Turning of the Seasons

Chapter: Seven

Notes: Trying to work in a bit more history here.

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving Kate behind left a gaping, empty hole within him. Darkness and pain filled it and Will decided that sensation was worse than when Jocelyn had left. His love for Jocelyn had been a rehearsal of the real thing, he knew that now. He'd assumed that fiery passion was true love and found himself wrong on that count. Real love was strong and sure and it was selfless, not selfish. Both he and Jocelyn had been selfish.

Kate though. She was not selfish. She had her moments like them all, yes, but for the most part, she gave everything she had to their relationship. Once, she'd told him that love was compromise, one partner always compromising for the good of the relationship. There was no room for an overblown ego.

He believed her. Kate had weathered the death of a beloved husband only months before he'd met her and Will had coaxed bits of that story from her. Her husband had been older than her, a man her family knew and liked. He'd waited patiently for Kate to grow up and romanced her sweetly when her other choices pushed their suit. Kate had decided to love him. She stressed that to Will. Kate had made the choice to love and love she did.

A strong will was something he'd noticed in Kate from the first. She'd had to be strong in order to survive.

But now they were parted. For good? Dear God, he hoped not. How could he bear the thought of losing her after he'd lost Jocelyn? This parting was necessary however, due to outside forces intent upon harming Kate. He wasn't certain exactly who was behind the spate of attacks upon her recently. It could be one of several men, or even several combining their forces. To what purpose? That was what puzzled him.

Well, that wasn't quite the truth. Will had a sneaking and utterly horrible suspicion who was behind the escalation of events: Edward. Granted, he knew that men feared Edward's temper and many would rather leave a maid alone than risk angering Edward. Still, the decrease in frequency of those comments and actions against Kate nearly as soon as Edward had assigned men to guard her was suspect. Will hated to think that Edward was so desperate to drive Kate to him that he'd risk a hurt to her person.

He slowed his mount, then stopped it, considering the man.

Will had thought Edward and Joan were deliriously happy. They'd certainly seemed as such in London. Looks could be deceiving. Perhaps they weren't happy and it had all been a show.

No, he thought, giving his head a tiny shake. That couldn't be it. Edward really did love Joan. Was Will wrong then in his conclusions?

A low, frustrated groan left him. Being entirely wrong didn't feel right either. Somewhere in the middle perhaps? Maybe Edward was not behind it, yet was very attracted to Kate despite his love for Joan. That had to be it. He found Kate aesthetically pleasing, though he'd not do one thing about that attraction. He'd protect her if he could and that was all it was. He sought to keep her from hurt by others who were working independently of him. Innocent protection.

Innocent? Will snorted. Edward was not innocent. He knew it. He'd seen enough in the past couple weeks to realize that the Prince was very sick and not simply that blood infection the physician treated him for daily. There was something off-kilter in his mind and it was getting worse. In battle he was like a fierce warrior of old, gentleness leaving him and in it's place was a cold, calculating tactician who'd not stop the slaughter of men until the battle was unquestionably won.

Will knew that to win a war, lives had to be lost on either side. Still, he was growing more sickened by the losses as the weeks went by. Something had to be done for the future of all.

"We can't turn back so quickly, Will. He'll know we suspect something if we do because you've never defied his orders once."

Will looked up and found Roland and Wat stopped in the road in front of him. "I know, Roland. Should we have sent her to Adhemar though? Would not Geoff's family have been a better choice?"

Roland shook his head. "I've no love for Adhemar, Will. But he's no liking for Edward, that's obvious. It was apparent after the joust that he hates the Prince with more passion than he hated you. If he could spite the Prince, he would and do so cheerfully. Jocelyn will step in and make sure Kate is allowed to stay with them. She'll be safe until we can get there to her, however long that takes."

Wat rode closer. "What if he's put a guard upon us? You know as well as I do that that's the norm lately. Guards watching the guards, mercenaries cutting each other's throats to be in his favor. There could be men behind us right now, watching and listening."

"Besides," Roland also rode closer. "Adhemar's home is closer than Chaucer's. Geoff and Philippa are in London, remember?"

"I know." The hope was leeching from him. Will could feel it sliding away and had no idea how to stop it. He let his head drop so that his chin was on his chest. "He's going mad, you know."

Roland's voice came, calm and rational. "I know. And if we do this right, so will Princess Joan and the Duke. His family will know, Will, and hopefully, they'll step in."

