Turning of the Seasons

Chapter: Six

Notes: This chapter has a depiction of a tragedy common to the time period: a fire breaks out. Just a warning for those sensitive in nature who may be reading.

~~~~~~~~~~

Their wedding was quick, a pale affair compared to the fanfare in which he'd married Jocelyn. The manor chapel was filled, each bench holding eight people comfortably. A few trusted servants sat directly to the right of the family benches, namely Germaine's family and the old woman who'd cared for Adhemar when he was a child. Family present were several of his cousins, one brother and his grandfather. His mother had chosen to remain in Aquitaine, writing her opinion that not only was Christiana wholly unsuitable if she didn't produce an heir within a year, she was unsuitable up until the time an heir was produced, period.

He'd chuckled at that, his expression one of fondness as Germaine had finished reading the missive aloud. Adhemar's mother -- Marian -- had hied herself from the manor as soon as decently possible after he'd wed Jocelyn, making pious comments about women bearing other men's children. Her parting words had been for him to have the babe strangled upon it's birth.

Lovely woman, she.

Christiana was glad Marian had chosen to visit her other children. She didn't think she could make this change with the woman present.

She swayed a little, hands caught in the loose, steadying grip of his, her attention upon the collar of his coat. For this occasion, he'd opted out of his usual black, wearing instead a deep green that had embroidery along the collar. Absent-mindedly, she scrutinized the stitches of the design, hardly paying attention to the ceremony. Really, she decided. She could do much better than whoever had stitched that design. There was a crudeness to it that belied the beautiful tailoring of the rest of the jacket. The first chance she got, she was going to rip it all out and re-do it for him.

The commotion that had been growing outside the chapel doors grew louder, drawing her attention from the embroidery momentarily. What could be happening? A million reasons for the noises scuttled through her mind, slipping away as she heard Adhemar's voice, loud and sure, repeating the vows. Raising her chin a notch, she waited for the kiss that would seal them together, transferring her gaze to his face and suppressing an entirely inappropriate giggle. Impatience was etched most firmly on those handsome features. His mouth came down upon hers, a firm caress --

The chapel door banged open, a voice ringing out. "My lord! The village is burning!"

It was a good thing, she decided, that she didn't believe in omens. The past week could be considered rife with them.

Adhemar's reaction was instantaneous. He left her there, long legs taking him quickly down the aisle and out the doors. Christiana had a glimpse of him on the stairs before the tide of guests and servants obstructed her view. In minutes, she was alone with the elderly priest.

Watery blue eyes looked at her, a spark of kindness in their depths. "Welcome to the Adhemar family, my lady."

Christiana turned away and walked back to the manor.

~~~~~~~~~~

The fire raged hot, razing anything in it's path, the sickening smell of burning flesh upon the air, mingling with the screams of those trapped in the flames. Adhemar choked from it, swallowed hard to keep from emptying the contents of his stomach as others had been doing. He'd not show such weakness here if he could help it. These were his people, looking to him. There'd be no disgrace if he had any say in it.

The line of people from both the well and the river were barely keeping the fire from spreading out of control and he continued to cast an eye towards the manor, constantly checking that the flames had not begun to spread that way. If the wind shifted however....

A manic energy filled him, his efforts inexhaustible. Smoke whipped about his face, the heat of the fire upon his body. As hours passed, his eyes burned from constant exposure to the smoke, sweat pouring from his skin. His arms ached, his back protested, yet still he tossed bucket after bucket onto the inferno.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Christiana moving among those who'd been rescued from the flames, Annelle with her. Annelle seemed agitated....

He renewed his efforts, emptying his mind of everything but his task. It took long, exhausting hours to douse the flames and when there was only acrid smoke in the air, he took a moment to sit down, turning to look at the last place he'd seen Christiana.

