Turning of the Seasons

Chapter: Fourteen

Notes: I couldn't resist the mention of a certain scribe later in the chapter. Cheers!

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Wat was thoroughly enjoying getting to know Anne and thoroughly hating losing Kate. It was not losing as in physically losing her, but rather emotionally. Kate was slipping away. Each day without Will seemed to be taking the very strength from her and the only thing getting her through the days was Christopher. She talked to him, cuddled him and Wat had even heard her exclaim softly that she fully considered him hers. That Jocelyn had given birth to him meant nothing to her anymore. A simple technicality.

Christopher was Kate's son now.

There were elements still of the old Kate remaining, fragments that appeared in unexpected moments, but they were shadows. Her laugh was a ghost of the one Wat remembered and she had lost her appetite. He couldn't imagine how hard this was on her. She'd lost one well-loved man in her life and now another?

Anne had tried speaking with her, tried to coax Kate to cry and let out all of the emotions she kept buried inside. Kate claimed she still had hope and refused to let her tears come where any could see them. Wat could understand her reticence, but what of the comfort of friends? Why did she push them away from her when she needed them most? Frustrating. Getting up from his perch on a fallen log, Wat strode to Kate.

She was standing in the middle of the road, Christopher squirming in her arms, watching the direction that their monk friends had gone. The parting of their company had been a friendly one, their travels together done and wondrously safe. No thieves had attacked them and no illness come upon them save occasional pangs of homesickness. The monks had a different direction to go, bidding them farewell only moments earlier. Kate glanced his way and said nothing.

"Let's take a day and rest. Find a clearing, catch some dinner and...." He shrugged. "We could have a good cry."

A sigh left her, her eyes rolling. "Wat, will you let me be? I'm perfectly well. I'm not hungry and I don't need to cry. I know Will is coming. It's just..." Shifting Christopher, she licked her lips before going on. "It's difficult when I see you with Anne is all. I'm coping."

"You're not coping," he yelled, his raised voice causing Christopher to cry. "You're wasting away."

Anne hurried to them, reaching for Christopher and Kate let her take him. "Not so loud, Wat," Anne admonished with a hard stare and raised brow.

But Wat's frustration had reached levels that could not go away so easily. He'd kept his temper and held it in on this topic, accepting Anne's advice to let Kate come to them for comfort when she was ready. Apparently, Kate was never going to be ready, so there was no sense in keeping it all inside, now was there?

"Not so loud? Not so loud? I haven't yet begun to be loud, Anne."

Kate's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, her hands settling on her hips. "You have something to say to me, then?" There was the slightest catch in her voice, as though her travel-weariness was giving him a glimpse at the vulnerable woman she really was. Her voice had the tone of a woman barely holding herself in check, of hanging on for dear life to what she thought was sanity.

He sputtered, both index fingers and head shaking at her. "'Something' doesn't cover it all."

"I'm a grown woman, Wat. Lay it out."

"Oh, yes. What have you eaten in the last week? Not a full meal, that's for sure. Anne's eaten more than you and she's not a big eater to start with. Have you slept? Not you. Not Kate, toughing it out, crying as silently as you can into your blanket. We're here for you, but you don't see us. Caught in your own sad world where you've lost Will. You cuddle that boy of his, but you won't let us comfort you at all."

"You have no right...." Kate trailed off, lower lip trembling. She blinked several times, shook her head and forged on. "You don't know what it's like to lose the man you waited your life to have, to say a moment's goodbye with a promise that depends on so many factors. Wat, we don't know if Will still lives. He could have been killed and we'll never hear one word of it." Tears welled up and slipped from her eyes. Still, Kate remained unmoving in the road.

Wat took a step to her. He started to reach out, to touch her arms, but didn't. "It's life, Kate. We all lose and gain and sometimes it evens out and other times it doesn't. It's unfair and it's full of pain, but it's life. It's also joyous and filled with wondrous things. You can't wrap yourself up in the pain of it. You have to let it go or you'll be miserable. Surround yourself with friends and take what comfort we can give you."

Angrily, she wiped at her eyes with her fingers. "If I cry, it's like I'm giving up hope. I can't cry. Not yet."