"We'll still be too late to stop what's coming, Roland." He couldn't help the despair that colored his voice.

"Yes," Wat agreed, "but maybe we can stop more from occurring. We can't help the people of Limoges, you're right about that. We can make a difference in future events however, but we have to keep going now."

Will straightened tall on his mount and took in a deep breath, attempting to cleanse his worries from him. "Remind me never to attempt an intrigue ever again, even for the good of a country."

Roland and Wat said nothing and the three travelers continued onward.

~~~~~~~~~~

Christiana was carrying the baby now, the child wrapped close to her body in a sling she'd fashioned. Adhemar glanced her way once more. The sight of her with a baby close to her breast was slowly becoming an appealing one. He knew his mother worried he'd die without an heir. She'd worried such since he'd become old enough to know how babies were made and embark on those endeavors. Her scorn for his taking Jocelyn to wife while knowing she was pregnant already had been made known every time he'd turned around.

Marian Adhemar had never liked his idea to wed Jocelyn. She'd promptly proclaimed the lady too appallingly strong-willed to let herself be subject to the rightful rule of a strong husband over her. Women like that one, she'd said, practically spitting the words from her lips, only want a man they can rule over themselves. They've no idea of the concept of their own weakness.

This coming from the woman who'd done her best to rule over his father during their stormy and long marriage. He supposed that Marian hated in Jocelyn what she knew was in herself. Her own weakness laid before her.

And so Marian had taken herself off to other climes, seeking out his siblings to make their lives a living hell. It was her letter that had informed him of the mismanaging of the Anjou properties. Christiana was in for a surprise when Marian greeted them at the gate.

Christiana, though everything Marian claimed he needed in a wife, was still not acceptable in his mother's eyes. Now if they arrived and Christiana could claim herself in an expectant state, perhaps then Marian would allow that she could possibly be acceptable. But only if she birthed a boy. It was slightly tempting to route them back on the straight road to Anjou and ride in there claiming Thatcher and Jocelyn's brat was really his and Christiana's. Of course, then Marian would scream that he'd defiled a maiden while expecting to be married to another and the child wasn't legal and the ploy would backfire horribly. Christiana still wouldn't be acceptable.

His mother was a mass of contradictions, but then, weren't all women?

He returned his attention to the road. If truth were told, this move to his Anjou property was a matter of family preservation. The fighting between the Black Prince's forces and King Charles' army were getting too close for comfort. He didn't mind battles when he was leading his men. That was the whole point of being a soldier. When he was laboring under his title however, the matter was entirely different. He had family and property and people beneath him to take into account.

His position politically right now was precarious to put it mildly. When Edward had refused to pay him and his men for those battles they'd fought for him and then, on top of it all, announced that Adhemar had to fight Thatcher, he'd seen no reason to continue in any sort of loyalty to the man. Really, he expected payment for services rendered and if that wasn't forthcoming there was no reason to stick around and beg for it. Edward was not going to pay anyone anything. He hadn't for months. He was growing further and further into debt and showed no signs of being able to climb from it.

And so, Adhemar had gone to Charles, offering the bulk of his men for hire. As long as Charles consistently paid them all, he'd leave his men there. His defection from Edward's army had left a gaping hole in those forces, as the sum of men Adhemar led was not a small number. That defection had also brought about Edward's anger.

Yet another person who'd not mind seeing him dead. Just another day in the life of an Adhemar.

Silently, he wondered if Christiana was aware of any of it. Did she know that someday, she might wake to find he'd been murdered beside her while she slept?

He'd gotten used to the idea that he could be assassinated long ago. A man as politically entrenched as he was, switching sides as the money flowed had to be used to it. It was stupid not to face reality.

