Turning of the Seasons

Chapter: Ten

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate was not there and neither was Wat. Will saw that in a single glance and wondered if he looked as dejected as he felt right at that moment. The only woman in the party was Christiana and there was no child with them. He slid from his mount, legs threatening not to hold him. Adhemar was traveling with his wife and the only woman was Christiana. Christiana, he thought. That meant that she was the wife spoken of by Annelle, didn't it?

Adhemar waited and Will knew he had to say something; to greet the man with his head held high. He had to take it for granted that they were on equal footing now, though he knew in reality it wasn't that way. This man would never accept him as equal. "You had Kate with you." He said it in a fashion that was not a question and Adhemar's lips turned up just a little. not really a smile, but rather a baring of teeth.

"We did."

Roland came up beside Will, a show of support. Will noticed pain cross Christiana's face, a fleeting glimpse and something quickly masked as she moved closer to Adhemar's side.

"She's gone now and no, I did her no harm. My wife can attest to that." With that pronouncement, he slipped his arm about Christiana's waist. "Your man was here as well, that redhead. They left together."

Christiana's expression became cross and she gave Adhemar a glance before speaking. "Wat was taking her to safety, Will."

Once more, Will examined the group of travelers, feeling somewhat better knowing Wat and Kate were together. "And what of your son, Adhemar? Where is he?"

"My son?" His brows rose sharply and he gave a little scoffing laugh.

"Yes, your son. I'd heard you had him with you and yet I see no child at all."

The man stepped forward until they were a couple feet apart. Then, he shook his head. "I assure you, Christopher was not my son."

"The woman Annelle said Jocelyn died giving birth to a boy."

Adhemar smirked. "Again, he's not mine, Thatcher. Make the connection. Who else could have fathered a child upon her?"

There was a faint glimmer of understanding in his mind, but he still couldn't pull it firmly into focus. It seemed to be taking him longer than usual to understand anything that Adhemar was saying. "If not you...." He glanced at Roland, then Christiana and back to Adhemar. "Me?"

"Hallelujah, the peasant made noble finally grasps a simple concept. Yes, Thatcher, the son Annelle spoke of is yours. Kate is carrying him with her."

He'd been hit with a lance of gigantic proportions. His entire being was numb beneath the blow and all Will could do was stand and stare. Would the shocks never end? Was he to spend the rest of his days being hit over the head?

Will wasn't even aware of the steadying arm Roland put about him, gaze moving helplessly between Adhemar and Christiana, searching for...what? What did he hope to find?

Finally, Christiana left the circle of her husband's arm, stepping forward and reaching a hand out to touch his arm. "Come. You look chilled. Come warm before the fire."

He followed.

~~~~~~~~~~

There was a change about Christiana that saddened Roland the more he watched her over the flickering flames of the fire. It was almost impossible to wrap his mind about the fact that she'd married Adhemar. She'd given only a brief explanation of how that had happened, but still. Adhemar? Gentle Christiana with arrogant Adhemar? It had been taken out of her hands, of course. A ward, he knew, had to marry who her guardian wanted, like a daughter did. A ward was like a daughter.

Jocelyn's father had treated her like a servant though, a lowly maid for Jocelyn. So why acknowledge her true station after so many years and have her marry Adhemar?

Roland shook his head. Sometimes, the workings of the minds of nobility confused him.

He lowered his gaze from her, not wanting Adhemar to catch him staring at her. The man was jealous of both of them, giving both he and Will glares if they so much as stood too close to Christiana.

I never should have pushed her away, he thought. How could he have accepted her at his side though, knowing her first loyalty was to Jocelyn? If she'd stayed, she'd not have been happy knowing Jocelyn was alone with Adhemar. She'd have been sad and he would have no way to cheer her.

He'd made a choice, albeit a stupid one he realized. Now, he'd have to deal with it. He'd have to finish letting her go, a process he'd willed himself upon at the news of Jocelyn's forced marriage.

~~~~~~~~~~

Alone in their tent, Christiana laid her head upon her husband's chest and her arm about his waist and enjoyed this quiet time before slumber. His fingers ran idly through her hair, his other hand covering hers.