There was only one thing he could think of to do right then. Either Kate would hug him back, or she'd hit him. One of the two. If she hugged him, all the better. If she slugged him, at least she'd be letting some emotion out. Before she could slip away, he grabbed her, dragged her against him and enfolded her in his arms. For a second, he was afraid of a third option: standing stiff and still without any emotion, but then she hugged him back and her tears came. Her wailings were at first muffled, then grew louder, Kate growing limper against him until he had to lift her to keep her from sliding straight to the ground.

When his shirtfront was soaked, he continued to hold her. Awhile later, Anne eased Kate from him and he found his arms full of squirming child, Anne leading a trembling Kate over to a log. The two sat and talked quietly while the afternoon shadows stretched long around them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Christiana could not believe how well behaved Cheney had become. The manor was relatively peaceful and when Damien announced he was going to take a group into the town, no alarm bells tolled in her mind. Cheney's attitude had become reserved and polite, as though he'd accepted his place there. Marian had taken the ladies out into the garden for lessons and everyone that could be outside had taken themselves there. The manor was blessedly quiet and Christiana decided to take advantage of the time to read her letters and begin replies.

She unrolled one of the letters that had been brought to her, her smile fading as she read the contents. This letter was not for her. It was for Cheney. What she read sickened her, filled her belly with dread.

From the door outside came Cheney's voice. "Sister, this letter I was given is yours. I think our man has made a mistake...." He trailed off, eyes narrowing. "Why do you look at me that way?"

Quickly, she rolled the letter, holding it to her. The words she thought slipped from her mouth. "What sort of monster are you?"

A guarded expression upon his face, geniality slipping away. "What do you mean?"

Christiana took a step backward. "To ask a man to...torture your own brother."

His pleasant facade fell away, cold anger treading across his features. "Give me that letter Christiana or I will hurt you."

He was blocking the door, steps bringing him across the room, cutting off the hallway to the back of the house. She had one option: up. Christiana whirled, taking the stairs as fast as she could, more than half afraid he was going to catch her and drag her down the steps. She could imagine him tugging her, her head thumping sickeningly against the stones and wood. At the top, she saw Annelle hurrying towards her, but didn't pause, racing towards the roof, where she knew one of Damien's trusted man would be posted. There was always a guard up there, one to watch for riders on the road.

Annelle was behind her, throwing herself in Cheney's way, shouting things at him, words that she'd undoubtedly learned from the men. At the top of the stairs to the roof, Christiana glanced back. Cheney grabbed Annelle, his fist crashing into her face even as he released her. Annelle staggered and fell to the floor and then Christiana was through the door.

At that second, with the door swinging shut, Christiana remembered the construction. No man was posted here, not today, not until the supplies were brought back to fix the roof and the top section of wall. Cheney had let it fall into disrepair.

"Oh no! God, no!" She skirted the broken section of roof, making her way to the far side. There was nowhere to go.

Cheney burst through the door. His momentum carried him nearly to the open section and Christiana was extremely disappointed when he didn't fall in. "The letter, if you please."

"No."

"Don't be stupid, Christiana. The letter."

"You can't have it." She backed away, as far as possible, Cheney edging his way around the hole. The way he came was the only way around the huge hole. Panicked, Christiana looked about, hoping for something, anything that would carry her from him.

"Give it to me and maybe I won't throw you through the roof."

A rope caught her eye, then the contraption it was attached to. Tucking the letter into her bodice, Christiana climbed onto the line of stones. "I'll throw myself before I let you touch me."

