Turning of the Seasons

Chapter: Eight

Notes: As mentioned on the DVD, that word Wat constantly uses is not a curse word, though it does sound that way.

Thank you to all those who review my work. I may not always agree with the suggestions and criticism posted and sent to me in email, but I appreciate the time taken to give your opinions. Thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~

He woke with a throbbing headache and the taste of blood in his mouth. Edward sat slowly and spat blood and saliva onto the ground. There was a welt on the inside of his lips and he ran his tongue along it, wincing. Raising a hand, he felt the painful place on his head, somehow unsurprised to find blood flowing freely from the wound.

The last thing he recalled was Count Adhemar hitting him.

Rage, dark and hot, warmed him and he struggled to contain it, taking several deep breathes. Edward got to his feet, looking over the clearing. Will would know Kate had left. How could he make it innocent? How could he absolve himself of blame? What could he do?

His hands were shaking and Edward raised them up a little, staring at them. He thought of Joan and of her skin beneath his hands. Then, he thought of Kate and the terror upon her face as his hands had ripped her dress. A gasp left him and he frowned, surveying the clearing as though seeing it for the first time.

There was a scrap of cloth on the ground by the fire....

A man stepped into the clearing, came towards him. "They got away, my lord. A couple men are dead, and a woman as well. We've got their wagons and goods. I've got the men taking the goods from them. I think we can sell --"

"Give me your sword." Edward dropped his hands and turned, a numbness taking him over.

"My lord?"

"Give me your sword," he repeated patiently. Confusion flickered in the man's eyes, but he handed Edward the sword. Taking it, Edward practiced with it a moment. It felt good to have a sword in his hands, calming. He knew what had to be done. This would set it all right again.

He thrust the sword out, into the man's stomach, and shoved it deep. With a heave, he pulled it out and watched the man die.