She was proud of herself for weathering two weeks of marriage in a decent manner. So far, they'd had no real arguments and not raised their voices at each other. He'd been courteous and genial of mood. Well, save that jealous streak when Wat had appeared and now Will and Roland.

It did pain her to see Roland again, bringing back the memory of his words that night. Christiana struggled to remain impassive to his presence, giving the appearance that she'd moved on and could care less that he was there. She didn't care less, however. Seeing him brought a lump to her throat and she was glad to retreat from him into the tent with Adhemar.

"Which man was it?"

She rubbed her cheek along his skin, then raised up onto her elbow to look at him. His expression was closed, emotions under lock and key and Christiana sat all the way up. "Does it matter now?"

"It might. You certainly greeted the redhead with warmth."

For a long second, Christiana couldn't believe he was serious. Wat? He thought she and Wat.... "Wat? Wat's a friend, Damien, nothing more. It was Roland I had feelings for."

He released her hand to straighten the covers about their hips. "And now?" There was the slightest hesitation to the question, as though he didn't really want to know but felt he had to ask regardless.

She turned to sit with her back facing him, drawing her knees up and hugging them to her chest. "You have to ask? I told you what happened, told you how I coped...though coping wasn't what I was doing I guess." His hand slid along her back and she sat up a little straighter. "I cared for him and I'm not the kind of person who can toss away my feelings when I want to. I'll probably always care for Roland a little bit, but not like I did. I don't...." Breaking off, she turned again, resting on her knees. "I don't love him. You're my husband. I won't betray my vows."

He sat as well, sliding his arm about her waist and a hand at her neck. His fingers curved along the slender column, the strength in those digits very evident in his hold. His eyes searched hers and finally, his embrace relaxed, became warm and affectionate. "That's good to hear."

Leaning forward, Christiana wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rested her cheek on his right shoulder. Mouth close to his ear, she asked in a moment of bravery, "And what of you? Will you keep your vows?"

He drew back a little, head turning, lips feathering across hers in a light kiss. "A vow is a promise, Christiana." A mocking air crept into his next words. "And you know I keep those."

