Time Heals All

Chapter: Seven

~~~~~~~~~~

It was with a great urgency that Wat made his way towards the manor, dragging a stretcher along behind him. He lugged his burden, pausing every so often to make sure it was all still there. This was something Will was going to want to see; that he needed to see.

With grim intent, Wat walked to the small scattering of cottages just outside the manor. This was far enough. He'd leave it here and bring Will back. It was still working hours, so most people were about their tasks and wouldn't come out towards Christiana's cottage unless they had business with her.

He saw no sign of the maid and didn't want to chance Adhemar being awake by poking his nose into the cottage, so he adjusted the contents of the stretcher a bit and ran to the manor.

He found Will sitting by Jocelyn's bedside, their heads bent together as they spoke. By the look of them, they were engaged in an intimate conversation. Jocelyn had recently confined herself to her bed on Gilles Fortier's suggestion. Wat's lips tightened into a thin line. Again, that man. Always that snake Fortier. Any advice the man gave was taken without scrutiny it seemed, though the counsel to Jocelyn made sense. Wat fervently hoped that she and the babe would survive the birthing when it was time. He didn't think any of them could handle more death at this point. Death had become most personal to them all, taking friends and family with indiscriminate abandon. Men who'd seemed healthy had died and sickly ones lived.

Swallowing, he put that thought behind him. "Will."

The man looked up. "What?"

Wat scratched his temple, wiped away a trickle of sweat. "I've found something in the woods you should see. Now."

After so long together, Wat knew Will would recognize the urgency in his tone. Will's expression changed in an instant, a slight hardening of youthful features, making him appear older than he was. He stood from his place, bent, and gave Jocelyn a kiss before following Wat outside and down into the courtyard.

"What did you find, Wat?"

"You won't believe me if I told you. It's best seen to be believed."

~~~~~~~~~~

"So...." Kate snagged a wildflower and glanced askance at Christiana. "What do you think of him?" She endeavored to remain casual about the query. She already knew Jocelyn's take on the man, and Will seemed ambivalent. Of course, Wat didn't like him and was given to muttering rude things under his breath about Gilles. Knowing the other's opinions, it was only logical that she get Christiana's opinion as well.

That one was in deep thought, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. She sighed twice, began to speak and stopped. Finally, Christiana shook her head. "Does my opinion of Duke Fortier truly matter? What is between the two of you has little to do with the rest of us."

"There's nothing between us," Kate insisted with mock primness. "How many times do I have to say it?"

Christiana laughed, a joyous sound Kate hadn't heard from her in months. "Every time you deny a relationship, it adds to our speculations."

"There's not a single thing between Gilles and myself --"

"See? He's given you leave to use his Christian name. Not many have that particular permission." A definite smirk was on her lips.

"I had the impression otherwise," Kate began slowly. "He's been casual with it. With Will and Jocelyn."

"With you." Christiana bumped her playfully with her shoulder. "He fancies you, Kate." She ignored Kate's protests and even Kate had to admit they were wearing rather thin. "He bought you a horse. He's asked Will to consider releasing you from any contractual obligations. He's sent more work your way than you've ever had that I recall. And," she announced in triumphant voice, "he comes here to see you regularly."

Kate smiled. Gilles was quite shameless in declaring his interest in her. She loved the attention.

Christiana's glance went about them and when the area had been searched, she leaned close. "I've seen him visit you and only you and watched him leave late. Like I said, he fancies you."

A heat rose in Kate's cheeks. She had nothing to be ashamed of in those visits; nothing improper had happened. The gifts were not improper either. Yet hearing Christiana's frank mention of them made Kate feel as though she'd been sneaking about.

"Not only I saw, but others as well."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "We talk. He tells me of his travels; the people he's met; places he's been."

"And he's not made one advance towards you in these weeks?" Christiana turned her head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'he must be slipping.'

"What?"

Christiana gave her another undecided look and one long sigh. "Very well. Duke Gilles Fortier is a perfectly nice man. He's charming and intelligent and by far a better man than many men. However, he's the biggest flirt in three countries, incorrigible in the pursuit of whatever woman has caught his eyes, and has more illegitimate children roaming this countryside than he does legitimate progeny. His first wife was barren and died of fever and his second died of complications in childbirth when Jocelyn and I were small. He's resisted any efforts of his family since then to marry him off and is likely only interest in making you his latest conquest. Now," she frowned. "I could be wrong. It's been a long time since I've seen him and he might have changed. I don't know his motivations towards you. I can only guess. Allow me to reiterate that my opinion of him does not matter at all."

"It matters to me." Kate smiled. "The opinion of my friends always matters to me, even if I don't agree."

"Well it should not. If you like Gilles, then keep his company. It makes no never mind to me."

From the direction of Christiana's cottage came a harsh, anguished wail. Both women looked in that direction and got to their feet. Coupled with the continuing cry was the sound of blunt cracking.

Something was wrong.

