Trial By Fire

Chapter: Two

~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, if it isn't 'Master Falhurst'."

Wat, in the midst of a full out fit of rage, stopped punching his opponent long enough to register the familiar tall blond man and shorter black haired woman that stood watching his fight. He registered, but didn't let their appearance stop him from finishing his brawl. Moments later, when his opponent sagged heavily to the ground, Wat pointed at the blond man, grinning despite himself.

"You, get over here. You need a good fonging no doubt." Going to the fence that separated them, he took in the two he'd not seen in a long while. "Kate. Geoff." Kate was little changed from the last time he'd seen her over a year earlier. There were gray streaks in her hair now, but she was still as pretty as ever. Geoff though. That man had changed. He wasn't as skinny as he'd been years earlier, his hair gone darker and a beard along his jaw. He looked like he'd walked through hell and decided to stop there for a bit. Wat put his hand over his mouth to cover up the grin that would not go away. "Why are you here?"

"You've no word from Jocelyn?" Kate asked.

He looked at her. Her dark eyed gaze still managed to make him feel like he was a stripling lad seeing a woman for the first time and he shifted his weight. He'd managed to keep from revealing his feelings for her for too long to start now. Kate would never know the reason he'd never married was her. Oh, he'd had flings here and there, but never considered marrying any of those women. They weren't her. Wat had always thought Will to be stupid in regards to love, but he was even worse in that he couldn't even admit to the feeling. Kate had always let him down so gently when he'd propositioned her that he'd found himself wishing she'd accept just one time. Wat shook his head. "No. Are she and Miles --"

"They're living and well." The expression on Geoff's face forestalled any questions. This was a private matter. "We need to discuss a few recent developments though."

The glance the two exchanged intrigued him to no end and Wat motioned with a hand. "Well come on. Come see the tavern then. We'll have a drink and talk a bit."

Upon taking his leave of Jocelyn and Miles, he'd followed a life-long dream of his own and bought a tavern. Knowing quite a lot about food and drink helped and his little tavern was getting quite a reputation. The locals visited often and travelers kept the rooms upstairs and the common room filled daily.

"What about him?" Kate indicated the man on the ground.

"Leave him. He refused to pay for his room and food. Richard'll be along any minute to get him packed off."

Richard was a partner of sorts, the calm end of the business, graciously taking payment due after Wat had scared the day from the offender. He had little chance to do so lately, as Wat's no-nonsense pay or else policy had been accepted.

They went into the tavern, Wat getting them drinks and commandeering a table in a somewhat quiet corner. When the two had taken their fill, he leaned forward. "Well?"

Kate looked around the room, her dark eyes holding concern in their depths. "Jocelyn has remarried. She wants us all to come to her."

A huge grin formed on Wat's face. He couldn't help it. This was exceedingly good news. Jocelyn and Will had been very good to him over the years and Jocelyn deserved some happiness after Will's death. She'd been so miserable with that brother of hers, her spirit crushed by the man. It was good to know she was out from under his watch. Raising an arm, he waved Alice, his favorite of the serving wenches, over. "Bring us a platter, Alice, we're celebrating!" The girl nodded and hurried away. "That's great news."

"No, not that great, I'm afraid." Geoff glanced up from his drink. "You've not heard it all."

Wat sat back with a shrug. "So tell me, then."

Kate set a hand on top of Geoff's, a familiar gesture that wasn't lost on Wat. He forced himself to focus on Kate's words. "She's married Adhemar. He's sent the letter, not her."

All the blood drained from Wat's face. He could feel it, feel a coldness come over him. Adhemar. The name still made him angry. In his opinion, the man had gotten everything he'd deserved with that woman he'd married. That Rochelle had been just like Adhemar, a fitting punishment. Just. Fate was good.

Except for this.

Damn.

Alice set a large platter before them and Wat gave a nod of acknowledgement, digging in automatically to the tasty fare. The meat was good, if a bit under spiced and bland. He made a mental note to broach that with Mary later that night.

"What happened? How did that come about?"

Geoff loosed his hand from Kate's, snatched a sliver of meat and sampled it. "The letter only says that they've married and she is pining for companionship of those she holds dear. He'd be pleased if we'd all come to visit."

