Trial By Fire

Chapter: Four

~~~~~~~~~~

No sooner had Geoff settled in for a rest, then an urgent letter came for him and Nicholas found the man waiting to see him early one morning.

"May I ask, Master Chaucer, what sends you from us in such haste and so soon after your arrival?" He was genuinely curious. The man had never seemed the sort to be ruled by haste, yet he was quickly setting his things ready for a journey. "King or personal?"

"It's personal, my lord."

Though he was always most proper in his words and address, Nicholas knew without a doubt that this man cared little for him as a person. He was simply someone Chaucer remembered from a previous year; someone that was disliked. Chaucer hid his feelings rather well, save for the occasional flash of that feeling in his eyes. That flash was always quick and disappeared in the fraction of a second.

"My wife. The letter I received says she's very ill and I must go to her. She's dear to me."

Nicholas casually flicked his gaze out the window, where Jocelyn, Christiana and Kate were holding a lively conversation over a bolt of cloth. "If your wife is so dear to you, then why do you play about with Mistress Kate?" It was not a query he had any right to make, nor did he expect an answer.

Chaucer's gaze met his and Nicholas saw a great amount of pain there. A wound was open and Chaucer's soul laid bare before him. It was a sign, Nicholas decided, of the man's turmoil when he actually answered. "Philippa has always been dear to me. Unfortunately, in recent years, I have not been dear to her and I've no explanation for the turning away of her affections. If there's a chance her illness has changed that, then I must go home."

Nicholas could understand that and even sympathize. He nodded, then opened the purse at his waist and counted out a generous amount of coin. Those were knotted into a square of cloth and slid across the table towards the man.

"My lord?"

"Your pay, Master Chaucer."

"I didn't come here to work."

"I know. You came for Jocelyn. However, you did ply your craft with refreshing enthusiasm. Jocelyn has kept me up nights with her excited musings on how the tales you entertained us with would conclude. Her happiness is well worth a few coins. If my wife is happy, then my household runs smoothly. It spins out from there. Should she be unhappy, all sorts of my dealings can be set awry."

"I see, my lord." Fine brows raised.

"I can find no reason not to pay you for a job you did well, even though it wasn't your reason for coming here."

"Thank you, my lord." Chaucer inclined his head a fraction and Nicholas sighed.

"Whenever you're ready to leave, you may go on your way."

In minutes, Nicholas saw the man outside, taking Kate's arm and leading her away. He turned away from the window. Their goodbye, he suspected, would be explosive in one way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~

If Kate were a writer, she'd write the scene so that there were no tears and no pain from either side. She was not, however, and both were present with copious abandon. They both wept and both could not help but reveal their anguish over their final parting, though they had known it would be coming.

Kate put her hands on his chest, gripped the edges of that long coat he adored. "It has to be a clean break, Geoff. You know that. No coming back for me or swinging by while on another journey. It'd be far too painful to remember that you were mine and could not be again."

"Kate...."

"We both knew this day was coming, just as we both know Philippa isn't ill. She's rarely ill and this is too timely a coincidence. She does this to call you home to her." Kate forced herself to step away from him. "Go. Just go."

A dramatic way to end their acquaintance, those three words and a pleading look, but Geoff was a man of high drama, well versed in the setting and playing out of a scene and he'd not let an amateur write their parting. Kate would not get the final word. He caught at her arms with his hands. "Will you let me speak?"

"What do you need to say that hasn't already been said?"

"How about 'I love you, Kate'?"

"It's been said and while I know you're fond of me, Geoff, your heart has always been hers." She was trying to distance herself and if he'd only leave already, the tactic had a slight chance of working. Perhaps she wouldn't collapse completely to the ground in grief for what had briefly been.

Geoff thrust her from him. "You don't know how I feel, what I feel. I've loved her and I've loved you and where does it say that a second love cannot be as true as the first? Where does it say that a heart cannot be torn between two? Tell me that, Kate, for I'd dearly love to know."

She crossed her arms. "There's a bit of a difference between that and us."

"How? You're my second love!"

"No." Kate backed away. "I'm not second, Geoff. I'm not even third or fourth. Your craft is your first love and that brings Philippa as your second. Third is your gambling and fourth is your work for the King. I'm nowhere near the top."

He shook his head. "You're being deliberately thick headed. I know why, but it's still infuriating. You know damn well that as far as love for a woman goes, you're second in line. Don't drag anything else into it and cheapen what we shared."

Another rush of hot tears slipped from her eyes, blurring his image. Sometimes, it was best to be cruel in order to be kind. "I slept with a married man. How is that not cheap?"

Geoff's eyes went wide and he hung his head. "Kate, don't. Please --"

"I'm Jezebel, Geoff. Run home to your wife."

When he raised his head, the pain that she'd seen long months earlier was back in his eyes and all she wanted to do was soothe it away. She couldn't. She had to send him home.

His lips tightened into a thin, angry line. "You want it that way? Fine. No goodbye kiss or embrace. No kind words that lay my heart bare to you. From this day, you're dead to me, Kate. Do you feel better now?" Whirling, he stalked towards the stables and Kate turned, running blindly until she ran full into someone and felt arms go about her, gentle hands stroking her hair and back.

Wat held her while she cried and said not one word.