They hurried in that direction.

~~~~~~~~~~

The time he'd spent in the window had gone like every other time before it. He watched people going about their lives and was content as a watcher of the world rather than living fully within it. Adhemar sipped from the wine Christiana had left beside him as she usually did. He'd become used to these daily forced movements about the cottage, doing them only to shut her up. If he refused, she nagged him on it, day and night, pushing him until he simply gave in rather than listen to another word on it.

She had him walking fairly easily now, with only a little support from her. He tolerated her touch because he had to. He leaned his head back. No, that wasn't right. He didn't tolerate her touch, not any more. He'd grown mildly comfortable with her. In fact, he could stand her company quite nicely.

Christiana was a decent companion. She could read and write and he'd discovered it wasn't entirely useless for a woman to be taught such things. She obviously understood clearly what she read and was not hesitant about debating some matter with him as conversation. Her conversations managed to keep his mind suitably occupied so that he did not actively remember, although there were times when they'd be talking and he'd remember one horrible detail or another.

Movement caught his eye and he glanced to the right to see who was about down here at this time of day. He'd already seen the smith's visitor leave and watched Christiana meet up with that woman. Kate, he thought the smith's name was. Odd, to have a woman in that job. A memory leapt forth of that fateful tournament and he recalled that Thatcher's light weight armor had been made by a woman.

The redhead was pulling something along behind him, laboriously dragging it, his face a bright red from his exertions. The man seemed to be in a frenzy of activity once he stopped, fussing over whatever it was in that stretcher he'd dragged from the woods before running towards the manor. Curiosity tickled his brain, the first such sliver in months. Whatever could have sent him off at such a pace?

The longer he stared at the stretcher, the more curious he became. Adhemar was out of his chair and to the door before he even realized he'd moved, making his way step by step towards the stretcher. At first, he saw only a jumble of cloth. Flies buzzed. He turned his head a little, not quite comprehending what was there.

But then....

Then....

He saw.

Rage, blinding, boiling, welled up inside him, his sight gaining a reddish haze. His breath became ragged in his chest. Rage twined with hatred and he let the emotion take him over.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wat had been unable to remain silent on the walk down to where he'd left his find, explanation bursting from him in rushed words. "He's freshly dead, Will, by not too long. There's no stink as yet."

"Why bring him here? What's so important --" Will paused, putting a hand on Wat's arm to stop him from walking on.

Adhemar was out of Christiana's cottage. His clothes hung limp and loose on his tall frame, the sleeves of the shirt rolled up over his forearms. He stared down at the body Wat had brought. They watched him bend down, drag a long, thin log towards him and stand again. His face contorted with rage and he swung the log. A guttural cry came from his lips. Over and over he hit the body, pieces of wood flying up.

Will and Wat rushed forward, subduing the man and wrenching the log from his hands. From the direction of the well came Kate and Christiana, asking what had happened. As quickly as it had slipped upon him, Adhemar's anger departed, his body going lax. He sagged against Will and Will gladly gave the man into Christiana's arms.

"What was so important, Wat," he asked crossly, breathing hard from holding Adhemar back. All he could see of the body was cloth and pulpy, bloody mess.

Wat shook his head, his gaze darting between Will and Christiana. Not in front of Christiana, Will realized he meant. He nodded. "Very well. Get rid of it."

Adhemar shoved Christiana, struggled to his feet and lurched back into the cottage. Moments later came the sound of dry retching and Christiana's voice in a calming murmur.

Kate, ignoring the flies and fresh carnage, bent, studying the remains. A frown creased her brow, but any comment she might have uttered was not loosed.

Will also stared at the corpse. When Kate used a twig to smooth out the clothes, he suppressed a gasp. The tunic carried the Fortier crest. It couldn't be true, he thought. Gilles had been a friend to them, his suggestions on business already increasing Thatcher fortune.

However, there were moments -- he had to admit -- when he rather thought Gilles was not all he made them think he was. He'd noticed a peculiar flat gleam in Gilles' eyes, one that only lasted the barest fraction of a second. It was still there though, a cold and calculating expression.

This tunic gave Will much to think about and he indeed ruminated on the matter as he went about his day.

~~~~~~~~~~

As she returned to her work, Kate dismissed what she'd seen on the body Adhemar had angrily bludgeoned. It couldn't be. Gilles wouldn't sanction thieves to work on lands so close to his own.

Still, the doubt remained in the back of her mind and she closed up shop long before the normal hour, her feet carrying her along the road towards Gilles' home. She reached there after the sun had set and darkness descended upon the land. The guard at the gate only gave her a brief glance before allowing her through.

Gilles met her in the great hall. "Kate. You look distressed, my dear."

Warm hands chafed her arms, drew her near the fire. The hall was filled with people, and merry. Musicians played in one corner and the center of the floor was given over to dancing. Not a suitable place to discuss what she had on her mind. Kate bit her lower lip. Did she really want to ask him about the man? "Could we speak privately?"

