Wooing Kate

Chapter 7

Notes: Joan is purported to have been auburn haired, but in the movie at the end, the woman beside Edward is blond. So, I've assumed the blond was supposed to be Joan and made this Joan a strawberry blond, a compromise so to speak, between movie canon and historical fact.

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Princess Joan was one of the most beautiful women Will had ever known, and also one of the most gracious. She was sweet and kind, with a quick mind and common sense to go with it. She'd greeted him into her home as though he was an old friend instead of one newly made. He wasted no time giving the reason for his request of an audience and once he'd told all, she leaned back in her chair, fingers under her chin. She thought a long while, then shook her head with a rueful smile.

"Lady Jocelyn was right, I'm afraid. There's little we can do politically. Edward could always decline to pay Count Adhemar's army until the return of your friend, but that would turn bloody rather quickly. Count Adhemar is not known for his patience in waiting for his pay."

Will nodded. "I was afraid of that. I was hoping that something could be done through official channels."

Joan glanced at her maids, who sat close enough for proprieties' sake and far enough away to give them privacy to speak. "Well, there's other things to consider, Sir Will. You can still make use of the channels of nobility."

The what? He blinked, and his confusion must have shown plainly, for she gave a gentle laugh. "You've allies. You could use them. You made friends with several of the younger knights. You could use the connection with them. Ask them for aid. Or..." Her smile turned sly. "You could contact Count Adhemar's mother. She's English you know."

No, he hadn't known that. "What good would that do?" He hated to appear dense, but he couldn't figure out what she meant. How would contacting the man's mother bring Kate to safety?

Joan turned in her chair. "There's a mother who loves her son. She'll overlook much of his character. However, send her a letter, stating your intent of mounting an attack on them unless your friend is returned --"

"I've no army, my lady. My new friends would not be much of an army. Besides, I'm not a battle hardened soldier. I can't go up against Adhemar's men. The man alone, yes, but not his entire army."

Her glance looked him over in a way that was almost disturbing, as though she was seeing far more of him than he'd offered. The sensation of that passed quickly though and Will thought he'd imagined it. "You underestimate yourself. Wars, Sir Will, have been fought by men over the stupidest of things, as history tells us. You could wage war over this Kate and no one would bat an eye."

He shook his head. "I won't go to his mother. It seems...underhanded to me to do so."

She nodded. "You and my husband. You both reach for ideals most men do not aspire to. It would not have to be his mother, Sir Will. He's several living siblings. Four brothers, three sisters. All tied to influential families here in England, in Aquitaine and in France. They could urge him to release her, put pressure on him to do so."

"No. I'd sooner go to the man himself, though I know he won't take me seriously. I told Jocelyn I have to go through proper channels to get Adhemar to take me seriously, but I fear that is impossible. He'll never see me as anything more than an upstart peasant."

Getting from her seat, Joan motioned him to his feet. "No, Sir Will. He'll never see you as anything more until you start believing you are more. Stop pretending and be." She led him to the door, her arm linked through his. "I can think, offhand, of no other way to take your friend back through official channels. All that's left is whatever you can decide upon. If you won't take advantage of the doors opening to you, I can't give you any more. I'm sorry."

He left, no closer to saving Kate than when he'd arrived.

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Without Kate to talk to, the ride back to London was a long and boring one. Germaine decided he'd try the stable and the Red Pony first, see if William Thatcher was still there. Then, if the man and his group of friends had gone, he'd try going to Lady Jocelyn's family.

He wouldn't allow thoughts of failure to settle in his mind. Failure to locate Thatcher was a big fear though. Germaine didn't particularly want to rescue her alone. He'd be far more comfortable with men at his back. Adhemar's wrath wasn't something he wanted to experience, but he'd set out with Kate and he shouldn't leave her to the man. It wasn't the thing to do.

He rode all day, a slow, steady pace, taking brief stops. At night, he rested and started again in the morning. Only two days had passed since leaving Adhemar's service and it felt like years. Two mornings ago, his lord had demanded Germaine find Kate. Two mornings ago, Germaine had set himself upon this journey....

A figure was coming along the road, riding slow like he was. Germaine waited, suddenly eager to have someone to talk with a moment. He'd not seen too many travelers on this road. The man drew closer and Germaine gave a tiny smile. His idea to get help must be one that pleased God above, for it was one of Thatcher's men riding towards him.

"Roland!" He called out, pleased when the man looked up and urged his mount faster. They met, Germaine startled to see weariness and pain on those features.