His fatigue became obvious to himself when he could not understand why Christiana and Annelle were hunched over one of the bodies. Then the wailing he heard took on a familiar cast and Adhemar hurriedly glanced about for Germaine. He saw the man sitting not far from the women, his soot stained face reflecting the emotions he felt. It was Germaine's voice he heard, raised to the heavens in anguished cries. Getting up slowly, wincing at the pull of tight muscles, he limped to the women and looked down at the body.

Germaine and Annelle's daughter lay dead upon the dirt, her eyes closed, skin sooty. This was a child he had known, a child who had trusted him and lifted her arms to him in invitation to pick her up. Little Lucy, adored by her parents and those who had come to know her. His lips parted, tears coming to his eyes. It had been awhile since a child he knew fairly well had died.

Christiana looked up at him. She had her arms around Annelle and seemed to be the only thing holding the silently crying Annelle upright. Her lips parted, no words issuing forth. He nodded and strode to Germaine, sitting beside him.

The helpless expression in his herald's eyes tugged at him and he wished there were some words he could say over the loss of a dearly loved child. He had none though, so remained silent, supporting Germaine when the tears came and the anguish ripped forth once more, the sort of sound that causes almost physical pain to those who hear it. He sat there and he comforted as twilight descended upon the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

Christiana sat on the bedside and watched her husband.

The bathwater was rapidly cooling from delightfully hot to only tepid. Still, Adhemar sat hunched over, staring at.... What? What did he stare at? The rim of the tub? Or was he half asleep, the utter weariness of extreme physical exertion exacting it's toll upon him?

Stepping to the tub, Christiana shoved aside the smoke scented clothes he'd dropped and knelt. An unpleasant smoky odor drifted up from the pile and she shoved them further away, not willing to remember the smell of the burning village. She didn't think she'd ever be able to forget it, or the screams of the dying. Four homes had succumbed to the flames and the cobbler's shop as well. Nine adults and three children had died from the flames, the smoke and of accidents during the course of stopping the fire.

She had done her duty as his wife, walking among the people, giving comfort where she could and aid as it was needed of her. Just an hour earlier, she'd put Annelle to bed, having snuck a sleeping drought into her wine. Germaine had come in and sat beside his wife as she'd drifted into a troubled sleep, the despair on his face still haunting Christiana's mind. Children died every day, but it was different when one knew the child. Lucy had been a sweet girl, always smiling and happy.

Her concerned gaze lifted to her husband of only a few hours. Stubble was heavy upon his cheeks and jaw and soot blackened his skin.

Christiana picked up the soap, dipped it in the water and rubbed it on her hands, working up a bit of lather. She put her hands on his arm, curled them about the bicep and down his forearm. Soap suds turned dirty gray dripped down the side of the tub.

He shifted in the water, obligingly allowing her to move his arm into the water to rinse it. No sound came from him. He'd not spoken since sliding into the water's soothing caress and Christiana was beginning to worry.

Behind her, the door opened, several servants bringing in more firewood and trays with food and drink. None of them seemed concerned with his silence or his stillness. She was though. She'd never seen him this way and it was a far cry from his usual manner. Servants went in and out of the room at varying degrees of time until one by one, they said 'goodnight'. Still, he sat in the now cold water.

Suddenly, he gasped, turning his head to stare at her. His hand, wet from the water, raised and slid along her neck, squeezed lightly along her shoulder, then moved up to rub along her jaw. Water trickled off of his skin onto hers, wetting her clothes. His gaze was mild, yet measuring. After what felt an eternity, he nodded once and gave a harsh bark of mirthless laughter followed by a shrug of his brows.

"In the space of less than one day, you've behaved more like a wife than Jocelyn did in nearly seven months." He plucked the cloth from her hand. "And you do so even while still a bit angry with me over your journal." With a sigh, he sat back, weariness heavy upon handsome features, aging him. "It's late, Christiana. Go to bed."

She nodded, gaze lowering from his. "Will you...." Cutting herself off, she stood only to hear his voice quiet and low.

