A KNIGHT’S TALE: FOREVER LOVE

By Wendy

Christiana silently watched her mistress from the grand archway that over looked the garden of Duke Recene’s great home. The handmaid had become concerned with her lady’s pale features and her long reflections of solitude over the last few days and as she continued to observe, her concern intensified. Lady Jocelyn sat on the stone bench shaded beneath the canopy of an ancient oak tree, spinning the stem of the daisy between her fingers, as she seemed to stare absentmindedly into space.

Torn between leaving her mistress alone to her thoughts, or intruding and maybe easing the burden by lending a sympathetic ear, Christiana started to turn away, before realizing that Jocelyn needed her.

Jocelyn couldn’t believe that everything that had been so right could go so wrong in such a short time. As she stared at the daisy in her hand, without really seeing it at all, she thought back on that instant when time stood still, the day she came face to face with the other half of her heart.

How detached she had tried to seem as she locked eyes with the blonde stranger sitting astride his horse, while her heart pounded, threatening to burst from her chest. Barely able to find breath, she had forced herself to turn away from him and walk away, when all she wanted was to run to him and beg him to take her in his arms.

But Sir Ulrich Von Liechtenstien of Gelderland had followed her and wooed her with such words, and deeds, that she could do nothing else but fall more deeply in love. Even when she had realized that Sir Ulrich wasn’t all that he seemed, it didn’t matter, she loved the young knight, whether he was Sir Ulrich with title, or William Thatcher from Cheapside.

But it had mattered to William, and when Count Adhemar inflamed with jealousy over William’s triumphs over him at the jousting tournaments, discovered ‘Sir Ulrich’s secret, Jocelyn had been sure she would lose him forever.

She had begged him to run, not to make his appearance at the London championships, knowing that the Count had already revealed William’s identity and that guards would be waiting to arrest him should he turn up.

He had refused her.

Jocelyn could help smiling as she remembered his passionate words. ‘I am a knight!’ She had never heard those words spoken with such conviction before that day. William Thatcher might not of been born a knight, but he was one in every sense of the word, a knight of the purest kind. But that had not stopped the guards arresting him as soon as he set foot in the arena, nor had being a knight in his heart stopped them putting him into the stocks.

Jocelyn was sure that had it not been for Prince Edward coming to his rescue, William would have been left there to rot away, along with the putrid fruit and vegetables that lay littering the ground at his feet. But Edward did come. The Black Prince must have seen a fellow knight in the young man who twice had allowed Edward the courtesy to see the man before him and not the prince.

Jocelyn’s only regret was that she was not there, before the same crowd that had moments before been throwing rotting fruit at William, to witness Prince Edward unsheathing his sword and tipping the blade to William’s shoulders, dubbing him Sir William Thatcher. But she had been there when wounded and bloody, William defied the odds and raised his lance to unhorse Count Adhemar before a cheering crowd.

"William!"

William’s father though blind, had heard the crowd chanting his son’s name. ‘His’ son had changed his stars.

"My William changed his stars," Jocelyn whispered to the wind as she plucked the last petal from the daisy.

"Your Sir William loves you," Christiana said as she joined her mistress on the bench.

Startled by the unexpected company, Jocelyn dropped the now plucked daisy to the ground before brushing away the stray white petals from her lap. "I know he does," she answered with a faint smile as she watched the petals fall to the ground.

"You don’t sound so certain," Christiana said softly.

"I am certain that William loves me," Jocelyn sighed. "It’s just-- father."

"The Duke?"

"I know that William has started negotiating with father to marry me, but so has Count Adhemar. Father will not speak of it to me of it, or of my choice." Lady Jocelyn frowned as sighed again. "It’s--Father has been behaving--so odd. I don’t know what he is thinking anymore."

"He is thinking that he is about to lose his daughter," Christiana smiled. "It is a big decision for a father, especially when he is giving away his only child."

"You think that is what it is?" Jocelyn said hopefully.

"What I think," the lady-in-waiting replied. "Is that the Duke loves you and he knows how much you love Sir William. You are worrying yourself into sickness for nothing. You are not eating and you are so pale, M’lady."

Jocelyn bit the bottom of her lip, as she turned to Christiana. The young woman was more than an attendant, she was her best friend and Jocelyn needed to trust someone. "I am with child."

