Tournament: Part 2

Summary: Day two and the end of the first Tournament of the season.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Not mine and I do not own them.

~~~~~~~~~~

I am not looking forward to sitting in the galley this day, not after those women ruined the first day for me, but I will not take the cowards way out. I refuse to sit in my tent hiding from those women. I make my way to the galley and find Jocelyn in the seat I usually take. She is awake early, for she does not like rising at dawn, and it is just after.

"I shall guard your back." She says quietly. "Take the front row where I sat yesterday. They will have to get by me to reach you, and...I suppose he will like to see you there."

A smile curves my lips. I do not know what to say. "Jocelyn..."

She shakes her head, then inclines it slightly to the lowest row. "Go. Before he can come out and see us speaking. I would not have you in trouble with him."

I sit and the galley fills up, save those seats between Jocelyn and I. We have the front to ourselves this morn. I see my husband come out to the field with a group of competitors, walking the length of the field, but when they pass the galley, he breaks from them to come up the stair. He does not have any armor on yet. That will be put on as he waits for his turn. He comes to me and focuses a long, cold stare at the rows behind me before looking at me. He holds up the scarf I gave him before coming here, drapes it over his arm, drawing the flimsy cloth slowly out so that the embroidery I did is displayed for all to see.

"I am not content with this token you gave me today, wife."

There is an outraged gasp behind me on my right, most likely Jocelyn, and a woman's laugh, loud and throaty and undoubtedly the Lady Mayes. That raucous, crass laugh rings in my ears, my heart twisting in my chest as I stare uncomprehendingly at my husband. Etienne sits in the seat beside me, arm along the back of my seat, his gaze turned onto me now, a gentle expression creeping into his eyes.

"You left before I could have a kiss as well. Give me one and I shall be most satisfied."

I am scarce able to draw a relieved breath before he is kissing me, a thorough caress of my mouth with his, one that is blistering in intensity and lasts until the galley has become still and silent. He ends it right at the point of impropriety, lips treading a warm path along my cheek to whisper in my ear, "You may sit with her. I suppose there is truly no harm in that. As you pointed out, I have allowed you to write." Drawing back, he smirks at whoever is behind me watching before standing and leaving the galley.

His long legs quickly stride the length of the arena, his black dressed form disappearing behind the other men standing there waiting. He is lost in the crowd. I glance back at Jocelyn. Her eyes are wide and mouth open with incredulity. I motion to her and she joins me warily.

"Is he drunk?" She asks, settling herself in the seat. "He must be, for there is no other explanation for that public display of affection."

I shake my head, fighting the huge grin that is pulling at my lips. I will not give in to it. Let them all think such displays are commonplace for the two of us. "No. I think that was his way of 'fixing things'."

Her glance is long, searching my face and she raises her brows. "Why Christiana, you are blushing! And how becoming it is to you." She reaches out, grasping one of my hands and squeezing it. "I am glad he took my counsel." Her gaze searches the field, looking to see if Etienne has spotted her with me I think, and Jocelyn starts to stand.

I do not let her go, tugging her hand. "Stay."

"No. You will get yourself in trouble. I will not let you." Jocelyn twists her hand, frees it. "As much as I wish to talk with you, chatter is not worth your husband's temper."

"You do not have to go. He has changed his mind for some reason. We can sit together, you and I. He told me we could just now."

A wide smile curves her lips and she settles back down into the seat. "Really?"

"I do not know why." His sudden change of heart puzzles me. "He was adamant before..."

She waves her hand about in the air, dismissing my words. "Who cares why? Let us talk."

With Jocelyn to talk with, the time flies and by the end of the third day, I begin to have a differing attitude. What do these silly women think we are doing when Etienne has me fetched to our tent after he wins a match? Talking? I must laugh at that, for Tournament has made Etienne most amorous. A win invigorates him. I walk to our tent, still shaking my head at the latest insinuations Lady Mayes and her group are thrusting at me. The idea that Etienne is straying with some woman here at Tournament is preposterous. He has no time for other women, not with all the effort he is putting forth on me. I have him practically attached to my hip when he is not competing.

I go inside, watching as his armor is removed. He has won at the joust today, his final match until tomorrow. At this rate, he and Will are going to face one another soon. Who knows how that shall turn out? Jocelyn and I are both holding our breath on it. Etienne does not say a word as the pages flee with his armor. Everyone knows what we do after a win. Anyone who does not, has no ears to hear.

"He is here." He turns from me, stalking into the back of the tent where a bath is waiting.

"Who?" I ask, following, surprised that he has not at least kissed me. Under normal circumstances, the bath is forgotten until his appetite for me wanes. He drops his clothes in a pile and sinks into the waiting warmth of the bath. Etienne does not answer, arms resting on the edges of the tub. He already knows Will is here, so that is not what has him moody. "Etienne? Who do you mean?"

He blinks rapidly, then rakes his gaze over me. "The peasant. And you with no virginity to protect."

My eyes widen as his meaning becomes clear. Roland. He means Roland. I go to Etienne, kneel at the tub side. "What do you say?"

"I say my wife could easily cuckold me."

"That blow you took to the head earlier today has addled your brains."

His left hand lashes out, sliding on my neck before finding a grip. I am tugged over the edge of the tub, my hands catching at him, one clasping the arm that holds me, the other at his back. For a moment, I think he means to shove my face into the water and drown me, but then he twists, bringing his right hand under my arm to support some of my weight. The edge of the tub digs painfully into my breasts. "Do I not give you what you need? Does Jocelyn arrange a meeting between you and he as you sit together in the galley?"

"No. I hide nothing from you. You know that."

"No meeting?"

"No. None." His eyes narrow and he heaves me forward until I am in the tub with him. Water splashes out at my added weight, my clothes greedily sucking in the water until they are sopping wet and heavy along me. My face is pressed to his chest, his arms wrapping around me. My legs dangle over the side of the tub. It is an uncomfortable pose, but I do not say a word about my discomfort. We remain this way for a long while.