Rather than rise to his bait, Christiana let it go and soon, their conversation returned to less riling matters.

~~~~~~~~~~

Roland was concentrating on his sewing, when he realized someone stood over him. Glancing up, a flat metallic taste filled his mouth. Adhemar. The man had his arms crossed, a surprisingly wary expression on those patrician features. "My lord?" The words were thick in his mouth and he had to force them out.

"You have feelings for my wife." It wasn't a question. "Are you like your impetuous red haired friend, the sort who foolishly acts when he should remain still? I remember him from tournament. Strange to do so, yet I recall him clearly in a rage."

His first instinct was to defend Wat, his second to deny any thoughts of such action and yet, Roland couldn't deny those fleeting thoughts of whisking himself and Christiana back to a happier time. The will however. That he could deny. Logically, there was no action to take this time. He'd lost Christiana that day he'd said those hateful things to her. He'd watched each word land upon her as a whip striking her flesh, seen her heart break before his eyes. She was Adhemar's now.

The Count tilted his head. "I think not." He answered his own question, gaze a penetrating weight that saw far more than Roland cared for. "You're the wise one, the man who weighs his actions carefully. Were you thinking to protect her somehow by sending her with Jocelyn?"

Roland remained still and silent, a mouse before a snake, paralyzed by that flat, glittering gaze. He couldn't move and nor did he want to. Moving would bring Adhemar's full attention to him and the last thing he wanted was to be under that one's regard.

"Perhaps you did protect her, only you could not have known how well at the time." A sigh. "Did you know that Jocelyn's father hated her? She wouldn't have been allowed to stay with you. He would have come for her and taken her home, believing she was with you because Jocelyn no longer wanted her. If she'd gone back there alone, the very part of her that makes her the lovely woman she is would have been destroyed. He meant to break her, though I've been unable to discover why." His fingers tapped on his arm. "You protected her by sending her away. She's freed of that family now. He can't touch her." Adhemar breathed in, seemed to shake himself from his mood and walked away, dismissing Roland without saying another word.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will was torn. He desperately wanted to go after Kate and Wat and see this child that was his son. He also wanted to go back to Prince Edward and convince him to go home to his family. Then, he had a conflicting desire to finish the original task Marin set for him and ride to London to see the King and Duke John.

Roland wanted to ride to London, finish their task and hightail it after Wat and Kate as quickly as they could before Edward realized Will had gone over his head.

He didn't know what to do and he hated being in Adhemar's camp and indebted to him for both Kate and the boy, Christopher. Adhemar wanted no words of thanks, however, nor did he want anything except Will to be on his way. He'd expressed no preference in what he thought Will should do and at that moment, when all was whirling around him in confusion, Will actually considered asking the older man for advice.

Wouldn't that throw Adhemar for a loop?

It made sense though, in a strange way. Adhemar was a soldier and he knew how these things went. Will was not a soldier, not really. He disliked battle and all that went with it, though he did dearly love the skills that went with the fighting. It was the loss of life from his own actions he hated to see.

He hunched over, arms crossed upon his knees and forced himself to turn his mind from the problem and onto another subject entirely. Like Christiana and Adhemar.

Roland had told him what Adhemar had said about Jocelyn's father and he realized that he himself had witnessed that hatred of Christiana the one time he'd met with the man. It hadn't seemed much at the time, only a few cross words towards her that any servant would have been used to. Knowing her true station however, the words became far more, malicious projectiles intent to belittle and scar and tear a person down.

Like it or not, Christiana was as safe as she could be with Damien Adhemar. He actually appeared to treasure her in some way. He kept her separated from Roland except when they were all in one big group, saving her from the anguish of a one-to-one conversation. Even in a group, he was with her constantly, his arm about her or hand holding hers, blatant ways to show she was his. Will had even seen the man kiss her in a tender fashion when he obviously thought no one was looking.

She looked to enjoy his company. There were no flinches when he touched her or grimaces at his attentions, nothing of the sort an unwilling wife might give. Christiana, Will decided, was willing in that marriage, however incomprehensible that might be to him and to Roland. If she hadn't been willing at any point to marry him and be his wife, she was certainly willing now, performing her duties as wife with the same determination and efficiency as she had the duties of maid.

Will sucked in a breath and found Christiana coming towards him. She sat down and watched him for a long moment and he wondered what she was about to propose. He didn't have long to wait.

Putting her hand upon his arm, she said, "Go after her, Will. Put loyalty to Kate before loyalty to Edward."

How in the good Lord was he going to explain this to her?

~~~~~~~~~~

Tears were glistening in Will's eyes and Christiana gave his arm a comforting squeeze. "Go to Kate."

"I can't. He's going mad, Christiana. We all saw it and none of us could do a thing to stop it. We all held on to our remembrances of him as a good man of noble character. He did so much for me with a few words. I can't just walk away from him, leave him in his madness."

"Kate did as much for you, if not more. She helped pick up the pieces after Jocelyn was made to leave."

He jerked his arm away. "Don't. Just...don't. You're not understanding me and perhaps it's because you're a woman."

Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. She'd never heard him speak like that before, as though women were stupid creatures. "Will."

"Men have a certain code," he began in explanation. "Soldiers especially. I can't honestly leave Edward's service now, not without jeopardizing his own decree. He sent an assassin after me and still I can't walk away."

She didn't understand, staring at him, her mind whirling furiously over his words.

Behind them came the delicate clearing of a throat and Adhemar came into their vision. He took a stick and poked the fire. Crouching down, he stared at them over the flickering flames. "Do you need it explained, Christiana?"

"Yes, I do. I don't understand what the problem is, Damien. Will should go to Kate, leave that mess and go." Beside her, Will took another hard breath.

Her husband sighed, gave a nod. "Edward is irrational now. You've heard of his actions, saw what he tried with Kate. He lied to Thatcher here, deliberately fueled the hatred between us with a lie. If he could reach his own ends by revoking that pretty title he bestowed, he would."