Briefly, he wondered if the small number of men he'd left with Edward had discovered anything of use. Their reports had been so slow in coming as to be non-existent. That didn't worry him. They had orders to deny loyalty to him if asked.

"My lord," Germaine called, Adhemar transferring his attention to the herald. Though he still grieved for his daughter and likely would for a long while, Germaine had insisted he could perform his duties. Adhemar had been hesitant to bring him along, wanting to leave Germaine behind with Annelle to pack up the household. Germaine would hear none of that. He'd insisted he had to work to keep from sliding into despair. He had to go on with life in the only way he knew how. So, he'd allowed Germaine to come along.

"Yes?"

"There's a camp ahead, an army. We'll have to ride through them to continue this path."

"Whose army?"

"The Black Prince."

Well, well. Time to see if Edward's hatred would leave Christiana a widow.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ride through the army was an uneventful one, a small group of riders escorting their number down the length of the camp. No one they asked seemed to know where William Thatcher was. One suggested that he was still in Bordeaux at the court and another that he'd never left London. Yet another report indicated that he'd been sent on an errand and would not return for weeks.

Christiana could sense her husband's growing irritation, his mutterings under his breath becoming heated and almost loud enough to discern. Finally, a man came up to them. She recognized him as the herald that had remained at the Prince's side whenever he'd come to the tournaments.

The man bowed. "My lord. My lady. It is with regret that I inform you that Sir Thatcher has left this camp. He and his men have undertaken a dangerous assignment that may keep them from rejoining us. I suggest you travel to London and wait for him to rendezvous there."

"Not Bordeaux?" Adhemar scowled, as though Thatcher going to London didn't make sense. "I'd heard Sir Thatcher had Prince Edward's ear in the day by day. Is that not still so?"

Something flickered in the herald's eyes and he gave a quick glance about them before replying. "His task will eventually take him to London. I tell you this only because I know relations are...well between your household and his. Were it anything but, Count Adhemar, I'd not say a word of his destination."

Relations were well? Was this man drunk? Christiana watched the play of expressions that flickered back and forth between the two, absolutely certain there was something happening that she didn't understand. For a brief second, Adhemar seemed taken aback by the statement, but then he nodded, inclining his head with a cautious question.

"I pray the Prince is healthy, like he was the last time I saw him."

There was a pause and then an answering nod. "He is, my lord. Exactly in the same manner."

"I see." Adhemar drew up tall in the saddle. He licked his lips, gave Germaine a glance and a slight motion of his hand. "Well then, my party and I shall seek out Sir Thatcher at a later date. I'd not want to distract him from his duty to the Crown."

Strangely genial words coming from Damien Adhemar. Christiana could not help but gape at him. He'd been intent upon tossing Christopher at Will as soon as possible, yet now he proclaimed his willingness to simply ride on? What on earth was really happening here?

The herald again glanced about. "I suggest you ride on, my lord, and quickly before night falls. There've been reports of thieves in these woods that aren't deterred by an army. There's a town not too far to the north. I'm certain you'll find adequate lodgings for the night."

They left the camp quickly, Adhemar pausing once they were out of sight of the guards at the edge. His words were for her ears alone. "Your friend Thatcher is playing a very dangerous game, Christiana, and I don't think he can begin to understand just how dangerous."

"What did all that mean," she ventured to ask.

He gave a mirthless laugh. "It means that Thatcher and I are both in the same boat now where Edward is concerned. Much of it was a warning, my love. Now isn't the time or place to discuss it. We need to hurry."