"Sir William’s?" It was an unnecessary question, Christiana knew it was William’s child that Lady Jocelyn now carried, it could be no other, but the handmaiden’s shock gave the question voice.

"Yes," Jocelyn’s voice was tinged with both happiness and sadness. "But if father does not give William permission, I don’t know what I will do."

"Duke Recene does not know?" Another obvious question, but Christiana was at a lost for what else to say.

"No, he does not. The shame to our house, to his honor, it would destroy him and any standing he has in the King’s circle."

"Maybe if the Duke knew about the child he would quickly reach agreement with Sir William and he would give you the permission you seek. What does Sir William say?" Christiana asked.

Jocelyn closed her eyes, turning away as she placed her left hand over her stomach, "I does not know."

"You have not told him?"

"I want him to marry me willingly, not because he is given no choice."

Christiana couldn’t hide her disbelief that Jocelyn could think such thing of the man who loved her so much, "M’lady, surely you jest? Sir William worships the ground you walk on and has from the first moment he saw you. He would see this child as a gift from God."

"As do I," Jocelyn smiled, her heart feeling less burdened by her heart to heart with Christiana. "Thank you, Christiana."

"For what?" The lady-in-waiting asked.

"For being my friend." Jocelyn replied, before quickly changing the subject.

Part two

A smile again played on the William's face as he looked across the table toward his father. So long, so many years apart as he fulfilled his apprenticeship with Sir Hector. But none of that mattered now. They were together and with the money he had won as tournament champion, and with his knighthood, he could now look after his ailing father. Allowing the Thatcher to live the dream he had given his son.

"I know I am repeating myself, but it is so good to see you father."

William's smile faded slightly, at the reminder that his father couldn't do the same, blindness having struck him many years ago in his son's absence.

Even though John Thatcher was blind, he could still feel his son's sadness over the older man's lack of sight. Reaching across the table, his hands sought contact with his son, "And it is good to 'see' you, my son," he smiled proudly, as he felt William's strong grip in his. "And to 'see' the man you have come to be."

"You did this, father," William clarified, his voice trembled with emotion, as he looked around the room of his very first home. "You gave me the dream that brought me here. Everything I have is because of you."

"Everything you have, William," John Thatcher said as he gripped his son's hands tighter. "Is because you earned it and because it was your destiny."

"Then do you think it would be my destiny to marry a Lady?" William asked softly.

"A lady such as Lady Jocelyn? It is done. She loves you, even a blind man can see that." The Thatcher chuckled.

Releasing his father's hands, William ran his hand through untamed, blonde hair, fear edging into his voice. "I know she loves me, but what I am not so sure of is how her father feels."

"The Duke?"

"Yes, I've attempted to negotiate with him for Jocelyn's hand," the now somber young man lamented as he leant back in his chair.

"He denied you?" William's father asked, obviously distressed at his son' s news.

"No," William acknowledged. "But I know that Count Adhemar also seeks her hand and he carries with him the weight of an hereditary title."

"Count Adhemar is not half the man my son is, nor half the Knight." The pride was evident in the father's voice. "And Duke Recene will see that. See you for the man you are, William."

William smiled at his father's faith, but couldn't banish the dark thoughts that burdened his heart. "I hope father. I hope so."

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'Life is good,' Roland smiled to himself as he feed the horses, 'It was more than that, it was a miracle.' When William had first voiced the suggested that they use their only money to make their fortunes, all he could do was laugh at the boy's audacity. Yet, here they were, with more money than he had ever seen in his lifetime. Yes, life was good thanks to William.

Feeling a sudden sudden presence, Roland turned to see the scribe, Geoffrey Chaucer standing silently behind him and the former squire didn't like what he was seeing. Having seen that stricken look on the writer's face more than once before, Roland frowned as he shook his head, "No, no, no!"

Wat stopped grooming the horse in a nearby stall and looked up at Roland's desperate chant, "What?"

"No! Oh, Shite, I've seen that look before," Roland moaned, remembering that it was Chaucer that had brought the news of Count Adhemar's discovery of William's true lineage.

Still confused as to what had upset his friend, Wat followed Roland's line of sight, joining in the chorus of lament when he saw the cast of Chaucer's face. "So what have I-- have 'we' done this time?" The redhead demanded.