"Pleased." Kate gave a snort, reaching for one of the sweet pastries just as Wat himself reached for one. Their fingers tangled and he drew his back so she could take a pastry, deciding to keep ignoring the excited thrill that shot through him when they touched in any way.

Time apart hadn't made his attraction to her any less. No, he wanted her more than ever after being away from her. It seemed, though, that he wasn't the only one attracted to Kate. Geoff was rather hands-on with her, those glances they gave each other confirming Wat's impression that Kate and Geoff had become lovers. He took up a roll, tasted it, licked the sweet icing from his fingers and wished he was licking the icing from hers.

The smallest things about Kate had fascinated him the longer they were in each other's company. That proposition in London, the first one he'd given her, had been only a thought really. He didn't fall hard for her until many more months had passed. But he couldn't admit it. Not aloud. Not to anyone. He continued to eat, to fight, to force himself to remain the Wat that everyone knew and was comfortable with.

He'd grown up. He'd stopped obsessing over food in such an excessive manner, turning his thoughts to contemplation on running a tavern.

Wat took a sip of his drink, then nodded. "I'll inform Richard I've a trip to take. He'll gladly watch this place for a bit." He met first Kate's eyes, then Geoff's. "I'm only going to make sure he's being good to her. If he's not, we'll bring her and Miles back with us."

Geoff held out a hand. "Agreed."

Wat took it and, after a moment, Kate laid her hand on top of theirs. "Agreed."

~~~~~~~~~~

Jocelyn had half expected Nicholas to dump them on the doorstep of his home and run off as quickly as he could to return to tournament. That didn't happen however. He graciously took her, Miles and Christiana around the manor and the grounds in a tour that his steward could have performed just as easily. He pointed out places Miles might want to play and made certain she and Christiana both knew where each work station was located. They toured the buttery, the kitchens, the laundry and other areas. Jocelyn was able to appreciate an efficiently run home.

There were military personal that lived in large rooms along the edge of the manor walls. These were the men Nicholas took with him into battle; who were loyal to the family and vowed to protect these walls. The ministerial and domestic staff were one and the same, comprised of the domestic steward, the chaplain, the chamberlain....The list went on and on until Jocelyn was dizzy from it all. This household was bigger than her home and had far more offices involved in its running.

She learned there were two stewards here. The domestic steward and then one involved only in the estate. After Will's extremely small holding, this estate was overwhelming. When they finished the tour, Jocelyn still wasn't sure which steward she'd need to see every morning.

Jocelyn spent some time in the small solar on the main floor. Adhemar had declared that the room was hers to do with as she chose. It had been his mother's favorite room and he'd managed to keep Rochelle from redecorating it upon his mother's death. It was a pleasant room, though looked to have been the victim of furniture scavenging. There were only two chairs and one low table. Jocelyn decided she'd change that eventually. There was plenty of time in which to do so.

She went to the window and looked out. Miles was settling in remarkably well. She could see him in the courtyard, playing tag with the girls and an old, mostly blind, dog. Their joyous laughter spilled in through the window. Children adapted quickly to any circumstances she'd found. The three children behaved as though they'd grown up to this point as siblings. A smile tugged at her lips. If only it were so simple for adults.

Another agreement of sorts had been reached between herself and Nicholas. She was the lady of the manor and he'd see that she knew everything in regards to her domain. What her domain was in entirety was still a bit fuzzy and unclear, but Jocelyn was confident she could have that figured out soon. Nicholas was still the lord and therefore the head of the household. Decisions made by her would have to go through him and they'd meet jointly with the steward each morning.

Honestly, he'd given her more equality than she'd thought he would. She'd fully expected him to renege on his promise and tell her she had to sit sewing all day, locked up in a room by herself. On the contrary, Nicholas had outlined a generous proposal that gave her more freedom in the household decisions than was considered proper by societal standards.

She crossed her arms. He was doing everything in his power to make this period of adjustment easy on her. That was all well and good though she kept wondering when the man she remembered from years past would decide to show himself. He couldn't have been obliterated completely by time. No, this generous turn wouldn't last and she had to remember that. If she let herself become complacent, he'd be able to slowly exert power over her and she'd wake one day to find that all of these privileges he gave her had been snatched away in little increments. On that day, she really would be a lone woman locked in a tower.

If she had her way, that day would not come.