He wasn't to blame. It was Adhemar. Adhemar killed a man to take Kate away. He killed a man and soon Will would kill Adhemar. Will had to. He had to protect Kate. Edward was going to make sure of that.

~~~~~~~~~~

The girl was young and still a child herself in Christiana's opinion, but she'd had a baby that had recently died. The girl would do and it was already arranged that she travel with them. Adhemar had paid her parents a decent sum for that part of the agreement.

Anne was her name. She was quiet and seemed more than a little awed by Christiana and Adhemar, something Christiana vowed would not last if she had her say. The last thing she needed was a girl hanging on to her every word as though it was Scripture on Sunday. She gave Christopher into Anne's arms and crossed to the bedside.

Kate should wake soon. The physician had taken one look at her and decided shock was the diagnosis. She'll wake soon enough, he'd said. Christiana had her doubts. There was a paleness to Kate's skin that made her look startlingly fragile.

Christiana watched over her, trying very hard not to listen to the temper tantrum her husband was having by the door. He was in a full out snit over the loss of men and horses, cursing everything from the dirt of the road to Prince Edward. She didn't blame him for his anger. However, he didn't have to be quite so vocal about it. Dust fairly billowed from the ceiling with every word. A few soft curses would have sufficed, but no, he had to throw a fit of epic proportions. The world had to know without a doubt that he was displeased.

She adjusted the blanket over Kate, then took a few steps back towards Anne, a glance showing her that Christopher was taking to her perfectly. In all fairness though, Adhemar's tantrums were usually of the silent sort. Normally, he had enough control over his temper to be icily calm about his displeasure. He must be extremely upset to lose that control to such an extent.

Germaine stood silently, waiting until his lord run out of breath and paused to draw in another before speaking.

"Orders for us, my lord?"

Adhemar stared at Germaine, slowly let out the breath he'd sucked in and rolled his shoulders. "Horses?"

"In the stables."

"Men?"

"All but two stationed there as well. I shall, of course, stand guard outside your door for first shift, then Henry and then Whittal." He motioned to the man beside him.

"Food?"

"Trays will be brought up soon."

Adhemar nodded, crossed his arms. "Good." His voice lowered to a murmur and Christiana returned her attention to the still form on the bed and was delighted to see Kate stirring.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waking was an effort Kate was uncertain she wanted to continue making. She could hear noises around her, the soft swishing of fabric and the strident ring of a man's voice, though she couldn't seem to make out more than the angry tone. Whatever words he spoke escaped her, all sounding jumbled.

Behind her back was a comfortable mattress and, as she laid still, the realization hit her that she was still clothed. Her skirts twisted about her legs and the sleeve of her dress pulled tight on her shoulder. She was a bit bruised, yes, but not in the places she'd feared she would be.

Perhaps she'd open her eyes after all.

Kate was still in the process of deciding her action, when she heard the fussy cry of a baby.

Baby?

Her eyes popped open, searching for the source of the sound. In the process, she was relieved to note her surroundings were nowhere near Edward's tent. She was in a room, a well-appointed if somewhat crowded one.

In one corner, beside a small table holding a pitcher and basin, sat a girl rocking a baby. By the door stood two men and a boy, their voices now low.

"You're awake."

Turning her head, Kate met familiar eyes. Relief surged through her in a warm rush. Christiana crossed to her and sat on the bedside, though it was not a Christiana that Kate recognized. This woman was even more quiet, a solemnity to her features that hadn't been there months earlier. Her pronouncement caused the conversation to cease and silence settle upon the room. Kate struggled to a sitting position. Christiana was here, so Jocelyn had to be here somewhere as well. "I need to talk to Lady Jocelyn."

Christiana's gentle smile faded. She twisted something in her hand over and over. It was a ring, Kate glimpsed, a heavy, bejeweled masculine ring and the sort a nobleman gave his wife to show his claim upon her. "That," Christiana sighed heavily, "will be extremely difficult to bring about."

Kate stared at her, mind racing, trying to make some sense of the odd change in Christiana's manner and how she came to have such a ring on her hand. "Why?"

The reply that came was not from Christiana, but rather the man who moved into Kate's sight. Adhemar. He sauntered to Christiana, laid a possessive and familiar hand upon her shoulder. Kate had the urge to fling that hand away from Christiana. "Jocelyn died months ago. She's not likely to prattle on to or with anyone anytime soon." His gaze swept her coolly.

Jocelyn dead? Jocelyn? Kate wanted to flee the room. It wasn't that his stare was lecherous, she decided, for it wasn't, not at all. What caused her urge was the calculation in the depths of those green orbs, as though he'd run through every scenario that could happen from here, found one he preferred and would do his best to bring it about. Kate had never had occasion to be so close to this man before and just sitting calmly before him took all her energy.

How could Christiana stand to be so close to him?

Her own gaze flicked back and forth between them, asking a silent question. It was answered when Adhemar slipped his hand down, raised Christiana's hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"See to her needs, wife, hmm?" Adhemar directed a smirk towards Kate and left, taking the men and boy with him.

Kate was alone with Christiana and the girl with the baby. She cast a glance towards the child, attempting to figure if it was Christiana's and was frustrated in the attempt when the girl turned herself away from them. "You married him? How," she asked, then shook her head. "Why? When, for that matter? What of Jocelyn?"

Christiana smoothed the covers, toyed with the edge of the sheet. "Will wasn't the only one with a secret. In my case, it was reversed to his. The lowly maid was actually a high born lady. An orphan, taken in as a child, then made to work for a living. I'd worked so long as a maid that I'd almost forgotten it until Damien asked me to tell him about myself." She frowned and bit her lip, as though she'd said something she hadn't meant to.