"He wouldn't!"

Will turned his head, his gaze very hard. "Don't be that naïve, Christiana. He's not the same man we both knew. He'll do what he has to and not see one thing wrong with it."

All she could do was gape at him. The hope that had always been there within him, that carefully cultivated spark, was guttering out under his sense of duty.

"I didn't come here to talk of the problem," Adhemar said, standing and tossing the stick on the fire. "I came to give a solution to your dilemma. An opinion really." His shrug was nonchalant. "If you're interested."

~~~~~~~~~~

He knew Thatcher would be interested in a solution.

He was not unsympathetic to Thatcher's problem, a strange feeling he had to admit. He'd been so used to hating the younger man, that to find himself sympathizing with his torn sensibilities was disconcerting to say the least. If ever he'd wished to have Thatcher completely under his thumb -- and he had -- that moment was now. There was a power in where they two were at this particular hour, yet he felt no thrill, no superiority in it.

How strange.

He watched the last of the boy slip away, a hardened man bursting free in a tide of bitterness and harsh responsibility. It saddened him a bit. That a man who'd beaten all odds to become what he wished could have that part of him destroyed gave him a pause. Not many men held such lofty ideals and few of those men actually achieved the high goals they set for themselves with their ideals intact.

Adhemar crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. He no longer wished to fight William Thatcher. The prize they'd both vied for was gone and there was nothing more between them. There was no rivalry remaining and he was left staring at a man who had somehow, along the way, become his equal. Incomprehensible. William Thatcher, formerly a peasant and now...equal. What had made him equal? It wasn't the title, nor was it his profession as soldier. No, that status had been achieved through many things too numerous to list. Thatcher had earned equality.

In Adhemar's mind, there was even a grudging admiration for him. A strange feeling, indeed, and one he actively disliked. Peasants were not supposed to raise their station unless they were of the wealthier middle class. The lowest did not surpass them. This man had though. He'd managed what none did, ever. There truly was something grudgingly admirable in that.

Thatcher gave him a long, hard stare, then a short nod. "I'm interested. Any idea is welcome at this point Adhemar. Even one from you."

"I'm honored. Really." He made himself comfortable on one of the camp chairs, stretching his long legs out and enjoying the warmth of the fire. "Your problem stems from not knowing what is really expected of you."

Christiana tucked her hair behind her ears. "No, Damien, the problem is --"

"Bear with me, Christiana. I do know what I'm talking about." She flinched a little at his tone, but he decided he'd make that up to her later, show her he wasn't angry with her. He simply wanted this to be done with and Thatcher to make his decision to be on his way -- whichever path he chose in the end. There was nothing more to it. Nothing.

Men drifted around them, going about their duties and Adhemar saw the man Roland at the edge of the firelight behind Christiana. Was he watching Christiana or simply listening to the conversation? Did it matter which?

"You fought in the tournaments. It was what you wanted and you defied the entirety of society to get what you wanted. You faced gaol and did so with the idea of holding your principles high for all to see. You said you were a knight and a knight does not run. It got you a title and the ear of Prince Edward. Now, you went into being a soldier out of loyalty to a friend, if I'm not mistaken, and a sense of loyalty to your country."

"Yes." A simple answer and nothing more forthcoming, so Adhemar continued.

"I am no such man. I'm a soldier primarily for what my services can bring for me. I switch sides as the money flows and there is a rather unflattering term for my sort of soldier."

Thatcher's lips twisted. "Mercenary."

Adhemar laughed. "Yes, but not the sort that rides with Edward these days. My kind do have some principles left. Few, yes, but some."

"I find that difficult to believe, Adhemar. Tipping a lance is hardly an honest thing."

"Not honest in the rules, no. Honest in emotion, however.... It was a very honest show of how I felt right then. I spoke of principles though, not honesty." His brows raised, daring Thatcher to argue. "But let us not become distracted, no?" He leaned forward, clasping his hands together loosely and resting his forearms upon his thighs. "There are places for both sorts of soldier in a war. Enough room for all. Your kind, though, is not common. A man who will hold an ideal high in his mind and still be willing to make waves in the boat. That's where you are. You've made the waves and have to carry out what you started."