~~~~~~~~~~

The demon jealousy has risen and I am powerless to stop it. It sits along my shoulders, digging sharp talons into my flesh. I know Christiana is faithful. She has had no opportunity to be unfaithful. But...jealousy does not let go. Jealousy is a willing bed partner, an eager one even, and my mind begins to wonder if Christiana would respond to another man as she does me.

I am in hell.

If I had not seen that man, perhaps I could have gotten through this week without visions of her straying from me. Perhaps jealousy would have quieted it's shrieks in my ears, the talons on it's clawed hands losing sharpness....

I cannot wait for this to be over so I can take her home. Maybe there this jealousy will not rear up again. Maybe there I can control it.

~~~~~~~~~~

We watch Germaine pace and look about and finally, with a puzzled air, shake his head. Gradually, as the forfeit is made known, the loud cries of, "Adhemar! Adhemar! Adhemar!" die out to a disappointed murmur. Jocelyn and I both lean forward, scanning Adhemar's side of the field. Only Germaine, two squire's and his horse are there. No Adhemar. He has forfeited the match, not even shown up. It is not like the man at all.

I watch the herald lead the horse away, the squires following. I still cannot believe what my eyes have seen. Adhemar did not show up for a jousting match. Now, I glance about the galley. Christiana is not present. She is normally here when Adhemar competes. Unease growing, I bend my head to my love, "What make you of this turn?"

Jocelyn smoothes her gown over her belly and shakes her head. "I do not know. She has spoken of his possessive streak of late and I know he prefers her in their tent with him when he is not competing." Her shoulders lift in a delicate shrug. "Perhaps they dallied and he lost track of time?"

"Possible with you and I," I drawl, "but Adhemar? With the crowd roaring his name like that? No." I shake my head, again scanning the field. "Something has happened. Shall we see what?" Standing, I help her up and give her my arm, keeping a watch as we leave the galley for any wearing the mark of his household. It takes us frustratingly long moments to leave the galley, as everyone else apparently had the idea to leave the same time we did, and an even longer time to make our way to where the maze of tents are.

I truly do not think they lost track of time. There is something more to this. My opinion, and I would not present it to Jocelyn, for she would argue, is that Adhemar is caught. The things Christiana has written of, they are all doings of a man more than half gone. The lavish attention. The sudden burst of compliments. His trying to keep other men from her. He is trying to become her whole world. Seeing them together has only served to strengthen my opinion. It is merely a matter of time before Cupid's arrow fully penetrates that cold stone of his heart and allows life to tiptoe inside. I recognize the madness of it myself, having gone through its early stages months ago.

Soon, she could ask him to prove his love and he would do so without qualms, never realizing that she holds his heart in her hands until there is no return possible. I predict that then, he will give one last gasp, a final fight for freedom from his 'Achilles' heel', but he will lose.

Jocelyn would not believe me. She would scoff that Adhemar has no feelings, not understanding that a man who can feel an intense hatred for another person is capable of feeling a love that is just as incendiary in its passion as that hate. I do not doubt that he can love another. The question is: will he force himself to destroy that love out of fear of it, or will he allow himself to surrender and ultimately become whole?

Even Geoff would be wary of wagering on the outcome. There is no telling which direction Adhemar will go. It depends on so many factors. Did our dance affect him in any way? Has Christiana changed something within him? How much of his true self has he been forced to see? And how unhappy has that revelation made him? He must want to change in order for a change to begin. Some little part of him must desire a difference in what he is. I would not wager. The unpredictability is too great.

We reach our tent, but before we can continue onward, Kate and Wat run up, both out of breath, faces flushed.

"You will not believe what we just saw." Kate gasps, hands on her hips as she sucks in breath. "Adhemar--"

"Leaving!" Wat finishes for her. "He put Christiana on his horse and they took off."

"Germaine and the rest of the house are finishing packing. They follow when they are done." Kate grimaces, digging a hand into her side as though it hurts to breathe.

I exchange a glance with Jocelyn. "Has he been called to join Edward?"

Roland steps from the tent beside us, shouldering the flap aside. Sadness is in his gaze. "No. Adhemar saw me yesterday afternoon." He licks his lips. "I am sorry Jocelyn. I did not see him until after he had already seen me. He went from a good mood to an visibly furious one."

She places her hand on his arm. "It is not your fault Roland. You have been amazingly good natured about staying out of sight and I thank you for that."

"I suspect they would have left early, regardless." I murmur, Jocelyn turning to stare up at me, curiosity on her lovely features.

"And what do you know that I do not?"

"Just a hunch." I shrug, not willing to reveal the entirety of my thoughts on the subject to her.

The others decline to comment, but Jocelyn will not let the statement go, turning to Kate. "Do you share that hunch, Kate?"

Kate gives a surprised raise of her brows. "Oh. Um..." She can only pretend being out of breath for so long before Jocelyn's foot begins tapping and she must answer. "Aye. I have the same hunch. He will want her to himself."

"He is jealous." Jocelyn agrees, her face reflecting an uncertainty. "Do you think she will be--"

"Fine." Kate assures her. "Christiana will be fine. She has been so for months now. She does not look unhappy, Jocelyn."

My love's face darkens, as though she cannot give reason to Christiana's happiness. "I know. She claims to love him."

The sun slips from behind the clouds above us, warm golden rays touching upon us.