Drawing her legs up, Kate wrapped her arms about them. "Why marry him, Christiana? Of all people --"

"I wasn't given a choice. Jocelyn's father -- my guardian -- arranged it. There was no way he wanted me back in his household after Jocelyn died. I had nowhere to go."

The Christiana she'd known had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes and a quick smile at her lips. This woman didn't have either. That sadness about her made Kate feel like she was speaking to a complete stranger and not a woman she'd begun to make friends with. "Nowhere?" She repeated the word, incredulity in her voice until she remembered that Christiana didn't know Roland had lied to her. Christiana couldn't know that they would have welcomed her back to them with open arms and glad smiles.

"We've only been wed a few days, not even a full week. I'm not...horribly upset by it. He's actually been very good to me and he was good to Jocelyn as well. I mean, not many men would have tolerated his bride being pregnant by another man and then bothered to care for the child as he has."

Kate's heart felt like a cold lump in her chest. "Child?" Her lips were stiff and suddenly the coldness in her chest extended outward to encompass her limbs. "Jocelyn was pregnant?"

Christiana finally raised her eyes. "There wasn't time to let Will know."

"The baby's not yours," she whispered. The baby cried again and Kate shivered. A baby changed everything, didn't it? Will had been on his way to forgetting Jocelyn completely. Jocelyn was a thing of the past and now she was pushing her way into the present. She was dead, but the child changed everything. Kate would return to being second and Jocelyn would once more rule Will's heart. He would mourn anew for her loss and every day of seeing that boy would bring fresh pangs to his chest.

She felt tears streaming from her eyes and made no move to stop them. Nor did she answer Christiana's attempts to continue their talk.

Life was cruel sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~

The house was in a state of uproar, it was obvious even from a distance. Up close, it was overwhelming. News, apparently, had reached the manor that Prince Edward's army was near. Will and Roland were met at the gate, asked their business and told to wait. Will looked around with interest.

This was the house Jocelyn was in. This was where she lived now. With Adhemar. Will noticed wagons piled high with furniture, all in a line and wondered where they were going.

"Your business?"

There was a woman before them and he exchanged a glance with Roland. The woman was tall and sturdy of build, her manner no-nonsense. Long brown hair was swept over one shoulder. He cleared his throat. "Our business is with Jocelyn."

The woman's eyes widened and she let out a mirthless laugh. "Really. Let me take you to her then." She strode to the gate and through it. Will and Roland followed her. A little while later, they were in a cemetery. She pointed. "There. She lies there. Now, if you've business with my current mistress, then you'll need to ride north to Anjou, for they are on their way to that house as we speak."

For a moment, Will couldn't understand why they were in that cemetery and why this woman was pointing at a stone, but then -- then -- he understood. He staggered, fell to his knees before the stone marking a grave. Chiseled upon it was her name -- Jocelyn -- and the date. Months ago. Jocelyn had been dead for months. All this time, he'd imagined her settling in, becoming used to having Adhemar as husband and graciously taking on the role. He'd imagined her warm and alive, for his Jocelyn could never be anything else. He'd imagined her laughing and smiling and....

Sound intruded upon his mourning and he glanced over his shoulder, blinking through tears. Roland was giving the woman a piece of his mind, telling her exactly how cruel her action had been, his tone cutting.

"She held a piece of his heart for months and to tell him she's passed in that manner was unnecessarily cruel. Who the hell are you, woman, to decide a death can be told of with no respect to it?"

The woman crossed her arms and stared up at Roland with a stony expression. When his words ran out, she stepped around him and knelt beside Will. She bowed her head and clasped pale hands together on her thighs. "I'm sorry, Sir Thatcher. These past two weeks have been excruciating for me. My daughter died in a fire, not an excuse, I know. Forgive me, I meant no disrespect. My tongue is loose it seems and my temper much frayed --"

Will looked away from her. "It was harsh, lady."

"I'm no lady, but thank you. I'm Annelle, wife of Germaine. I'm currently helping our steward oversee the moving of the household."

"I sent a woman here not a day ago. Did she arrive safely?"

Annelle shook her head, one hand sweeping her hair around to her back. "The only visitors we've had were messengers. No women."

A curse strangled in his throat. Roland's hand came upon his shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze. "She's not here, Roland." On the heels of the news of Jocelyn's death, the news that Kate was missing was like one of those blows Adhemar had dished out with his lance during tournament. It was crushing him.

"We'll find her, Will."

Will turned, stared up at Roland, blinking back his tears. "Jocelyn is gone, really gone. She's buried and gone and I won't lose Kate as well. We have to find her."

Annelle got to her feet. "I'm sorry. I can see that you're both fed and given shelter for the night if you like, but I can't find your missing woman. We've no men to spare for a search. Again, accept my apology for the manner in which I gave you news of my lady's death. I had no idea who you were."

Will stood as well, asking the question burning in his mind. "How did she die? Was it quick?"

"She died giving birth. There was so much blood.... The midwife had to reach in and pull the babe out, otherwise he would have died as well."

Adhemar had a son by Jocelyn. A son. At least some part of Jocelyn lived on. The past slipped from him. He vowed to properly grieve for Jocelyn at a later date, once Kate was safe back with him. Now was not the time to give in. He needed to be strong right at this moment. Will's thoughts returned to Kate and the peril he feared she'd be in the longer she was alone in this area. War had brought scavengers and thieves and he hoped she'd not run afoul of any.

"Come Roland. Let's meet up with Wat."

They left Annelle standing in the cemetery.