Chaucer was growing tired of being the bearer of bad news, but he knew this news was best coming from a friend, than from someone else, "It is not what we have done." He paused before continuing. "It seems that Duke Recene has reached an agreement for Lady Jocelyn's hand."

Roland let out the breath he had been holding and laughed, "Is that all," he smiled as he looked over and nodded to a relieved Wat. "I thought it was bad news."

"It is," Geoff said morosely. "I have it on good authority that the Duke has reached an agreement-- with Count Adhemar."

"Shite," Roland cursed.

"Adhemar! That bastard!" Wat flustered, throwing the grooming brush on the ground, as he began to flex his hands around an imaginary neck, "Shite that black-hearted...I will..twist..so much pain.he will.."

"Yes, we know Wat, you will tear his head from his shoulders and spit down his neck and that is if he is lucky." Chaucer had seen that anger before. He himself had even been on the receiving end of a couple uncontrolled beatings by the easily infuriated red head.

"Are you sure?" Roland asked as he ignored the Wat's maniacal ravings.

"I wish I weren't."

Wat ran a hand threw his hand through his hair as he sagged down on a nearby barrel. "Why don't you ever bring us good news?" He complained to the herald.

Chaucer shrugged as he looked down at the ground.

"We should tell him." Roland said somewhat reluctantly.

Geoff shook his head at Roland's suggestion. "We should not. For the moment William is happier than he has ever been in his life. Give him this for as long as it can last. He will find out soon enough."

"You know," Roland said, his face full of concern. "I have known William since he was a child...even longer than his father has known him in life. In that whole time, I have never, 'never' known William to back down from anything that meant a great deal to him, no matter what the cost."

Chaucer glanced uneasily from one man, to the other, "For William's sake, we had better hope that this time, he doesn't and change the stars."

Part three

Seamere was not a patient man. Life always seemed to come easier for others, while he continued to bow and scrape out a meager existence as Duke Recene’s valet. One particular other, was the lower born Thatcher’s son, William, who not only had gone from squire to wealthy landowner and knight, but also had the audacity to believe he was worthy of the Duke’s daughter’s hand in marriage.

Sent to fetch Lady Jocelyn to her father’s side, the valet went unseen by the lady and her maid, walking quietly up behind them as they sat in the estate’s garden. The conversation was intimate and soft, spoken by two women who believed they were alone in their confidences. But lucky for Seamere their hushed tones were loud enough for him to perceive a word two of interest. The conversation was way too tantalizing for the valet not to comprehend their importance to his own destiny. Could he have heard correctly? Was Lady Jocelyn with child: with William Thatcher’s child?

Still pondering how he could put this news to his best advantage, Seamere cleared his throat, bringing his presence to the ladies attention.

"Uhem!"

Both Lady Jocelyn and her maid Christiana, thinking they were alone, were startled at the voice and jumping to their feet, they spun on their heels to find Seamere standing behind them.

"Oh, Seamere, you startled us!" Lady Jocelyn said as she held a hand to her thumping chest. "How long have you been there?" She was a little concerned at how much her father’s valet might have overheard.

"Barely a breath of time, M’lady," he lied, bowing his head in respect for the young woman’s station. "I am here at you’re father’s bidding. He wishes me to summon you to his chambers at once."

Jocelyn took a deep breath, as she turned hopefully to Christiana, "Do you think?"

"I pray so, M’lady," Christiana smiled as she reached out and gave Jocelyn’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

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Duke Recene pulled his fox-lined coat closer around himself, as a cold draught bit at his sixty-nine year old bones. Though sun was shining through the residence’s windows, the rooms themselves seemed darker and indifferent than usual. Or was it his guilt that chilled his bones and his heart?

He had come to fatherhood late in life and what should have been the most joyous day of his life had become his curse as his beautiful wife wilted under the strain of birth. As he paced the hallways, apprehensive and excited in the same breath, he had been devastated when told that not only had he lost his wife in childbirth, but that she had been delivered of a healthy female child.

To lose the woman you love was bad enough, but to have no male heir to carry on your name was too much to bear. Without a word, or a look at the newborn, he had stormed to his chambers and drank himself into an ale stupor for two months.