~~~~~~~~~~

I wake to Sarah shaking me, her face close to mine, voice an urgent whisper. "My Lady! My Lady, wake up!"

Sleepily, I blink, and sit upright clutching the covers to me, my eyes widening as I register just what I am seeing. Our personal belongings are scattered about the tent, trunks open. Some of my clothes are tossed on the bed at my feet. It looks as though someone has attempted to pack us in a hurry and run out halfway through the task. "Sarah?" I ask and she hastens to tell me.

"I came to wake you earlier and he said to let you sleep, that I should go find you a treat to break the fast. When I came back, Germaine had already left for the fields with his horse and a couple squires and he was having his armor strapped on. Suddenly, he began pulling at it, ordering them to stop. He punched Richard when he did not move quick enough. Blood went everywhere. I think he broke poor Richard's nose. They removed the armor and he came in here and began packing. I heard the trumpets and the crowd, but it was like he had gone mad. He would throw something in a trunk, then look around as though he did not know what to do next."

As she speaks, I hurriedly wash from the pitcher and dress, dragging a brush through my hair. Etienne slips into the tent as I reach for the pastry Sarah brought me. He looks me up and down, then motions impatiently.

"Good. You are ready. Come, we leave."

"What of your matches today?"

Germaine appears in the flap. "My Lord Adhemar, you have forfeited the joust." His face shows disbelief and concern.

Etienne does not reply to Germaine's statement, staring at me, his hands on his hips. "Christiana? We leave. Come now."

When I do not move, he strides forward and takes my arm in a gentle, yet unbreakable clasp, pulling me outside the tent and past Germaine. Richard, his nose swollen and red, a crust of dried blood under his nostrils, is removing the leg guards from my husband's horse.

"My Lord Adhemar." Germaine says louder and Etienne flashes an annoyed frown his way.

"It is only a game, Germaine." His fingers touch my face, a tender caress as I hurriedly nibble the pastry. My stomach turns just a bit at the food, as it has the past couple days, but I know if I eat nothing I shall be starving when we stop to eat later. "I wish to be at home with my wife, not...preening before a crowd of fickle fans."

Germaine's mouth opens, but he says nothing, the surprise on his features nearly comical. After a moment, he inclines his head. "As you wish, my Lord. I shall notify the proper authorities."

"Then finish packing. Sarah may ride Christiana's mare until we meet up this evening. Christiana and I shall ride ahead." He reaches for the reigns of his mount, taking them from young Andrew.

If Sarah is to ride my mare, then what am I riding? I finish the pastry as he swings up into the saddle. He leans down, arm held out.

I raise my brows and shrug. If he thinks there is enough room up there for the both of us, I will not argue. Soon, I am behind him, tight against him, my arms about his waist and cheek pressed to his back. I glimpse Kate and Wat in the crowd, and then we are off, leaving all behind.