Hurry they did, yet they weren't quick enough to reach the town. Under the cover of shadows, the group was attacked. Terror laid upon Christiana's limbs, coating her as a fine, misty spray. She held on to the Christopher, conscious of his terrified wails. The soldiers Adhemar had brought with them began to fight, her husband urging her and Millicent to ride on, his order they do so a harsh bark as he drew the sword he had strapped to his side.

Not the best rider in good times, Millicent could not hold her place when her mount reared up. She slipped to the ground and Christiana saw metal flash towards the young woman. Christiana rode on, panic coursing through her veins. The pounding of the blood in her temples seemed to echo the pounding of her horse's hooves. Ahead of her, she saw a fire to the right of the road and slowed despite her panic.

"Go!" Adhemar kept yelling from behind her.

Beside the road, in a little campsite, were a man and a woman. The woman was struggling against the man and it suddenly dawned on her what was happening to the woman, as the man tugged at the cloth of her dress. She peered closer, her mouth opening. That's not Kate, she thought. It can't be. And Prince Edward? No, it's not them, only people who look like them. A trick of the low light.

"Go, wife, are you deaf?" Adhemar pulled along side her. His glance took in what she saw and he began cursing, using language she'd never heard before as he jumped down and strode towards the couple.

Content that he was helping the woman, she followed his order. She repeated to herself over and over that the two she'd seen were not those she thought they were. Soon, she heard signs of pursuit behind her and found her husband with a still form draped across his horse.

They rode on, searching for safety.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate sank to her knees, clutching her satchel to her and staring fearfully at the unpredictable man before her. She'd not gotten far before he had caught her. He'd brought ten men with him, as though it'd take that many to subdue one woman. Now, those men had been dismissed, told to amuse themselves out of his sight until he deemed it time to return to the big camp.

He stared back, hurt upon his face as though he had Will's place and felt Will's sorrow at her flight. "You ran from me, Kate. You ran."

She remained silent, lips trembling and a peculiar sinking sensation in her belly. Across the flickering flames of that small fire he'd laid out, his handsome features looked so hard and merciless. This, she thought, is the man that comes forth in battle, not the genial, gentle and wise prince, but rather this man of violent emotion. This dark warrior.

Dear God, save me, because I can't save myself.

A commotion began from the direction those men had taken on the road, screams and the terrified neighs of horses. Kate could only imagine what those ruffians were doing to some poor travelers, struggling to keep her full attention upon Edward. He was ignoring the noises almost easily, behaving like they were completely alone, with no one about for miles.

He came around the fire, crouching down. "Why? Why did you run? I'd never hurt you."

She couldn't stop the rush of words that leapt forth. "You do hurt me, my lord. Your attentions rip me from the man I love, force me to flee you. Will trusts you and you covet what's his. That's not right. You shouldn't be taking this action."

"I love you, Kate," he gritted out, grabbing her arms and shaking her. Rage played darkly upon the lines and planes of his face. "I shouldn't and yet I do."

Kate shook her head. "It's not love! You lust after me. They're not the same thing."

A shout resounded in the air, full of command, and several riders raced past them on the road, the last one slowing, pausing.

His mouth came down upon hers, Kate trying to twist away. The kiss was savage and so hard that her teeth cut her lip. She tasted blood. His hands gripped her head, strong and hurting.

"I'll purge you from my system."

Her hands shoved at his chest, tried desperately to push him away.

"I will have you. With or without your consent."

She turned her head, again glimpsing the woman. For a second, she thought she recognized that rider.... Her dress was ripped, torn easily as old fabric and seams gave under Edward's strength. Kate screamed. The earth was cold under her back, Edward's weight terrifyingly solid above her, holding her down.

Another face appeared, this time above the prince's shoulder, Edward's weight lifting from her. The world receded sharply into darkness and Kate let it overtake her. Her last thought before slipping under was that it was better not to be conscious for what he had planned.