~~~~~~~~~~

As much as Wat adored a good fight, he hated fighting a royal messenger. It was necessary, however, since the man was trying to kill him. He snapped a punch at the man's face, letting out a list of curses that he was rather proud of stringing together. They had a lovely resonant ring to them.

Blood splattered, the man staggering, pulling a knife and lunging.

Wat evaded the knife easily. After long moments, he got his opponent onto the ground, trapped beneath him. One hand in the man's hair, he smacked the messenger's head against the ground. "You had enough, yet?" Another smack. "How about now?"

An incoherent mumble was his reply and after another minute, the man's body went limp.

"It's about time," Wat mumbled. He tied the man with rope from his saddlebag, then spent a leisured few minutes going through the man's possessions. No rolled letters, nothing. There was nothing to indicate who had sent him, though to Wat's mind, the royal colors he wore proclaimed it loudly enough. Oh, the coat was muted, the coat-of-arms small and partially hidden, but it was still there.

Prince Edward.

Leaving the messenger, Wat began the short ride to where he'd meet up with Will and Roland. The assassin hadn't been very far from Edward's camp, not even a full day of riding. He supposed the plan was for them all to be killed, or at least Will, and for Edward to come riding to the spot and announce the messenger had been a French spy. He'd claim the man was sent by Charles and the troops would rally about him, more eager for this coming battle at Limoges than they already were. He'd make it sound like Charles was going to come and slaughter them all in minutes.

Will had gotten himself neck deep as usual. He had a knack for that, Wat thought. He'd jumped into being a soldier, into being at the Prince's right hand. For awhile it went rather well. There were perks involved. Excellent food, good company.

But then that began to change, as well as Edward himself. Wat had an excitable temperament, he knew it well. He used it and it worked for him. Edward was calm on the surface, excitable on the inside. That calm had slowly slipped away until he rarely kept a hold on his temper. The slightest things could set off a temper tantrum of such proportions that even Wat was impressed by it.

Couple that with the rougher element that began to add to their numbers and it was a mix for disaster. Men were in the camp who did the Prince's orders too well. They had no one to hold them in check. With the loyal soldiers leaving due to both a wont of coin and Edward's explosive temperament, only the mercenaries were left, men of little values and no loyalty save to themselves. If Edward ordered a man killed in a fit of temper, that man was dead before the tantrum had passed. Killing and thievery were what those men delighted in. They reveled in it, rolled in it and made themselves gluttons in it.

Will had been approached late one night. Marin, the Prince's favorite herald, had come to him, expressed concern for his lord and asked if Will felt the same. From then on, a plan was hatched for Will to take a letter that Marin would write to London. They only had to wait for the right time for Will to slip away on that errand.

It was to save a country, that was what Marin said. He played on Will's loyalty to his homeland and on his concern for the Prince. The royal family needed to know of the problems so that they could attempt to fix them. They needed to know that Edward was not well and was not coping with his sickness in a good manner.

Will had agreed and asked Roland and Wat to help him. He'd kept Kate from it though, not wanting her to be entrenched in the danger. When they'd come to this area, Roland had discreetly asked the men that had once been in Adhemar's army about the family. They'd given him a decent amount of information and Roland had returned with a plan of his own to get Kate to some semblance of safety. Wat had thought him crazy at first. Send Kate to Adhemar? There were about a million things wrong with that plan. And Will had agreed with Wat -- at first. Kate would not be sent to Adhemar.