Through the years his heart had softened for the beautiful child that looked so much like her mother, but it did not change the fact, that all his problem would have been solved less painfully, if she had been the boy child he had so desperately needed.

"Father?" Jocelyn called from the doorway. "Seamere told me you needed to see me?"

The Duke gestured for his daughter to enter, as he gathered his coat around him and sat down in his favorite chair, "Come sit with me, Jocelyn. We have a lot to discuss you and I."

With her heart thundering in her chest, Jocelyn took a seat beside her father, desperate for him to put her out of her misery and tell her that he had accepted William’s proposal.

Duke Recene paused, letting out a deep sigh as he pondered how to begin. "I am getting old, Jocelyn…"

"Not that old father," Jocelyn smiled.

"Let me finish," The duke lightly admonished. "I am getting old, and I will one day be dead, and this world, this time, is no place for a young girl to be alone and without advantages. You are of that age now, where marriage is expected, so I have made my decision, but before I tell you what it is, I will give you my reasons. Reasons that you as a woman are not usually privy too."

Jocelyn’s heart threatened to explode with the anticipation, but she clasped her hands into lap, entwining her fingers nervously as she waited.

"The House of Recene has been losing money for years."

Astounded, Jocelyn’s mouth fell open as she tried to comprehend her father’s news.

"My farmers having been losing crops, their taxes hardly managing to pay for the house’s upkeep. The House of Recene is dying and though only way to save it….is for you to marry Count Adhemar."

"What?" Jocelyn choked as she leapt to her feet. "No, father please. I won’t do it."

"YOU WILL DO IT!" The Duke roared as he joined his daughter and jumped to his feet to face her. "You are dressed in the finest clothes, you have ‘wanted’ for nothing and yet, you stand there and refuse the only thing your father has ever asked of you. Do you ‘not’ understand? I have ‘no’ dowry to offer a man of title for you. I have nothing to give! The house of Recene would be shamed forever if this were to become public knowledge. The Count has graciously offered to marry you, with added codicil of the House of Recene as belated dowry on my death. I can ask nothing more of such a great man. He has even agreed that on the birth of your first male heir, he will add more land to our own."

At the mention of a child, Jocelyn’s hand went to the child that had already started to grow inside her, and she paled even more. "Please Father, William will marry me, dowry or not. He loves me for me, not what I am, or what I can bring to his estates."

At the mention of the young man’s name, Recene snarled and turned away, "Title or not, that would-be-knight is just that. I will ‘never’ allow a child of mine to marry a Thatcher’s son!"

"But father, please you don’t understand, I am…"

"You are what?" The Duke demanded as he turned his daughter with impatience.

"I am already carrying William’s child. I cannot marry Count Adhemar under those circumstances."

The stinging blow to her cheek as the palm of her father’s hand connected with her skin, made Jocelyn’s head ring, but she remained steadfast in front of her father’s fury.

"Tell me he attacked you! Let that at least be an excuse for your shame!"

"I went to William’s bed willingly," Jocelyn admitted, her lip trembling under the irate glare of her father.

"Then my girl, in penance for the shame you have brought upon me, you will go unwillingly to Count Adhemar’s."

"Father, we can’t, surely he will know" Jocelyn begged her father to listen.

"The wedding will be quick. Babies are born before time often enough. No one will question," The Duke schemed out-loud, before turning his gaze back to his daughter. "You ‘will’ do this, Jocelyn. You will not bring shame on me. Do I make myself clear?"

Seeing no choice, Jocelyn nodded her reluctant agreement, as a tear slid down her cheek. "Yes, father, I understand."

Part Four  

Still reeling from the burning imprint of her father's hand on her cheek, Jocelyn feared her legs would give out from under her as she turned away unable to stand her father's reproaching glare any longer. She had quickly realized that in confessing to carrying William's child, Jocelyn had not changed her father's intentions at all and she would be soon forced to marry Count Adhemar against her will.  

"Please," Jocelyn's voice trembled as she found strength to turn and beg once more for her release from the Duke's demands. "Father, Adhemar does not love me. Please, do not make me do this."   