"Will I what?" Polite.

"Will you be...joining me soon?"

Resting his head back he sighed. "Soon."

With that, she fled across the chamber.

~~~~~~~~~~

Within a week, Christiana found herself called to her husband's side mid-morning. Germaine was there, taking the correspondence. He gave her a nod when she entered and returned to his task. Adhemar beckoned her to him and half sat against the table.

"We're taking Jocelyn's things and the child to Thatcher. I meant to do it before now, but became distracted. A wagon will be brought around. Anything of hers that you feel won't benefit this household, you may pack, be it clothes or other items. I suggest you pack for the both of us as well. We'll leave the items and child with him and continue on to my home in Anjou. The rest of the year will be spent there. I've learned my brother has let the steward cheat him, so I must take charge. Tomorrow morning, we'll set out, unless you can have us ready sooner."

She set herself to the task and by mid-afternoon, the party was ready. The wagon, in the end, only held a small portion of Jocelyn's belongings. Christiana let Millicent carry Christopher with her. She learned that the bulk of what they were to bring would follow them, as their bed would be dismantled and carried to the Anjou house and any items Adhemar felt he couldn't do without were also coming.

The actual party was large, but the one starting out that day was small, only Adhemar, Christiana, Germaine, Millicent and several guards. They'd travel swiftly and meet up with the other portion of their group at a prearranged destination.

She didn't ask how Adhemar knew where Will was, or if he only had an idea. She just did as she was asked. Her reward was a warm kiss in the relative privacy of the stable before he helped her onto her mount.

Their journey began.

~~~~~~~~~~

The camp was mobilized, great huge warhorses setting out with men upon them and wagons being pulled in their wake. Kate walked behind Will's wagon, ever conscious of the two soldiers a few paces behind her. Roland was driving the wagon and Wat reluctantly rode up with Will by Prince Edward. Edward had ordered it so. They were to travel for a few days, stop to finalize battle plans and then move into position.

The day she'd been ordered to go to Edward was drawing near and still Kate had not found a way to slip from her guards and friends to escape. Each hour that passed brought her closer to full out panic. Her heart would not cease it's out of control racing and every little sound behind her was a harsh scraping along taut nerves.

Will had told her that when they stopped, he'd continue on with Roland and Wat to meet the messenger further up the road. He'd only be gone a short while.

Or so he thought. Kate had no doubt that Edward had arranged for Will to be detained. Her desperation was reaching a fever pitch. She'd even gone so far as to approach a couple people about writing a letter for her. That had gone well until she'd told who the letter was to. Apparently, no one thought Princess Joan would accept a letter from a peasant.

Kate had no intention of having the letter be from her. She planned to use Jocelyn's name. The lady would not mind. Too bad Geoff wasn't here. He'd be all for it. Unfortunately, Geoff wasn't here and Kate had no one willing to write a letter to Joan for her. Joan would not hear of Edward's behavior. Somehow, after seeing the Prince and his wife together at the final joust, she didn't think Joan would be too happy with her husband's behavior towards another woman.

Of course, she didn't know that. It was possible that Joan couldn't care less.

The wagon stopped, Kate moving forward to the side of the wagon and pulling herself up to sit beside Roland. He gave her a glance. "You realize where we are?"

"No," Kate said, shaking her head and adjusting the cloth she'd wrapped about her hair to protect it from the dust of the road.

Roland jerked a thumb towards their left. "That way is Adhemar's favorite residence. Some of the men used to work for him in the Free Companies. They say the house here, not the one in Anjou, is his favorite and the one he grew up in. Jocelyn's there."

He didn't voice the question Kate knew was there on the tip of his tongue. "You're wondering about Christiana." Roland gave her a sharp glance, one she met with a genial shrug. "What? You think I don't know why you lied to her?"

Roland turned quickly away, craning his neck and looking at the road before them. "What's taking so long? Let's move, shall we?"