~~~~~~~~~~

He didn't mean to witness their parting, just as he didn't mean to feel a secret thrill by that particular development. He didn't mean either. They just happened.

Kate cried into his shirtfront, her face buried in his coat and hands bunching the fabric at his sides. She cried as though she would pour out every single bit of sorrow within her, wringing out the last drops.

Wat held her. It was all he could do, and when her legs gave out beneath her, he picked her up and carried her to the nearest secluded bench, tucking the tails of his coat about her in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He rocked her and rubbed her back and even pressed tiny kisses to her temple.

Yet all the while, he imagined this simple time of comfort leading to more. He imagined a happy world where he ended up with Kate in the end.

It couldn't come about. He knew that as surely as he knew which direction the sun rose. Kate would never look at him with her dark eyes and see him as more than a friend. To her, that's all he was and all he'd ever be. Darling Wat, incendiary in temper and always hungry. That saddened him more than anything else.

Where was love for a man such as he?

~~~~~~~~~~

She wasn't embarrassed by what had occurred, yet it still felt as though every eye was upon her during the next couple weeks. Kate imagined her friends carefully gauging her moods and tiptoeing about her, though she knew it wasn't so. Jocelyn was her usual self, not ignoring the subject of Geoff and Christiana did everything she could to keep Kate's spirits up. Even Wat did his part, spending time with her.

They shared their afternoons, taking walks and playing with the children. They relived old memories and discussed their host in frank terms, finally agreeing that he had changed. Adhemar was not quite the man he'd been, just as none of them were quite what they had been.

She told him how much owning a tavern for even a short while had brought a maturity to him that she'd never thought to see, to which he made some teasing remark and proved quite ably that he was not as mature as she made him out to be, playing an outrageous game with Miles and the girls. He overly dramatized a play death, clutching his chest and groaning until Genevieve rolled her eyes, put her foot lightly on his stomach and said, "Will you die already, Wat? It's been like five hours."

He complied and they moved on into tree climbing. Kate hadn't thought either of the girls would be interested in climbing trees, but Genevieve proved her wrong. Ana returned to the house and Kate watched as Miles, Wat and Genevieve climbed ever higher in the treetops, trying to outdo each other.

That, she decided later, was when the trouble started.

Genevieve made the mistake of looking directly down from her perch. As Miles and Wat climbed down from their respective trees, the girl remained frozen in place. "Kate, I'm scared," she called down.

"Don't look down again, just feel for the footholds and work your way slowly."

"I can't!" Genevieve began to cry, Wat and Miles hurrying their pace, though both still had a long way to climb. Kate took another look back at Genevieve and made a decision. She'd go up after her. By the time she got up there, Wat and Miles would be on the ground. Miles could climb up to lend emotional support to his sister and Wat would be on the ground to catch the girl if she fell.

Kate tied her skirts in the fashion of trousers and began her climb, hoisting herself easily onto the first branch and so on until she was close to Genevieve.

"It's okay, Genevieve. We'll get you down. No problems, sweetheart." Kate spoke soothingly to her, using endearments she never thought she'd use.

"I can't do it! Kate, I'm so scared!"

Kate reached her. "We'll go together, yes? I'll help you."

And they began a slow climb down, Kate going first, then balancing and helping Genevieve down to where she was. Below them, Miles bounced on the balls of his feet, shouting encouraging words as Wat watched them carefully. A quick glance every now and then saw him moving constantly under their position.

They were a good way down, yet still many feet from the ground, when Genevieve reached for Kate and overbalanced.

In that second, Kate saw nothing but tree branches as they both tumbled from the branch. She heard Genevieve's screams and then her own came to her as though from far away. She both felt and heard a snapping in her right arm and then she was lying on the ground beside Wat.

He'd managed to catch Genevieve.

He set the girl onto her feet, asked her if she was fine. Genevieve wasn't hurt.

Pain flickered like the flames of fire along her arm and Kate sobbed. The girl wasn't hurt, but she most definitely was.

Wat crouched down, a hand on her back, urging her to roll over. "Kate? What's wrong?"

Lifting her head, she looked at him. "God, Wat, I'm hurt. I'm hurt bad."

Immediately, his expression changed, fear slipping through his gaze as he gently rolled her over. He studied her, then turned his head, focusing on the children. "One of you run and get your father. Now!"

They both ran and Kate began to cry.

He sat beside her. "You're going to be fine, Kate. This is nothing. This is a scratch."

"Scratches don't hurt like hell," she gritted out though clenched teeth.

The treetops swayed and Kate imagined they were hands waving. 'Goodbye.' 'Goodbye.' She closed her eyes and waited for help to arrive.

~~~~~~~~~~

At first, Nicholas hadn't been able to make out anything of what the panicked children were saying except the name 'Kate'. It was actually Germaine who managed to decipher that Kate and Genevieve had tumbled from a tree and Kate was hurt.