She jumped.

~~~~~~~~~~

The house they'd been directed to was a grand one, sprawling across the hillside and Wat made their small group pause before they set on the road towards it.

"We don't have to walk in there, Kate. We can turn around and go back."

She hoisted Christopher more firmly upon her hip and shook her head. "Don't tempt me now."

Anne crossed her arms. "It's the only way to find if we need to go back." Her hair had grown longer during their journey, the blond curls lightened by the sun, and Wat almost reached out to wrap a curl about his fingertip. For a girl who'd never left her home village, she traveled well with little vocal complaints. She favored a smile upon him. "Lead us, Wat."

He liked the sound of his name from her lips. Adhemar had treated her as a non-entity, a thing there in the background. Anne had confessed that the day in the rain was the first time the Count had used her name. Before then, he'd called her 'girl'. She wouldn't get that from Wat. He had come to treasure her. Was it out of lack of choice? Kate was taken and Anne was the only one left. No, he didn't think so. Anne had a way about her that attracted him. "Let's go then."

The road was not long. It curved about and the foliage sent a rich, exotic fragrance into the air. The house was even grander up close. Children played in the dirt and they were greeted with lazy smiles and gentle inquiries of their business. The lady Francesca was still alive, as Christiana had hoped, and she was there in residence. A servant would let her know they waited to see her.

Wat wondered just what the lady would look like and the manner she'd have. Christiana had given Kate an idea, but he knew letters didn't give a complete view of a person. A genial letter was easy to write. A genial manner in person was far more difficult if one wasn't that sort of person. He greatly hoped Francesca Casale was a good woman.

They were taken into a large and open courtyard and then into the manor itself. The entrance hall was small and opened into a large great hall. He exchanged a glance with Kate. This was a rich home. The noble that lived here was on a social level with Count Adhemar and possibly even above him.

The woman that crossed to them was tall and dark haired, with the warm complexion he'd noticed of this people and a quick smile. "I am the lady Francesca."

Wat gave her the letter of introduction Christiana had penned. It was read through, then re-rolled, Francesca Casale's regard settling upon each of them for long minutes before moving on to the next.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "Christiana is well then?" She seemed stunned.

"Yes, my lady. She has married a Count and left her guardian's home."

She crossed her arms, tilted her head. "Good. I had been told she died." Her gaze turned to Kate and she stepped close, a hand touching Christopher's back. He put his fingers in his mouth and watched her. "This must be the noble boy she wrote of."

"He was Lady Jocelyn and Sir Will's." Kate faltered on Will's title and Wat wanted to give her back a comforting rub. He didn't though, remaining where he was. These next few moments, he sensed, were the most important ones of their journey.

Francesca's dark eyes met Kate's and Wat wondered what she saw in Kate's gaze, for she nodded and gave a sad smile. "You may stay. I'll house you in accordance to the child's status." Unrolling the letter, she scanned it, then once more put it away. "Kate and Anne will be his nursemaids and Wat, my husband can use a good squire. You may work here until your lord comes and then, we'll talk again, all of us. For all intents and purposes, the boy is a guest in this house and you are his servants. That is how you'll be introduced and how you will live." She lifted a hand, beckoning men to them. "These men will bring you food and shortly, you'll be shown to quarters. This evening we'll sit and talk of my cousin. I hunger to hear more of her."

She left, long skirts trailing behind her and Wat felt months of tension draining from his shoulders. A look at Kate and Anne showed they felt the same.

Anne moved close to him, slipping her hand into his. He returned the squeeze.

Their journey was done.

~~~~~~~~~~

Francesca was not surprised by the group that arrived on her doorstep. She was never surprised. Her manner towards the less fortunate of God's creatures had earned her the reputation as a great benefactor. Her, not her husbands.

She'd been blessed with two husbands in a row who cared not one whit for the foolishness of men in regards to women. Both publicly claimed she could care for the estates far better then their living male relatives and a band of wily lawyers had produced documents assuring her continued control of much of the money and estates. Francesca had become a vulgarly wealthy woman.

Not too bad for a girl from a poor noble line.

Her mother's youngest sister had wed a foreigner in an attempt to bring some money into the family. That had failed, no moneys coming to their family even in a roundabout way. Francesca had gained a single cousin though, a girl named Christiana. She'd given her no thought really, until she was half grown and realized she knew nothing of her cousin save that she was orphaned and living with a family. By that time, Francesca was widowed, with an already obscene amount of money in her possession. It was natural to send some to her cousin as a show of goodwill. She sent offerings to others in her family, so why not her cousin as well?