But then he'd gotten them up one morning and given his approval. Kate had to be sent to safety. There was no other way for it. She had to go and soon. Will had suspicions and nothing was changing those suspicions. In fact, they were strengthening. He suspected Edward of being behind the problems in the camp regarding Kate.

How twisted was that?

Wat didn't understand it all and he didn't want to. All he'd ever wanted in life was to settle down and run a tavern. He wanted to relax, to kick back and watch travelers come through his doors. He wanted to show hospitality to others. It was a good dream and one he'd held on to for as long as he could remember.

What did he get instead?

"A war," he muttered. "I get a fonging war."

Disgust twisted his lips and he quickened the pace.

~~~~~~~~~~

Will had thoughts of Kate on his mind as he, Roland and Wat rode back into the Prince's camp. A quick tour of the camp found her missing. Visions of her hurt or dying somewhere filled his mind in an unceasing torrent and it was only through sheer force of will that he didn't run from the camp as quickly as he could to find her.

He had to stay and speak with Edward.

He knew Kate had not gotten to Adhemar's and she wasn't there in the camp now. So where was she? Did Edward know?

He was not kept waiting, Marin showing him right in to see Edward. Edward was in a chair, a bandage white upon his head and the surgeon taking leeches from his arm. At Will's questioning look, he sat up tall.

"Adhemar," he spit out. "Clubbed me on the head and took your Kate off with him."

Will found he could not speak. Adhemar took Kate? Why? His mind whirled, trying to keep facts straight. He'd been told Adhemar was going to Anjou. That road was a ways from this one and he was supposed to be traveling with his new wife and son. Why would he stop in the middle of Edward's army and take the time to figure out which woman was Kate? Why even care? Months had gone by and Jocelyn had died birthing Adhemar a son. He'd won, so why spend time and effort on Will again?

"My men tell me he's vowed to destroy you, make you admit you're still a peasant under the title. He still bears bitter blood towards you, Will. I was a fool to send the guards away while Kate and I prepared a meal. That doesn't happen often." Gingerly, he touched the bandage on his head, gaze turning to the tabletop beside him. "She was sad about your leaving to meet the messenger and more than a bit afraid you'd not return. I assured her there was no danger. Apparently I was wrong. Adhemar killed one man and didn't hesitate to wound me. He risked my wrath because of this hatred for you, and believe me, he knows how angry I can get. I'm sorry I couldn't keep him from taking her."

"Was he alone?"

"No. He had men with him. He recognized her, Will. He recognized her and took her."

Will crossed his arms, nodded. "I see." Was it an act? Was Edward pretending? He couldn't be pretending his upset, for it seemed too real. "He has her then." If it was true, then Kate was exactly where he'd wanted her to be.

Jocelyn was dead though and he had no idea what had happened to Christiana. He and Roland had not ventured to ask Annelle as they undoubtedly should have. In all likelihood, Christiana was back with Jocelyn's family by now, so there was no one to intercede for Kate, if indeed Adhemar did have her.

"I know how much you care for her, Will." The surgeon took the last of the leeches and was dismissed, Edward pouring a cup of wine and sipping it. "We don't need you here. The battle is planned and I can do without you and your two men for a little while. Go after him. Rescue Kate and meet up with us later." He relaxed back in his chair. "Now, of your mission. How went it?"

"The messenger met us early on the road, but he had no report for you." Will glanced to the ground. "There was nothing."

"I suspected such, but had to know for sure. I knew I could trust you with whatever information he might have had."

"Thank you." Will couldn't quite meet the man's eyes. An assassin waiting was a strange way to show trust.

"Whenever you're ready to go after Adhemar, you have my leave to go."

Already, Will was making mental plans to that end. He would send Wat on ahead. Used to the role of messenger, Wat would ride quickly and with luck, he'd find Adhemar and Kate with little trouble.