The younger is just as cautious, managing a smile when I kiss her hand.  "Lydia."

"It is a pleasure, Lydia."  I glance about the courtyard.  Still no Adhemar.  I venture to ask.  "And your brother...?"

Lydia stands up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders.  "He left to join Prince Edward in battle last week.  He will not be home for months I presume."  My surprise must show, for she gives a genuine smile.  "You could not be more relieved than I, Sir William.  Believe me."

Christiana finally remembers herself and we enter the manor.