"Germaine." Roland's voice was dull, emotionless. "Where's Kate?" He glanced behind Germaine on the road, the light of hope in his eyes. Germaine hated to crush it, but crush it he must.

"My lord Adhemar. He found us." He found he could still not say the name without 'my lord' before it. Old habits and one he hoped to have the chance to break.

Roland's gaze turned speculative, then suspicious. "And you've gone free? How does that work, Germaine? Did you hand Kate over and come back to draw the rest of us in? Or did you exchange her for your freedom?"

Dismounting, Germaine shook his head, endeavoring to explain. "I couldn't wake her. She was exhausted, not even stirring. I stayed longer than I should have trying to rouse her from slumber, but she slept like a corpse."

The man quieted, then started to laugh, great peels of bitter tinged chuckles. What was so humorous, Germaine wondered, waiting patiently for an explanation. When Roland managed to get himself calmed, he also dismounted. "We've both betrayed her then, left her to Adhemar. Best not continue on to London, friend. Lady Jocelyn will rip you to shreds if you arrive without Kate and tell what happened."

Germaine blinked, shook his head. "What do you suggest then?" A polite query. It would do no harm to listen. Besides, Roland knew the group better than he, and if he thought Germaine shouldn't continue, then perhaps he shouldn't. Really, it would be far too distressing to be on the bad side of Sir Thatcher, the man Wat, and Lady Jocelyn as well as Adhemar. Even Sir Thatcher's herald may not be as even-tempered as he appeared. Smugly arrogant, yes, but even-tempered? Who knew better than Roland? He should listen to this man.

"What was your plan?"

"My plan?"

"Yes. Are you deaf? Did you not hear me?" Impatience crossed Roland's features.

"Well, I'd planned to elicit the help of your lord and ride to Count Adhemar's main estate. He'll be wintering there with his mother. She's been ill recently and has asked him to come there. Not that he isn't usually in residence there, just that she wanted to make certain he wouldn't leave her alone with Helene."

Roland's brows rose sharply. "Helene?"

"Helene is...." How best to explain that one? Germaine had done his best to avoid her since his lord had brought the woman into the manor house. The woman was a mistress who aspired desperately to be a wife. She wanted to be Count Adhemar's lady so badly that she'd simply assumed the role, when all his lord had wanted was a pretty bedmate in residence should he want one. No one could convince her otherwise and Count Adhemar had yet to realize just how ambitious Helene was.

No, Germaine thought, he wouldn't. It would be difficult to realize that fact when he wasn't in residence much of the year. Once, Germaine had attempted to bring up the subject and his lord had scoffed at the idea that Helene was anything other than content in her role as mistress. She knows better, he'd said. Helene knows her place.

Shows how much his lord really knew.

Helene ordered everyone about, having nearly daily verbal clashes with the Steward and with his lord's mother, Isobelle. Isobelle, truly a lady to the core, hadn't expressed any opinion on the woman whatsoever, giving a genteel raise of her eyebrows when Helene overstepped her bounds, which was often. Germaine's taste in women didn't usually include tall, yet plump blond women with a tendency towards bitchiness. He preferred a gentler woman, slight of build and small of stature; a woman he could feel he was protecting. Helene kept him firm in his choices and he'd just as soon dump Helene down a privy and leave her there.

"Yes, Germaine?"

"Helene is a problem Kate will face, whether she's willing to be with Alain Adhemar or not."

"Well, quite beating about and tell me who she is."

"His current, and rather explosively jealous, mistress."

"How jealous?" Roland asked, setting his hands upon his hips and tilting his head a fraction.

Germaine paused, considering the best example of Helene's jealousy and vindictiveness. "There was a peasant girl named Susan that my lord took a fancy to the last time we were home. She was a pretty girl, not exceptionally beautiful, but pretty. When Susan wasn't waiting where and when my lord had told her to, he sent me to find her. She was dead. Strangled, and Helene had scratch marks on her. Helene tried to explain them away by claiming she'd fallen in a bramble bush while out riding. Helene hadn't gone out riding in nearly a week and she hadn't had those scratches that afternoon."

"I see." Roland glanced at the road ahead. "We'd best move then. I've hurt Kate enough without losing my chance to make it up to her. I'd die myself to find this Helene had killed her."

"You want to go there? Just the two of us?" He managed to keep most of the incredulity from his tone. To go there without more men was either stupid or optimistic. Both, he decided, coupled with desperation and naïvety.

"Yes."

Why not? He'd wanted a life apart from his lord and it seemed this was all he was going to get. Why not enjoy it while it lasted and make it an adventure worth it all? "Very well. Let's ride."