Duke Recene could barely look at his daughter, her exposed betrayal hardening his heart as each moment passed. "It is already done. Count Adhemar is being informed of my decision as we speak and by the way, since when does love have anything to do with marriages of nobility?" He replied indifferently. "You dare admonish me? When you have dishonored me by lying with a man without the sanctity of God, risking the House of Recene by carrying a child sired by some mere commoner cloaked in the guise of a knight."  

"I risk?" Jocelyn repeated, "I don't understand."  

"No, you wouldn't," Recene sighed as he turned away. "Your Uncle has just been waiting for me to die, waiting like a starving crow, ready to pick whatever he can get off my decaying bones. A male child was my only hope to stop that from happening, but when your mother died giving birth to you and I sired no other child, I had to place all my faith in you to acquire a marriage of station to protect the 'House'. Now, if you were to marry this 'Sir William', everything we have left will be lost. My brother will see to it that your marriage is inspected and he will annul any claim you have."  

"Father, William was knighted by Prince Edward himself, the future King of England and it was the Prince who said that William's knighthood was not to be contested. You are safe from any claim that your brother may demand. But even if it should happen, William will see that I want for nothing. I do not need the House."   

Facing the huge, oak mantelpiece, the Duke slammed a fist against it, "Never!" He snarled through clenched teeth. "Never, will that wastrel be allowed to get his hands on the 'House'. He will gamble away everything we have left until the House of Recene is no more. I will make sure this house is burnt to the ground with me in it, before I let that happen."  

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As Seamere rode toward Count Adhemar's estate, a smug smile began to creep over the steward's face. While he was under strict orders to relay only his master's consent to Count Adhemar's proposal, the Valet was sure, the Count would be far more interested in the 'additional' information he could offer.   

He knew that life was about to change dramatically for him, but by exactly what weight of gold, that was yet to be determined. He could almost feel the heaviness of the glittering coins weighing down the belt of his breeches as they hung from his money pouch. As he entered the boundaries of the Count's lands, Seamere's smile broadened even more, 'yes, indeed, life was about to change forever.'  

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Germaine ducked. This time he survived the silver goblet thrown in his direction, his master's aim seemingly as straight as the lance that failed to hit its target at the world games not that long ago.   

Even though he would never admit it out-loud, the valet still obtained some enjoyment in the remembrance of his Lordship's last match, where Adhemar met not only his equal, but also his better in jousting, even if it meant the Count was now in a perpetual bad mood.  

The valet had been unable to do anything at the time, but stand by and watch as the Count secretly ordered his lance tipped, hoping for the maximum damage he could inflict on the newly knighted Sir William. When the tipped lance found its target, snapping as it speared the young man in the right shoulder, Germaine, along with most of those in attendance, had thought it over for the brave young knight, but without armor or shield, he had continued.   

Germaine had never seen anything like it. The roar of the ground as they chanted the young man's name was deafening, yet as the horses snorted and reared, ready to charge, one voice could be heard above all others, Sir William's.   

With his untamed blonde hair now free from its protective helmet and with his pierced armor gone from his body, William's only defense was the lance that was roped to his injured arm. Urging his mount forward as if backed by an army of well-armed men, the knight had rode defiantly toward his destiny, shouting so heaven could hear, 'William!'  

It was a sight the valet would remember until his dying day. As his Count sprawled in the dirt, lay unseated and ignored, a Prince stood to join the spectators in applauding the chivalry of a Thatcher's son.   

"More beer, you idiot!" Adhemar snapped.  

"Yes, milord," Germaine answered through clenched teeth as he bowed and made his way to the kitchen to replace the goblet.   

Still reeling from the ignominy of not only his failure to recapture the championship, but the humiliation of losing to a Thatcher's son, Adhemar, now in disgrace after the tipping incident at the games, spent most of his time planning how to destroy Prince Edward's new favorite. Unwilling to risk the wrath of the future king by again being seen to visibly attack 'Sir William', Adhemar knew he would have to be more subtle if he was to make the usurper pay. His choice had been an easy one, what could be subtler than to legally take what the former-valet wanted more than any thing in his world, the Lady Jocelyn.  

Adhemar had set his sights on Duke Recene's daughter long ago, but William Thatcher's interest in her had only heightened his need to make her his property as soon as possible. He knew from the county records that Lady Jocelyn would not come with a huge dowry, but her wealth or lack of was of no consequence to him any more. All Adhemar needed now was the satisfaction that he had something what 'Sir William' could never have.   