It didn't deter her when few replies -- never from Christiana directly-- were returned. The replies that did come were from the lady of the home Christiana stayed in. Quick scratchings that mentioned Christiana was well. Once a year, Francesca sent a letter. Christiana reached marriageable age and beyond. Concerned by the lack of offers, Francesca decided that her cousin simply wasn't in the right climate. Men there must not appreciate her. She'd bring her back here where she belonged and set about finding her a husband. Francesca sent a group of guards for her, only to have them return with the news that Christiana had died. A sudden illness.

And now, to have a letter from her cousin!

Joy traversed her veins, but she held it in check. She'd question this group after they'd rested and if their answers were consistent with what she knew of Christiana's life, then they were genuinely sent by her cousin and Francesca would celebrate.

~~~~~~~~~~

The room Kate found herself in was large and sunny. She assumed it was for Christopher. The furniture was all big and made of dark wood and when she sat upon the bed, she found it heavenly to lie upon. There was a balcony on one wall, Anne and Wat's voices carrying to her.

They had a chamber off that balcony.

Kate lay back and watched Christopher toddle about the room. There was nothing he could really get into, the fireplace swept clean and no cloths hanging from tables for him to pull on. He went to the balcony, Kate hearing Anne call to him. Then, Anne's voice talking to him, with Wat's joining in. They left her alone.

She was glad of the time and even gladder to be on a proper bed. Kate had never really been on a bed as grand as this and doubted she'd be on it long. She relaxed, drifting to sleep before she even realized she was going to.

When she woke, there was a fire in the fireplace and candles burning. Someone had covered her with a blanket and removed her shoes. Kate sat up, pushing her hair from her face. She felt heavy, her body aching with weariness. Her sleep had not refreshed her.

"You've not slept long enough." The voice came from the chair before the fire and belonged to Francesca. She set a cup down on the table beside her and smiled. "Your two companions still sleep and even the boy. You must be more tolerant of the drug."

"We were drugged?" Kate swallowed, uncertain if this woman wanted proper address. "My lady," she added.

Francesca laughed gently. "To my people, I am Francesca. It's only those outside my home that refer to my title in any way. Francesca is fine. You are Kate?"

"Yes." Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she tried to clear her mind by taking deep breaths of the fragrant air. A breeze blew soothing scents in through the open balcony door.

"Then tell me, Kate, how you know of Christiana. Were you a maid for her?"

Kate stared blankly at the woman. "You don't know?"

"Know?" Black brows raised. "Know what?"

"She was a maid to the lady Jocelyn. She'd worked so long as a maid, she barely remembered her station."

Francesca's expression changed, first to anger, then sadness and finally, she nodded. "That explains much I'd found puzzling."

"She's married now, to a Count in Anjou." She stretched, working at the kink in her back. "She's even happy, I think."

Francesca crossed her legs, motioned to the table and the other chair. "Join me and tell me about it all. I want to hear everything. When did you meet her, what was happening? Tell me all until the letter she penned. I'd hear about my cousin from someone who knew her well."

Kate gave a laugh herself and shook her head. "I wouldn't say I knew her well, really. I barely had much conversation with her at all, but I'll tell you what I know." She joined Francesca and when her tale was done, the woman leaned forward.

"You've actually met, Geoffrey Chaucer? The Book of the Duchess was brilliant! And you know him?"

"Know him, argued with him....yes. He's a unique man." Which was putting it mildly. Kate had never met a man quite like Geoffrey Chaucer before and doubted she ever would again.

"You, Kate, and your companions have led a charmed life. Literary men, princes. Such excitement and my cousin was in it too. I must write to her, hear her story as well." She stood. "Rest awhile more. Come down and out to the kitchens when you're ready for food and we'll decide upon your days in the morning."

She left and Kate was alone in the big room, considering Francesca's view. A charmed life? Excitement? As she thought, she realized that she truly was lucky to have become embroiled in the events she'd described. She'd met Will, made friends and taken on the task of caring for a child. She'd traveled to a far off land. She was blessed and if Will never appeared here, then she could finish out her life knowing she'd been blessed.

With a smile -- her first real one in months --, she curled into the chair and watched the flames.