Dark eyes searched hers and he nodded. "Of course. You can always speak privately with me if you wish."

She was led upstairs, to his chambers. Gilles was all solicitous care, pressing her to sit in one chair with comfortable pillows behind her back and to drink a bit of wine. Kate did so, uncertain how to begin now that she was here alone with him.

He dragged a chair to sit before her, knees brushing hers. Gilles remained leaning towards her. One of her hands was grasped by his, brought up to his cheek and casually stroked along his beard. Little kisses were also placed upon her palm. "Relax. Take your time."

Her resolve to ask about the man crumbled. The man most likely had stolen he tunic and that was that. When Gilles was looking at her so tenderly, she couldn't think ill of him. He'd nothing to do with the thieves that had been running about the land. He couldn't have; he'd only recently returned from his travels.

She was rationalizing and a part of her mind knew it, yet readily fed the rationalizations. If the tunic had been stolen and she asked him about it, he could be offended, which could cause him to cancel his work order and stop coming to see her....

Kate's stomach twisted.

No.

Leaning forward, she raised her free hand to his face, tracing his features before brushing her lips across his in a quick caress.

Gilles stilled, releasing her hand. He took her chin between thumb and forefinger, a heat growing in his gaze. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. He was the first man she'd been undeniable attracted to in a very long time. Of course she was sure. Any misgivings she had turned to smoke and blew away under that attraction. Gilles was a good man. She refused to think the worst of him.

"I've been waiting for you," he replied.

Her mouth was taken by his in a tempestuous kiss.

Kate surrendered.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will pulled the other chair before the hearth, considering the man staring into the fire. Adhemar gave a glance and slight nod of his head in greeting. The change that had come over him was startling, Will thought, and not just the physical.

He was thinner, the lack of the regular exercise of training causing muscles to slacken. Will had tried to coax him to train with invitations daily, but to no avail. The weary look of sickness still lingered on Adhemar's face and he had gotten Christiana to trim his hair close to his head. Adhemar didn't resemble the man Will had known from tournament. This man could be his twin, his opposite.

Christiana had faithfully walked Adhemar about the cottage. She was the only person allowed to touch the man. The accidental touch of any other caused a violent reaction. Adhemar would grab whoever it was and shove them, fist ready to strike. When he was outside Christiana's cottage, people no longer came to see Christiana for fear of accidentally touching the man.

Will had stepped in a few times, pleading with Christiana to have a fence built in the back of the cottage where Adhemar could sit without fear of any coming to near him. The woman had given him a look of amusement and told him 'It's not contagious, Will. He's just a bit...jumpy right now. I'll speak with him.' It was already too late though. No one visited Christiana when Adhemar was outside.

With Jocelyn's help, Will had been corresponding with Adhemar's mother for weeks. The lady was politely concerned over her son, yet Will got the distinct impression that she no longer cared if her once favorite child lived or died. The letters from the youngest child though....

Simon. His letters had been pure emotion, the sort of a young man who adores his older brother. There was relief that John was alive and being cared for; sadness that he'd been gravely injured and concern for his welfare.

"Your mother and brother Simon have written."

Wary eyes flicked towards him, then returned to contemplation of the fire.

"They ask when you will return home."

"Must I?" A weary air to the words.

"Eventually." Will crossed his ankle on his knee. "Christiana says you're able to travel now. I'll be happy to send a garrison of my men to escort you --"

"I don't require your escort or your pity."

"I offer no pity." He'd expected such a reaction. "The escort, however, is necessary as long as you aren't at full strength."

There was no comment on that.

"I must admit, Adhemar, this apathetic turn of yours disconcerts me."

"Apathetic? Disconcerts? I see Jocelyn has taught you some fancy words." He shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm not the man I was. I'm not even certain I'd wish to be that man again."

Will shifted in his chair, ran his gaze over the plain cottage Christiana had prettied up with bits of fabric. "You should at least do some of the things the man you were did. You barely eat, you don't go outside unless bullied into doing so and you don't train at all. I doubt you could lift a lance in the shape you're in."

Adhemar rolled his head back on his neck. There was a harsh crack as something popped. "Do I need to lift a lance right at this second?"

"Life isn't about simply existing. You should do more than lurch weakly from day to day watching those about you go on with their lives. Live, Adhemar."

A bitter chuckle. "Why would I want life, Thatcher?"

Will gave him a level stare. "You are alive, man. Don't waste life by only existing. Live. Rejoin humanity."

Sadness filled the man's gaze and when he replied, regret colored the words with heavy strokes. "It's been a very long time since I embraced humanity; the human decency that defines the best of men. I sincerely doubt I would even know how."

Will went silent. It was not hopeless, he knew. In the darkest of times, there was still hope, but as long as Adhemar refused to see it, hope would flee from him. He had no will to return to a full life, nothing to entice him back, and how sad that made Will feel.

How sad.