~~~~~~~~~~

The man Roland was the first to arrive, reaching the manor with not only the messenger than had been sent to him, but also four mischievous urchins. Roland good naturedly curtailed them all and they obeyed the only slightly stern command to cease their running so their mother could hug and kiss them properly.

Christiana's children were a happy bunch Nicholas discovered. He stayed only long enough to politely greet them and get several sticky handprints on his clothing. He left them all to Christiana.

Though he'd claimed work beckoned him, there was nothing that needed his immediate attention. He was alone with his own company and it was almost a relief when Genevieve came running in carrying an armful of dolls fashioned from wood and cloth.

"Mary said I could play with these," was her explanation. After a long and thoroughly roundabout conversation, Nicholas was able to ascertain that the Mary in question was Christiana's daughter and that she and Genevieve were well on their way to becoming fast friends despite only having met a short while earlier.

He was drawn into playing with her. Half the dolls were pushed his way on the table, an expectant gleam in Genevieve's eyes. Nicholas suggested they move to the floor for more comfort, his daughter readily agreeing.

"Now," she began in a serious tone as soon as they'd seated themselves. "We'll play tournament. Here are the ladies." She pointed, indicating two small dolls set off to one side. "These," her tiny hand pointed at the rest of the dolls, "Are the squires and the knights."

"All of them?"

She rolled her eyes with a grin. "There are quite a few competitors, you know."

"Oh, I see." He set up his own side, placing one doll in the center of several others.

"No, no. That's not right."

He looked up to find her lips were pursed and a critical expression upon her face. "What's not?"

"The set up. There are only two on the field on each side."

"According to who?"

"Me."

His daughter, the expert. Nicholas had to laugh at her smug tone. "Very well then. Only two." He remedied the situation, taking away all but two of the dolls. Genevieve made a noise of satisfaction.

They became engrossed in their game. First, the dolls fought with pretend swords, then they mounted pretend horses for an imaginary joust. As the game progressed, Nicholas became uncomfortably aware that Genevieve had cast his dolls as the villains and hers as the heroes. She added in sound effects. There were spoken 'clangs' and 'crashes' when imaginary swords or lances met and the lady dolls cheered whenever Genevieve's dolls won. How was that for fate's humor? His own daughter cast him as a bad man.

"Why do I have to be the villain, Genevieve?" He was curious as to what her answer would be. It didn't seem likely to him that Jocelyn would tell her of the past.

"Because." She gave a merry laugh. "The villain is always dark haired. Don't you listen to the stories Germaine recites in the hall?"

"Not usually. As a herald, Germaine is decent, but as a storyteller, he tends to lose track of his own plot."

She began gathering the dolls together. "Not the ones he makes up. The stories he's learned from others. The hero is always blond and noble in character and the villain dark haired and wretched." She gave a snort now, as though she thought he should have figured that out himself.

"So according to that, I can't be a hero."

"Not in fiction, daddy." Genevieve crawled across to him, gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then took up the dolls. "I'm going to find Miles. He knows how to play tournament properly."

Apparently, real tournament experience meant nothing he reflected, also getting up from the floor and stretching a little to relieve muscles that had become stiff from sitting on cool stone. He sometimes missed being young. The ability to spring up from the ground without needing to stretch was sorely missed at times.

Scarce had he returned to his seat at the table than there was a soft knock at the door. He smiled. That must be Jocelyn. He'd been waiting for her to come to him about the man who'd arrived. "Come."

It was not Jocelyn, but rather Christiana. She stepped inside. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't wipe at them. It was almost as though she'd cried so long that she'd ceased to realize she still cried. Nicholas waited.

Her expression was contrite and filled with guilt. "I've done you a great injustice, my lord. I've misjudged you and I must apologize and thank you for my family."

He adjusted the plump cushion behind his back. "You accurately judged me initially, Christiana. There was no error on your part then. You've simply failed to take into account the passing years into my character. 'Tis all. And as for your family, if you are happy, you'll serve my wife all the better, no?"

She made no comment.

"Besides, your husband is accomplished in many areas that will benefit this household."

A flicker of understanding dawned in her eyes and she suppressed a smile with obvious difficulty. "I believe I do understand, my lord."