~~~~~~~~~~

Adhemar carried the limp form to his horse and draped her across it. He gave a glance to the man on the ground, praying fervently that Prince Edward wouldn't remember who it was that had cracked him on the head.

Normally, he'd not have bothered with saving the woman, but Christiana had been horrified. He suspected she would have remained there in danger if he'd not taken action. Like many others, she'd idealized the Prince, not realizing that every man has a darkness within him, a darkness that cannot always be suppressed once unleashed to it's fullness.

His last audience with Edward, the only personal audience he'd had with the man, had been unsettling to say the least. He'd known Edward had a temper, known the Prince was a different man in war. What he hadn't known was just how great the difference was. Edward's kind, warm manner had disappeared, leaving behind a man colder and more calculating than Adhemar's enemies claimed he to be. If Thatcher had seen Edward then, he might have changed his mind about being a close friend of the Prince.

The Prince had threatened to levy penalties against him if he refused to fight the newly titled Thatcher. He'd smirked a little, naming a sum that would take the entirety of the Adhemar wealth. Incentive for the reluctant. Fight or lose everything you've ever had. It was no wonder Damien had thoughts of murder on his mind to the extent that he actually tried it.

It didn't excuse his behavior, no. He should have held his temper in check and not tipped that lance.

He followed after Christiana, taking care to keep the still form of the woman from sliding from his mount.

~~~~~~~~~~

The town loomed ahead, enclosed in a tall fence. Germaine was waiting at the gate, ready with a report of their losses as soon as they had dismounted. There were several. The wagon with Jocelyn's belongings had been lost, as had the wagon of their own belongings. They only had what was on their horses. Two men had died with the wagons and three more were injured, one likely to not live through the night.

Christiana watched her husband's lips tighten more with each statement, anger playing about his handsome features. She rocked the child as they walked, hoping to calm his cries.

The woman they'd rescued was slung over Adhemar's shoulder, still unconscious. He didn't seem to have any trouble holding her weight as he maneuvered along the street towards the building Germaine was leading them to.

"Millicent died as well. We'll have to search for a wet nurse to replace her. I've already sent a man out to ask about."

Approval was given to the plan and they entered the inn. The common room was boisterous with activity, loud and merry. Germaine took them to a room on the upper level, where Adhemar set the woman on the bed.

"We'll leave her there until she comes to."

The woman they'd found was Kate. She was disheveled and in the sorriest state Christiana had ever seen the woman. She remembered Kate as particular about her appearance, yet not overly fussy. Kate preferred a clean body and clothes and tried to look relatively neat at all times.

Now though, she was dirty, mud streaking her clothes and skin. There was a bruised gash on her cheek and dried blood on her chin. Christiana shifted Christopher in her arms and took in the tears to Kate's clothing.

"He attacked her, you know," came Adhemar's voice from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder. "He who?"

"Edward." When she only stared at him, he raised his brows. "Prince Edward, Christiana. The Black Prince of Wales. Ruler of Aquitaine --"

"I know who he is, Damien." His name, though she had avoided saying it until now, slipped from her tongue easily. Too easily. Christiana bit her lip. He didn't appear to notice that she'd addressed him by his christened name for the first time.

He came to her, undid her cloak and worked it from her so she wouldn't have to set Christopher down. "The man you met at tournament is the face he puts forth to his subjects. Prince Edward has many faces, Christiana. I've seen two. First is the one you saw. The second is his battle persona, the soldier. He is ruthless and if you consider me to be a heartless, vindictive bastard, then you've not met the soldier Edward. I suppose there is yet another side he shows to his wife and family, though I wouldn't know."

The heat of his body warmed her, taking away the chill that had crept over her skin. Christopher squirmed in her arms and she raised him up to her shoulder, slipping her arm securely under his rear. He hiccoughed, settled his head upon her shoulder and curled a hand to the edge of her bodice. "I don't understand."

Adhemar drew her to a chair, settled her in it. "Royalty has many obligations, I'm sure you're aware of that. It has more than being a noble, but I can draw a comparison for you. A noble has to show a certain face to those beneath him if he expects to be obeyed. The same goes to when he faces his enemies. He has to show them he will not give an inch. He has to be fierce and merciless to win a war. How do you win a war? By slaughtering your opponent until none remain who are against you."

"He wouldn't --"

"He would. He did. That gentle, compassionate man was the same one attacking that woman."

"Kate," she interrupted. "Her name's Kate."

Slowly, he stood, staring down at her with much interest. After a moment, he crossed his arms. "Now, she hasn't woken once, so how do you know what her name is?"

Christiana glanced across the room at Kate. "She's the farris that made Will...Sir Thatcher's armor. She traveled with them. Her name is Kate."

"Ahh...." A twitch of his lips. "Interesting. Not only is Thatcher in trouble, but also this Kate. Both of Edward's making in one way or another."

She relaxed back, feeling the baby on her shoulder draw in a deep breath. "Tell me what you meant earlier about the two of you in the same boat."

"Edward's herald said it. That reference to our households in good relations, it referred to my own fallout with the Prince -- which that man was present for --, implying that Thatcher has lost some favor for a similar infraction."

"Which was?"

"Refusing to keep on without pay. However, I think your noble Sir Thatcher probably objected to something and announced his reservations to a plan. If the rendezvous point had been Bordeaux, it would indicate he was still a full hundred percent behind Edward and was still in favor. With it being London, that means he's no longer working strictly for Edward. He's been privy to secrets and I believe he's duty conscious enough to want to take any damaging secrets to England to put before the King. There are those on the Prince's staff who would feel duty bound to inform his father of anything detrimental. They may have recruited Thatcher. In that case, Thatcher has gotten neck deep in intrigue. Not a good thing for any of us in the end. And finally, the health comment. When I had my audience with Edward, he was in a temper and unreasonable. He is, as the man said, such now." He sighed. "I am a man Edward wants dead, Christiana. Your friend Thatcher is in the same position."

She watched him pace slowly before the fire, back and forth, mulling over what he'd said. Could he be wrong at all about any of it? She hoped so, yet didn't voice the question.

"For some reason, Edward wants William Thatcher dead. How very poetic if it's over the maid Kate. Trading one woman for another along with a rival for affection."

Christiana turned her attention to the still form on the bed and prayed fervently that history was not repeating itself in the events of that joust. What sort of figurative lance would Edward tip to gain ground? The thought troubled her and she sat for a long while contemplating Adhemar's explanations.