"I don't want to leave Kate until later. I love her."

He snorted, glanced away and then back. "You were given a title, Thatcher, and with that title comes a responsibility. A peasant man can pick up and go. Not my peasants, of course, but there are some, like you once were, who can run after a woman when their duty is what they should be doing. You made a choice to be a nobleman, now make the choice to accept that responsibility and be the noble man you once made claim to being."

"You do what you wish," Thatcher argued, "so why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I go after Kate and let Edward hang himself?"

Adhemar glanced at Christiana. She was staring at him. Something in her expression made it clear that he'd inadvertently revealed something of himself to her that gave her an understanding of him she'd previously lacked. That light of comprehension was in her eyes. "Because that's not who you are. Kate is safe with your man Wat. Your son is safe with them and will be provided for. Therefore, Edward is your only concern. You consider him a friend...William. From what I've seen of you, your friends mean everything to you. You must finish your duty to your country and to a friend that is hurting. Simple."

Getting up, he left Thatcher there to consider his argument, unsurprised when Christiana followed him into their tent. "Don't," he warned her in a hard tone, pouring himself a goblet of spiced wine.

She ignored the warning, catching his arm and trying to move to see his face. He couldn't evade her forever, so he finally stood still and let her step fully in front of him. She slipped her hands up to his face, swept her thumbs softly along his cheekbones. "You're a good man when you want to be."

He avoided her gaze, looking everywhere but at her, the sensation of being off-kilter with reality settling over him. "I only want him gone, Christiana. I don't care which he chooses. The woman or his country, it makes no never mind to me, as long as he chooses and we can be on our way." The wine was set down without a sip taken from it. "Don't read more into my actions than there is."

Her lips curved in a tiny smile that held a gentle emotion behind it. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of it."

Taking her hands, he clasped them in his. "Don't mix me up with that man in your head. Again, I am not him."

That smile faded. "I won't."

"I'll admit that Thatcher is not what I once thought him, but that's as far as my admission goes. Whatever else I think of your friend Thatcher will go unexpressed. His ideals are commendable, his naïvety is not. The road he has left to travel will not be a kind one."

Christiana removed her hands from his, took up the cup he'd poured and sipped from it. Her stare was considering. When she spoke, her words were faltering. "You do sympathize with him though. I saw that on your face out there."

He rolled his shoulders, dropped onto their bed. "Would you believe that I was once torn in a similar way? I was very young, hardly more than a boy really, serving at a nobleman's home and learning those things all young men need to know. My ideals lasted only hours, Christiana. They were beaten from me and I learned that while ideals are pretty things in the light of day, they are quickly torn to shreds in the dark of night. I suffered consequences for my actions, choosing the safe path when I should have chosen service. I learned from that and it brought me where I am today."

She joined him, sitting beside him, her thigh pressed to his. Her gaze entreated him to go on, but Christiana had seen enough of him for one day and he didn't feel like sharing anything more. While she'd laid out everything of herself neatly in her journals, he wasn't so neat. She'd have to learn of him the old fashioned way or not at all.

"Thatcher must learn his lessons and they won't be easy ones."

"You called him 'William' out there, Damien."

He glanced at her and quickly turned away. "So I did."

Her fingers wound with his, her other hand clasping over their twined hands. "It was a trick, yes? A way to give him strength to make the decision he should? An...illusion of being on equal footing?"

Her tone indicated that she knew differently. She knew he'd felt a kinship with Thatcher for a few seconds, but would not acknowledge it because he didn't want to acknowledge it. She was being a good wife again and a fondness for her swelled in his chest. Adhemar returned his gaze to her, squeezed her hand. "Of course. You're beginning to know me so well."

"I'm trying."

Leaning over, he gave her a quick kiss.

The tantalizing smell of meat cooking over the fire drifted in and their quiet moment was cut short by Germaine's voice calling for them to come eat.