Regrettably, the physician was in town with patients. Nicholas would have to tend to this himself. He sent a servant with a message to Jocelyn, asking her to please join them outside and took Germaine with him. They stopped at the well, quickly filling a bucket if water was needed. They arrived as Roland and Jocelyn did.

Kate was on the ground, Wat holding her as best he could with her injury.

Nicholas knelt before Kate, gently prying her fingers from the wound on her arm. She transferred her hand to Wat's coat, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Blood smeared on the cloth. He poured water over the wound and heard Jocelyn's gasp at seeing white bone sticking from the flesh.

Kate's arm was badly broken.

Meeting Wat's gaze he was relieved to note that the man seemed to understand what was needed, for Wat immediately began to set about distracting Kate. He didn't have to give an order. Quickly, with Roland holding her body still and Wat talking to her, Nicholas set the bone and splinted the arm. Kate screamed and halfway through, she fainted. Having born breaks that bad before, Nicholas knew the pain of it to be excruciating. It was best she'd fainted.

It was Wat who carried her to her room and Wat again who elected to remain with her.

"I don't give a damn if it's proper. Kate needs one of us," he told Jocelyn before shutting the door in her face.

Nicholas took his wife to their chamber and sat her on the bedside, fingers wiping her tears from her face.

"How can he think I don't care for Kate?"

He sighed. "You don't care for her the way he does, Jocelyn. Wat has feelings for her and I suspect he has for a long while." Cupping her cheek, he laid her head on his shoulder. "Kate broke her arm in such a way that I sincerely doubt she'll ever regain the strength needed to work her trade. It could happen, I suppose, and I won't discourage her from trying. Sometimes having the determination to do something is what enables us to do it. Only time will tell if this is something she can recover fully from."

"Her work is her life, Nicholas. Her work is what makes Kate, Kate."

He laughed. "You have some strange ideas sometimes, Jocelyn. Being a soldier was my life, but did it define who I was? Was I the sum of my choice of work?"

She lifted her head, regarded him for a long moment. "I retract my statement, I guess. Her work is what I associate with Kate because that's where I've seen her most: at her work, her joy. I suppose she's much more than that."

"Just as you are much more than simply Jocelyn."

"Am I?" Her expression was pensive and he couldn't decipher the whole of it. "Am I more than my name?"

"Of course you are. You're wife, lover...friend. You're mother. You're many things to many people."

An enigmatic little smile curved her lips. "I am simply Jocelyn, Nicholas, and you tease me."

"And you're fishing for compliments."

"Perhaps." She laid back on the mattress. "You're certain Kate will be fine?"

"Fairly. We'll have to keep watch that infection doesn't take a foot hold, but I think she'll heal." He scooted up on the mattress to join her and was about to continue, when there was a knock at their door.

Genevieve was there, asking to come in.

Jocelyn sat up, reaching her arms out to the girl. "Of course. Come here."

Genevieve approached them cautiously, but didn't join them, scuffing her foot on the floor and looking like she'd done something very wrong that she felt guilty for. "I made her fall." The words came out in a soft low rush and she gave him a fearful glance before moving to Jocelyn's side.

Nicholas leaned slightly to see her face. "What do you mean, Gen?"

She shook her head, arms slipping about Jocelyn, who embraced her and made 'shh-ing' noises. "You're going to be mad."

"Perhaps, but I'll be far angrier if you don't explain."

She sobbed into Jocelyn's shoulder, then took in a shuddering breath. "I'm scared."

"Don't be," Jocelyn said, shifting the girl against her. "It's alright. It's best to tell the truth."

"But I'm scared. Daddy's going to be mad at me."

Nicholas watched his daughter carefully. When upset, it generally took a long while for her to actually get around to explaining what had upset her and why. She was frightened of consequences and would work herself into such a state that she made herself physically ill. She seemed well on her way to such a state now. "Gen."

She gasped at the stern tone, words spilling from her. "It's my fault she fell. I grabbed her and lost my balance and she tried to stop us and I couldn't get my balance and we fell. It's my fault." The last word was drawn out as she gave a piercing wail that would have put her birth mother to shame. Jocelyn winced from it.

Stretching out his arms, he took Genevieve from Jocelyn and cuddled her to him. "It was an accident. Accidents happen from time to time. It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have fallen."

"It could happen to anyone."

Genevieve cried for several more minutes, then stopped abruptly, looking up at him. "You're not mad?"

"No."

She seemed to accept that, but then her eyes went wide, tears reappearing. "Kate's going to be mad at me."

Jocelyn scooted close. "Kate won't be mad. She knows it was an accident."

Genevieve gave her such a look of trust that Nicholas' heart contracted. "Are you sure?"

"I've known Kate for years; since before you were even born. She won't be mad at you."

After many more moments of encouragement, all was once more right in Genevieve's world and she ran off to play.

Nicholas tugged Jocelyn once more into a reclining position. "You're a good mother to them. Thank you."

"You're good to Miles. I thank you."

He didn't know what to say, so he pulled her to him, taking a moment of rest from a long and difficult day.