"It's been months, Roland. You should move on. Stop dwelling on it. You spoke in a moment of emotion, absolutely certain she'd be unhappy apart from Jocelyn, even if she was with you --"

"Your counsel is not needed, Kate. And I'm not dwelling. I simply...we're here now, so I naturally wondered...." He shifted restlessly on the seat.

"Naturally."

Their conversation was diverted by the sight of Will and Wat coming towards them. They were both walking, carrying on quite a lively conversation themselves. Wat's face was stony, anger dancing there and Will also seemed upset. Both men forced bright smiles at her though and firmly declared nothing was amiss.

Will stretched up his hands to Kate. She took it, let him lift her down. "Well? Why are we stopped?"

A shadow briefly slipped across Will's features. "We're making camp."

"So soon? I thought we were supposed to travel for a few days."

Wat snorted. "Not you. Only us. We've a three day ride to meet the messenger." His tone clearly added that he doubted the messenger would be at the appointed rendezvous. He busied himself at the back of the wagon.

Roland jumped down, his stare sharp upon Will. His brows raised. "Will?"

Drawing her to him, Will enfolded Kate into an embrace, turning her head on his chest so she couldn't see Roland. It crossed her mind that he didn't want her to see his face or Roland's right then. "I don't dare argue, Roland. He says go, so we go. We've an hour, maybe two before we need to set out."

Kate heard Roland begin to speak, then stop. He crossed behind Will, joining Wat at the back of the wagon, where the two spoke in hushed and urgent whispers. Will released Kate from the embrace, drew her back with gentle hands on her arms. The emotion in his eyes betrayed him. He thought he'd never see her again and that glimpse into him frightened her more than Edward's order. Will had knowledge she wasn't privy too. He knew something she didn't.

He licked his lips as though gathering his courage. "If we are separated for some unknown reason, I will try to find you, Kate. War is harsh. Things happen. I know that."

"Will, what...?" His kiss cut her off. Again, the feeling washed over her that he expected never to see her again.

"I do love you, you know that? It's not the same sort of love I knew before, but it's just as powerful and perhaps even more real." He hugged her again, slipping his hands under her cloak. Anyone watching would think he was running his hands along her hips and rear and he was, but not in caress. A heavy weight suddenly pulled along the side of her apron, the soft clink of coins reaching her ears.

Kate pressed her hand to the spot, feeling the soft fabric of a purse tied to her waist. He'd attached it to the tie of the old apron she wore over her dress. By the weight in her palm, it was a goodly sum too. "Will, I..." Again, he cut her off, fingers sliding over her lips.

"Sometimes we have to take the path we'd rather not take to get to the path we want to be on. We end up taking that road less traveled." His gaze bore into hers for a long moment, his brows raising in question.

Understanding clicked in her mind. He wanted her to go, to be away from the army. For whatever reason, Will was urging her to leave. Did he know about Edward's order? Or was there some other reason? "I know."

Relief cleared a bit of the tension from him. "I hoped you would. You know, sometimes I wonder how Jocelyn is."

Kate found herself flanked by Roland and Wat now, the two echoing Will's words, saying that they too wondered on the woman. Her mind whirled. If she was reading into those words correctly, the three were telling her to go to Adhemar's, where Jocelyn was. Jocelyn wouldn't turn her away, Kate knew that, and she was also aware of how little love Adhemar had for Prince Edward. Adhemar would protect her -- if only out of sheer malice towards Edward.

That direction it was.

Her friends set out not too long after their chat and Kate made a show of having their small tent raised and belongings brought in. She made it appear as though she was making herself comfortable. When she was alone, she packed only what she could carry easily, secured the purse to her and bided her time. There was a slight moment when her guards would be welcoming the evening guards on duty. They'd be distracted, hopefully enough to give her time to leave.

As night approached, Kate found her moment and slipped away.

She was unaware of the young page also assigned to watch her. He noted the path she took and hurried to his lord.