"Have Roland report to Marc in the morning. Your boys may go with Rose while you're both about your duties. The girl, Mary I believe her name was, may be tutored with Genevieve. She'll be a suitable maid for my daughter when they are older, like you with Jocelyn." Marc was the domestic steward and if he didn't have a place Roland was suited for, then Henry in the military staff did. Rose was the nurse in charge of the peasant children whose parents both worked in the manor. He leaned back in the chair. "Over these weeks, we'll decide where your other children would best be placed."

Christiana nodded, clasping her hands together. "Thank you, my lord."

With a flick of his hand, he dismissed her and wondered why the encounter had left him slightly drained -- the same way he always felt after political negotiations before a battle.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was late when Nicholas came to their chamber. Jocelyn had expected such and purposely put off going to bed herself. She waited, sitting up in bed with the pillows piled behind her back in a wonderfully luxurious lump.

He came in as quietly as he could, moving softly so as not to disturb her. There was mild surprise on his face when he saw she'd stayed awake. He came and sat on the edge of the bed to begin undressing. "You should be asleep."

"I wasn't ready to sleep." Jocelyn moved, crawled across the wide bed to sit behind him. She helped him remove his shirt, then slid her hands along his back in a slow caress. He relaxed a tiny bit and she kneaded her hands up to his shoulders. Long years of practice at this were put to use.

Nicholas sighed. "Has Christiana's family settled in?"

She pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, pausing to run a hand through his black curls. "You gave them a cottage."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"Yes, they did. Nicholas, a cottage?"

He turned on the bed's edge, one hand slipping across her stomach to grasp her waist. "Are you objecting?"

"Well no." She had no objection. In fact, she was as ecstatic as Christiana over the development. She'd assumed the family would be crammed into one of the lower rooms with other servants.

Christiana had burst into the solar with tears on her cheeks and, at first, Jocelyn had thought something was amiss. Then, Christiana had taken her hands and tugged her out into the hall. Jocelyn smiled at the picture they must have made running through the halls, one calm woman and one crying and laughing one. They'd run across the courtyard towards a cottage Jocelyn knew had been in bad repair very recently and scheduled to be torn down for the wood and materials to be used elsewhere.

It was being repaired, workers re-thatching the roof and repairing the walls. Christiana had jerked her to a stop, raising a hand and waving towards the structure. "Look!"

"Yes, I see it," she'd replied.

"He says it's ours now." Christiana then indicated Marc, the steward. He gave a stoic nod and walked away.

It was not often the Jocelyn saw Christiana speechless. Her maid and friend had been most definitely speechless.

Jocelyn pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek. "Thank you, Nicholas."

He shook his head, an unreadable expression in his eyes. "Don't attribute noble intentions to it, Jocelyn. Christiana wishes to stay with you, yet pines for her family. It is efficient and of benefit to this household to have them all here with her. Her husband--"

She placed her fingers over his lips. "Shh. I know." She'd realized that already. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and laid her head against him. "I know."

~~~~~~~~~~

The children were asleep, a wonder Roland thought, with all the excitement. They'd run about like little animals, eager to explore their new home. And it would be their home. He'd not move them again unless Christiana wished they move. Not without her though, not ever again. They were a family and without her, they very nearly ceased to be so. He disliked being both father and mother to them.

He ran a hand along her bare arm, kissed her pale smooth shoulder, and inhaled the scent of lavender. She snuggled back against him, a welcome press. Roland sighed. "Lord, wife, I've missed you."

"Mmm...and I you." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I can hardly believe you're here."

"We are certainly here and I'll not go again." Roland raised up on his arm, giving a gentle tug upon her until she rolled onto her back to look up at him. He couldn't see her well in the gloom, but that didn't particularly matter. "What do you make of this?"

"He's making amends, I think, without wanting to seem as if he is."

"Amends to who?" It could not be so simple. The Adhemar Roland remembered would not have even considered apologizing to a peasant.

Her fingertips touched his face, traced his features, then stroked his beard. "Jocelyn? I don't know. He's not what he was, I'm finding. I mean," a pensive breath escaped her lips, "that he seems to consider more those things he used to not. He trusted me to pack Jocelyn and Miles' belongings, giving me free reign in the decision on what to bring and what to leave with Thomas."

"You said once that he was never cruel to you or unkind."

"Not directly, no."

"His manner to you still makes sense though. You're Jocelyn's maid. He'd be courteous to you in any regard."

Her laughter came out as a snort. "Uh-huh. A decade ago, he was rude as all get out to other maids and kind to me."

Roland smiled under the cover of darkness. "You are a pretty wench."

"Wench is it?" Her hands curved about his neck, drawing him down for a lingering kiss.

"He likes pretty women, Christiana. Of course, what man doesn't?"

"Each man's definition of pretty is different, the same as each woman's view of handsome." Another kiss, her hands moving along his shoulders. "I'm weary of talking about him, Roland. We've much better things to discuss."

"Like what," he asked with playful intonation.

"Like....What are we going to do now that we have four sleeping children that sleep like the dead?"

He chuckled, sliding a hand up her side. "We'll think of something."