"Milord?"   

Called away from his silent scheming, Adhemar turned to see Germaine standing nervously in the doorway empty handed. "My Ale?"  

"I will fetch it, milord, but first, there is a messenger to see you."  

"What does he want?" A curious Adhemar asked.  

"It is Seamere, Duke Recene's valet," Germaine replied with a bow of his head. "Shall I just take a message, sir?"  

Expecting good news, Adhemar smiled, "No, send him in." Dismissing his servant with a wave of his hand, he added, "And don't forget my ale."  

"Yes, milord," Germaine replied as he placed a hand to the left side of his chest and bowed, backing out of the room.  

Following Germaine's lead, Seamere's anticipation was becoming harder to hide as wondered how much he should ask for the information that he carried. How much gold would buy his freedom and give him a life that he felt he deserved? He was sure that whatever amount was eventually agreed upon, Count Adhemar would find the money well worth spent.  

"Milord waits for you within," Germaine gestured to the open doorway of Adhemar's study.  

Taking a deep breath, Seamere entered the room, bowing as he cited Duke's message, "I bring you greetings from milord, Duke Recene. He hopes Count Adhemar is of good health on this day of great importance to you both."  

Adhemar nodded, accepting the scribe's words, "He is. Your message?"   

Standing to attention, Seamere put on his most gracious smile, "Sir, milord wishes me to advise you that he has accepted your proposal with much good will, and offers you the hand of his daughter Lady Jocelyn."  

"It is done?" Adhemar asked.  

"It is agreed. The Duke has told me to impart to you that the marriage will be performed as soon as possible," Seamere said before adding. "She is yours if you 'still' want her, milord."   

"If I still want her?" Adhemar asked, the messenger's words and demeanor suddenly striking the Count as odd. "Why wouldn't I?"  

Feeling more comfortable with the information he carried, Seamere relaxed somewhat as he began to play his hand. "Sir, I am but a humble messenger, a valet to milord the Duke. I am a poor man by 'any' standards, one that is not 'free' to speak my mind as I might otherwise wish to."   

"A poor man, I see." Adhemar knew a greedy man when he saw one, and before him he saw one of the worst kind. Willing to sell anything, and anyone to get what they wanted, not the he would complain it seemed that the Duke's manservant had something to sell. "What would it take to set your tongue 'free'?"   

"The pain of my betrayal is harsh, milord, and therefore not cheap." Seamere frowned as he shook his head sadly.  

"Twenty gold pieces enough ease your pain?"  

"For normal betrayal, twenty would be sufficient, but..."  

"Thirty then,"   

"Milord you are too kind." Seamere grinned as he bowed.  

"Then earn you thirty pieces and speak man!"   

Not willing to push his luck any further, Seamere coward under the Count's threatening glare. "Milord, the Duke does you a great wrong. He offers his daughter pure and chaste as newly opened bloom, when in fact she has already been-- 'plucked' so to speak."  

Seamere took an involuntary step back, but was not fast enough as Adhemar lurch forward to grab hold of well worn linen shirt and pulled him toward the enraged man.  

"Lady Jocelyn has laid with a man?" Adhemar demanded his face only inches from the now terrified valet.  

"Yes, she has, milord. Lady Jocelyn is with child, Sir William's child." Seamere couldn't get the information out fast enough as he struggled under the Count's iron grip.  

Adhemar tightened his grip on the servant's thin clothing, wishing that it were William Thatcher that he had in his hands and not this puny excuse of a human being. "And the Duke knows of this?"   

"Four people," Seamere revealed as peered about wild-eyed looking for an escape. "The Duke, Lady Jocelyn and her maid and myself, sir."   

"And Thatcher?" Adhemar snarled, speaking the name as if it were poison to his lips  

"Lady Jocelyn had yet to tell him the news, but now cannot."  

Adhemar's grip of the servant eased off a little as he contemplated the information and how it could be used to his advantaged. "You say Thatcher doesn't know about the child?"  

All Seamere could do now was shake his head as he trembled under the Count's intimidating scowl.  

Releasing the valet, Adhemar smiled, "You have earned you gold. Tell your master nothing more than I accept Lady Jocelyn's hand."  

TBC