~~~~~~~~~~

Chess was a game that Jocelyn adored. It took a sound mind to plan a strategy that would beat the opponent and she'd become quite good at the game over the years. Will used to say that she was unbeatable at it and, until now, she'd assumed it true. It had never occurred to her that he'd ever let her win. That thought now crossed her mind as Nicholas backed her into a corner and she found she had no real option that would allow her to win the game.

"You beast," she muttered.

Nicholas gave her a gentle smile and a raised brow. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Resting her elbows on the table, she put her chin in her hands, frowning. There was no move she could make. Okay, there were a couple, but nothing that wouldn't clear the way for him.

He poured spiced wine into their cup and took a sip. "Would you like me to teach you the finer points of the game, Jocelyn?"

She glanced at him, rude retort hovering upon her lips. His expression was not supercilious as she'd expected, but rather teasing. He was teasing her. The thought was a bit ludicrous to her at first and she slowly warmed to it. Nicholas Adhemar teasing someone; a woman at that. A loud laugh left her before she could stop it and she clapped a hand over her mouth when several servants gawked in their direction. Jocelyn took a moment to compose herself before shaking her head.

"Thank you, but I need no help."

The game was finished quickly and set up for another round. Nicholas took one of her hands in his, laced their fingers together. "You play a good game, Jocelyn. I've not had a good opponent at chess in a long time. You were...difficult to beat. A challenge. Most I play with seem too afraid of me to give me a decent game. Not so you."

Her gaze lowered to the table. An awkwardness settled upon her, brought forth from her remembrances of playing chess with Will. She'd taught him the game, thinking he'd like the use of strategy it required, and was correct. He'd never hesitated to sit and play a game with her. It passed the free time they did have in an enjoyable manner. Will had picked up the game rather quickly and only beaten her once at it.

Jocelyn had assumed it was her skill. But had it really been his? Another way for him to keep her happy? "I thought I was good at it."

"You are." Nicholas released her hand. "Where are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts?" The question startled her and she sat back. "What do you mean?"

Curiosity glittered in his eyes. "For a brief moment there, you were not here. Where were you?"

Instinct told her to tell him it was not his business, but a cooler thought prevailed. He was her husband. He had a right to ask on her thoughts. Jocelyn's tongue slipped out to wet her lips. "I was thinking that perhaps Will let me win when we played chess."

The reminder of Will had to be an annoyance to him, she realized, yet he didn't roll his eyes or turn away. Instead, he pursed his lips and contemplated the idea. "It could be," he relied slowly. "If it was important to you to excel in the game, then I suppose, to make you happy, he engineered your success." A playful gleam eclipsed the curiosity. "I, however, won't let you win. You'll have to polish that skill, and I daresay, you'll give me a good race each time." Now, he pushed back from the table and stood. "I have some contracts I must look over. I'll see you this evening."

Nicholas came around the table and gave her a kiss before striding from the hall. Jocelyn remained at the table, thinking on the afternoon she'd just spent with him. It was a different sort of time than she'd spent with Will. Nicholas was an odd mix of formality and coarseness. He could be bawdy and crude, then turn right around and behave with a stiffness that proper manners sometimes brought about. There was even an awkwardness to him at times that was, she had to admit, charming.

She had much to consider and wondered how soon until the rest of her friends arrived.